How was he to know that no one ever visited her?
CHAPTER 9
Saturday, 9 January 2010
The drive to Sogn seemed as if it would never end. Conditions were awful – drifting snow and black ice – and it felt like her destination was getting ever more distant. The awkward atmosphere among the passengers didn’t help: Matthew drove, while Thóra made repeated attempts to carry on a conversation with Grímheiður, Jakob’s mother. Thóra felt that they should have her with them at this first formal meeting with Thóra’s client. The woman was quiet and seemed to be terrified in the back seat, holding the handle above the window with a death grip. She told Thóra weakly that she didn’t have a driving licence, which made her feel rather anxious when the road conditions were so bad. She added that this was the reason she so rarely came to visit Jakob during the winter, though even in the summer she had difficulty finding a lift. She didn’t have many friends and of course her relatives had their hands full with their own lives; it wasn’t really on to ask them to drive her all the way out to the countryside east of Reykjavík. It had been easier when Jakob had been in the community residence, even though she’d had to walk a considerable distance from the bus stop. She concluded this short speech by thanking Thóra sincerely for wanting to bring her along; it had been more than a month since her last visit. Thóra was silent after hearing this; the situation between Grímheiður and her son was sadder than she’d imagined. All the same, she hoped the woman didn’t have too high hopes that this would be a completely normal visit.
En route, Thóra asked her tactfully about her and Jakob’s relationship with the lawyer Ari Gunnarsson, and received the answer she’d expected, that it had been rather strained. They’d been incredibly unlucky with the choice of Jakob’s supervisor; Thóra had gone through all the files he’d given her and there was scarcely any sign that he’d looked at them. There was nothing scribbled in the margins, no page corners turned down, and considering how messy the man seemed to be, this was unlikely to stem from any inclination to keep the files neat and tidy. Grímheiður said that Ari didn’t have any understanding of Jakob’s condition and that he’d constantly expected things from Jakob that Jakob was incapable of: taking notes, reading over depositions and criticizing them, and so forth. He’d also been rather rude to both Jakob and his mother and didn’t seem to put much effort into the defence, though Grímheiður stressed that she knew nothing about these things and was in no way qualified to judge. Thóra pursued this by asking her how Ari had come to be chosen as Jakob’s attorney, to which Grímheiður replied that the man had called her the morning after Jakob had been found wandering around after the fire and the process to formally arrest him had begun. This process wasn’t easy, since Jakob was underage and numerous people had to be summoned, including his mother, as his guardian. She didn’t know where Ari had got her number, but she believed that the police or someone else involved in the arrest must have given it to him. She had no idea how such things worked and accepted the man’s offer to defend her son. At that point it simply hadn’t occurred to her that this was anything other than a mistake that would soon be fixed. When this had turned out not to be the case she hadn’t wanted to take the trouble to change lawyers – she’d even thought that it was too late, since they were going to try to speed up the case as much as possible.
Thóra remained silent throughout Grímheiður’s account, though she found it all rather odd. The fire had occurred on Saturday evening and the formal arrest was made the next morning. Lawyers weren’t in the habit of calling people and offering them their services, least of all on a Sunday morning. How had Ari heard about the case? She’d never heard of the police getting in touch with lawyers to give them unsolicited, insider tips about possible clients, which made her think Grímheiður’s explanation was unlikely. It was of course possible that in all the fuss surrounding Jakob’s developmental level and his legal position, unorthodox procedures had been followed, but Thóra was dubious about this theory. If anything, the authorities would have wanted to do everything by the book.
The wind had dropped and the snow had more or less stopped drifting by the time they finally drove up to the Psychiatric Secure Unit. The sun pushed its way up from the horizon and cast its merciless rays on the crust of snow. They shielded their eyes while waiting for a moment on the doorstep for someone to answer the entryphone. They made a great fuss about Matthew, since Thóra had neglected to inform them of his attendance. After a bit of wrangling he was allowed to accompany them as her assistant. They were also delayed by Grímheiður having come with two full plastic bags of groceries for her son. The old woman had to hand in everything that she had with her and the contents reminded Thóra of what a terrible cook she herself was. Out of the bags came a Mackintosh tin containing doughnuts, a mountainous stack of flatcakes, half a glazed ham wrapped in cling-film, rhubarb pie and all manner of other cakes and breads, all home-baked. The woman must have been up all night preparing it. The food was put back in the bags, which were then placed in a back room somewhere before they were finally taken to meet Jakob, in the same homely, worn-out sitting room where Thóra had met Jósteinn. She would have liked to use this trip to have a few words with him regarding the cost of the investigation, but she couldn’t help feeling that it would be better if he were otherwise engaged. She didn’t particularly want to see him again.
They sat down on the sofa and tried to make themselves comfortable, even though the seat was pretty saggy. Grímheiður chose to sit at one end of the sofa, clearly hoping that Jakob would be allowed to sit next to her, because she pulled a large easy chair over before sitting down. Thóra said nothing; the better mother and son felt, the more relaxed Jakob would be, and thus the greater the chance he would be persuaded to talk. By the time he finally appeared, accompanied by a staff member, his mother had rearranged the embroidered cushions at least four times in the seat that she intended for him. They gave each other a long hug before he plonked himself down in the chair. He hurriedly gathered the cushions one by one from underneath him and let them fall to the floor. Thóra and Matthew stayed quiet as his mother asked him how he felt, whether he was eating well and whether he always brushed his teeth for two minutes every morning and evening. He answered all of her questions in the same way: ‘I want to go home.’ In the end Grímheiður introduced Thóra and Matthew, to whom Jakob had paid no attention.
‘This is Thóra, Jakob. She’s a lawyer. Like Ari, but much better. She’s good, and maybe, just maybe, she can help us so that you get to come home.’
Jakob looked at them both in turn and frowned. He appeared to have slept badly, his hair was dishevelled and there were noticeable white marks at the corners of his mouth from saliva or toothpaste. His trousers were too short and his frayed sweater too large. Why wasn’t it possible to keep people properly presentable in these places? You could be sure that those who worked on disabled people’s issues wouldn’t go round in used or the wrong size clothing. ‘I want them to leave. I want to talk to you, Mummy. Just you. Why can’t you move here if I can’t go home?’ His sentences all ran together, as if he were pushed for time. Perhaps he thought the chances that his wish would be granted would increase if he spoke so fast that it would be difficult to distinguish the words.