Matthew hadn’t understood much of what had transpired at the meeting, but he was slowly but surely putting together the main details of the case. ‘What do you suppose it’s like to have such a severely disabled child?’
‘Difficult, no doubt.’ The snow crunched beneath Thóra’s feet. In more heavily populated areas, the layer of white had probably already turned to slush, but here few people had been out and about, even though it was nearly noon. ‘Difficult, and sad – but it must be rewarding, too. Small victories become big ones, and it’s amazing how people can adapt to different circumstances and accept their lot in life.’
‘You’re sounding quite philosophical.’
‘That’s your question making me think that way.’ They crossed the street towards the car. ‘To be honest, I actually have no idea – I can’t even get my head around it.’ This was the honest truth; since accepting the case, Thóra had frequently, if unintentionally, found herself wondering what Orri’s life would be like if he were trapped inside an undeveloped body or mind – though she always pushed away these thoughts as soon as they appeared. She’d also wondered whether some subconscious prejudice was clouding her vision, but she was pretty certain that that wasn’t the case. In her opinion, prejudice fed on hatred, and in this case she felt quite the opposite: she found it unbearably sad to think about these young, severely disabled people who missed out on so much of life. It was also perfectly clear to her that they must be hurt by this kind of attitude; not to be considered as individuals, but instead defined by their disability. She resolved to cultivate a more informed manner of thinking and was sure this would help her with her investigation. ‘I could really do with something proper to eat.’ She looked up along Hverfisgata Street, hoping to spot a restaurant. ‘I don’t know whether I’m depressed or starving, but I need some sus-tenance.’
They went over to a little café-restaurant nearby and when Thóra saw on the menu hanging in the window that bacon and eggs were on offer, that settled it. Matthew wasn’t quite as excited. The place was decorated with old books on shelves that appeared even older and on the verge of collapsing. There were very few tables inside. Thóra found the place cosy, but Matthew disagreed, quietly muttering that he doubted very much if the dust was regularly wiped off the books. Thóra hoped for the employees’ sake that this was indeed the case – besides, it would hardly be great from the diners’ perspective if the staff were constantly stirring up dust that could otherwise have lain on top of the old tomes, troubling no one. However, she said nothing, having long ago realized that Matthew preferred the places where he ate to maintain the same standards of hygiene as an operating theatre. ‘Just be sure you don’t bite the books,’ she told him. He gave her a dirty look before studying the menu in search of something boiled to eat.
‘I think we should contact Fanndís, Einvarður’s wife, straight away. Strike while the iron’s hot.’ Thóra watched the girl at the counter pour them two cups of coffee. ‘They might change their minds if we wait.’
‘Do you want me to go with you?’ Matthew didn’t seem too thrilled at the prospect. ‘I don’t have much to add, and she might find it disturbing, me just sitting there silently between you.’
‘It didn’t seem to bother her husband. He spoke freely even though you didn’t say anything.’
‘Women are different. I’m absolutely certain she’ll trust you with more information if you go on your own. I don’t quite know where to put myself when these disabilities are discussed. Unfortunately I seem to understand everything that’s said about them, even though I’d prefer not to.’
The coffee was placed on the table in front of them and they remained politely silent as the waitress served them. When she was finished, Thóra spoke up again. ‘It’ll be fine. You get used to the topic quickly. And maybe she’s the kind of woman who gets all aflutter when there’s a handsome man in the vicinity and says more than she meant to.’ She took a sip of the aromatic coffee. ‘Besides, I don’t want to go alone.’
They finished their food, which had been served at remarkable speed and had disappeared just as quickly into their bellies. Thóra felt much better afterwards, and it didn’t hurt that the food had been particularly good. Matthew had even cleared his plate, after a cautious start. ‘They won’t have to wash up after us,’ said Thóra, looking at her gleaming plate, ‘so maybe they’ll have time to dust off the books.’ She smiled at Matthew as she dug out Fanndís’s number.
Lena watched her mother put down the phone and stare into space. She had rubbed her ear continually as she spoke. After Lena’s brother Tryggvi had died, her mother’s nervousness had increased so much that one ear had turned almost permanently crimson from all the rubbing. ‘Who was it?’ Lena tried to appear uninterested.
‘Huh?’ Her mother looked at her in surprise and for a moment Lena had the feeling she didn’t recognize her.
‘On the phone. Who was calling?’ Lena bit into the apple she’d chosen from the fruit drawer in the fridge and let the large steel door fall shut.
‘Oh…’ The pout her mother’s mouth made to form this pointless word lasted longer than necessary. Her lips, painted a pale red, formed a circle around the cavity of her mouth as Lena waited for more words to tumble out. ‘Yes, you mean that… It was a woman your father wants me to meet.’ Her fingers reached for her scalp and started fussing with her perfect hair. ‘You should wash apples before you eat them, Lena. They’re sprayed with pesticides and you don’t want to swallow that stuff.’
Lena ignored the advice and swallowed a bite of apple. ‘A woman that Dad wants you to meet? Who is she? And why?’
‘She’s a lawyer. And it’s nothing that you need to worry about.’ Her mother twisted her mouth into a smile that was anything but convincing. ‘Aren’t you going to spend the day studying? You don’t have many days left until your exams.’
Lena shrugged. ‘Later. There’s no hurry.’ She went over to the kitchen island and sat on a high stool opposite her mother. ‘Are you two talking about getting divorced?’ She tried to say this nonchalantly, as if she didn’t care. Her father was always at work these days, which was kind of unusual and suggested that something wasn’t right, though Lena hadn’t actually suspected there might be anything to worry about until she’d heard her parents arguing about a woman at the ministry who her mother wanted him to send on leave. Her mother had never involved herself in matters concerning her father’s employees, and it suggested something was up. What did it matter to her mother if one woman was at the ministry or not? The part of the argument she’d heard before they became aware of her presence also suggested that this wasn’t just about work: her mother had said that the woman had made a fool of her, was laughing at her; that her father was a complete idiot to believe her story. No, there was no question that the woman was some slut her father had fallen for, maybe precisely because of how different she must have been from Lena’s perfect mother. Lena couldn’t actually blame her father for seeking out a less frosty embrace.