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

thought she detected an underlying tension, perhaps even nervousness, in his manner.

Salka said goodbye and shut the door firmly.

‘That was strange,’ Una muttered.

Instead of answering, Salka went straight over to the phone in the hall. ‘I’m just going to warn Hjördís.’

Una waited and watched. Perhaps she should have given Salka a chance to speak in private, but her curiosity got the better of her.

It seemed to take a while before Hjördís answered.

‘Hello, it’s Salka. There was a man here just now, a stranger, looking for you. He said he knew you and needed somewhere to stay. He’s in a car, obviously, so he should be with you very shortly. He left us a minute or two ago.’ Silence. ‘No, I didn’t ask his name … Yes, yes … No, I don’t know what he wanted. That’s all he said.’

Salka said goodbye and put down the receiver.

‘That was strange,’ Una repeated.

‘It may seem as if we’re being unnecessarily paranoid,’ Salka said with a rather hollow laugh, ‘but it’s not that we don’t like outsiders; we’re just not used to having visitors here, especially in winter. The village isn’t on the way anywhere and people don’t usually come out here in December without a very good reason. It’s a bit livelier in summer; we do get the odd tourist then – Icelanders mostly – who find their way out to us, mainly to see the ruins from the war – the old radar station, you know. That provides a bit of welcome business for the village shop and brings some money into the local economy.’

Una nodded but was more interested in discussing the stranger.

‘Do you think he was really sightseeing? At this time of year?’

Salka hesitated, then said: ‘I suppose we should give him the benefit of the doubt. People do some odd things. But you have to be careful out here in winter, as there’s not a lot of help available if anything goes wrong, except here and in Thórshöfn. There’s literally nowhere else. He must be the adventurous type.’ She smiled.

‘Oh well, if he’s staying over, he can always come along to the Christmas concert tomorrow,’ Una said, only half joking.

‘I don’t think that would be very appropriate. It’s not exactly open house. It’s meant to be a private celebration for us locals. How’s it going, by the way? Are the preparations on the right track?’

‘I think so. Gudrún’s been a great help, as you know. She’s absolutely tireless.’

‘You should watch it with Gudrún. Make sure she doesn’t eat you alive. She does tend to take over. You have to be firm with her.’

‘Oh, it’s quite nice having someone to help out. And I’m sure she’s done a good job. It should hopefully get people into the Christmas spirit.’

And that moment the phone rang.

‘Hjördís again?’ Una said, and waited for Salka to answer.

Salka shook her head, as a sign that it wasn’t Hjördís on the line. ‘Yes, she’s here. Yes, I’ll tell her. Yes, OK. Bye.’

‘That was Gunna,’ Salka said with a smile that contained more than a trace of sympathy. ‘She wants you to go over to the church – right now. She says she’s been waiting for you. Apparently, there’s still a lot to do for tomorrow.’

XVIII

Salka had cooked haddock for supper. They had a tacit agreement that Una was welcome to eat with Salka and Edda, in return for taking turns in buying groceries for the kitchen downstairs. Nevertheless, she always made sure that she kept her own cupboards stocked up too, for when she wasn’t in the mood for company.

Una had spent two long hours in the church, watching as Gudrún made the preparations for the concert. Although the event was nominally her responsibility, she herself didn’t actually have any role in the proceedings. Gudrún had simply taken over, yet for some reason she liked to have Una at her beck and call. Perhaps to have someone to blame if everything went wrong, Una thought cynically. She smiled at the idea. What on earth could go wrong? Admittedly, it was one of the very few social occasions in the village calendar, but it wasn’t that complicated, surely?

She sat down to a belated supper, in the mood for a chat with Salka to distract her thoughts. Luckily, Edda wasn’t there. No doubt she was over at one of their neighbours’ houses. She often skipped out at mealtimes. Her absence would give Una a chance to discuss the two subjects she had been putting off raising with Salka. One was Kolbeinn, and the other the ghostly girl who supposedly haunted the attic flat …

‘Everything ready for tomorrow?’ Salka asked, filling Una’s glass with water from the carafe. Una had learned that Salka never offered alcohol with supper.

‘Yes, it looks like it,’ Una replied. ‘Gudrún knows exactly what she’s doing. I just wish it would snow. Then everything would be perfect.’

‘Unlikely, I should think.’

‘Thanks for supper, by the way. This looks delicious,’ Una said. She was grateful to Salka for providing her with a job and a roof over her head, but most of all for her warm welcome. She needed a friend.

‘You haven’t tasted it yet,’ Salka said teasingly. ‘Don’t praise it too soon.’

Una took a mouthful. The haddock was a little overcooked for her taste, but she didn’t let it show. ‘About Kolbeinn …’ she began, apropos of nothing.

Salka looked up. ‘Yes?’

‘Do you know him well?’

‘Why do you ask?’ Salka sounded wary.

‘Oh, I was just wondering about him and his wife.’

Salka didn’t say anything.

‘He came round to see me recently,’ Una went on. ‘About Kolbrún.’

‘Ah, I see … Is she OK?’

‘What? Oh, yes. He just wanted to talk to me, as her teacher. Just a general chat, you know. But then … then he …’

Salka nodded. ‘He can … come on a bit strong.’

‘I got the feeling he was hitting on me. But I wasn’t quite sure …’

Salka cut in: ‘Oh, you can be sure, all right. It’s not the first time and it certainly won’t