She said goodbye after asking how little Orri was doing; his upper teeth didn’t want to come out. He was turning out to resemble his father in this as in other things; Thora had actually considered asking Hannes to cut the little boy’s gums open when Gylfi had gone through the same thing. It was getting late, so the phone call to Soley would have to wait until after she had spoken to Markus’s mother. She was supposed to be there at four o’clock sharp, and although the streets in the Westmann Islands weren’t numerous, she and Bella had managed to get hopelessly lost just looking for the excavation site, even though it was at the foot of the volcano.
After driving in circles for ten minutes, Thora finally managed to find the street and the house. It had proven to be even more complicated than the search for the Pompeuof the North site, because this time Bella wasn’t there to help her, having gone to the library to try and wheedle her way into the archive and dig around for information on Valgerdur and Dadi. Thora was therefore slightly late when she parked the car in front of the old woman’s house. She carefully smoothed out her trousers and fixed the barely visible crease in the front of them, then smoothed her blouse and headed for the front door. She wanted to make a good impression: people of Markus’s parents’ age wanted to see respectable individuals working as lawyers, and no doubt preferred them to be men. It was important that the old woman not be shocked by Thora’s appearance when they met for the first time. To that end, Thora was wearing the best, smart-but- not-fancy outfit in her closet.
Thora rang the bell and stood stiffly waiting for someone to come to the door. It was Leifur’s wife Maria who opened it. A faint smell of alcohol drifted from her but she didn’t appear tipsy at all as she stood there in the doorway, dressed elegantly in a Burberry shirt and skirt. Thora knew this woman would immediately notice her inexpensive clothing.
‘You’re late,’ said Maria angrily.
‘Oh,’ said Thora, off guard. ‘I didn’t realize.’ She looked at the clock on the wall and then her watch and noticed that the latter was off by six minutes.‘I got lost.’
‘Got lost?’ said the woman scathingly. ‘In the Westmann Islands?’ She didn’t wait for a reply but instead waved Thora in. ‘Klara is waiting,’ she said, and walked into the house.
Thora followed her sheepishly, and could only think that she hoped her bottom would look that good when she was fifty. Her only physical workout these days was caring for her grandchild, which had given her impressive biceps. She cheered up at the thought that she could at least beat this elegant woman at arm-wrestling.
Leifur’s wife stopped at a sliding double-door that opened into an old-fashioned but splendid front room. ‘In you go. She’s got so much to tell you.’ She walked away, adding sarcastically: ‘As long as you know what to ask.’
Chapter Twenty-three
The chilly gaze of the old woman undeniably resembled that of her younger son, Markus, but in other respects they were unalike. She had greying hair, but her face was mostly free of wrinkles. Her skin was the only thing about Klara that seemed young, though; she was wearing a highly patterned, multicoloured dress, plainly cut. Her eyes had the watery look of old age, but they did not hide her displeasure at having to sit here and speak to Thora, who had already asked her several polite questions with little response. Klara was probably around eighty, and wore her age gracefully as she sat there, straight-backed, on the large dark sofa. Carved lions’ paws adorned both the sofa’s arms and feet. The sofa suited Klara. In fact, she fitted perfectly into the room, whose every surface was dotted with crystal vases. Markus’s father, in contrast, didn’t look at all at home in this austere, old- fashioned setting. Thora felt sorry for him. He sat in one of the more modern chairs in the room, an upholstered reclining armchair, and was wearing a tracksuit over a turtleneck sweater, with a fleece blanket wrapped around his shoulders. On his feet he wore sheepskin moccasins. Leifur, who had come in behind Thora, took a seat next to his father. She wasn’t entirely sure why he was here. Perhaps he was meant to act as a kind of watchdog, to protect his mother and make sure Thora didn’t go too far with her questions. He hadn’t said anything about coming along when Thora had spoken to him the night before.
‘So you don’t remember any foreigners being around at that time?’ Thora asked the old woman, then added: ‘They were probably British, four of them.’ The old lady’s strong perfume was making her feel a little light-headed.
‘No, I don’t,’ Klara replied. ‘I had enough to worry about at home, and I didn’t go down to the harbour much, where any foreigners were most likely to be.’
‘I see,’ said Thora.‘And your husband didn’t do business with any foreigners?’
‘I never paid attention to his work, so I really don’t know,’ the woman replied, looking a little affronted. ‘Magnus’s work was entirely his business, I never got involved – that’s how it was in those days.’ She glanced sideways at her husband, who was sitting looking silently out of the window.
Thora decided to change the subject and ask about Valgerdur and Dadi. Maybe the old ladywould relax if the conversation focused on someone else. ‘The name of your former neighbour, Valgerdur Bjolfsdottir, has been mentioned in connection with Alda Thorgeirsdottir. I’m not sure how they are connected, but I was hoping you might be able to tell me.’
‘I don’t know anything about that,’ said Klara quickly, almost before Thora finished speaking.
‘Anything about what?’ asked Thora, certain Klara was hiding something – she hadn’t even tried to remember anything. ‘About the connection between them?’ Without waiting for a reply she smiled sympathetically at the woman, trying to convey that she knew it was a long story. ‘What little I’ve heard about Valgerdur and Dadi has all pointed the same way- everyone seems to be in agreement that they were a pretty tedious couple. It would be good to hear your opinion of them.’
‘How could that possibly be of use to Markus?’ Leifur asked, surprised and obviously annoyed. ‘I was led to believe the purpose of this meeting was to gather information that might help him.’
The old woman gave her son a sharp look.‘I think I can answer for myself,’ she said bad-temperedly. She turned to Thora. ‘Although I’m in agreement with Leifur in that I don’t really understand how this is connected to Markus, it’s hardly a secret that both Valgerdur and Dadi were particularly unpleasant people. She was a busybody who enjoyed other people’s misfortunes,’ she said, scowling. ‘I suppose she was trying to console herself for her own rotten luck.’
‘What was so rotten about it?’ Thora asked. ‘I heard she was a nurse and he was a sailor. There are definitely worse jobs.’
‘It didn’t have anything to do with work or money. They met when Valgerdur started at the hospital here as a student nurse. It must have been clear to her even before they’d exchanged rings that Dadi loved the bottle more than her, so it was a loveless and difficult marriage. At first they were no unhappier than the rest of the neighbourhood, really, but then things started to go downhill. We could hear everything, because our bedroom window faced theirs. I actually pitied her at first.’
‘So what changed?’ asked Thora, who had started to feel sorry for poor Valgerdur herself.
‘She betrayed my trust so badly that nothing could ever heal the wound,’ said Klara, pursing her lips.
‘Could you go into a little more detail?’ said Thora. ‘I don’t want to pry, but I have to understand what was going on in the neighbourhood if I want to help Markus. I’m fairly certain that whoever put the bodies there was known locally.’
Klara looked at Thora without saying anything at first, then raised her eyebrows and let out a low moan. ‘I don’t see how this piece of ancient history could possibly matter today.’ She cleared her
