She saw Addý stumbling up out of the hollow by the river, looking around in terror in case the rapist returned to attack her again. In the community centre the dance went on. All she could think of was getting home without meeting anyone. She didn’t want to be seen, didn’t want anyone to know. She couldn’t tell anyone what he had done. When she reached home she locked all the doors and closed the windows, and in the kitchen she rocked back and forth, back and forth, trying to erase the horror from her mind. She wept and shook, and wept, and wept.
Elínborg buried her head in the pillow.
Far away, she heard a quiet knock at a door, saw a small fist raised to knock again, harder. She saw Lilja standing on Edvard’s doorstep. Runólfur appeared in the doorway.
‘Oh,’ said Lilja. ‘Isn’t this Edvard’s house?’
Runólfur smiled at her. He glanced around to check whether she was alone, whether there was anyone on the street to see them.
‘Yes, he’ll be home any time. Won’t you come in and wait?’
She hesitated. ‘I was going to …’
‘I’m expecting him back any minute.’
Lilja looked out to sea. She could see Akranes across the bay. Lilja was in the habit of trusting people. She was a well-brought-up, polite girl.
‘Do come in,’ said Runólfur.
‘All right. Thank you,’ she said.
Elínborg watched the door close behind them, and fell asleep, certain in the knowledge that it would never open again.