The Undesired

by Yrsa Sigurdardottir

  Chapter 23

  February 1974

  Tobbi squirmed in his chair, looking as if he wished he could disappear, his freckles all the more pronounced against his deathly pallor. But it didn’t occur to Aldís to let him off the hook; she wanted answers, and part of her enjoyed seeing him suffer. It made her feel better, as if she could transfer her own discomfort onto Tobbi. She had cornered him as he left the dining room and forced him into a small sitting room at the back of the house. ‘You’re lying. You know exactly where they keep the letters.’

  ‘I’m not, I swear. They just take them and I don’t know where they put them. I swear it.’ His large blue eyes glistened under his shaggy mop of hair. ‘I’m telling the truth.’

  On balance, Aldís thought he probably was. He was afraid of her and if he could have stopped the barrage of questions by answering differently, he would have done. But she was too desperate for answers to care. ‘Why should I believe you?’ She wanted to shake him. ‘For months you’ve been helping Lilja and Veigar take what doesn’t belong to them; stopping the boys – your friends! – getting post from their parents. They’re thieves and you’ve helped them, and you know what?’ The boy shook his head, clearly not wanting to know. ‘That makes you no better than them. You’re a thief.’ Tobbi gnawed at his lower lip, blinking frantically. He looked close to tears and Aldís felt her resolve softening. ‘But if you tell me what they did with the letters, you’ll be a hundred times better than them. We all make mistakes but we’re not often given the chance to make up for them. You’re lucky to get a second chance.’

  A spark of hope kindled in the boy’s eyes, only to fade when he realised that Aldís was still after the same information. ‘I swear I don’t know what they do with the letters. I wish I did so I could tell you. But I don’t.’

  Aldís straightened up. She had been leaning menacingly over Tobbi, her hands on the arms of the chair. There was no need for that; he was only a boy and she was an adult, however little she might feel like it. ‘Let’s say I believe you.’ He opened his mouth to mumble something but the words wouldn’t come. Instead he nodded, his mouth still open. ‘And that you’d tell me if you knew.’ Tobbi nodded again, closing his mouth as he swallowed the lump in his throat. ‘Then I have a solution.’

  His wide eyes narrowed slightly. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The post van’s coming later. Isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. Tuesdays and Fridays. Around three. They send me down at half past, so I needn’t hang about in the cold if he’s late. I didn’t mind when they made me go a bit earlier last summer. Standing down by the road was better than being here. I used to hope he’d be late even though I’d got there earlier.’

  ‘I didn’t ask for your life story.’ She regretted her words immediately. The little she knew about Tobbi’s background was not pretty: his father spent more time in prison than out of it, and when he was home he took out his rage on his son. Aldís had heard rumours that Tobbi had suffered more broken bones than all the other boys put together. She spoke more gently. ‘I want you to give Veigar and Lilja all the post, whether it’s letters or parcels, then watch them. That way you’ll see where they hide them.’ She folded her arms. ‘Though that doesn’t apply to my letters. I want all mine straight away. Understand?’

  ‘But…’

  ‘No buts. I don’t care how you do it.’ She had searched high and low in Veigar’s office and other likely-seeming places, but to no avail. Despondent, she had tried to dismiss the problem from her mind and concentrate on work instead. But this morning she had woken up determined to put the thumbscrews on Tobbi. She had to get hold of the post. Above all, she wanted her own letters so she could find out what had caused that disgusting creep to leave, and whether her mother’s regret was sincere. Only then would she be able to decide whether to get in touch.

  Then there were Einar’s letters. The single sheet she’d found in the file under his initials had been tantalisingly uninformative, though reading it had confirmed her belief that something underhand was going on. The letter was addressed to Veigar from a man called Jóhannes Ólafsson, who styled himself ‘Judge’. Instead of writing in an official capacity, however, he seemed to be appealing to Veigar as an old friend or acquaintance. His reason for writing was to ask Veigar to take in a boy who, as it happened, was older than the other residents at the home. Furthermore, this placement was not to go through official channels. There was nothing illegal about it, and the arrangement would be to everyone’s benefit. The judge added that he would explain in more detail over the phone, though he did mention that the intention was to administer a well-deserved punishment without the involvement of the criminal justice system. Whereas a court case would be the correct procedure for most crimes committed by individuals of sound mind, in this instance it would only harm the innocent victim, the writer’s own daughter. There was no mention of what Einar had done to the girl. It occurred to Aldís that he might have raped her but that was hard to believe. She bent over Tobbi again. ‘If you don’t, I’ll tell the other boys. They won’t all be as understanding as Einar. Believe you me.’

