The Darkness(13)

‘You’re deliberately trying to undermine me, that’s what this is. I’ve already dealt with that case.’

‘Not in a way that does you any credit,’ Hulda said coolly.

‘There was nothing dodgy about it,’ Alexander blustered, almost shouting now. ‘The poor cow was about to be deported so she threw herself in the sea. End of story.’

‘On the contrary, her request for asylum was about to be granted, and she knew it.’

There was a sudden silence at the other end. After a moment, Alexander spluttered: ‘What? What are you talking about?’

‘The case is far from closed, that’s all there is to it. And you’re interrupting my supper, so if there’s nothing else …’

‘Interrupting your supper? Yeah, right – a lonely sandwich in front of the TV,’ he said nastily. Having delivered this parting shot, he hung up.

That was below the belt. The truth was that she was always alone; the only single woman among a group of men, most of whom were married, if not to their first, then to their second wives, and surrounded by big extended families. It wasn’t the first time she’d been the butt of this kind of remark. It went with the territory, along with the tasteless jokes, the outright bullying. She could be prickly in her dealings with other people, she knew, but then she’d had to develop a thick skin to survive, and in return it seemed this gave the lads a licence to take pot shots at her.

Of course, she should have been able to shrug off Alexander’s spiteful dig but, instead, to prove him wrong, she decided to call Pétur from the walking club. She still thought of him as a friend rather than a boyfriend – their relationship felt too platonic for that. Whenever they were together she found herself wishing she was twenty, thirty years younger; then it wouldn’t have been as hard to make that next move, progress from the polite pecks on the cheek to something more intimate. Then again, there were times on the phone to him when she felt as shy as a girl again; a sign, she thought, that their relationship was on the right track, that maybe she did want more.

As usual, he was quick to answer. Typically brisk and on the ball.

‘I wondered,’ she said diffidently, ‘that is, I wondered if you’d like to pop over for coffee this evening.’ The moment the words had slipped out, she realized they could be misconstrued. Inviting a man round for coffee out of the blue like that … She wanted to add that she wasn’t asking him to spend the night, but she bit her lip and merely hoped he wouldn’t read more into her offer than she’d intended.

‘I’d love to,’ he answered, without a moment’s hesitation. He was always decisive, never one to get bogged down in details or make a mountain out of a molehill; qualities Hulda appreciated. Nevertheless, this was quite a big step for them, as she’d never invited him round to her place before. Was it that she was ashamed of her flat? she wondered. In comparison to their old house on álftanes with its big windows and large garden – yes, maybe. But mainly it was due to the invisible defences she had raised around herself, defences she’d been reluctant to lower for him until now, when, in desperate need of company, she had decided to take the risk.

‘Shall I come round now?’ he asked.

‘Yes, sure, that would be great. If you can.’ She was ridiculously insecure when talking to him; it was so unlike her. Usually, she had every aspect of her life well under control.

‘Of course. Where do you live?’

She reeled off her address, finishing: ‘Fourth floor, my name’s on the bell.’

‘I’ll be straight over,’ he said, and rang off without saying goodbye.

‘About time you invited me round,’ was Pétur’s first comment when she opened the door. At getting on for seventy, he was a few years older than Hulda but wore his age well, looking neither much younger nor much older than he really was, though his grey beard did give him a slightly grandfatherly air. Hulda couldn’t stop herself from wondering, just for an instant, what Jón would have looked like at seventy.

Almost before she knew what was happening, Pétur was in the sitting room, making himself comfortable in her favourite chair. Hulda felt a twinge of irritation: her mother’s armchair was her spot, but of course she didn’t say this aloud. After all, she was pleased to have him there, happy that someone wanted to spend the evening with her. She had got used to the loneliness, as far as this was possible, but there was no real substitute for the company of another human being. She had sometimes tried going out by herself, to restaurants for lunch or dinner, but it had made her feel self-conscious and embarrassed, so now she tended to eat in the office canteen or alone at home.

She asked if he’d like a coffee.

‘Thanks, no milk.’

Pétur was a doctor. He’d taken early retirement at sixty, when his wife fell ill, and had told Hulda, without going into any details, that they’d managed some good years together before the end. This information was enough for her to be going on with; she had no wish to make him relive his grief and hoped he would be similarly understanding about not requiring her to reopen old wounds. All she had told him was that Jón had died suddenly at fifty-two. ‘Long before his time,’ she had added, stating the obvious.

Beneath Pétur’s comfortable manner there was a hint of steel, a combination which Hulda guessed would have made him a good doctor. He’d certainly done well for himself. She had visited his large house in the desirable neighbourhood of Fossvogur. It was spacious, with high ceilings and a living room graced with handsome furniture, oil paintings on the walls, a wide selection of books on the shelves and even a grand piano taking pride of place in the middle. Ever since seeing it, she had entertained fantasies about living there, spending her days ensconced in a lovely living room in a cultured home. She could ditch her dreary high-rise apartment, use the cash to pay off her debts and enjoy a comfortable retirement in a large house in a nice neighbourhood. But, of course, that wasn’t the main reason; the truth was she felt good in Pétur’s company, and she was gradually coming to the realization that she might be ready to move on, to commit again after all these years of loneliness.