front door. He counted six steps across the frozen gravel of the drive. The Golf’s central locking opened all the doors simultaneously, and as Magnús got into his car, he foundhimself staring incredulously at Baddó grinning at him from the passenger seat.
“
Hæ
, Magnús. Didn’t expect to see me so soon?” Baddó greeted him and shot out a hand that grabbed Magnús by the throat as he turned to open the door. “Less of the hurry, young man. Let’s go for a little drive, shall we? Nothing hasty, Magnús, or I might have to do something unpleasant.”
A S SOON AS Gunna left the city behind her and passed the aluminium plant at Hafnarfjördur, all the worries and concerns that had plagued her came flooding back. What was Gísli going to do, and how was she going to tell Svanur that her son had made his stepdaughter pregnant—assuming he didn’t know already.
Reykjanesbraut was dark, and as Gunna saw the streetlights on either side of the road waving dolefully in the wind she realized she needed to concentrate as a gust of wind hit the car and threatened to send it spinning into the central barrier.
With barely sixteen years between them, she and Gísli had almost grown up together. They had always been close, to Gunna’s mind closer than her contemporaries were to their children, especially as Gísli’s father had played no part in his son’s life. The narrow age gap had forged a bond that others found difficult to understand, though it had been threatened several times. When Gunna had met and married Ragnar Sæmundsson, it was as if Gísli, then only eight, had drifted into his own little world, from where Raggi’s attention and perseverance had eventually drawn him out. When Laufey was born, though, there was nothing to indicate that he resented the arrival of a little sister.
When they had been hit by Raggi’s death only a few years later, Laufey remembered almost nothing of him, while Gísli had been left with fond and enduring memories of the stepfather who had only been with them a few years, but who hadmade a lasting impression on him. The shock had battered them all, but Gísli proved to be the pillar Gunna leaned on in order to get herself through those tough early months as well as, she reminded herself, the black moments that still returned occasionally.
Picking over the past and asking herself what had gone wrong, Gunna almost missed the turning to Grindavík that would take her across the lava fields to Hvalvík, the run-down coastal village where she had been the village copper until just recently.
She wondered if Gísli would appear that evening and hoped that he would. She worried that her reaction to his news the day before could have been taken the wrong way. The news a few months earlier that Gísli’s long-term girlfriend Soffía was pregnant had been a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. It only took Gunna a week or two to get used to the idea of becoming a grandmother before her fortieth birthday. Soffía had been radiant, planning and looking forward to motherhood.
Skirting Grindavík, she saw that there was spray coming over the harbor walls and hoped there would be some time for the weather to abate before Gísli’s next trip to sea, then she scolded herself for worrying unnecessarily about him. The ship he sailed on as a deckhand was big and modern enough to cope with the worst weather the North Atlantic could throw at it.
There were more far more dangers for a young man on shore, she reflected bitterly, coasting down the road into Hvalvík and through the village, stopping outside the terraced houses in a row right on the edge of the lava fields. She sat in the car for ten minutes outside the darkened house. No lights indicated that Laufey was either at some club or else with Sigrún, the friend who once used to babysit the precociously clever girl when police business called for Gunna to work awkward hours.
She wondered how Drífa must be feeling. She struggled to recall
“
Hæ
, Magnús. Didn’t expect to see me so soon?” Baddó greeted him and shot out a hand that grabbed Magnús by the throat as he turned to open the door. “Less of the hurry, young man. Let’s go for a little drive, shall we? Nothing hasty, Magnús, or I might have to do something unpleasant.”
A S SOON AS Gunna left the city behind her and passed the aluminium plant at Hafnarfjördur, all the worries and concerns that had plagued her came flooding back. What was Gísli going to do, and how was she going to tell Svanur that her son had made his stepdaughter pregnant—assuming he didn’t know already.
Reykjanesbraut was dark, and as Gunna saw the streetlights on either side of the road waving dolefully in the wind she realized she needed to concentrate as a gust of wind hit the car and threatened to send it spinning into the central barrier.
With barely sixteen years between them, she and Gísli had almost grown up together. They had always been close, to Gunna’s mind closer than her contemporaries were to their children, especially as Gísli’s father had played no part in his son’s life. The narrow age gap had forged a bond that others found difficult to understand, though it had been threatened several times. When Gunna had met and married Ragnar Sæmundsson, it was as if Gísli, then only eight, had drifted into his own little world, from where Raggi’s attention and perseverance had eventually drawn him out. When Laufey was born, though, there was nothing to indicate that he resented the arrival of a little sister.
When they had been hit by Raggi’s death only a few years later, Laufey remembered almost nothing of him, while Gísli had been left with fond and enduring memories of the stepfather who had only been with them a few years, but who hadmade a lasting impression on him. The shock had battered them all, but Gísli proved to be the pillar Gunna leaned on in order to get herself through those tough early months as well as, she reminded herself, the black moments that still returned occasionally.
Picking over the past and asking herself what had gone wrong, Gunna almost missed the turning to Grindavík that would take her across the lava fields to Hvalvík, the run-down coastal village where she had been the village copper until just recently.
She wondered if Gísli would appear that evening and hoped that he would. She worried that her reaction to his news the day before could have been taken the wrong way. The news a few months earlier that Gísli’s long-term girlfriend Soffía was pregnant had been a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. It only took Gunna a week or two to get used to the idea of becoming a grandmother before her fortieth birthday. Soffía had been radiant, planning and looking forward to motherhood.
Skirting Grindavík, she saw that there was spray coming over the harbor walls and hoped there would be some time for the weather to abate before Gísli’s next trip to sea, then she scolded herself for worrying unnecessarily about him. The ship he sailed on as a deckhand was big and modern enough to cope with the worst weather the North Atlantic could throw at it.
There were more far more dangers for a young man on shore, she reflected bitterly, coasting down the road into Hvalvík and through the village, stopping outside the terraced houses in a row right on the edge of the lava fields. She sat in the car for ten minutes outside the darkened house. No lights indicated that Laufey was either at some club or else with Sigrún, the friend who once used to babysit the precociously clever girl when police business called for Gunna to work awkward hours.
She wondered how Drífa must be feeling. She struggled to recall
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