Johanna smiled, relieved.‘Good.’ She looked at the large clock hanging in reception.‘God, I’ve got to get going. I’m really late.’
Thora watched the woman walk out through the hotel door and trudge off in the direction of her work, her eyes following her until she disappeared around a corner. The bag hung heavily from Thora’s clenched fist, and she was itching to read the diaries. She sincerely hoped there was nothing in them that might cause Johanna unnecessary pain, but she feared there would be. Anything relevant was bound to be both negative and painful for the woman. What Matthew had said about hatred echoed in her mind, and Thora asked herself if she really wanted to know how this tragic series of events had started.
Bella plonked herself down next to Thora at a table in the airport. She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, in the direction of the refreshment kiosk. ‘Load of rubbish. They don’t even stock it.’ She twisted round in her seat, and it looked to Thora as if she were giving the cashier the evil eye. ‘And they call this an airport.’
‘The flight takes twenty minutes, Bella,’ said Thora irritably. ‘I’m sure you can survive without nicotine gum.’ Now the evil eye fell on her so she looked away, in the direction of the boarding gate. ‘They’ll probably announce the flight soon,’ she said, just to have something to say. It wasn’t just Bella’s nonsense that made her impatient to get going, but the fact that she was waiting anxiously to dive into the diaries. She was in a hurry to read them, not just from excitement over what they might reveal, but also because if she had to hand them over to the police, it would obviously look better if she did so quickly. The police would be annoyed with her no matter how promptly she gave them the books, but it would reduce the damage if she did it as soon as possible after getting hold of them. If she could read through them today, it would be possible to make photocopies of them and return the diaries tomorrow.
‘They’re in no hurry,’muttered Bella. ‘We’ve paid for our tickets and they can’t leave without us.’ She stood up. ‘I’m going out for a smoke.’ Thora felt relieved to be left alone again, and her relief grew when she heard the call to board their flight to Reykjavik. She went to fetch Bella from the airport entrance, where she was leaning up against a statue honouring the visit to Iceland of Gorbachev and Reagan and blowing out one stream of smoke after another. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to miss our plane.’
‘It’s not going anywhere,’said Bella confidently, but nevertheless took one last drag and stubbed out the cigarette. She pointed at the inscription on the statue’s base.‘Who are these guys?’
‘Come on,’ said Thora, not caring to tell the girl the story behind the world leaders.‘They’re just some former big- shots who don’t matter any more.’ She hurried inside, even holding the door open for her secretary to chivvy her along, but they were still the last to board the plane and take their seats. As soon as she had fastened her seatbelt, Thora took out the diaries.
‘What are those?’ asked Bella in surprise when she saw the multicoloured, slightly battered books in Thora’s lap. She raised her pencilled eyebrows. ‘Diaries? I had some like that when I was a kid. Whose are they?’
The tracks of Reagan and Gorbachev might have been covered over by time, but some things survived from generation to generation. Thora had kept diaries herself, not unlike those lying at the top of the stack. ‘Oh, this is something that I need to go over,’ replied Thora, not saying anything about whothe diaries belonged to. ‘I don’t think they’re anything important.’ Thora had hit the nail on the head, judging by the first diary. It was from 1970, and at first glance nothing in it appeared relevant to the investigation. Alda’s handwriting was typical for an adolescent girl: big rounded letters, the letter ‘i’ sometimes dotted with a heart. There was often a whole week between entries, which was perhaps the reason Alda had been able to keep her diaries going for years. Thora had given up keeping a diary after six months, when the entries started to show her in black and white just how little happened in the life of an eleven-year-old, and she decided it would be better just to note down special events. She would have given a lot now to have the chance to peek into the mental world of her own childhood, which was now almost entirely lost to her.
Thora closed the first book and put it at the bottom of the pile. She found the diary from 1973, which stood out as it was the most tattered of all, and the spine cracked as she opened it. She turned to the first page and read the entry for New Year’s Day, in which Alda welcomed the new year and listed, with numbers, what she wanted to accomplish in the next twelve months. Thora smiled as she read the girl’s resolutions:
1. Go to a foreign country
2. Do homework
3. Get a record player
4. Get a boyfriend
5. Stop thinking about my hair – it will grow
Although she didn’t understand the last item, the rest perfectly suited a fifteen- year-old girl taking her first steps into the adult world. Today this might seem more like a thirteen-year-old’s voice, but in 1973 things clearly moved a bit slower in a teenager’s life. Thora went on to read about what a drag Alda’s parents had been after the party the night before, and how her little sister Johanna still hadn’t got over her fear of the fireworks, which had been even more beautiful than last year. This was followed by a short paragraph in which Alda talked of her concern about fireworks in the Islands, clearly torn between her delight in them and their negative effect on animals. The entry ended with a promise to be sure to make each day exciting enough to deserve a write-up in her new diary.
Thora read on, through a description of how that long- ago January had been spent. School started again after the Christmas break and Alda appeared not to be disappointed at all, even seeming to look forward to it, according to the diary. She had a crush on someone called Stebbi and had started to think it was mutual, but seemed not to have any interest in Markus except as a friend. It wasn’t clear to Thora whether the girl had realized how much of a crush he had on her, but all the entries mentioning him were positive and appeared to be written with platonic affection. The fifteenth of January turned out to be a huge watershed, because Alda had kissed Stebbioutside the shop; this page was scribbled all over with hearts and flowers. The next day was less enjoyable because the family kitten went missing, an incident that escalated in drama over the next few days until it was finally found after an extensive search. Thora wondered if the kitten had been one of the numerous cats left behind in the Islands, their numbers dwindling little by little as the eruption continued. From time to time there were also further reflections on hair that made no more sense to Thora than the reference at the start of the year. The best that Thora could come up with was that Alda had cut her hair short and been unhappy with the outcome, but she didn’t completely grasp why this seemed to be of such great concern to her.
At the start of the third week of the month Alda appeared to be very excited about a school dance that was in the offing. It was clearly a big deal, and although Alda didn’t describe it in any great detail she appeared to be looking forward to it and dreading it in equal measure. There was a reference to something all the kids in her class were going to do, but Thora couldn’t fathom what it was. When it came to the nineteenth of January Thora was slightly startled. The date had been written at the top, but beneath it the page had been crossed over so heavily and repeatedly with a ballpoint pen that in some places there were holes in the paper. The facing page had been subjected to the same violent treatment. Something had happened, and no matter how Thora scrutinized the scribbles she couldn’t make out what was written underneath. Perhaps Stebbi, the boy Alda had liked, had jilted her. However, the marks had been made so forcefully that Thora found this explanation unlikely, even though the writer had been a teenager with raging hormones. She put the diary on her lap.
‘What’s this mess?’ said Bella, pointing at the scrawls. ‘Did a little kid get into the diary?’
That hadn’t crossed Thora’s mind. It was possible that Johanna had scrubbed these lines out in her sister’s book in a fit of pique or a tantrum. ‘I don’t know,’ she replied truthfully. ‘Up until now it has all been rather tidy.’Bella snorted disbelievingly. ‘Yeah, right.’She stared at the scribbled-out pages and Thora couldn’t help but do the same. The flight attendant announced over the tannoy that they were commencing their descent into Reykjavik and that they should return their seats to the upright position and fasten their seatbelts. ‘Have you ever read about a plane crash in which the only ones who survived were those who put up their tray tables or had the backs of their seats in the upright position?’ asked Bella, loud enough for others to hear. ‘I think they’re just trying to protect the trays and seats if we crash. It’s bullshit.’ The passenger sitting
