They did not want to leave Mikkelina at home by herself.
Simon contemplated running after his mother or sending Tomas to fetch her, but told himself that there was no hurry for them to meet again; their mother could have this last day of peace. The boys saw Grimur enter the house and close the door behind him, and they broke into a run. They did not know what to expect inside the house. All they thought about was Mikkelina asleep in the double bed where she must not be found under any circumstances.
Cautiously opening the door, they crept inside: Simon leading the way but Tomas close behind, holding his hand. When they went into the kitchen they saw Grimur standing at the worktop. He had his back turned to them. Sniffed and spat into the sink. He had turned on the light over the table and they could see only his outline beyond it.
“Where’s your mother?” he said, his back still turned.
Simon thought that he had noticed them on the way up the hill after all and heard them enter the house.
“She’s working,” Simon said.
“Working? Where’s she working?” Grimur said.
“At Gufunes dairy,” Simon said.
“Didn’t she know I was coming today?” Grimur turned round to face them and stepped into the light. The brothers stared at him as he emerged from the darkness and their eyes turned like saucers when they saw his face in the dull glow. Something had happened to Grimur. Along one of his cheeks, a burn mark stretched all the way up to his eye, which was half closed because his eyelid had fused with the skin.
Grimur smiled.
“Doesn’t Dad look pretty?”
The brothers stared at his disfigured face.
“First they make you coffee, then they throw it in your face.”
He moved closer to them.
“Not because they want you to confess. They know it all already because someone’s told them. That’s not why they throw boiling coffee over you. That’s not why they destroy your face.”
The boys did not understand what was going on.
“Fetch your mother,” Grimur ordered, looking at Tomas, who was cowering behind his brother. “Go to that fucking cow shop and bring the cow back.”
Out of the corner of his eye Simon saw a movement in the bedroom, but he did not dare for the life of him to look inside. Mikkelina was up and about. She was able to stand on one leg and could move about if she supported herself, but she did not risk going into the kitchen.
“Out!” Grimur shouted. “Now!”
Tomas jumped. Simon was uncertain that his brother would find the way. Tomas had been to the farm with his mother once or twice in the summer, but it was darker and colder outside now and Tomas was still very much a child.
“I’ll go,” Simon said.
“You’re not bloody going anywhere,” Grimur snarled. “Piss off!” he shouted at Tomas, who staggered away from behind Simon, opened the door into the cold air and closed it carefully behind him.
“Come on, Simon my boy, come and sit down with me,” Grimur said, his rage seeming suddenly to have vanished.
Simon fumbled his way into the kitchen and sat on a chair. He saw a movement in the bedroom again. He hoped Mikkelina would not come out. There was a pantry in the passageway and he thought that she could sneak in there without Grimur noticing her.
“Didn’t you miss your old dad?” Grimur said, sitting down facing him. Simon couldn’t take his eyes off the burn on his face. He nodded.
“What have you all been up to this summer?” Grimur asked, and Simon stared at him without saying a word. He did not know where to start telling lies. He could not tell him about Dave, about the visits and mysterious meetings with his mother, the trips, the picnics. He could not say that they all slept in the big bed together, always. He could not say how his mother had become a completely different person since Grimur left, which was all thanks to Dave. Dave had brought back her zest for life. He could not tell him how she made herself look pretty in the mornings. Her changed appearance. How her expression grew more beautiful each day that she spent with Dave.
“What, nothing?” Grimur said. “Hasn’t anything happened the whole summer?”
“The… the… weather was great,” Simon whimpered, his eyes glued to the burn.
“Great weather. The weather was great,” Grimur said. “And you’ve been playing here and by the barracks. Do you know anyone from the barracks?”
“No,” Simon blurted out. “No one.”
Grimur smiled.
“You’ve learned to tell lies this summer. Amazing how quickly people learn to tell lies. Did you learn to tell lies this summer, Simon?”
Simon’s lower lip was beginning to tremble. It was a reflex beyond his control.
“Just one,” he said. “But I don’t know him well.”
“You know one. Well, well. You should never tell lies, Simon. People like you who tell lies just end up in trouble and can get others into trouble too.”
“Yes,” Simon said, hoping this would soon come to an end. He hoped that Mikkelina would come out and disturb them. Wondered whether to tell Grimur that Mikkelina was in the passage and had slept in his bed.
“Who do you know from the barracks?” Grimur said, and Simon could feel himself sinking deeper and deeper into the swamp.
“Just one,” he said.
“Just one,” Grimur repeated, stroking his cheek and lightly scratching the burn with his index finger. “Who’s this one? I’m glad there’s not more than one.”
“I don’t know. He sometimes goes fishing in the lake. Sometimes he gives us trout that he catches.”
“And he’s good to you kids?”
“I don’t know,” Simon said, well aware that Dave was the best man he had ever met. Compared with Grimur, Dave was an angel sent from heaven to save their mother. Where was Dave? Simon thought. If only Dave were here. He thought about Tomas out in the cold on his way to Gufunes, and about their mother who did not even know that Grimur was back on the hill. And he thought about Mikkelina in the passage.
“Does he come here often?”
“No, just every now and again.”
“Did he come here before I was put in the nick? When you’re put in the nick, Simon, it means you’re put in the nick. It doesn’t have to mean you’re guilty of anything bad if you go prison, just that someone put you there. In the nick. And it didn’t take them long. They talked a lot about making an example. The Icelanders mustn’t steal from the army. Awful business. So they had to sentence me, hard and fast. So no one else would copy me and go stealing too. You get it? Everyone was supposed to learn from my mistakes. But they all steal. They all do it, and they’re all making money. Did he come here before I was put in the nick?”
“Who?”
“That soldier. Did he come here before I was put in the nick? That one.”
“He used to fish in the lake sometimes before you went away.”
“And he gave your mother the trout he caught?”
“Yes.”
“Did he catch a lot of trout?”
“Sometimes. But he wasn’t a good fisherman. He just sat down by the lake, smoking. You catch a lot more than he did. With your nets too. You always catch so much with your nets.”
“And when you gave your mother the trout, did he stop by? Did he come in for coffee? Did he sit down at this table?”
“No,” Simon said, unable to decide whether the lie he was telling was too obvious. He was scared and confused, he kept his finger pressed against his lip to stop it trembling, and tried to answer the way he thought Grimur wanted him to, but without incriminating his mother if he said something Grimur was not supposed to know. Simon was discovering a new side to Grimur. His father had never talked to him so much before and it caught him off his guard. Simon was floundering. He was not sure exactly what Grimur was not supposed to know, but he tried his utmost to safeguard his mother.