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

She picked her way along the beach until she was level with the fishery owner’s house, which dominated the village from its eminence, then climbed back up from the shore, approached his front door, caught her breath, and knocked.

In the only glimpse she had so far caught of Guffi he had been wearing an old-fashioned fisherman’s jersey and a woollen hat, so she had been half-expecting him to be similarly clad now. Disconcertingly, however, he was formally, if not very fashionably, dressed, in a blue shirt and checked suit. Instead of looking pleased to see her, he stood there unmoving, with the door half open, not saying a word.

Una was thrown by this reception. After all, he had invited her to come round and see him. Unless someone was playing a trick on her? ‘Hello, sorry,’ she stammered, ‘I … I got your message.’

‘Yup, right,’ he said gruffly, holding out his hand. ‘Come in, then.’

She shook his hand. His clasp was warm but tight and he gripped her hand for so long that she wondered if he was ever going to let go. Finally, he did, and she followed him into the hall and down a set of stairs. The house was so gloomy inside that it was hard to see the furnishings in much detail, but Una had the feeling of going back in time. The present day seemed to have passed Skálar by in more ways than one.

‘My office is down here,’ Guffi said curtly, switching on the light in the passage.

His office, which was smaller than she’d expected, contained an old desk and a bookcase, and looked more like a study than a place where he conducted his business. A single leather armchair stood beside the bookcase. The only other chair was behind the desk.

‘Sit down,’ Guffi said. He was tall and very thickset, with a heavily lined face and eyes of flint.

When Una made to sit down in the armchair, however, he laid a heavy hand on her shoulder and steered her towards the office chair instead. She slipped out from under his grip and took a seat behind the desk, at the back, while he settled himself in the armchair, beside the only door to the windowless room. She had a disturbing sensation of being in a prison or cage, entirely at the mercy of this odd man.

‘Nice to meet you,’ she said, after an awkward silence, when it appeared that he wasn’t going to say anything. ‘You own the fishery here, don’t you?’

‘That’s right,’ he said, brusquely. He sat quite still, staring at her, without a hint of a smile on his face. Then went on: ‘So you’ve come here to teach the children.’

Una nodded.

‘Why did you want to move out here?’

She was momentarily tongue-tied, then said: ‘It’s … it’s a beautiful place.’ It sounded unconvincing even to her.

‘How could you know that?’ he said dismissively. ‘Had you been here before?’

‘What? No, actually, but … but …’ She couldn’t even claim to have seen any photos.

Gudfinnur interrupted: ‘It isn’t even a particularly picturesque spot for a village, I have to say. Or perhaps you think it is?’

‘It’s … it’s all right. I’ve only just got here, you know.’

‘And how long are you planning to stay, Una?’

Before she could answer, he ploughed on: ‘I understand you have a teaching degree. I can’t think why someone like you would want to kick your heels in a place like this. Nor do I understand why we should have to fork out for a professional teacher for two kids. Frankly, it seems like a disgraceful waste of money to me.’

Una nodded, though she didn’t agree.

‘It’s Salka’s fault, like so much else. She seems to be under the impression that she runs the place, though I don’t know why she should think that.’

He sat there, solid and immovable, and Una was assailed again by the suffocating awareness that she couldn’t leave until he decided to let her out.

‘I believe she did you a disservice,’ he continued, ‘by tricking you into coming here.’

Una could feel the sweat breaking out on her body but tried to maintain her composure: ‘Well, I suppose time will tell.’ This came out more shakily than she would have liked.

‘Oh, I think you can take my word for it. This isn’t a suitable place for you, Una. It’s not easy for outsiders to fit in here or to understand how our little community works.’

She nodded warily, unsure where the conversation was leading.

‘If you ask me, you should think again, Una. It’s not too late to change your mind, even though you’ve come here. We would understand. The isolation, being so far from anywhere, the darkness. You could hardly get any further from Reykjavík if you tried. And the house you’re living in has a history. Not everyone feels comfortable there. You could pack up your bags and go home, and we’d manage. Just as we’ve been managing all these years.’

Although the last thing she wanted was to let him get away with threatening her like this, it did cross her mind that it might be best to abandon the whole idea. Clearly, she wasn’t welcome here. On the other hand, there was nothing waiting for her back in Reykjavík. She had quit her old job and they had hired someone else to take her place for the winter, so financially, she had no real choice but to stay. And, besides, she thought, with sudden indignation, she had no intention of letting him bully her like this.

‘Thanks for the advice,’ she said, finally managing to suppress the tremor in her voice. ‘I think I’ll go now.’ She stood up and walked steadily towards the door. Gudfinnur gave no sign of moving, but at the last minute he got to his feet and opened the door for her. He drew back his lips in a smile for the first time since she had met him, but his eyes remained stony. ‘You can find your own way out, Una.’