She told him how Holberg had raped her and threatened her and she’d decided for herself to have the baby and never tell anyone what had happened. Not his father and not him. And that had been fine. They’d lived a happy life. She hadn’t allowed Holberg to rob her of her happiness. He hadn’t managed to kill her family.
She told him that, though he was the son of the man who raped her, that didn’t prevent her from loving him as much as her other two sons and she knew Albert was particularly fond of him. So Einar had never suffered for what Holberg did. Never.
It took him a few minutes to digest what she’d said.
“Sorry,” he said at last. “I didn’t mean to get angry with you. I thought you’d been cheating and that’s where I came from. I had no idea about the rape.”
“Of course not,” she said. “How could you have known? I’ve never told anyone until now.”
“I should have seen that possibility too,” he said. “There was another possibility, but I didn’t consider it. Sorry. You must have felt terrible all these years.”
“You shouldn’t think about that,” she said. “You shouldn’t suffer for what that man did.”
“I’ve already suffered for it, Mum,” he said. “Endless torment. And not just me. Why didn’t you have an abortion? What stopped you?”
“Oh Lord, God, don’t say that, Einar. Never talk like that.”
Katrin stopped.
“Didn’t you ever consider an abortion?” Elinborg asked.
“All the time. Always. Until it was too late. I thought about it every day after I found out I was pregnant. Anyway, the child could well have been Albert’s. That probably made all the difference. And then I got depressed after the birth. Postnatal depression, isn’t it? I was sent for psychiatric treatment. After three months I was well enough again to look after the boy and I’ve loved him ever since.”
Erlendur waited a moment before he continued his questioning.
“Why did your son start looking up genetic diseases in the Research Centre’s database?” he asked eventually.
Katrin looked at him.
“How did that girl from Keflavik die?” she asked.
“Of a brain tumour,” Erlendur said. “The disease is called neurofibromatosis.”
Katrin’s eyes filled with tears and she heaved a deep sigh.
“Didn’t you know?” she said.
“Didn’t I know what?”
“Our little love died three years ago,” Katrin said. “For no reason. Absolutely no reason.”
“Your little love?” Erlendur said.
“Our little sweetheart,” she said. “Einar’s daughter. She died. The poor, sweet child.”
39
A deep silence fell across the house.
Katrin was sitting with her head bowed. Elinborg looked first at her and then at Erlendur, thunder-struck. Erlendur stared into space and thought about Eva Lind. What was she doing now? Was she at his flat? He felt the urge to talk to his daughter. Felt the urge to hug her, snuggle up to her and not let go until he’d told her how much she meant to him.
“I can’t believe it,” Elinborg said.
“Your son’s a genetic carrier, isn’t he?” Erlendur said.
“That was the phrase he used,” Katrin said. “A genetic carrier. They both are. He and Holberg. He said he inherited it from the man who raped me.”
“But neither of them got ill,” Erlendur said.
“It seems to be the females who become ill,” Katrin said. “The males carry the disease, but don’t necessarily show any symptoms. But it comes in all kinds of forms, I can’t explain it. My son under-stands it. He tried to explain it to me, but I didn’t really know what he was talking about. He was heartbroken. And so was I of course.”
“And he found all this out from that database they’re making,” Erlendur said.
Katrin nodded.
“He couldn’t understand why his little girl got the disease so he started looking for it in my family and Albert’s. He talked to relatives and just wouldn’t give up. We thought it was his way of dealing with the shock. All that endless searching for the cause. Searching for answers where we didn’t think there were any answers to be found. They split up some time ago, Lara and him. They couldn’t live together any longer and decided on a temporary separation, but I can’t see things ever improving.”
Katrin stopped talking.
“And then he found the answer,” Erlendur said.
“He became convinced that Albert wasn’t his father. He said it couldn’t be right according to the information he had from the database. That’s why he came to me. He thought I’d been unfaithful and that was where he came from. Or that he was adopted.”
“Did he find Holberg in the database?”
“I don’t think so. Not until later. After I told him about Holberg. It was so absurd. So ridiculous! My son had made a list of his possible fathers and Holberg was on it. He could trace the disease back through certain families using the genetics and genealogy databases and he found out he couldn’t be his father’s son. He was a deviation. A different strain.”
“How old was his daughter?”
“She was seven.”
“It was a brain tumour that caused her death, wasn’t it?” Erlendur said.
“Yes.”
“She died of the same disease as Audur. Neurofibromatosis.”
“Yes. Audur’s mother must have felt terrible; first Holberg, and then her daughter dying.”
Erlendur hesitated for a moment.
“Kolbrun, her mother, committed suicide three years after Audur died.”
“My God,” Katrin sighed.
“Where’s your son now?” Erlendur asked.
“I don’t know,” Katrin replied. “I’m worried sick he’ll do something terrible to himself. He feels so depressed, the boy. So terrible.”
“Do you think he’s been in contact with Holberg?”
“I don’t know. I just know he’s no murderer. That I know for certain.”
“Did you think he looked like his father?” Erlendur asked and looked at the confirmation photographs.
Katrin didn’t answer.
“Could you see a resemblance between them?” Erlendur asked.
“Come on, Erlendur,” Elinborg snapped, unable to take any more of this. “Don’t you think you’ve gone far enough, seriously?”
“Sorry,” Erlendur said to Katrin. “I’m just being nosy. You’ve been extremely helpful to us and if it’s any consolation I doubt that we’ll ever find a more steadfast or stronger character than you, being able to suffer in silence for all those years.”
“It’s all right,” Katrin said to Elinborg. “Children can take after anyone in the family. I could never see Holberg in my boy. He said it wasn’t my fault. Einar told me that. I wasn’t to blame for the way his daughter died.”
Katrin paused.
“What will happen to Einar?” she asked. She wasn’t putting up any resistance now. No lies. Only resignation.
“We have to find him,” Erlendur said, “talk to him and hear what he has to say.”
He and Elinborg stood up. Erlendur put on his hat. Katrin remained on the sofa.
“If you want I can talk to Albert,” Erlendur said. “He stayed at Hotel Esja last night. We’ve been watching your house since yesterday in case your son happend to turn up. I can explain to Albert what’s going on. He’ll come to his senses.”
“Thank you,” Katrin said. “I’ll phone him. I know he’ll come back. We need to stand together for the sake of our boy.”