  Tobbi licked his dry lips. He seemed so small in the big chair; so painfully thin that his knees and elbows looked twice as thick as his limbs. They put Aldís in mind of healed fractures and she almost relented and told him to forget it. But he pre-empted her: ‘I’ll try. I promise I’ll try.’ His voice was nothing but a whisper, as thin and fragile as winter’s first film of ice. She felt the boy’s breath on her face. It smelt of the stew they’d had for lunch.

  ‘Good. Come to me when you’ve done it. If Lilja and Veigar start ordering you to do other chores, just lie and tell them you’ve got a stomach ache.’

  Tobbi stood up warily, careful not to brush against her, as if he was afraid of receiving an electric shock. He walked away, head drooping, then turned in the doorway. ‘What if they catch me? They killed their own baby, and I don’t matter to them at all.’ Without waiting for an answer he turned and hurried out.

  * * *

  Veigar looked up from his book and stared at Aldís. For once, she stared back. Up to now she had always looked away when he squinted at her from under his heavy brows. ‘What’s the matter with you today?’ His tone was patronising.

  Aldís carried on dusting without dropping her gaze. ‘Nothing. Why?’

  ‘Well.’ He frowned at her again, his eyes narrowing to gleaming black slits. Clearing his throat, he put the book down. ‘You seem very distracted.’

  Utter bullshit, as they both knew. She was doing everything as quickly and efficiently as ever. In fact, she’d made more of an effort than usual when she discovered that her boss was sitting in there. The room, known as the hall though it was really nothing more than a large living room, was only used for preaching Christian homilies at the boys. The daily assemblies were short affairs, and everyone had to take off their shoes and wash their hands and faces before they went in – as if God wouldn’t look at boys with grime under their fingernails – so the room never got particularly dirty. ‘I’m taking just as much care as usual.’ It felt good to answer back for once, instead of blushing and stammering apologies. ‘What exactly do you want me to do differently?’

  Veigar rose and came over. Evidently, he didn’t know how to react to her insolence, if that was the word for such a trivial act of resistance. He ran a fat finger over the piano lid, examined the tip, then blew away some imaginary dust. ‘You’ve stopped coming to assembly. It wouldn’t hurt you to start again. It does us all good to listen to the word of God, whether we are believers or heathens.’

  Aldís knew that in his view she belonged to the latter group. ‘I’m sure it does.’ She hoped her message was clear: no, thanks. ‘I’ve done the usual bits. Anything else you want me to clean?’ She was unsmiling and expressionless. He didn’t deserve courtesy. She imagined she was addressing the wall behind his head, which, like him, was no longer in its first flush of youth: the wallpaper was faded and had begun
to peel at the joins; he had deep furrows between his eyes. ‘The lectern, maybe?’ Veigar and Lilja referred to it as the altar but it was only an old wooden lectern, placed in front of a sideboard covered with a white cloth, on which stood an incongruously large cross and two mismatched candlesticks. On the wall behind hung a picture of Jesus on the cross. Strange to think that the original probably graced a magnificent cathedral somewhere in Europe. Aldís used to wonder if the Saviour’s long-suffering expression owed something to his disbelief at where he had ended up. All he ever heard were Veigar’s hypocritical sermons. ‘Or is this good enough for you?’

  He loomed over her and Aldís wished she had kept her mouth shut and got the hell out of there. She understood now what Tobbi meant. She was of no importance to this man; he was perfectly capable of slapping her, or worse. Who would believe her if it came down to his word against hers? She took a step backwards and the creaking of the floorboard reverberated around the room. The sound said it all: the balance of power had been restored. She cowered. ‘Don’t get snippy with me, miss,’ he growled. His eyes narrowed even more and it struck her how different they were from the eyes of his baby, which had been so uncannily large and dark in the small, deformed head.

