Laufey was as good as her word. A plate of chicken casserole and pasta waited on the table as she emerged from the shower, scrubbed and fragrant, while Drífa sat on the sofa and Laufey held Kjartan. The little boy looked at his grandmother with wide eyes and held on tight to Laufey.
‘That’s granny,’ Laufey whispered to the little boy. ‘She locks up bad people, and if you’re naughty she’ll lock you up as well. .’
‘Hæ, Drífa,’ Gunna said, blowing on a forkful of hot food. ‘How’s things with you? The little man’s getting bigger, isn’t he?’
‘He looks like his father,’ Drífa said. ‘And he has the same temperament.’
‘Awkward, you mean?’ Laufey asked. ‘We get that from Mum.’
‘Yeah, and I get it from a long line of Westfjords wizards and bandits, so beware. Speaking of which, Gísli’s ashore now?’
‘Yep, yesterday.’
‘Hell,’ Gunna swore, fumbling for her phone. ‘He texted me this morning and I clean forgot to get back to him.’
‘He probably thinks you’re a bad mother now,’ Laufey chided, holding Kjartan’s hands as he stood in front of her on unsteady feet. ‘Your granny’s a bad example to us all,’ she told the little boy as he laughed and gurgled back at her.
Chapter Six
Two of the men had moustaches, bristling moustaches that slashed their lined faces in half. Kalashnikovs slung over their shoulders, they brought with them the smell of smoke and anger, but the menace came from the slighter, younger man with the clean-shaven face and beady eyes at the back of the group.
Valmira watched with a feeling of disbelief as the young man inspected the kitchen and stepped forward to point at her father and brother, jerking his head towards the door. The other two nodded, as if carrying out an everyday job of work. Valmira’s father got to his feet and looked one of the two men in the eye, grunting a greeting that was returned in kind. Her brother scowled as he stood up from the table, quickly squeezing her hand as he did so, and she could see the fear he was bottling up inside.
Her mother was silent, arms tightly folded. Her father smiled at his daughters and muttered a blessing as he left. The clean-shaven man was the last to leave, turning to look at the woman and the two girls, giving them a thin smile that made Valmira shiver.
Outside they watched the truck make its way slowly down the potholed road, loaded with a dozen men and boys who did not look to see where they were going, while by the tailgate two men sat with Kalashnikovs cradled carelessly in their hands.
That night there was a crackle of gunfire in the valley below and Valmira’s mother began packing what belongings could fit into one suitcase and an old army backpack. They left on foot soon after dawn, letting the goats and the chickens out to fend for themselves, and Valmira looked back at her home for the last time as the three of them walked down the road, following the path the truck had already taken.
She woke with a start, the image of the white-painted house with its sagging tiled roof as fresh in her mind as the confused clucking of the chickens they left behind them. She shook off the dream, one that returned several times a year and which she knew from bitter experience would mean no more sleep that night. She slipped out of bed and went to make coffee in the kitchen, where she could sit and watch the day break over the sea in the country she now called home.
Valmira stopped the van outside Natalia’s house, gave a short blast on the horn and was relieved to see her come running across the grass, her trademark puckish smile in place.
‘Hey, Emilija, how’d it go with lover boy?’ She asked, taking the seat at the end as Valmira pulled away, the van bumping through puddles and splashing gritty grey water in all directions.
‘Ach. You know. Men,’ Emilija said.
‘Younger? Older?’
‘Younger, a bit.’
‘Young guys are useless,’ Natalia declared. ‘Find yourself an old boy. They’re so much better, and they’re grateful as well.’
‘I know.’ Emilija sighed. ‘You keep telling me.’
‘So how was he?’ Natalia asked slyly. ‘Did you. .?’
Emilija sighed again. ‘No. He ate everything I’d cooked and then Anton woke up, and after an hour trying to get him back to sleep, lover boy decided to go and meet his friends in some bar.’
Valmira shook her head and tutted while Natalia tittered, her brilliant toothy smile running around her dark face.
‘What’s this one called?’
‘Alex. He’s a sweet enough lad, but he’s. . you know. Childish.’
‘Get an old guy. Fifteen years difference is about right. He’ll be pushing sixty and thinking about nothing but golf while you’re still young enough to have some fun.’
‘Yeah, just like your older men,’ Emilija said sharply. ‘We see how long your old guys hang around.’
‘It’s the kids. Guys don’t like teenagers,’ Natalia said defensively. ‘It’s all right for you, yours are still young.’
‘Which is why I pay a fortune for childcare, so I can work all day and earn peanuts,’ Emilija said. ‘I’d be better off on benefits, I’m sure of it.’
‘So why don’t you stop working?’ Natalia asked, stung by Emilija’s tone.
‘You know. Because if I’m on benefits Ingi’s family will do everything they can to have the children off me, and then where would I be?’
‘Try old Jakob. He probably hasn’t had it since the last century.’
Emilija opened her mouth to deliver a sharp retort, thought better of it and instead turned to Valmira. ‘Is it that house in Kópavogsbakki again?’
‘It’s the one we were at yesterday plus another one further up the street. Two for the price of one,’ she said with a wintry smile. ‘It’s just the annexe flat at the first one, then the whole place at the next one.’
‘Is that all for today?’
Valmira braked gently to allow a car waiting at a roundabout time to get onto the road ahead of them.
‘That’s what I was going to ask you about. There’s an office in Gardabær that Viggó has signed up for a month’s contract.’
‘So why ask us?’
‘Because it’s overtime. Cleaning has to be done between six in the evening and six in the morning. Four hours each evening, but it has to be evening because the place is in use during the day.’
Emilija looked dubious. ‘I could do with the hours, but it depends on the children. I’ll do it if I can get a babysitter,’ she said.
‘Get your young guy in,’ Natalia said with a snigger. ‘Feed him, screw him, and when he’s asleep you can run out and do two hours cleaning. If the kids wake up, he can read them a story.’
‘Listen. .’ Emilija said, her irritation starting to boil over into anger.
‘Now, then,’ Valmira said loudly. ‘That’ll do, ladies. Let me know, will you? But I need to know tomorrow, so I can tell Viggó if we need to find someone else to do evenings. Maybe you could rotate it somehow, do a couple of evenings each?’
‘If I can find a sitter,’ Emilija said.
‘OK for me,’ Natalia decided. ‘I leave Nonni with food and TV, no problem.’
‘Otherwise I’ll do it myself until you can sort yourselves out. All right?’ She said, turning the van off the main road and through Kópavogur towards the street of quiet mansions overlooking the Sound.
Lísa watched him suspiciously as he dropped his work boots, sat back and sighed. She had seen the cuts on his wrists and rather than ask, had merely given him a stern look that invited answers, but he brushed it off. Lísa slept with her back to him that night, arms folded over her chest in a way that told him an explanation would be required before any fun could be had.
Orri was less worried about that than about the voice he constantly expected to hear whisper in his ear in that peculiarly accented but clear English he had heard in the basement of the house. He carefully checked the apartment for anything that might indicate that someone had been in there. He put a new lock on the front door, fitting below the worn Yale a mortice lock with a key that felt heavy in his hand.