‘Me neither.’ The fatigue that had built up during the day was starting to take effect. Katrín felt once again how tiring psychological stress could be, no less so than physical labour. When she and Garðar were having problems she often felt as if she were on the verge of collapsing in the evenings, and it was precisely then that the issues seemed insurmountable and everything felt hopeless. ‘I think we’ve done the right thing coming over here.’ In fact she’d remembered that they hadn’t brought any firewood with them and that it would be extremely cold inside, but it helped that Líf had been wrong to predict further snowfall. ‘We don’t have anything to heat the house with.’
Líf moaned, but immediately regained her composure. ‘Oh, who cares? If I can just get into the house I’ll be happy.’
‘Agreed.’ Katrín began to yawn, but stopped midway when Putti started growling where he stood, staring towards the side of the house. When he stopped, they could clearly hear a crunching sound. Líf grabbed Katrín’s arm tightly with both hands and squeezed. ‘What was that?’
Katrín shushed her and listened more carefully. It was as if someone were walking just around the corner of the house. All of the odd calm she had enjoyed disappeared, and her racing heartbeat was back, faster than ever. She’d heard that animals were sensitive to the emotions of the people around them, and this appeared to be the case for Putti. He growled even louder and barked sharply several times. The crunching sound stopped.
‘What should we do?’ Líf sounded as though she desperately wanted to clamp her eyes shut and hope this would all go away by itself, and Katrín felt the same. But she shushed Líf once more and tried to think of something. There was no way she was going to stand up and look around the corner, no matter what might be there. The only thing she could think of was to pull Líf to her feet and run off after Garðar. They’d been idiots to think it would make any difference coming to this house.
Putti was still barking frantically, lifting off the ground slightly each time. Then he stopped abruptly and whined piteously, which was even worse. His bark had at least implied that he thought he could handle whatever was around the corner. The whine suggested entirely the opposite. Katrín stood up carefully and motioned to Líf to do the same. She whispered in her ear: ‘Let’s walk slowly in the direction of the steps and then run as fast as we possibly can when we reach them. We’ll just leave the stuff behind.’ How she intended to run remained to be seen; in her condition she had enough trouble walking.
Maybe whatever awaited them had overheard Katrín’s plan, because the sound started up again. It seemed to be approaching with uncomfortable speed. Katrín stared helplessly at the corner of the house. She was convinced that now they would see the face of whoever was lying in wait for them, but she was far from prepared for it. The only thing she could do was fix her gaze on the sharp edge of the wall. Líf also seemed hypnotized. They screamed as loudly as each other when a small hand reached around the corner. Four pale, yellowish fingers appeared, gripping the wood, then disappeared just as quickly. The next thing they knew, a voice was coming from whoever was standing around the corner. They couldn’t understand the words, but it was clear that it was a monologue not intended for others’ ears. There was no way to determine whether it was a girl or a boy speaking. Katrín felt the hairs on her arms rise when the possibility crossed her mind that this was a clinically insane adult, putting on a child’s voice. There was nothing innocent or joyful in its tone, as you’d expect from a child, although the size of the hand did not suggest an adult. The high-pitched voice fell silent.
‘What did he say?’ Líf squeezed Katrín’s bruised body so hard that it made her dizzy with pain. ‘What did he say?’
‘Shh!’ The crunching noise had resumed, now accompanied by a disgusting, indefinable smell. It could best be described as a blend of kelp and rotten meat. The voice spoke again, now slightly louder and clearer: Don’t go. Don’t go yet. I’m not finished.
Katrín heard nothing more over Líf’s screams as she threw herself towards the steps without so much as a backwards glance to check whether Katrín was following her. Katrín was left alone on the porch, too numb even to shush Putti, who was barking even more hysterically than before. Yet he couldn’t drown out the terrifying voice, now raised in anger:
I said I’m not finished.
Chapter 16
Freyr had actually never given the house in which he lived much thought. For him it was just a stopping point, not a place he wanted to become tied to. Most of the furniture had come with the house and would remain there when he moved, either back to Reykjavík or to other accommodation in the west. Perhaps he might even end up buying. As a result he lived there as if it were a hoteclass="underline" folding his clothes and placing them all together on one shelf in the wardrobe, where he also hung his shirts and suit jackets. He used other storage spaces in the house just as sparingly, like a guest who shouldn’t be opening doors or drawers unnecessarily. He even kept his food in one corner of the refrigerator. His only personal effects were the photos of his son, which he could gather into a box in under five minutes. It wasn’t as if there were any limitations on how he might use the house; when the hospital’s personnel director had given him the keys, they were accompanied by the warmest wishes for his stay there; he was to make himself at home. Freyr had thanked him and asked nothing further, having not felt inspired to ask how the hospital came to own the house.
Now that he had some idea of the identity of its former owner, he looked at it in a new light, indoors and out. He’d gone from room to room and examined the books and other items on the shelves, the furnishings and everything else that had awaited him when he first set foot inside the house. Until now he hadn’t paid any attention to any of it, let alone wondered where the things had come from. But at the end of his investigation of the house he felt sure that very little of it had belonged to the woman who’d died in the garden. There was no consistency to anything, either in period or style. The photos on the wall were colour reproductions, the furniture shabby and poor quality. The lavishly patterned curtains were the only thing he thought might have belonged to Védís, as they looked like they had been chosen with thought and care, though they weren’t to his taste. Considering that Védís must have been born around 1940, like Halla and the others in the class, the furnishings should mainly have been from the seventies, not a mishmash of various time periods during the past century. The dinner service, glasses and tableware, pots and pans all looked as if they’d come from a show kitchen at Ikea. It was inconceivable that an elderly woman during all her years as a householder hadn’t acquired so much as one spoon that would remain in her home. The hospital must have found itself with an empty residence and furnished it, buying most of the items from the charity shops or Kolaport Flea Market and the rest from Ikea. The furnishings told him nothing about Védís, in other words. Dagný had called him at his office and told him the entire story of the circumstances leading to the hospital’s purchase of the house. He’d avoided contacting her; she must already think he was strange enough after his behaviour of the previous few days. According to the information Dagný had obtained, the former owner had left the hospital her possessions in her will. The woman she spoke to had made a point of saying that the bequest had taken people completely by surprise, since Védís had had absolutely no ties to the hospital. She had never been admitted for long-term patient care or needed the hospital’s services beyond the usual sort of requirements. Still, something had inspired her to do this, because approximately a week before her death she’d drawn up her will and made these arrangements for her one significant asset. Although it was unclear what had motivated her, her charitable gesture had certainly come in handy; quite a lot of the staff moved to Ísafjörður from out of town and needed a place to stay.