two-toned hair. ‘I don’t see what difference that makes. Are you trying to say we’re responsible? That this would never have happened if he’d been allowed to continue living at home?’
‘No, that’s not what I meant.’ Thóra kept her composure, telling herself not to rise to any provocation. ‘My intention is to demonstrate that he had nothing to do with the fire. If this turns out to be the case, it certainly matters where he was living.’ She allowed Glódís a moment to consider this and saw her tense shoulders relax slightly. ‘From the little interaction that you say you had with Jakob, do you think it’s possible that he took this desperate measure to get what he wanted? That he perhaps considered it the only way for him to return to his own home, by burning the place to the ground?’
‘I don’t know.’ Glódís was clearly being cautious. By far the best response, of course, was to say as little as possible. ‘My dealings with him were limited and I decided not to burden myself by going through the case any more than my job dictated was necessary. The whole thing hit me very hard; as director of the centre it caused me enormous professional shock.’ She hurriedly added: ‘As well as emotional shock, of course. I’d known many of those young people for a long time. The most disabled ones had been regular visitors at a short-term community residence for children where I worked for many years. You form relationships with your clients, even though you’re paid to supervise them.’
Thóra nodded, her expression sympathetic. ‘Naturally.’ She smiled warmly at the woman. ‘Then you’d probably agree with me that it’s important for us to remove all doubt as to who the guilty party is? I’m sure you wouldn’t want the criminal to be walking free while an innocent man is locked up.’
‘Of course not.’ Once again the woman clamped her lips shut, this time until they nearly disappeared.
‘If we let ourselves believe for a moment that Jakob is innocent, could you imagine who else might have done it? I’m not thinking exclusively about the residents; what about an outsider or a disgruntled employee who felt he had a score to settle?’
Thóra had to give Glódís her due: she did appear to think this over before she replied. As she opened her mouth, her lips turned from white to pink again as circulation was restored. ‘I must insist that I believe Jakob started the fire. Just so we’re clear on that.’ She hesitated before continuing: ‘The young men and women who died that night weren’t like ordinary people, who might have someone who wished them harm for whatever reason. They hurt no one and offended no one, except perhaps the kind of bigots who can’t tolerate anyone different from themselves. In other words, they had no enemies; there’s no list of people who bore grudges against them.’
Thóra decided to wait a little before dragging the pregnancy into the conversation, although she greatly longed to throw it in the face of this rather rude woman. She feared it would be difficult to pursue the subject, and that the conversation might end there and then. ‘Fine. What about their families, though? It’s not unheard-of for a relative to resort to drastic measures when things get tough, and might it not be conceivable that one of them started the fire so as not to have to witness his or her child suffering? Perhaps someone who might even have been breaking down under the strain and not had the strength to care for their loved one any longer? Unemployment and uncertainty sap some people of all their strength; maybe this was an act of desperation on the part of someone who had lost all hope and wasn’t in his or her right mind?’
‘It sounds as if you’re describing Jakob.’ The woman smiled for the first time, but it was a smile completely devoid of joy, and full of spite and sarcasm. ‘He meets both criteria. Dashed hopes, not in his right mind.’
Thóra ignored
‘No, that’s not what I meant.’ Thóra kept her composure, telling herself not to rise to any provocation. ‘My intention is to demonstrate that he had nothing to do with the fire. If this turns out to be the case, it certainly matters where he was living.’ She allowed Glódís a moment to consider this and saw her tense shoulders relax slightly. ‘From the little interaction that you say you had with Jakob, do you think it’s possible that he took this desperate measure to get what he wanted? That he perhaps considered it the only way for him to return to his own home, by burning the place to the ground?’
‘I don’t know.’ Glódís was clearly being cautious. By far the best response, of course, was to say as little as possible. ‘My dealings with him were limited and I decided not to burden myself by going through the case any more than my job dictated was necessary. The whole thing hit me very hard; as director of the centre it caused me enormous professional shock.’ She hurriedly added: ‘As well as emotional shock, of course. I’d known many of those young people for a long time. The most disabled ones had been regular visitors at a short-term community residence for children where I worked for many years. You form relationships with your clients, even though you’re paid to supervise them.’
Thóra nodded, her expression sympathetic. ‘Naturally.’ She smiled warmly at the woman. ‘Then you’d probably agree with me that it’s important for us to remove all doubt as to who the guilty party is? I’m sure you wouldn’t want the criminal to be walking free while an innocent man is locked up.’
‘Of course not.’ Once again the woman clamped her lips shut, this time until they nearly disappeared.
‘If we let ourselves believe for a moment that Jakob is innocent, could you imagine who else might have done it? I’m not thinking exclusively about the residents; what about an outsider or a disgruntled employee who felt he had a score to settle?’
Thóra had to give Glódís her due: she did appear to think this over before she replied. As she opened her mouth, her lips turned from white to pink again as circulation was restored. ‘I must insist that I believe Jakob started the fire. Just so we’re clear on that.’ She hesitated before continuing: ‘The young men and women who died that night weren’t like ordinary people, who might have someone who wished them harm for whatever reason. They hurt no one and offended no one, except perhaps the kind of bigots who can’t tolerate anyone different from themselves. In other words, they had no enemies; there’s no list of people who bore grudges against them.’
Thóra decided to wait a little before dragging the pregnancy into the conversation, although she greatly longed to throw it in the face of this rather rude woman. She feared it would be difficult to pursue the subject, and that the conversation might end there and then. ‘Fine. What about their families, though? It’s not unheard-of for a relative to resort to drastic measures when things get tough, and might it not be conceivable that one of them started the fire so as not to have to witness his or her child suffering? Perhaps someone who might even have been breaking down under the strain and not had the strength to care for their loved one any longer? Unemployment and uncertainty sap some people of all their strength; maybe this was an act of desperation on the part of someone who had lost all hope and wasn’t in his or her right mind?’
‘It sounds as if you’re describing Jakob.’ The woman smiled for the first time, but it was a smile completely devoid of joy, and full of spite and sarcasm. ‘He meets both criteria. Dashed hopes, not in his right mind.’
Thóra ignored
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