Thora snatched the note from her. While she unfolded it she asked: 'When did he go? And where?'
'He just left. An hour ago.' Soley had still not figured out the mystery of telling time. Gylfi could have gone a few seconds ago, or two weeks ago for that matter. 'He went where it says here.' A little finger pointed to the note as if to clear up any confusion with other pieces of paper.
'Come with me.' Thora saw that the address was in Seltjarnarnes, too, so thankfully it was quite close. 'Let's go for a drive with the nice man.' She threw one of Gylfi's coats over Soley's shoulders, crammed her into some boots, and pushed her outside. Thora swung open the rear door of the Jeep and swiftly helped her daughter inside. Then she jumped into the passenger seat and told Matthew to drive away. 'Matthew, this is my daughter, Soley. She speaks only Icelandic. Soley, this is Matthew. He doesn't speak Icelandic but I'm sure you'll be good friends.'
Matthew stole a glance into the back to greet the little girl with a smile. 'Pretty, like her mother,' he said, turning where Thora indicated he should. 'Same taste in clothes too.'
'Herethen first right. I'm looking for number forty-five,' Thora said, still agitated. The house soon came into sight. It was easy to recognize because walking up the drive was Gylfi. 'There, there,' Thora gasped, pointing to her son. Matthew sped up a little and pulled up alongside the sidewalk outside the housethe driveway was already full. Thora recognized Hannes's car. She flung open the door the moment the car stopped. 'Soley, you wait here with nice Mr. Matthew.'
Gylfi did not look round until his mother had repeatedly called his name as she ran toward the house. He had reached the front door where he stood slouching after ringing the bell. 'Hi,' he said morosely.
'I was delayed.' Thora was panting. She put her hand on her son's shoulder. 'What's going on, darling? Who lives here?'
Gylfi looked at her with an expression of absolute desperation. 'Sigga's pregnant. She's only fifteen. I'm the father. Her parents live here.'
The front door opened as he finished speaking. Thora stood frozen to the spot, her mouth gaping. For some reason her eyes were glued to the iPod her son was wearing round his neck, perhaps because she had been looking at it when the world collapsed around her. If the enraged middle-aged man who opened the door had not been blue in the face, he would surely have laughed at her moronic expression. 'Hello,' he said to her, then looked at Gylfi, narrowed his eyes contemptuously, and said: 'You too.' But those two words were obviously not to be mistaken as a welcome. Their implication was more along the lines of:
Politeness won out from force of habit and Thora gritted her teeth into a smile. 'Hello, I'm Thora. Gylfi's mother.'
The man grunted but invited them in. They took off their shoes under his watchful gaze as he leaned menacingly in the doorway. Thora had the impression that the man expected Gylfi not to stop at the daughter of the household but to burst in and ravish the mother for good measure.
'Thank you,' she said to no one in particular as she walked in past him. She had both arms on her son's shoulders, guiding him along in front of herin case the man tried to go for his jugular. They walked straight into a large open-plan living room where three people were seated: Hannes, whom Thora recognized from the nape of his neck; a woman of roughly her own age, who stood up when they approached; and a young girl who was sitting in an armchair with her head bowed in total resignation.
'So, you made it at last,' the woman half shrieked. Oh, Lord, may the unborn child inherit my deep alto, Thora prayed silently. She tried for a second time to squeeze out a smile. Her hands did not leave her son's shoulders.
'Hannes,' Thora said, looking at her ex-husband. She tried to signal that he should do his duty now and allow her to join him where he was seated. But instead of signaling back 'message received,' he glared back furiously. 'Hello, Sigga,' she said in the friendliest voice she could manage to the young girl, who then looked up. Her eyes were puffy, with heavy tears glittering in each corner.
Gylfi finally shook off Thora's grip and ran over to her. 'Sigga!' he moaned, clearly moved at the sorry state of his beloved.
'Oh, great!' snarled the mother. 'Romeo and Juliet. I'm going to throw up.'
