Fanndís merely nodded again. The question was obviously unfair; you couldn’t expect an ordinary person to put themselves in the shoes of a violent criminal, someone who would abuse someone who literally couldn’t lift a finger in their defence. ‘Well, hopefully the guilty party will be found; there’s some DNA from the foetus and it’s just a question of getting a sample from the right man.’
‘Surely that means Jakob?’ Fanndís glared at Thóra. ‘I would recommend that you send him for a DNA test. I don’t know how he appears to you, but he’s prone to violence and in my opinion he’s entirely capable of doing that.’
‘He’s been ruled out,’ replied Thóra. ‘Whoever did it is still out there and may have even more on his conscience – like the fire, perhaps.’
Two cups of coffee later, Thóra and Matthew said goodbye. Matthew had reappeared just before Thóra decided that she’d got enough. When they heard the front door shut behind them, she nudged him with her elbow and asked where he’d really gone, but she couldn’t get him to answer the question until they were actually sitting in the car. ‘I noticed a young woman listening in as we sat in the living room. When she realized I’d spotted her she looked quite embarrassed, but she seemed to regain her composure and beckoned me through to speak to her.’
‘And? What did she say?’ The conversation was moving too slowly for Thóra.
‘Her story didn’t match her mother’s, that’s for sure.’
CHAPTER 15
Monday, 11 January 2010
The garden was not a pretty sight; as the snow gradually disappeared in the day’s unexpected warmth, the yellowing lawn and empty flowerbed were starting to peek through. The unkempt bushes in the borders were slipping out from under their melting burden and their last remaining leaves were falling to the ground. There was no reminder of the summer that Berglind longed for so passionately, except Pési’s red plastic spade. She wrapped her dressing gown tightly around herself and slipped her bare feet into the rubber boots she’d fetched from the garage. They were icy and she felt her toes scrunch together in an attempt to gain warmth from each other. Of course she should have got dressed properly before going out, but she knew that if she’d given herself time for that she would have lost her bottle. The dead raven in the middle of the garden would have stayed there, right in her line of sight, until Halli came home, and she couldn’t bear it. Berglind grabbed the handle on the sliding door and pulled it energetically before her courage deserted her.
She was met with cold, damp air and as she drew in a deep breath through her nose, what she smelled reminded her of the compost heap they’d tried to get going the previous year but had got rid of due to the stench. She hoped the smell wasn’t coming from the bird’s remains, though she knew that was impossible; the corpse hadn’t been there the night before and there was no way it could have started to rot so quickly, especially not in winter. Nevertheless, she covered her nose with one hand as she walked across the wet grass, prepared for the worst. In the other hand she held a spade and a plastic bag so that she wouldn’t need to touch the bird’s body; her bravery had its limits. The stench grew stronger the closer she got, and her steps involuntarily grew shorter and slower. Perhaps the bird had been there longer than she thought; maybe it had emerged from the snow during the night when it had started to melt, but that seemed highly unlikely – there had been no noticeable hump where it now lay. Once Berglind had got close enough to reach for the bird she realized that the smell had nothing to do with the small corpse; it was simply in the air. But it was impossible to say what was causing it, because it seemed all-pervading, thick and repellent. She leaned the shovel against her body in order to free up both hands, and pulled the collar of her dressing gown up over her mouth and nose. By tilting her head and squeezing the dressing gown between her cheek and her shoulder she could protect herself from the stink. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hold the dressing gown in place for long before the collar dropped back to her shoulder, so it was imperative that she get this over with quickly.
Berglind bent down carefully and arranged the plastic bag so it would stay open. The sooner she got the remains into it and tied it off, the better. As if to make her life harder the wind blew the bag shut as soon as she opened it; the stillness that had greeted her when she’d first gone out into the garden had proved to be illusory. Berglind reached for a pebble lying close by to hold the bag in place. This on its own wasn’t enough to keep the bag open, so she decided to grab some more stones from the gravel strip bordering the flowerbeds at the edge of the garden. Her collar fell from her face as she walked over, so she buried her mouth and nose in the crook of her elbow to block the odour, which the wind hadn’t managed to disperse. She immediately felt better and by the time she reached the edge of the beds she could smell only a faint whiff of washing powder.
She couldn’t see exactly where the gravel was, as in this shaded part of the garden the snow was still untouched by the sun. She rooted with her toe in the frozen white and after a quick search found what she was looking for. She cleared away the snow from a little patch and bent down to pick up the largest of the stones – at which point her hair became tangled on one of the bushes. Berglind became irritated that she hadn’t pestered Halli enough in the autumn when he wriggled out of pruning them; if he’d given in to her nagging, this wouldn’t have happened. Her scalp smarted as she tried carefully to untangle her hair; it was as though the bush was resisting. It wasn’t until she took hold of all the hair that had wound itself round the branches and yanked with all her might that it came free, tangled and split from the struggle. A strand still hung from one of the branches, waving in the wind until it was gradually set free and blew away. Berglind watched it with annoyance and rubbed her sore head. She was really tempted to swear out loud, but didn’t; people round here already thought she was a bit crazy, and she wasn’t about to prove them right by talking to herself. She filled her hands with gravel and got ready to stand up, but was so startled by a hissing sound close to her ear that she lost her balance and fell back onto her arse in the wet snow.
Her heart pounded in her chest. She felt the cold sneaking in through her wet dressing gown as she stared into the yellow eyes peering at her through the hedge. The neighbour’s cat stood bold as brass at the edge of their garden, its back arched. Berglind could feel that the hair on her arms had risen as well. ‘Stupid animal,’ she muttered, past caring now whether anyone heard her. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ The cat responded with another hiss, louder than the first. ‘Get out of here!’ Berglind waved her hand in the hope of scaring it away, but it didn’t move. She was even more irritated when she pulled herself up and wiped her dirty palms on her white dressing gown, but then sighed – it was due to go in the wash anyway. She looked around for the gravel but it had vanished into the snow where she’d dropped it, leaving behind a pattern of black holes that roughly formed the shape of a face: two eyes and a gaping mouth. Against her better judgement she shuddered at the thought of poking around in imaginary eye sockets or down a black throat, and decided to fetch some new gravel. This time she took more care to avoid the branches, as well as keeping a wary eye on the cat as she gathered together another handful. Considering how it had been acting recently, she was right to be on her guard. Usually the cat came to them and stood meowing at the sliding door in the hope of getting something to eat – often successfully – but now it never came any closer than the edge of the garden, from where it watched everything closely. Berglind could easily pinpoint the time this change had occurred, but had chosen to block out her certainty that it was related to the exorcisms that had briefly freed them from the spirit in the house. Maybe the cat was the only one that understood Berglind, as it seemed as sure as she was that this ghost, or whatever it was, was still hanging around outside.