The Girl Who Died, Ragnar Jonasson [small books to read .TXT] 📗

I’ve literally just arrived this evening. I haven’t had time to look around yet.’

‘Well, to be honest, there’s not a lot to see.’

‘I was afraid of that,’ she said ruefully, wondering why she should feel instinctively at ease with him, despite his obvious reluctance to engage with her. ‘But I suppose I’ll just have to stick it out because I’ve taken a job here for the whole winter.’

‘Oh, it’s not that bad,’ he said, sounding a little embarrassed. ‘And you’ll have your teaching. That must be a great job.’

‘Oh, well, it’s not that bad,’ she said, deliberately echoing what he had said in an attempt to be funny.

‘I’ve always admired teachers.’ His teeth gleamed again in a smile.

The way he said it, she wasn’t sure if he was just being polite or if there was a hint of flirtation there. Now it was her turn to feel embarrassed.

‘Anyway, I’d better get going,’ she said.

‘Sure. Good luck with settling in, Una. I hope you’ll be happy here.’

‘Thanks,’ she said, and opened her mouth to add some witty remark, but before she got a chance he was gone, striding away up the slope, presumably in the direction of the farm. She watched his vague outline retreating until he was swallowed up by the darkness.

Afterwards she found herself wondering, ridiculously, if he had been a figment of her imagination. There had been something so dreamlike, so unreal about this unlooked-for encounter. Her first thought had been that she’d met a ghost, and now the thought returned and she shivered, trying to push it away. It was absurd. He had been flesh and blood all right. She wished they could have talked for longer, but no doubt there would be other chances to get to know him. In a village this tiny it would be impossible to avoid him. She realized she was looking forward with genuine eagerness to their next encounter.

VI

She woke up drenched in sweat.

Could she be coming down with something? A fever after her long drive? Then it came back to her: she’d had a dream, or a nightmare, rather.

The girl in the white dress, who she had seen at the window, had appeared to her during the night. Salka’s daughter, Edda … She couldn’t quite remember her face, since the details had been vague and the dream was quickly fading from her consciousness; so intangible that it was more a sensation than a memory. The girl had been watching her through the window, just as she had earlier that evening, but this time Una had been on the inside and the girl had been outside in the darkness. She hadn’t spoken, at least not that Una could recall, but the experience had been deeply unsettling. It had felt as if the girl was summoning Una with her silence, trying to lure her outside, compelling her to leave the house and come to her.

Even more disturbing, Una had felt drawn to obey, as if she had actively wanted to go with the girl out into the night, into the unknown. It had been cold too; she had felt an icy chill during the night, although it was quite warm in her bedroom now.

Then the child had held up her hands with the palms facing outwards, as if to say: this far and no further. Una wondered if it had been a warning to leave the village; an omen that she should never have come there.

She got out of her sweat-soaked bed. It was still dim in her room but when she switched on the light she saw from the clock that it was morning, although few would be awake yet. She would have liked to have slept for a couple more hours as she needed to be on the ball for the first day of her new job, but she was unlikely to drop off again now.

She wondered if her dream had simply been a sign that she was tired from her journey and apprehensive about starting teaching, or whether it had been caused by something deeper in her consciousness; whether the fear that was always lurking inside her had reared up its head again.

It left her with an ominous sense of dread that she couldn’t shake off.

VII

The tiredness was still there later that morning when Una entered the classroom, which wasn’t really a classroom so much as the dining room in Kolbrún’s house, which could be closed off with an old-fashioned sliding door to make an area where they could study undisturbed.

The two girls, Kolbrún and Edda, were both sitting waiting for her. When Una saw Edda, her first thought was that she looked quite different by daylight, her features much clearer and her whole demeanour brighter and more animated than it had appeared when seen through the window the evening before.

Una hadn’t brought any textbooks along for this first lesson, having decided to use the time to get to know her two pupils instead. With the dream still impinging on her thoughts, she found it all the more important to start by lightening the atmosphere, in the hope that this would take the edge off her lingering sense of unease.

‘Hello, girls. My name’s Una. I’ve just moved here from Reyk-javík and I’m going to be your teacher this winter.’

Edda nodded, but Kolbrún’s face remained impassive.

‘I’ve been so looking forward to coming here and teaching you that I even dreamt about you last night.’ Una smiled. ‘Well, about Edda, anyway, because I met her briefly yesterday.’

Edda frowned. ‘You didn’t meet me yesterday,’ she said flatly.

Una smiled again. ‘I didn’t mean I literally met you, but I saw you when I arrived. You were standing at the downstairs window, remember?’

‘No. I didn’t see you,’ the girl insisted. ‘I always go to bed early.’

‘But your mother said …’ Una stopped herself; there was no call to get off on the wrong foot by arguing with her pupil, though the girl was obviously lying.

‘What are we going to learn today?’ Kolbrún