‘No problem. I’ll come back another time.’ Nína closes the door behind her and stands just outside, feeling mortified. God, that was embarrassing. But what had she expected? That everything would be fine, just because the truth had come to light? That the woman lying in the hospital bed would suddenly be cured? When it comes down to it, virtually nothing has changed. The woman’s life is as wrecked now as it was before.
The same is true of her. Nothing has changed, really. If anything, even more pain lies in store. She can’t be angry with Thröstur any more, and it’s as if the anger has been holding back the worst of the sorrow up to now. Instead of feeling rage she is alive to the injustice of it all, which makes the whole thing even more unbearable. She can’t even take her anger out on Ívar because he’s dead.
After this evening there will be no room for any emotion but grief. She will be overwhelmed by grief for Thröstur and must be careful that it doesn’t prove too much for her, doesn’t blind her to all that is good and beautiful in this world. She mustn’t let that happen.
She sees that it is time to head over to Thröstur’s room. She wants to get there the moment the hour she allotted his sister and father is up, to give herself as long as possible to sit beside him. His death throes will not last long, according to the doctor. Thröstur will lie there motionless but alive, but a few minutes or hours later he will be lying there motionless and dead. No gasps, no rattling, no groans will mark his parting from her and this life.
Nína holds her head high as she walks out of the door to the ward. All at once the dress and heels seem perfectly in keeping with the occasion and she moves with increased confidence. She has dressed herself up for Thröstur. His last hours are to be a celebration; she is not going to weep. Instead she will whisper to him stories about all the good times they had, all the laughter they shared over the years; memories that will always have a place in her heart. Thröstur can take them with him as a parting gift when he leaves, never to return.
The door closes behind her. She walks over to the lift without noticing the man wearing a dressing gown, who is watching her with one hand pressed to his side.
Have you read …
THE UNDESIRED
‘Disturbing and compelling’ Daily Mail
Aldis took a job in a juvenile detention centre in rural Iceland because she would have done anything to get away from home. She soon realises it was a terrible decision. The boys are unruly, the owners are unpleasant, and there are strange noises at night. And then two of the inmates die …
Decades later, single father Odinn is looking into alleged abuse at the centre. The more he finds out, though, the more it seems the odd events of the 1970s are linked to the accident that killed his ex-wife. Was her death something more sinister?
LAST RITUALS
(Thora Gudmundsdottir Book 1)
‘Yrsa is one of the most exciting new voices in the crime thriller world’ Peter James
A young man is found brutally murdered, his eyes gouged out. A student of Icelandic history in Reykjavík, he came from a wealthy German family who do not share the police’s belief that his drug dealer murdered him.
Attorney Thora Gudmundsdottir is commissioned by his mother to find out the truth, with the help – and hindrance – of boorish ex-policeman Matthew Reich. Their investigations into his research take them deep into a grisly world of torture and witchcraft both past and present, as they draw ever closer to a killer gripped by a dangerous obsession …
Table of Contents
Contents
Also by Yrsa Sigurdardóttir
About the Author
About the Translator
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Pronunciation guide
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Have you read …
Why Did You Lie? Page 35