The Darkness(46)

If it was lonely and inhospitable now in May, what would it have been like when Elena came here in the dead of winter? What had been going through her mind? Did she have any inkling of what was going to happen? It was important to remember that she had just learned that she would be allowed to stay in Iceland. She must have been over the moon and perhaps this had made her more careless than usual, so she didn’t perceive the risk from her companion until …

‘It was sheer chance that the body was found so soon,’ ólíver said, interrupting her train of thought. ‘Not many people come down here, especially not in winter, but a group of walkers stumbled on her. They rang the police, and me and my partner attended the scene.’

No sooner had he spoken than the cove came into view.

Although not large, it was beautiful in an austere sort of way and the sea had an air of tranquillity, in spite of the buffeting gale. Hulda experienced a momentary sense of well-being, the sight and smell of the sea transporting her for an instant back to their old home on álftanes, to the bosom of her family, in the days before disaster fell. Then the feeling passed and her thoughts returned to Elena, who must have stood in this same spot more than a year ago, seen the same view, perhaps experienced the same sense of peace.

‘They found her lying face down on the beach. She had head injuries, though there’s no way of knowing exactly how she got them. Probably fell, banged her head and knocked herself out. The cause of death was drowning.’

Hulda started to pick her way gingerly over the slippery rocks towards the water’s edge, feeling a need to get as close to Elena as possible, though her body was long gone.

‘For Christ’s sake, be careful!’ ólíver shouted. ‘I’m not carrying you back to the car if you break a leg.’

Hulda stopped. This was probably far enough. She could picture Elena lying there in the shallow water. The sea was so ruthless: giving life to the Icelanders, but exacting a terrible price. She gazed out over Faxaflói bay towards the great, snow-capped bulk of Mount Esja, her heart bleeding not just for Elena but for herself. She missed her old life, the good old days, and although she had gained a new friend in Pétur, she felt so utterly alone in the world. The feeling had never been stronger than in that moment.





X


‘Well, that was a waste of time,’ ólíver grumbled as they got back into the squad car.

‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that,’ Hulda said.

‘Where did you leave your car? At the police station?’

‘I … didn’t come by car,’ she admitted, a little sheepishly, trying to pretend this was a perfectly normal way of working.

She thought she detected a sly grin on ólíver’s face.

‘Should I drive you back to Reykjavík?’ he offered, with no great enthusiasm. ‘It’s not that far now that we’ve already come all this way.’

‘Thanks, but I need to drop by the hostel in Njardvík. It would be great if you could give me a lift there instead.’

‘Right you are,’ he said.

Although the rain had temporarily let up, the clouds were still hanging low over Keflavík, threatening another downpour any minute.

‘Thanks very much for your help,’ said Hulda once they had reached their destination, and hurriedly exited the car. She watched as ólíver drove off.

Elena’s last dwelling place.

In the short time that had passed since Hulda had decided to delve into Elena’s death, she had developed a strong feeling of connection to the young woman. And now, as she stood outside the hostel in the sudden spring cloudburst, the feeling was stronger than ever. She couldn’t give up now, not when all her instincts told her she was closing in on the truth. But she was afraid that this one day, her last day, wouldn’t be enough.

As it turned out, she was in luck. Dóra was sitting at the reception desk, absorbed in a newspaper.

‘Hello again,’ Hulda said.

Dóra looked up. ‘Oh, hi there. Back again?’

‘Yes. I just need a quick word with you. Any news?’

‘News? No, there’s never any news here.’ Dóra smiled and closed the paper. ‘New people, yes, but always the same old routine. Or were you talking about, you know, something to do with Elena?’

‘I was, actually.’

‘No, no news there. How are you getting on with your investigation thingy?’

‘Getting there, slowly,’ Hulda said. ‘Look, could we sit down for a minute and have a chat?’

‘Sure, pull up a seat, there’s a stool by the phone.’ Dóra gestured to a table near the reception desk on which there was an old-fashioned desk phone and next to it a bound copy of the telephone directory, a rare sight in this day and age.

‘Actually, I was thinking of somewhere, well, a little more private,’ said Hulda.

‘Oh, none of the residents understand Icelandic. And I’d rather not leave reception unmanned, if I can help it. We’ve already been over this so thoroughly I’m assuming it won’t take long?’

‘No, it shouldn’t,’ said Hulda, giving in. Bringing over the telephone stool, she sat down, facing Dóra across the reception desk.

‘Tell me about Katja.’