Erlendur knew this sensation, had felt it since he was ten years old and he and his younger brother Bergur had got lost in a storm. For a while there was a genuine hope that his brother would be found alive after burying himself in the snow as Erlendur had done, and it was this hope that drove people on to search for him, long after his brother’s fate had been sealed. The body was never found. When the hope began to wane by the day and then vanished by the week and month and year, it was replaced by a feeling of numbness towards life. Some people managed to keep it at bay. Others, like Erlendur, nurtured it and made the pain their lifelong companion.
He knew that it was crucial to find Elias’s half-brother Niran. He hoped that the boy would return home as soon as possible and be able to shed light on what had happened. The more time that elapsed without him turning up, the more Erlendur felt that his disappearance was somehow connected with the boy’s death. In the worst-case scenario, something had happened to Niran too, but he did not want to pursue that train of thought.
“Is there anything I can help you with?” Sigridur asked.
“Have you heard from his brother?” Erlendur asked.
“Niran? No, Sunee’s so worried about him.”
“We’re doing everything we can,” Erlendur said.
“Do you think something’s happened to him as well?” Sigridur asked in horror.
“I doubt it,” Erlendur said.
“He must come home,” Sigridur said. “Sunee must get him back home.”
“He’ll be back,” Erlendur said calmly. “Can you imagine where he might be? He should have got back from school a long time ago. His mother said he’s not supposed to be at any extra courses or football practice or anything like that.”
“I don’t have the faintest idea where he could be,” Sigridur said. “I don’t have much contact with him.”
“What about their old friends from when they lived on Snorrabraut?” Erlendur asked. “Could he be with them?”
“I have no idea.”
“The boys haven’t been living here long?”
“No. They moved from Snorrabraut in the spring. The boys had to change schools this autumn. I think it’s been terribly difficult for them, first the divorce, then moving to a new part of town and starting at a new school”
“I need to speak to your son,” Erlendur said.
“Me too,” Sigridur said. “He’s working for a new firm of contractors and I don’t know the name.”
“I understand that Sunee wasn’t his first foreign wife.”
“I can’t understand the boy,” Sigridur said. “I’ve never been able to figure him out. And you’re right. Sunee was his second wife from Thailand.”
“Did the brothers get on well?” Erlendur asked cautiously. She could sense his hesitation.
“Get on well? Of course. What do you mean? Of course they got on well.”
She moved a step closer to Erlendur.
“You think he did it, do you?” she whispered. “You think Niran attacked his own brother? Are you crazy?”
“Not at all,” Erlendur said. “I—”
“Wouldn’t that be an easy solution?” Sigridur said sarcastically.
“You mustn’t misunderstand me,” Erlendur said.
“Misunderstand? I’m not misunderstanding anything,” Sigridur hissed between clenched teeth. “You think this is just a case of Thais killing each other, don’t you? Wouldn’t that be convenient for you and for the rest of us? They’re just Thais! None of our business. Is that what you’re saying?”
Erlendur hesitated. Maybe it was too early to ask the closest relatives about the boys” relationship. He should not be sowing suspicion with his tentative questions, causing even more anger and bewilderment.
“I’m sorry if I implied anything of the kind,” Erlendur said calmly. “But we have to look for information, no matter how uncomfortable it might be. It’s never crossed my mind that the elder boy had anything to do with this, but I think the sooner we find him, the better for everyone concerned.”
“Niran will come home soon,” Sigridur said.
“Could he have gone to see his stepfather? Odinn?”
“I doubt it. They don’t get on. My son …”
Sigridur hesitated now. Erlendur waited patiently.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she sighed.
Sigridur explained that she had lived in the countryside until recently and had only been to Reykjavik a couple of times a year for short visits. She always visited her son’s family and sometimes stayed with them, although the flat on Snorrabraut was small. She had the impression that her son was not particularly happy, and even though Sunee never complained she could tell that all was not well with their marriage. This was around the time Sunee told him she had another son in Thailand who she wanted to send for.
Odinn had not told his mother about Sunee when he met her. He had had another wife from Thailand before Sunee came on the scene. She had left him after three years. When he sent for her he had never seen her face to face, only in photographs. She was granted a month’s visa to stay in Iceland. They got married two weeks after she arrived. She had brought all the necessary papers with her from Thailand in order to make the marriage legal.
“She moved to Denmark later,” Sigridur said. “Probably only came here to get an Icelandic passport.”
The next thing Sigridur knew was that Odinn had met Sunee and married her. The two women hit it off straight away. Sigridur had been apprehensive about meeting her new daughter-in-law after what had happened before and was anxious about the new relationship. She tried not to display any prejudice and was relieved when she shook Sunee’s hand. She could tell at once that she had character. The first thing she noticed was how Sunee had transformed the squalid flat on Snorrabraut into a beautiful, tidy home with a strong Asian ambience. She had brought along or sent for objects from Thailand to decorate the home: statues of Buddha, pictures and various pretty ornaments.
Although she only visited Reykjavik intermittently at that time, Sigridur tried to make life in Iceland easier for Sunee. Her daughter-in-law did not understand the language and had great difficulty in picking it up. She spoke little English, and Sigridur knew anyway that her son had never been the sociable type and had few friends who could help Sunee adapt to a new lifestyle and a completely different society. Gradually Sunee got to know other Thai women who helped her to find her feet, but she had no Icelandic friends with the possible exception of her mother-in-law.
Sigridur admired Sunee’s readiness to accept the darkness and cold of her strange new environment. “Just dress better warm,” Sunee would say, smiling and positive. Odinn was not always happy with his mother’s interference. They had argued after she found out that he was annoyed when Sunee spoke Thai to the boy. By that time she had begun to speak a little Icelandic. “I don’t know what she’s telling the kid,” Odinn complained to his mother. “He should speak Icelandic. He’s an Icelander! It’s what’s best for him. For the future.”
Sigridur described how she had subsequently found out that her son was not alone in that opinion. In some cases, Icelandic husbands forbade their Asian wives from speaking their native tongue to the children, because they could not understand it themselves. When the mother spoke poor Icelandic or none at all, it hampered the child’s linguistic development, which could affect its entire schooling. To some extent this was true of Elias, who excelled at mathematics but was weaker at subjects like Icelandic and spelling.
Odinn refused to discuss their divorce and would not listen to his mother when she talked about his obligations.
“It was a mistake,” he said. “I should never have married her!”
By now, Sigridur had moved to Reykjavik and kept in close touch with Sunee and Elias, whom she regarded as family. Even Niran, who was unhappy with his lot, was on good terms with her, the little he had to do with her. She tried to make her son pay Sunee what he owed her after the divorce, including her share in the flat, but he flatly refused on the grounds that he had owned the property before Sunee came along. Elias sometimes visited his grandmother and stayed with her; a good, kind boy who would do anything for her.