now revolved mainly around the two of them and their needs. Thora’s, on the other hand, revolved around everyone but herself; lately all of her time had been going into her work, her two children and her grandson, who had recently turned one. The grandchild actually came part and parcel with a fourth child – her daughter- in law. Sigga was seventeen, a year younger than Thora’s son Gylfi, but there was not much difference between them in terms of maturity. Somehow the young parents had managed to keep their relationship going despite their belly flop into the deep end of adulthood. They stayed with Thora every other week, and in between the girl went home to her parents with the little boy – without Gylfi. The relationship between Gylfi and Sigga’s parents was a chilly one; they seemed unable to forgive him for their daughter’s untimely pregnancy. This was no secret to anyone, least of all Gylfi, so Thora was happy when he decided to stay at home whilst Sigga was with them. In this way she managed to keep her son to herself a little longer and continue with his upbringing, which had been cut short when he had accidentally increased the human population.
Thora put the receiver under her chin and adjusted a framed photograph of her grandson as she selected the number. The little boy had been christened Orri, after countless other proposals by the young parents that still made Thora shudder. He was irresistible; blond and big-eyed, and still with round, chubby cheeks even though he had long since stopped bottle- feeding. It warmed Thora’s heart to see him, and she was looking forward to taking care of him next week even though the household’s stress levels increased perceptibly when mother and son were around. She smiled at the little boy in the photo and crossed her fingers when the phone was finally answered. ‘Hello, Hannes. Could you do me a small favour? I won’t be able to pick up Soley…
‘The girl watched from the playground as the ambulance drove up to the house. She twisted in the swing and let it turn her back in a semi-circle. She was happy that the sirens weren’t on because if they were, that meant it was serious. Maybe the lady had just fallen down and broken her foot? Once her friend broke her foot and then an ambulance came to get her. Tinna puffed up her cheeks then let the air leak out while she thought about all of this. Fat cheeks. Skinny cheeks. Fat cheeks. Skinny cheeks. She stopped playing bellows with her cheeks and sat deep in thought. Here was proof that you didn’t need to eat to become fat. Air could make you fat. She stiffened. Everything was full of air. It was everywhere, and there was nowhere to hide. She would have to try to breathe less.
A dull thud came from the ambulance and Tinna directed her attention back there. She was hoping that someone would come out of the house so that she could find out what had happened, but the bustle around the ambulance was better than nothing. The house was more interesting- maybe they’d arrested a criminal inside, but the walls blocked her view. If they were thin walls maybe she could see through them, just as it would be possible one day to see through her. She squinted in the hope of seeing better, but it didn’t help. Yet something was going on: the first police car to arrive had had its sirens on. No police car had come when her friend broke her foot in the school playground, so it was unlikely that they’d come to the lady’s house because of an accident. If it was a robbery, then Tinna hoped that the police would put the robber in jail. She was a nice lady who didn’t deserve anything bad to happen to her. The swing creaked. The girl watched as two men stepped out of the ambulance and took a stretcher from the back. She sighed. This wasn’t good. When was she going to meet the ladynow? Maybe she’d be in the hospital for a long time. Last time Tinna went to the hospital she didn’t get to go home for forty days. But that didn’t change anything. This could always wait. She’d often waited longer than a few months for something. For things that were really important.
Tinna stood up on her swing to get a better view. She held on tight, dizzy from standing up so quickly. When she closed her eyes the unpleasant feeling passed, as always. She reminded herself that it was a good sign to get dizzy, it was almost equal to passing out and that meant the body was burning fat. When Tinna opened her eyes again the men with the stretcher had gone into the house and there was no movement to be seen outside it. The ambulance was parked right in front of the house, blocking her view of the door. She stretched herself as high as she could, trying to see if the door was open, but with no luck. Should she go home or wait for the ladyto be carried out? She was in no rush to go home; no one was there, her mother worked until five and didn’t get any break even though it was a staff day at Tinna’s school. There was nothing waiting for her at home.
