‘Ready?’ she smiled, returning to the table. Steini stood up and followed her outside.
‘Well, thank you for a pleasant lunch,’ Gunna said as she dug in her pocket for the Range Rover’s key and dangled it from a finger.
‘Yours?’ Steini asked, patting the big car’s bonnet.
‘No,’ Gunna said, laughing. ‘It’s Gisli’s. He’s wanted one of these since he was about five. So as soon as he’d saved up enough, that’s what he bought. The insurance was costing him a fortune considering he’s at sea four weeks in five, so now he splits the insurance with his old mum and I use it as well when he’s away.’
‘That’s very generous of him,’ Steini said and Gunna had a sudden image of a tongue-tied teenager in front of her. ‘You know, Gunna, you’re a highly attractive lady and I’d like to see more of you,’ he said quickly.
Taken by surprise, Gunna took a few seconds to reply.
‘That’s very kind of you to say so, Steini. I wouldn’t mind seeing a bit more of you as well, but I’ve a lot on my plate right this minute and I don’t know . . .’ She took a gulp of air. ‘I’m sorry, you’ve caught me on the hop.’
Steini smiled slowly. ‘I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. I’ll give you a call in the week if that’s all right?’
His face was one big question as Gunna nodded.
‘Do that. I’m going to be busy, but give me a call when you have time,’ she said firmly.
He hesitated for a moment and finally leaned forward to peck her on the cheek.
‘See you soon, then,’ he said and strode away to the van that Gunna recognized from the day they had spoken on the dock at Sandeyri.
Gunna sat in the Range Rover’s driving seat and waited for her stomach to settle.
‘Good grief,’ she grumbled to herself. ‘I should be past all this stuff by now. Like a lovesick bloody teenager.’
24
Monday, 22 September
The second-best Volvo hummed through Hafnarfjordur in the morning sunshine, with the faintest dusting of white on Esja’s slopes in the distance above Reykjavik a reminder that the short days of winter weren’t far away. Gunna had always had misgivings about what she saw as the mountain’s brooding hulk and had never understood the fondness people born in its shadow always professed for it. Gunna found Esja less than impressive compared to the dramatic sheer slopes of her childhood home.
She toured a few of the taxi ranks at Grensas and L?kjargata, near the shopping centres and the big hotels, and cruised slowly down Raudararstigur to the Hlemmur bus station and across past the police station to the main road into the town centre, looking out for Matti’s green Mercedes, wondering as she did so if this was the right thing to be doing.
She headed out of town, and stopped at the Hofdabakki traffic lights next to Nonni the Taxi’s yard, scanning the car park outside for the green Mercedes. Gunna wondered whether or not to go in and ask for Matti’s whereabouts, but decided against it, unwilling to send him a message that could be misunderstood if not delivered personally.
Gunna checked the time and decided to take a round trip through the Bakki district and Kopavogur before a final look through Matti’s normal haunts in the old western end of the city.
Lunchtime traffic thickened as she gunned the Volvo out of Kopavogur and on to Kringlumyrarbraut back towards the city. Passing the airport, she wondered idly how the billionaires with their little summer houses around Skildingarnes would be preparing for the invasion of their territory if the city were to have its way and close the airport to make way for more building south of the city centre.
‘It’ll happen. Money talks its own language, as Mum used to say,’ Gunna grunted to herself, pulling up at the lights at L?kjargata for the second time that day and seeing that the taxi rank there was empty.
‘Hell. Lunchtime, I suppose.’
She drove slowly past the slipways and the remnants of the old town, where rusting houses clad in corrugated iron were gradually being replaced with steel and glass, and past Kaffivagninn. She thought of stopping there, but since office types had discovered the old dockers’ eatery on the quay, it had gone upmarket and lost some of its attraction.
Further along and beyond walking distance from the office district, she pulled up on a patch of waste ground opposite Grandakaffi among a cluster of taxis, pickup trucks and a bus at the end of its route. For a moment she admired the trawlers in their blue-and-white Grandi livery at the quayside and listened as a group of men in paint- spattered overalls engaged in a friendly argument in some Eastern European language as they made their way from a half-painted ship over the waste ground towards the cafe. They fell silent as they noticed her uniform, nudging each other as they passed her. Gunna walked behind the men, trying not to look as if she was following them to the cafe, but she could sense their discomfort.
In the sunshine half a dozen men sat over large meals and newspapers around rickety tables and Gunna scanned the faces quickly, catching the eye of a thin-faced elderly man who looked as if a square meal coming his way was a rarity. He nodded imperceptibly as she passed, and carried on with his bowl of soup.
The group of workmen were at the counter, bargaining with a tiny Asian woman in broken English. As Gunna approached, the woman looked past them in relief. Gunna wondered what had brought her to Iceland.
‘What’re y’looking for?’ the woman asked in perfect Icelandic that marked her down as a second-generation immigrant.
‘Coffee and a ham sandwich,’ Gunna decided. There was a palpable relaxation of tension among the group of men as they realized that she was there to eat. The woman put a sandwich on a plate on the counter and pointed to the coffee urns.
‘Six hundred.’
Gunna fished in her pocket for coins and finally came up with a crumpled thousand krona note.
‘Have you seen a green Mercedes taxi around?’ she asked, handing over the money.
‘What? Big Matti?’
‘That’s the guy.’
‘Not for a day or two. Want me to take a message?’ the woman replied, handing back a handful of coins.
‘No. It’s all right. Nothing urgent.’
Gunna took her sandwich and coffee outside into the sunshine and looked around before planting herself down opposite the narrow-faced man.
‘Well then, Baddi. How’s life? Keeping yourself occupied?’
‘Little Dodda, isn’t it?’
Gunna nodded and bit into her sandwich. Hearing the Dodda name, only remembered by a handful of family from Vestureyri, took her home and back thirty years with a jolt. ‘Not so little these days.’
‘Not so bad, y’know. Keeping busy.’
‘Good to know,’ Gunna said. She understood the older generation and their need to be working all the time. ‘I thought you’d have been retired by now, Baddi.’
‘Ach. You know. I tried for a while but my Magga didn’t like having me under her feet all day long, so I do three days a week now. Enough to keep out of the old woman’s way.’
Gunna nodded. ‘Working for Nonni?’
‘Yup. Just weekdays. Can’t be having with the drunks. There’s a young feller drives the cab nights and weekends. He makes a packet and works hard for it, and Nonni’s got his car working day and night. I do a few days, so we’re all happy. And how’s your mum these days?’
‘She’s the same as ever. Greyer. Still complaining. How about your boys?’
‘Nothing but trouble. Gummi’s still at sea, just. Beggi’s got himself married again. Fourth time, or maybe the fifth. I’ve given up counting. Filipina girl this time, half his age, at least. So, did you just happen to be passing?’
‘Sort of,’ Gunna admitted. ‘Looking around for our Matti.’
‘Ah,’ Baddi said with satisfaction. ‘Now there’s a lad who never got round to growing up.’
‘But have you seen him about? He’s driving a green Merc for Nonni.’
