down till they arrive,’ Erlendur suggested.
‘Tell me what you’ve found out,’ she persisted weakly. ‘You haven’t stopped sniffing around, have you?’
‘No,’ he admitted.
‘Ah . . . I thought not. What’s the latest?’
‘Isn’t there someone I could call?’ asked Erlendur. ‘Don’t you have any family?’
‘They’ve all moved away.’
‘Friends?’
‘There’ll be plenty of time for that. Tell me what else you know.’
Headlights lit up the house and blue flashes bounced off the walls. Erlendur went outside to meet the ambulance. Two men, dressed in thick, reflective overalls, climbed out and followed him into the house.
‘Diabetes again, is it?’ one of them asked Hrund.
‘I’m such a blasted nuisance,’ she said, trying to stand.
‘Easy now,’ said the man. ‘Haven’t you been doing your injections regularly?’
‘Yes, I have, but I think my leg’s infected. I burnt myself on the oven door the day before yesterday, then started feeling very ill, and the next thing I know he’s found me on the kitchen floor,’ she said, gesturing at Erlendur.
The men fetched a stretcher, eased her onto it and carried her out. It had stopped snowing and she lay staring up at the stars until they slid her into the back of the ambulance. Erlendur stood by and watched as they closed the doors, then climbed into the cab and drove off. But they had not gone far before he saw the reversing lights come on as they backed up to the house again. One of the men jumped out.
‘Can I ask who you are?’ he said.
‘Does it matter?’ asked Erlendur.
‘She wants you to come with her.’
‘Really?’
‘There’s plenty of room.’
‘All right,’ said Erlendur and, climbing into the back, perched on a seat beside Hrund who had apparently fallen asleep. When they set off again, however, she opened her eyes and studied his face.
‘Why won’t you give up?’ she asked huskily.
‘Give up what?’
‘Stirring up ghosts that have nothing to do with you.’
‘Do you want me to stop?’
Hrund did not answer.
‘They’ll give me antibiotics,’ she said at last. ‘As soon as I get to hospital. A massive dose to kill all the infection in my body. That’s how they beat it. Otherwise I’ll die. Not that I should care, really. I’m old and tired and ill, and I don’t suppose anyone’ll miss me. But it’s not a tempting thought. Not for me. I may be an old cripple but I don’t want to let go. I really don’t want to let go.’
The ambulance skidded and bumped over a snowdrift that lay across the road. Erlendur was thrown off his seat, almost falling against the rear door.
‘Sorry,’ called the driver from the cab. ‘It’s like a skating rink.’
‘Why are you investigating Matthildur’s story?’ asked Hrund, returning to her theme. ‘What have you found out?’
‘Why didn’t you tell me about Ingunn and Jakob?’
‘It was none of your business. Why are you raking up what’s long forgotten? Why can’t people rest in peace?’
‘It’s not my intention to disturb anyone,’ said Erlendur.
‘Who’ve you been talking to?’
‘Matthildur’s friend.’
‘Ninna?’
‘Yes.’
‘What do you know? I want to hear.’
‘Nothing you don’t already, I suspect,’ said Erlendur. ‘Ingunn didn’t tell anyone she’d given birth to Jakob’s child and he refused to acknowledge that he was the father. Their son is the man you sent me to see in Egilsstadir. Later, when Ingunn learned that Matthildur had married Jakob, she wrote her a letter telling her the whole story. A year after that Matthildur died.’
‘You
have
been busy,’ Hrund remarked.
‘I sometimes get the feeling . . .’ Erlendur began.
‘What?’
‘I get the impression – though I may be wrong – that you’re on my side, in spite of everything, and that you’ve been guiding me. But you’re in two minds. You find it hard to admit it to yourself, so you react badly because you don’t really
‘Tell me what you’ve found out,’ she persisted weakly. ‘You haven’t stopped sniffing around, have you?’
‘No,’ he admitted.
‘Ah . . . I thought not. What’s the latest?’
‘Isn’t there someone I could call?’ asked Erlendur. ‘Don’t you have any family?’
‘They’ve all moved away.’
‘Friends?’
‘There’ll be plenty of time for that. Tell me what else you know.’
Headlights lit up the house and blue flashes bounced off the walls. Erlendur went outside to meet the ambulance. Two men, dressed in thick, reflective overalls, climbed out and followed him into the house.
‘Diabetes again, is it?’ one of them asked Hrund.
‘I’m such a blasted nuisance,’ she said, trying to stand.
‘Easy now,’ said the man. ‘Haven’t you been doing your injections regularly?’
‘Yes, I have, but I think my leg’s infected. I burnt myself on the oven door the day before yesterday, then started feeling very ill, and the next thing I know he’s found me on the kitchen floor,’ she said, gesturing at Erlendur.
The men fetched a stretcher, eased her onto it and carried her out. It had stopped snowing and she lay staring up at the stars until they slid her into the back of the ambulance. Erlendur stood by and watched as they closed the doors, then climbed into the cab and drove off. But they had not gone far before he saw the reversing lights come on as they backed up to the house again. One of the men jumped out.
‘Can I ask who you are?’ he said.
‘Does it matter?’ asked Erlendur.
‘She wants you to come with her.’
‘Really?’
‘There’s plenty of room.’
‘All right,’ said Erlendur and, climbing into the back, perched on a seat beside Hrund who had apparently fallen asleep. When they set off again, however, she opened her eyes and studied his face.
‘Why won’t you give up?’ she asked huskily.
‘Give up what?’
‘Stirring up ghosts that have nothing to do with you.’
‘Do you want me to stop?’
Hrund did not answer.
‘They’ll give me antibiotics,’ she said at last. ‘As soon as I get to hospital. A massive dose to kill all the infection in my body. That’s how they beat it. Otherwise I’ll die. Not that I should care, really. I’m old and tired and ill, and I don’t suppose anyone’ll miss me. But it’s not a tempting thought. Not for me. I may be an old cripple but I don’t want to let go. I really don’t want to let go.’
The ambulance skidded and bumped over a snowdrift that lay across the road. Erlendur was thrown off his seat, almost falling against the rear door.
‘Sorry,’ called the driver from the cab. ‘It’s like a skating rink.’
‘Why are you investigating Matthildur’s story?’ asked Hrund, returning to her theme. ‘What have you found out?’
‘Why didn’t you tell me about Ingunn and Jakob?’
‘It was none of your business. Why are you raking up what’s long forgotten? Why can’t people rest in peace?’
‘It’s not my intention to disturb anyone,’ said Erlendur.
‘Who’ve you been talking to?’
‘Matthildur’s friend.’
‘Ninna?’
‘Yes.’
‘What do you know? I want to hear.’
‘Nothing you don’t already, I suspect,’ said Erlendur. ‘Ingunn didn’t tell anyone she’d given birth to Jakob’s child and he refused to acknowledge that he was the father. Their son is the man you sent me to see in Egilsstadir. Later, when Ingunn learned that Matthildur had married Jakob, she wrote her a letter telling her the whole story. A year after that Matthildur died.’
‘You
have
been busy,’ Hrund remarked.
‘I sometimes get the feeling . . .’ Erlendur began.
‘What?’
‘I get the impression – though I may be wrong – that you’re on my side, in spite of everything, and that you’ve been guiding me. But you’re in two minds. You find it hard to admit it to yourself, so you react badly because you don’t really
Similar Books