  ‘I was only asking.’ Her voice sounded gratifyingly composed. She had to get out of here. It crossed her mind to fling in his face that she knew where his child was buried, but she realised immediately that this would be a terrible move. What would she follow it up with? ‘So there’? The momentary impulse brought a sudden clarity to her thoughts: how had Tobbi known that the child was born alive? Very few people could have been aware of that. She hadn’t mentioned to anyone that she’d seen signs of life, not even when she was drunkenly telling Einar about the baby. All he knew was that Lilja had given birth to a baby that had vanished. A stillborn baby. Not a baby that opened its eyes. She’d left out that detail for fear she’d been mistaken; perhaps people’s eyes open after death because the muscles tighten. Better not to make a big deal out of it if there was a perfectly natural explanation or it had simply been a trick of the light. She resolved to interrogate Tobbi again when he brought her the post – if he managed it – and find out exactly what he’d meant.

  Veigar’s scowl relaxed, to be replaced by a smarmy smile. ‘Now, don’t let’s quarrel – not in front of Our Lord.’

  Aldís had no answer to this. Judging by Christ’s expression he had more on his mind than their bickering. ‘I’m going to start the coffee.’ Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was half past two. The watch had been a confirmation gift from her mother and the strap needed replacing. ‘I don’t want to be late.’

  But he blocked her exit, unwilling to let her go so easily. ‘Have you been wandering about at night?’

  Aldís broke out in a cold sweat. Had she left something behind in the cowshed? Although it was some time ago, the evidence might only just have turned up. Veigar could hardly be referring to anything else, because apart from that one time, she hadn’t stirred from her room in the evenings. Einar had dropped hints about repeating the experience but she had prevaricated. She was determined not to have any more contact with him than necessary until she’d found out what he’d done. After reading the judge’s letter to Veigar, she could no longer deceive herself that it was all a misunderstanding; that he was innocent, a good person. Now she knew for certain that he’d committed a crime, and one against a young woman, she no longer found Einar as handsome or exciting as she had at first. She wanted to know more, partly out of sheer curiosity but also to get a better sense of his character. As pathetic as it sounded, she thought she could change him, make him into a better person – exactly what her mother had often warned her against: people don’t change; you’re kidding yourself if you think they do. ‘No. I haven’t left my room.’

  ‘Quite sure?’ She caught a whiff of his aftershave. He splashed it on in the mornings and its potency usually faded during the day, but now it was as strong as when he first applied it, mingled with a sour odour of sweat. Aldís tried in vain to avoid breathing it in. She wished she could blow her nose. ‘A few times I’ve caught glimpses of a girl outside,’ he continued, ‘and there aren’t many of them around here, are there?’

  ‘No.’ Aldís leant away, but couldn’t escape his body odour. She noticed that his nose was pitted with small, black flecks. She hadn’t realised adults got blackheads; she thought they were just a trial inflicted on teenagers. ‘I’m usually in my room. When exactly was this?’

  ‘Yesterday evening, for example.’

  ‘No, I didn’t go outside then.’ Aldís was relieved. Obviously he was confusing her with someone else. But who? None of the boys looked particularly feminine, though perhaps the difference wouldn’t be so obvious from a distance?

  A flicker of doubt appeared in Veigar’s eyes. His facial muscles slackened for a moment, giving the impression that his features were melting. ‘Are you sure? Then who can it have been?’ He seemed to be muttering to himself, not expecting an answer.

  ‘Not me.’ Aldís breathed more easily when Veigar moved away. Now she could no longer see his blackheads or choke on his aftershave. ‘Lilja, maybe. Or one of the workmen. Wasn’t it dark?’

  ‘It’s always dark.’

  ‘Perhaps you were dreaming.’ She said it quite kindly, to both their surprise.

  ‘No.’ He met her eye, frowned, then picked up his book and walked out without another word.

