‘Well, I have no interest in discussing that any further with you,’ said Rasmus. ‘You can just get out of here right now.’
‘— and we know the route she took,’ Erlendur continued stubbornly. ‘It wasn’t far and there weren’t many obstacles on the way and there’s every likelihood that she passed your house.’
‘I’m not listening to this,’ said Rasmus. ‘Please leave; I’m going upstairs and I hope I never have to see you again.’
He went to the stairs and had mounted two steps when Erlendur seized his arm and yanked him down again.
‘Stop it,’ said Erlendur sharply. ‘Wake up. It’s over. Finished. Tell me where she is.’
‘No,’ screamed Rasmus. ‘You’re using violence! I have nothing whatever to say to you. Nothing!’
‘Did she want you to stop spying on her? Was that why she came round? Did she threaten to report you? She saw you outside your house, didn’t she? What did you do? Wave to her? Call her over? Invite her in? Lure her inside?’
Erlendur still had hold of his arm but Rasmus had his head averted as if he couldn’t bear the relentless questioning or didn’t dare meet his eye. His body writhed as he tried to tear himself loose, break Erlendur’s grip, evade the merciless interrogation. Erlendur hung on tight, then realised that Rasmus had begun to cry. His body shook with silent sobs and he covered his face with his free hand, overcome with humiliation. Eventually he seemed to grow calmer and even rallied a little. He looked down at Erlendur’s hand which was still gripping his arm.
‘No one’s touched me in all the years since Mama died,’ he whispered.
‘What did you say?’
‘No one,’ breathed Rasmus. ‘No one’s touched me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Erlendur. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’
‘No, it’s fine,’ said Rasmus. ‘You didn’t.’
‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes, I’m all right,’ said Rasmus. ‘I’m all right now. Thank you for coming by. It’s a pity I wasn’t expecting guests. I don’t have anything to offer you.’
‘That doesn’t matter,’ said Erlendur, ‘really, don’t worry about it.’ As on the last occasion, Rasmus seemed to have reverted, with disorientating suddenness, to the role of embarrassed host. He kept making excuses about having no refreshment to offer.
‘I ought to put on some coffee. It’s the very least I could do.’
‘Please don’t—’
‘No, hold me,’ said Rasmus urgently, sensing that Erlendur was about to release his arm. ‘Don’t let go of me. I... I want you to hold me.’
‘Is there somewhere we could sit down?’ asked Erlendur. ‘Do you want a glass of water? Can I get you some water?’
‘No, thank you,’ said Rasmus. ‘I want you to know I’m not a monster. I know that’s what you think, but I’m not. You must never talk to me like that. I’m a person like anyone else. Do you understand? Do you understand what I’m saying? I haven’t always been like—’
‘Of course,’ said Erlendur. ‘I know you’ve had a tough time. You don’t have to tell me. All you need do is tell me about Dagbjört, then it’ll be over. I know you’ll feel better if you own up. I know that deep down that’s what you’ve been wanting all these years. For someone to come here and listen to you and understand what you did.’
‘Nobody understands me. Nobody. No one’ll ever be able to understand. Who I am. What kind of person I am. Nobody understands. Nobody.’
Rasmus ran two fingers over the back of Erlendur’s hand. They were almost fleshless, with long, yellow nails. They caressed his hand, then felt their way up his arm to his cheek. Erlendur didn’t dare move as Rasmus softly stroked his face with his bony fingers, his eyes brimming with tears.
‘I loved her,’ he whispered gently, then laid his own cheek on Erlendur’s chest. ‘I loved her so much. She was my girl. She’s always been my girl. You’re not taking her away from me. You can’t. No one can take her away from me.’
Erlendur stood dumbstruck, not daring to move, with Rasmus pressed to his chest, and listened to him rambling about the girl he loved. He was so thrown that he didn’t see as Rasmus’s fingers reached out to a large pair of scissors that lay on a shelf beside them, grasped them cautiously, then raised them and plunged them deep into Erlendur’s body.
51
Dagbjört hastily finished dressing, put her school books and pencils in her satchel, checked her pocket to make sure she had the money for Rósanna’s cousin with the funny name, then bounded downstairs. She grabbed a slice of toast in the kitchen, pulled on her coat, called goodbye to her mother who was engrossed in the newspaper, and flew out of the door. She didn’t want to be late for her meeting with Rósanna’s cousin. He wasn’t only going to sell her some records but give her a lift to school as well.
As she passed Rasmus’s house, she saw him standing at the front door, waving to her. It looked as if he needed help.
She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t seen him, so she went over and asked if everything was all right. She didn’t like Rasmus. On the rare occasions she had bumped into him in the street or the corner shop and stopped for a brief chat, his manner had struck her as oddly smarmy. And after this latest business she was going to give him an earful. His behaviour had upset and angered her, but she knew he had recently lost his mother, had few friends and was probably lonely, so she felt a little sorry for him. He and his mother had been very close. Perhaps that was why she hadn’t told anyone yet about him spying on her.
‘Could you help me a moment?’ asked Rasmus. ‘I’m in a spot of bother.’
He quickly closed the door behind her, then dithered, unsure how to begin, as they stood there in the hall, so she asked what the matter was and how she could help. She couldn’t stay long; she was in a hurry to get to school.
‘I wanted to talk to you about what you saw,’ he said, leading her along the hall towards the stairs. ‘When you... when I was in the window. It may not have been quite what you... you might have thought.’
‘Oh?’
‘No, I’m... it was a coincidence, I assure you. A complete coincidence.’
‘Why did you spy on me like that?’ asked Dagbjört.
‘It wasn’t really spying,’ said Rasmus apologetically. ‘I just want us to be friends. Good friends. I wasn’t doing anything nasty. I wouldn’t dream of it. Of doing anything nasty to you. Please believe me. It’s important you don’t think I’m... it’s important you...’
‘I have to get to school,’ said Dagbjört when it became evident that Rasmus didn’t know what he wanted to say or how to phrase it. ‘Did you want help or not?’
‘Yes, no, I... I thought... perhaps... you’d be my friend. I’ve been a bit lonely since Mother died and I was hoping we could... because we’re next-door neighbours and so on, and you’re so pretty, such a lovely person, I thought maybe we could be friends.’
‘I’ve got to go.’
‘Oh, but—’
‘And I want you to stop spying on me,’ Dagbjört said in a harsh voice. ‘It’s disgusting. I’ve seen the curtain moving. And if you don’t stop, if I catch you doing it again, I’ll tell my dad and then you’ll have him to deal with.’
‘Your dad? You mean you haven’t told him... haven’t told anyone?’
‘No. But I will. If I see you there again I’m telling my dad.’
‘Dagbjört, dear,’ said Rasmus. ‘I don’t want you to leave while you’re angry. I don’t want you to be angry with me.’
‘I’ve got to go,’ repeated Dagbjört. ‘I’ve got to get out of here!’
‘Don’t be angry, darling. My love. I can’t bear it.’