‘Hi, sorry, I haven’t forgotten you – I was called unexpectedly to the children’s hospital and I’ve only just got back. I still have to go through my notes one more time, but I should be able to come over in half an hour or so.’
‘That would be great. We’re keen to know whether she has any complaints about anything, or if she’s in pain. We’re having a hard time determining the root cause of the symptoms she’s displaying.’
‘Oh, I doubt I’ll be able to help you with that. I actually need to ask her a few more questions; yesterday she didn’t want to say anything about how she felt physically. But it won’t hurt to try again.’
‘Really? What did she say, then?’ The nurse wanted to know as much as possible in case she ended up being questioned again.
‘If I understood her correctly, she’s unhappy – or frightened, to be more accurate. But I wasn’t able to clearly determine what of. That’s why I’m going to try and communicate with her again today. It’s an extremely primitive means of communication, although she’s much better equipped for it than many others are, since she’s literate and she can spell what she wants to say. It just takes an awfully long time, and on top of that it’s very easy to end up in the wrong square. She was tired and impatient, so it didn’t go very well. Hopefully it’ll be better when I see her today.’
‘What can she be afraid of? Us?’
‘I’m not sure. She spelled “oxygen” again and again when I asked, but I have no idea what she meant. Maybe she’s having trouble breathing, although I didn’t notice any signs of that. She also spelled the word “man” more than once, and “bad man” when I asked her to explain it better. I have no idea who she means, and by the time we reached that point I couldn’t get her to continue. Plus, there are other things I don’t quite understand, but I need a little more time to go over them and try to sort out the context.’
‘Can you go into any detail?’
‘I think the less I say right now, the safer we are. Let me just go over it a bit and speak to you properly after I meet up with her again. Maybe it’s all just nonsense – a bad dream she had, or some kind of delusion, but I still feel it’s worth checking to see whether I can get to the bottom of it, if possible. Her heart rate went through the roof when she mentioned this man, so it may be that her fear is causing symptoms that are confusing you guys.’
‘I see.’ The nurse tried to think of anything else she’d wanted to ask, but nothing came to mind. ‘See you later, then. My name’s Svava, I’ll be here until four.’ They said goodbye, and the nurse stared at her phone for a few moments before standing up. Maybe she should start by looking in on the poor girl; apparently she enjoyed listening to the radio, so maybe that would relax her and lessen her fear. Mind you, the girl’s heart rate had actually increased when she stuck the ear phone in her ear the other day, and for a second Svava wondered whether it was the country’s financial crisis, which was all they ever discussed on the radio now, that was scaring her. No, it couldn’t be. It must have been a coincidence.
CHAPTER 14
Monday, 11 January 2010
Each storey would have housed a family of three quite comfortably. The house was so overwhelming that it was actually difficult to appreciate its architecture; its overall appearance made it look as if the blueprints had been done to the wrong scale and the building was now a distended version of the original idea. It was the same story with the next house. They were all crowded together, and none had windows at the sides because of the proximity of their neighbours. Either the residents were well off or they’d received a good discount from the builders’ merchants. Thóra had had considerable trouble navigating them to the northern part of the suburb of Grafarvogur, where she never normally had any need to go. Most of the driveways leading up to these enormous homes were empty of any cars, since maintaining these palaces required two breadwinners, but there were snowmobile trailers in many of the driveways, and the odd camper trailer here and there, covered with a tarpaulin. Einvarður and Fanndís’s driveway contained no trailers, however, and Matthew pulled up next to a newish family car that made it clear that the owner wasn’t rolling in money, but didn’t want it to look as if that were the case.
On a copper plate beneath the doorbell were the names of all the members of the family – Tryggvi included. She saw Matthew raise his eyebrows when he saw the son’s name, but he said nothing; his only experience with children was with Thóra’s son and daughter and her grandson, and he seemed to realize his limitations when it came to understanding parents. He rang the bell and after a few moments Fanndís opened the door. She was just as elegant as in the photograph at her husband’s office, although she’d aged since it was taken. Tiny wrinkles stretched from the corners of her eyes to her temples and a vertical lines lay at either side of her mouth. Otherwise her face was smooth and healthy-looking. The woman extended a slender hand adorned with rings and smiled warmly as they introduced themselves. The clothes she was wearing were not the kind that Thóra would have chosen if she worked at home; it looked as though Fanndís was going out to lunch at the golf club. But maybe she’d simply dressed up especially for her guests, and if that were the case, Thóra regretted having dressed according to the weather that morning.
They followed the woman through the beautiful foyer and into a large but tasteful living room that felt cosy despite its size. A small number of attractive paintings hung on the walls and family photos stood on shelves and on nests of tables. In all the photos showing the family dressed in their Sunday best, the daughter wore a long dress that looked Spanish to Thóra. ‘Your daughter’s clearly a strong character,’ she said, pointing at the same photo that Einvarður had shown them in his office. ‘Sometimes I think young people all dress alike, but that’s not the case with her, I see.’
Fanndís stopped and looked at the picture. She blushed slightly and rubbed her ear. ‘Yes. Lena has good taste and she always wants to look nice.’ She smiled sadly and looked away from the photo. ‘That was the last time we saw Tryggvi alive. My husband and I were on our way to the ministry’s annual ball, which was held in Selfoss, and we gave Lena permission to invite her friends to a party. I can’t begin to describe how we felt on the way home, knowing what had happened. I will never go to that ball again; I’m afraid it would stir up too many painful memories.’ She cleared her throat and let go of her ear, which was now slightly red. ‘But you don’t want to hear about that. I was brewing some coffee; it’ll be ready in a moment.’ Fanndís waited until Thóra and Matthew had taken a seat before she sat down herself. ‘Are you hungry, maybe? I can get you something to have with your coffee, if you haven’t eaten yet.’
‘No, thanks.’ Thóra was sure she was declining something delicious but the bacon was like a lead weight in her stomach and there was no way she could eat another bite. Matthew followed her lead and declined, although no doubt he could easily have eaten more.
They chatted for a few moments about the weather, then Iceland’s financial situation, but Fanndís’s comments about the situation seemed practised and carefully neutral. Thóra was impressed – she still had no idea of the woman’s real opinions by the time Fanndís decided to turn the conversation to her guests’ business. ‘I understand from Einvarður that you’re investigating the fire at the community residence. I don’t know how I can help you, but I’ll try my best.’
‘Thank you. Your husband was very generous to us and I should start by thanking you for agreeing to meet us. I understand that it’s painful to have to relive this tragic event, and the last thing we want is to cause you any distress. We’d just like your opinion on what went on at the home, in case you know something that doesn’t appear in the files.’