you?’
‘Yes. She wouldn’t tell me his name. Or where he lived, at first.’
‘Did she seem ashamed of him?’
‘Dagbjört wasn’t like that. She didn’t have a snobbish bone in her body. But the relationship was still at a delicate stage, I suppose – had only just got off the ground – and she didn’t want to say too much about it. Certainly not to her parents. Of course, that’s the last thing you … kids want to do – you know how it is. So I wasn’t surprised they didn’t know what she was up to – or what I was talking about when I told them. They were completely floored – to hear there was a boy.’
‘Yes, I can imagine.’
‘Her mother … she was so disappointed,’ continued Silja. ‘Not that Dagbjört had fallen for a boy from Camp Knox, you understand, but that she hadn’t confided in her. They were very close and her mother was great, a really nice woman – always so kind to the rest of us. When she heard about this boy she refused to believe it, said I must have made a mistake.’
‘But you hadn’t?’
‘No,’ said Silja. ‘I didn’t make any mistake.’
‘But –’
‘Don’t be like everyone else and start casting doubt on what I said. I didn’t make it up.’
‘No, I’m sure, but the boy never contacted the police.’
‘No, he didn’t.’
‘Why do you think that was?’
‘How should I know? I can’t answer that.’
‘No, of c—’
‘I have absolutely no idea,’ said Silja, lighting yet another cigarette and inhaling deeply. Her voice sounded weary. ‘I was just repeating what she told me. Sometimes I wished she’d never told me about him. You’ve no idea what I went through at the time, and her poor parents hung on my every word because they had nothing else to go on.’
She glanced down blankly at the untouched cake.
‘I don’t know why it had to be me,’ she said. ‘I didn’t ask for it. It was a really hard time for me too, you know. Really hard. I lost one of my best friends and as if that wasn’t enough people cast doubt on every word I said. She’d asked me to keep it a secret, you see. I wasn’t to tell anyone, she made me promise, and all of a sudden there I was having to blurt it out to all and sundry. At that stage she was still only missing. She could still have come back.’
The cafe was popular; there was a clinking of spoons and cups, a buzz of cheerful conversation. Every table was occupied and the air was thick with cigarette smoke. Trashy music – the latest Icelandic disco hit – was playing in the background.
‘So all she told you was that she’d fallen for a boy from Camp Knox?’ said Erlendur.
‘Yes, that’s more or less it. Next to nothing to go on, really. Naturally I was dying to know more but she said she’d tell me later. We’d just finished gym; I had to hurry into town and she was on her way home, and that was the last time I saw her. Next day she didn’t turn up to school or to the meeting we’d arranged later that afternoon with the other girls, and then we found out she’d set out that morning and never arrived.’
‘What made her tell you about the boy just then?’
‘Well, Camp Knox had a bad reputation,’ said Silja, ‘and I remember I was saying my brother was afraid of the lads from there. According to him they were hooligans – which some of them definitely were. But she said they weren’t all like that and when I started interrogating her, she told me about this boy she’d met who was no hooligan.’
‘They were a similar age, then?’
‘Yes, I assume so.’
‘Could she have been making it up?’
‘She had no reason to,’ said Silja. ‘Why would you think that?’
‘Because the boy doesn’t seem to have existed,’ said Erlendur. ‘He can hardly have failed to notice that the girl he was seeing had gone missing. They searched for her for weeks – in the camp as well. You’d have thought it would’ve been simplest for him to come forward and admit he’d known
‘Yes. She wouldn’t tell me his name. Or where he lived, at first.’
‘Did she seem ashamed of him?’
‘Dagbjört wasn’t like that. She didn’t have a snobbish bone in her body. But the relationship was still at a delicate stage, I suppose – had only just got off the ground – and she didn’t want to say too much about it. Certainly not to her parents. Of course, that’s the last thing you … kids want to do – you know how it is. So I wasn’t surprised they didn’t know what she was up to – or what I was talking about when I told them. They were completely floored – to hear there was a boy.’
‘Yes, I can imagine.’
‘Her mother … she was so disappointed,’ continued Silja. ‘Not that Dagbjört had fallen for a boy from Camp Knox, you understand, but that she hadn’t confided in her. They were very close and her mother was great, a really nice woman – always so kind to the rest of us. When she heard about this boy she refused to believe it, said I must have made a mistake.’
‘But you hadn’t?’
‘No,’ said Silja. ‘I didn’t make any mistake.’
‘But –’
‘Don’t be like everyone else and start casting doubt on what I said. I didn’t make it up.’
‘No, I’m sure, but the boy never contacted the police.’
‘No, he didn’t.’
‘Why do you think that was?’
‘How should I know? I can’t answer that.’
‘No, of c—’
‘I have absolutely no idea,’ said Silja, lighting yet another cigarette and inhaling deeply. Her voice sounded weary. ‘I was just repeating what she told me. Sometimes I wished she’d never told me about him. You’ve no idea what I went through at the time, and her poor parents hung on my every word because they had nothing else to go on.’
She glanced down blankly at the untouched cake.
‘I don’t know why it had to be me,’ she said. ‘I didn’t ask for it. It was a really hard time for me too, you know. Really hard. I lost one of my best friends and as if that wasn’t enough people cast doubt on every word I said. She’d asked me to keep it a secret, you see. I wasn’t to tell anyone, she made me promise, and all of a sudden there I was having to blurt it out to all and sundry. At that stage she was still only missing. She could still have come back.’
The cafe was popular; there was a clinking of spoons and cups, a buzz of cheerful conversation. Every table was occupied and the air was thick with cigarette smoke. Trashy music – the latest Icelandic disco hit – was playing in the background.
‘So all she told you was that she’d fallen for a boy from Camp Knox?’ said Erlendur.
‘Yes, that’s more or less it. Next to nothing to go on, really. Naturally I was dying to know more but she said she’d tell me later. We’d just finished gym; I had to hurry into town and she was on her way home, and that was the last time I saw her. Next day she didn’t turn up to school or to the meeting we’d arranged later that afternoon with the other girls, and then we found out she’d set out that morning and never arrived.’
‘What made her tell you about the boy just then?’
‘Well, Camp Knox had a bad reputation,’ said Silja, ‘and I remember I was saying my brother was afraid of the lads from there. According to him they were hooligans – which some of them definitely were. But she said they weren’t all like that and when I started interrogating her, she told me about this boy she’d met who was no hooligan.’
‘They were a similar age, then?’
‘Yes, I assume so.’
‘Could she have been making it up?’
‘She had no reason to,’ said Silja. ‘Why would you think that?’
‘Because the boy doesn’t seem to have existed,’ said Erlendur. ‘He can hardly have failed to notice that the girl he was seeing had gone missing. They searched for her for weeks – in the camp as well. You’d have thought it would’ve been simplest for him to come forward and admit he’d known
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