  * * *

  It was past four o’clock when Tobbi tapped Aldís on the back. He was breathing quickly as if he’d been running, though she hadn’t heard him approach. She was relieved to see him; she’d looked for him at coffee time and had begun to fear that he’d been caught spying by Lilja or Veigar. ‘I know where they keep it.’ He glanced around nervously; his face, so white before, was now red and his freckles hardly showed. They were standing in the drive and she had just crumbled a rusk onto the snow for the bird, which was chirruping agitatedly from the roof, waiting for her to leave. Even feeding it for several months had not been enough to win its trust, and it never swooped on the food until she was a safe distance away, no matter how long she left it between offerings. Ever since the bird had gone missing in the blizzard, it had become even more timid, as if it blamed her for the violence of the wind, but she didn’t mind; she was simply glad it had found its way home.

  Aldís wiped the crumbs off on her jeans. ‘Have you got the post?’ The question was redundant; he had nothing in his dirty hands.

  ‘No. I didn’t dare take it. There’s a whole box of it, and there’s no way of carrying it out without being seen.’

  ‘Where do they keep it?’

  ‘In the cellar. I can’t go down there. I daren’t.’ Tobbi licked his lips and shuffled his feet on the gravel. Behind him the sun had begun to sink in the sky and the horizon was on fire. Her mother had told her as a child that a beautiful sunset meant good weather the following day: Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight. Perhaps it was a sign that soon things would be mended between them. Maybe as soon as tomorrow. Aldís would get hold of the letters and once she’d read them she’d be able to forgive her mother. In spite of the cold she felt warm at the thought.

  ‘I gave the post to Lilja and watched what she did,’ Tobbi explained. ‘She took it to Veigar in his office and came out empty-handed. So I hid in the room opposite and watched the door through the crack. After an incredibly long time, he came out with the letters. I shadowed him to the main building and saw him go down into the cellar.’

  ‘How do you know he put them in a box?’

  ‘I ran outside and spied through the little window. He nearly saw me but I managed to duck just in time. Hope so, anyway.’ His eyes opened wide and his bright red lips turned down. ‘Do you think he could have spotted me?’

  She shook her head firmly and said: ‘No way.’ Though how was she to know? ‘Whereabouts in the cellar is the box? If I go down to get it, I don’t want to have to search the whole place.’
/>
  ‘On the shelf by the stairs.’ Tobbi turned, held out his right hand and seemed to be trying to work out which side the shelf was on. ‘To the right.’ The feverish red spots had faded from his cheeks but his face was glowing. ‘Did I do well?’

  ‘Brilliantly.’ Aldís smiled at him and curbed an impulse to ruffle his hair. From time to time there were outbreaks of head-lice at the home and, although she had escaped so far, she had no intention of leaving here with her hair cropped like a boy’s or she wouldn’t even get an interview to be an air hostess. ‘Tell me one more thing, Tobbi, then you can go.’

  His shoulders drooped and his eyes started darting from side to side. ‘I’ve got to go now. I’ve got to do my homework and I want to finish before supper.’

  Aldís ignored his protests. ‘Why did you say Veigar killed their baby?’

  Tobbi dug at the frozen gravel with the toe of his scuffed trainers. ‘No reason.’

  Aldís grabbed the boy’s chin and forced him to meet her gaze. In his blue eyes she read a silent prayer: Go away! I wish you’d never come here!

  ‘Tell me who told you. I promise it won’t go any further. You can trust me.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Promise. Just tell me why you think Veigar killed the child. Then I promise I’ll leave you alone.’

  ‘I saw it.’ Tobbi tried to wriggle out of Aldís’s grasp. His eyes flickered all over the place, frantic to avoid hers. ‘I was working in the cowshed with Veigar when they came to tell him Lilja was going to have the baby. I didn’t know what to do, but I didn’t dare leave. He might’ve come straight back. I didn’t know how long it took babies to come out.’

  ‘Quite a long time, usually.’

  ‘Yes, I know that now. By the time I realised he wasn’t coming back it was so dark I didn’t dare walk over alone.’ Tobbi flushed with shame. The older boys had no doubt bullied him about his fear of the dark. ‘So I decided to sleep there, in the hay. But I couldn’t get to sleep and when I heard someone outside I went into the coffee room to try and see out of the window. The moon was out and I saw Veigar.’ Tobbi gulped.