Thora swung round to face her. She was seething with rage. Two youngsters had made a terrible mistake and this woman had the nerve to mock their fate, even though one of them was her own daughter. Thora rarely lost her temper, but it happened now. 'Excuse me, but this is difficult enough as it isdon't go spicing it up with sarcasm.' Hannes leaped to his feet and Thora felt him push her down onto the sofa before she could even begin to resist. Sigga's mother gaspedanger blazed from her eyes.
'I see where your son gets his manners from,' she said, and sat down, too, her back straighter than a ballerina's. Her husband chose to remain standing, towering over them from the middle of the floor.
'Mom!' Sigga wept. 'Shut up!' Thora took an immediate liking to the girlher prospective daughter-in-law.
'What's all this bitching about?' said Sigga's father. 'If we can't discuss this like civilized human beings, we might as well forget it. We're here to face up to this terrible news and let's do just that.' The word 'terrible' was stressed with great drama.
Hannes sat up. 'Agreed, let's try to keep calmthis isn't easy for any of us.'
The woman snorted again.
'Well, anyway,' Hannes continued solemnly. 'Maybe I should begin by saying how saddened I am and on behalf of my family I want to apologize for our son's behavior and the pain he's caused you.'
Thora took a deep breath, wanting to digest Hannes's words before killing him. She turned to him, perfectly calm. 'For a start, just to set the record straight, we're not a family. My son and daughter and I are a family. You're a cheap excuse for a weekend father, but unlike most of them you can't even take your own son's side when you need to.' When she looked away from Hannes she noticed the others were staring at her. Her son was watching her proudly. She repeated for emphasis: 'Just to set the record straight.'
Hannes took a sharp breath, but Sigga's mother beat him to a reply. 'How appropriate. I want to take this opportunity to point out that your darling princethat son of yours'this family's talent for drama knew no bounds. She gave a grandiose emphasis to her words with an exaggerated sweep of the hand'will soon be the same 'cheap excuse for a weekend father' as your ex-husband.'
'No!' The shout came from Gylfi. Proudly he went on: 'II mean we. We. We're going to stay together. We'll rent an apartment and look after the baby.'
Thora suddenly wanted to laugh out loud. Gylfi renting an apartment! He didn't even realize that everything he took for grantedheating, electricity, television, water, garbage collectionall cost money. But she kept her thoughts to herself for fear of discouraging her son. If he believed he was going to rent an apartment, so be it.
'Yes!' cried Sigga. 'We can do itI'm almost sixteen.'
'Rape!' shouted her mother. 'Of course. She's not even sixteen! It's rape!' She glared at Gylfi and shrieked: 'Rapist!'
Thora did not quite understand how this was supposed to improve the situation. She turned to Sigga. 'How many months, dear?'
'I don't know. Maybe three. I haven't had a period for three months anyway.' Her father blushed to the roots of his hair.
Gylfi had turned sixteen a month and a half before. Not that it made any difference. 'Let me point out that the age of consent in such a case is fourteen, not sixteen. Besides, my son wasn't sixteen himself when the child was conceived and the law makes no exemption for either gender in cases of sexual harassment, as it's called.'
'Nonsense.' The father snorted. 'As if a woman could rape a man? To say nothing of a child, as in my daughter's case.'
'And my son's,' replied Thora with a victorious smirk.
'May I point out that your son's at secondary grammar school while my daughter's still in basic school. That must carry some weight with the law,' the man said arrogantly.
'None whatsoever,' Thora replied. 'There's no mention of educational level, I can assure you.'
He frowned. 'Those fucking queers in parliament.'
'You're crazy!' yelled Sigga. 'It's my child. I'm the one who has to carry it around and get a huge belly and ugly breasts and can't ever go to the prom.' A fresh bout of tears prevented her from continuing.
Gylfi tried to offer what he must have felt was romantic consolation. In an emotional voice he declared to all
