‘But why didn’t anyone mention the blood, since so many people have put two and two together? I don’t understand how people could decide that the story makes Markus look bad, or Leifur for that matter?’ Thóra wanted to hear what Paddi had to say about Magnus, though she suspected he wanted to leave the story untold and make her read between the lines.
‘Let’s make one thing clear. People couldn’t care less about Markus. In this case he and Leifur are in the same boat and he’s the one who’s copped it. But if Markus is locked up, Leifur will go to visit him, which might mean Leifur spending more time on the mainland. One thing will lead to another, and in the end Leifur will move away.’ Paddi glanced at Thóra. ‘You know what I mean?’She nodded. ‘Neither Markus nor Leifur was seen there; just their father.’ Paddi raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. ‘And there’s not much left to say, since ever-increasing numbers of those who can remember these events have lost their voices. None of us are spring chickens any more.’
‘But even if Magnus was seen there, it doesn’t mean he had anything to do with the blood,’ said Thóra, a little lost.
Paddi snorted. ‘That may be, but it’s what people thought at the time, and that hasn’t changed.’ He shrugged. ‘The one who started the rumour was the same one who told the police about Dadi. He was a grumpy old man,’ he grinned, displaying his decayed teeth. ‘Kind of like I am today.He was there for some reason in the middle of the night and stumbled across those two – Dadi and Magnus – in a heated argument, both looking wrung out. When they saw him they were startled, and went off in separate directions. The old guy was surprised they didn’t even say hello, but it wasn’t until later in the morning that he made the connection. He hadn’t noticed the blood, so the first he heard about it was when everyone started gathering down at the harbour to see what the police were looking at.’
‘How could this old man tell the police he’d seen Dadi without mentioning Magnus?’ asked Thóra.
‘That’s simple,’ said Paddi, steering the boat in a wide arc. ‘Everyone likes Magnus, and this old man was no exception. No one liked Dadi, so the man probably had no qualms about implicating him. It meant he could make things difficult for Dadi, who wasn’t a full Islander, and win himself a bit of the Islanders’attention at the same time.’
‘In other words, he told the police one thing and the rest of the town another?’ asked Thóra.‘It’s not a big town. The real story must have made its way to the ears of the authorities.’
Paddi looked at Thóra as if she were a retarded child. ‘Under normal circumstances it would have,’he said, straightening the rudder. ‘But the volcano erupted a few days later and the Islanders were scattered all over the place. The ones that stayed behind had more pressing business than a puddle of blood on the harbour. And then another man started saying he’d seen Dadi sail into the harbour in a dinghy that night, but most people agreed he made the story up for attention, wanting to play a part in the police investigation.’ He looked at Thóra. ‘But do you know what I’ve never understood?’ he asked, rhetorically. ‘Why that shithead Dadi didn’t mention Magnus when the police spoke to him. If the blood had nothing to do with him he could have simply said the two of them were there together, and explained what they were doing. And if Dadi was involved somehow, it still makes no sense. If they had been in on it together, surely Dadi would have told the police about Magnus? Then Magnus would either have confirmed Dadi’s alibi or gone down with him. And since Dadi was such a mean old bastard, he wouldn’t have thought that was so bad.’ Paddi held Thóra’s gaze. ‘Either way, the question is: why didn’t Dadi tell the police he’d been down at the harbour with Magnus?’
Chapter Twenty-six
Tinna’s English wasn’t good enough to speak to the nurse. Maybe she would have trusted herself to say a few words if the drugs hadn’t made her too tired to speak Icelandic, let alone a foreign language. She watched as the woman in white took away the bag that had emptied into her through a needle in the back of her left hand. Tinna couldn’t see the needle, which was covered with a dressing. The nurse that inserted it had been Icelandic and had talked constantly throughout the process, afraid that Tinna might find it uncomfortable and start crying or screaming. She had tried to tell the woman that she couldn’t care less, that needles didn’t hurt, they just felt strange. The nurse hadn’t believed her, and when she stuck the needle in for the third time in search of a vein she had raised her voice and talked even faster. Tinna had trouble following what she was saying and understood only every other word, even though the relentless chatter was all in Icelandic. It went in through her ears and didn’t seem to go up into her brain, but to somewhere entirely different. Maybe down into her stomach? Hopefully there weren’t any calories in words. Tinna’s heart skipped a beat. Didn’t they say words were food for the mind? Could they change into food for the stomach?
‘Okay, now,’ said the foreign nurse, patting the blanket she had spread carefully over Tinna. ‘Try to get some sleep.’
Tinna stared at her, not replying. She couldn’t tell whether the woman had said ‘sleep’ or‘sheep’. She spoke enough English to know what both words meant, she just wasn’t sure. Maybe the woman wanted her to count sheep, like cartoon characters did. Tinna closed her eyes and tried it. In her mind’s eye, one, two, three sheep hopped over a green-painted fence. The door to the room opened and closed with a faint thud. The woman had probably gone, but Tinna didn’t want to ruin the sheep-race by opening her eyes and looking. She focused again on the fence and the sheep. It wasn’t going well. The sheep were disgustingly fat, and the fourth one couldn’t jump at all. It stood by the fence, breathless and panting. Then it started to expand, and soon its snout disappeared into its white belly, which stretched wider until finally there was a loud bang as it burst. Blood and guts flew everywhere. Tinna opened her eyes quickly to rid herself of this vision. She was alone in the room. Her breasts heaved up and down. This was what awaited her if she didn’t get out of here. She would get fatter and fatter until she blew up. Tinna turned and looked at the clear bag hanging from a steel frame next to the bed. She watched the drops fall into the regulator, which controlled how much liquid ran into her veins.
She gasped when the first clear thought she’d had all day jumped into her head. The drops were full of calories. Maybe even pure calories, but Tinna had no idea what those looked like. They might be like water, and splash around in her body after they’d gone in. Tinna’s hand throbbed beneath the needle, and she felt as if she were burning up. She tried to think more clearly. Heat, calories. The needle was hot because calories were streaming through it now. Hot, evil calories. She felt a tear forming in the corner of her eye. Was it good to cry? Could she empty the evil liquid from her body? Her head started aching from all these thoughts and she pressed her right hand against the spot on her forehead where it hurt. The pain eased a little, but returned as soon as she removed her hand. Should she ring the bell for assistance?
She moved her right hand nearer the bell, which – of course – lay closer to her left hand, the one she didn’t dare move for fear that then the calories would start pouring in faster. Also, the stinging she now felt in her hand worsened with movement. Her thumb rested on the chilly button. Tinna was just about to press it when she hesitated. What was she supposed to say to the foreign nurse? She could barely mumble ‘good day’ in English, so she couldn’t possibly explain that if the liquid wasn’t taken out of her, and immediately, then she would swell up and burst and her guts would be splashed all over the room. Tinna took her thumb off the button. This would get her nowhere. She sat up straighter and tried to focus. The nurse couldn’t help her. No one could help her. What should she do?