She bent her knees and swung standing up, without particularly intending to do so. It was good to feel the air playing through her hair and she sped up a bit, only to slow down immediately when she remembered that the air was not her friend. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to settle the swing. As soon as it stopped she felt immediately better, and wondered what she should say to the lady, how she could put into words that she knew who she was for real. Tinna smiled to herself. The lady would be surprised and was sure to be happy, too. It was still stuck in her memory how sad I he lady had been when her father had reacted so terribly to what she was trying to tell him. Her dad was a real idiot. A grumpy, drunken idiot who didn’t understand Tinna, any more than her mother did. She was a lot worse, talking constantly about food, food, food and how Tinna had to eat, and sometimes she even cried. So Tinna always preferred to go to her father’s every other weekend because he didn’t expect anything from her. He told her she ought to eat but then didn’t pay any more attention to whether she did or not, unlike her mother. That was fine by her. Her dad was so uninterested in Tinna that he hadn’t even caught on that she’d heard everything that had passed between him and the lady the night she came to visit. Tinna had let herself in without her father or the visitor being aware of it, and the anger in her dad’s voice made her even keener not to draw attention to herself. She knew how to make herself inconspicuous, especially since that was her goal: in the end, she would become invisible. If she had already reached that goal she would have been able to step between them and watch the lines on their faces and their body language as they argued. ‘But she wasn’t quite that good yet, so she settled for sneaking to the sitting-room door and listening in on their conversation. When they finished she went out again and pretended to be arriving just as the lady was leaving the house. Her father was unusually sulky when he let her in, but she acted as if nothing were wrong and in the end he returned to normal, not caring about anything but the game on television.
The lady had no more idea than her father that Tinna had listened in; perhaps she had no idea at all that she even existed. Unlike Tinna’s father, however, she would be happy to discover that Tinna had heard what had passed between them and would no doubt want to get to know her better. Tinna had got her name and telephone number from a note that she’d left behind on the table for Tinna’s father, so that he could contact her later. That had turned out to be a work of patience since her dad had torn the paper to pieces and thrown them on the floor, so Tinna had to piece together the tatters just to be able to read what was written there. Once she had the woman’s name and telephone number it was easy to find her address. Tinna had sometimes come here just to watch the house without particularly knowing why or what she was hoping to find. The evening before, things had finally been different, and Tinna had watched with great interest. In fact little had actually happened, but maybe all would be explained later. She thought about the note that had blown away on the wind and got stuck in the shrubbery. Tinna had taken it and hidden it at home. It mattered. She knew that for sure – just not why or how. But it would come to light someday.
She sat back down in the swing and hooked her delicate elbows around the brown chains. The smell of iron on her palms reminded her of last summer, when she had tried to swing right over the bar, certain that by doing so she would burn a thousand calories. She still had an ugly scar on her right foot after the attempt failed miserably. The air then hadn’t made her fatter, but thinner. It made it all so difficult the rules kept changing, and Tinna had to be constantly on the look-out if she didn’t want to become fat, fatter, fattest.
She pricked up her ears as the sound of men’s voices came from across the street. She stood up again in the swing to see if the woman would be carried into the ambulance, but was careful in case she got dizzy and fell off. She didn’t want to miss this. First a policeman appeared, walked ahead of the paramedics and opened the door to the ambulance. They followed with the stretcher, and the girl stiffened. She squinted and shook herself. Maybe there was an explanation for this?
Maybe the woman was ill and they didn’t want her to get cold? She jumped from the swing and ran over to the pavement. The policeman who stood there holding open the back door of the ambulance noticed her and waved her away. ‘There’s nothing to see here. Go home,’ he called.
Tinna didn’t answer. In general she was afraid of male authority figures, whether they were doctors, headmasters, bus drivers, or others who wanted to boss her around in some way. Now, however, she felt as if the policeman was not actually there, had nothing to do with her. It was almost as if he were a 3D image on a screen, less real than the paramedics she was staring at. Tinna stood open-mouthed,
