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

Her thoughts returned to Hjördís. Patrekur had been looking for her and had apparently found her, from what she herself had told Una when they met in church. Una hadn’t mentioned this to the police; that could wait until an officer came out to the village. Her conscience was a little uneasy at the thought that she might be getting Hjördís into trouble, and even more so at the idea of causing any difficulties for Thór.

Hjördís was still a bit of an unknown quantity, though Una had got the feeling, the few times they had met, that there was something the other woman wasn’t telling her. She had been notably cool when Una went over there for dinner on New Year’s Eve. It was as if she had a grudge against Una, though Una couldn’t think what she had done to deserve it. The feeling was unpleasant; she wasn’t used to being the object of someone’s resentment. All she could think was that Hjördís’s hostility must relate somehow to Thór.

In spite of that, or perhaps because of it, Una decided to go and see Hjördís to warn her that she’d spoken to the police and give her a chance to prepare herself. It was only fair, wasn’t it?

Perhaps she was primarily motivated by a desire to protect Thór, but there was also a chance that on some level she genuinely wanted to improve her relationship with Hjördís. She simply couldn’t tell. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it wasn’t that late. Best get it over with now.

Una got up from the sofa, resisting the temptation to knock back a glass of wine first for some Dutch courage. She pulled on her boots and went outside into the darkness, leaving discreetly by the back door, though she was quite sure that Salka wasn’t home yet. After going a few steps, she noticed that Salka’s car was parked in its usual place, so she couldn’t have gone far.

Una headed up the now familiar track to the farm. She took her time, mentally rehearsing her conversation with Hjördís as she walked, keen to explain her motives as clearly and concisely as possible.

And yet with every step her confidence dwindled and she had to keep reminding herself that if no one had anything to hide, there could be no harm done. No amount of insistence that the villagers preferred to solve their own problems could hold much weight in these circumstances. It would be impossible to follow this absurd rule in every situation, and in any case it didn’t apply to her, as an outsider who had no interests to protect beyond her wish to do the right thing.

When she reached the front door of the farm, she paused a moment, going over what she intended to say one more time. Then she knocked and waited, but no one came to the door. She knocked again, louder, but there was still no response. Though the outside light was on, the windows were dark.

Stumped, she turned and walked over to the guesthouse, thinking they might both be there – or Thór might, at any rate. But the lights were off, the curtains were drawn and there was no sign of life. She knocked anyway, diffidently. Thór had never invited her inside – or had any particular reason to do so – but there was something about the guesthouse that made her uneasy. Again, there was no response.

Where had they all gone? First Salka, now Hjördís and Thór? It occurred to Una that they might be together somewhere and she wondered what on earth was going on.

Her journey wasted, she set off back down the hill to the village. The place was eerily quiet. Entering among the dim shapes of the houses, she had the odd sensation that she was alone, that everyone else had left, deliberately abandoning her; as if she was marooned there and would never be rescued.

Then, her stomach tightening with fear, she saw figures materializing out of the night, coming from the direction of Guffi’s house. As they drew nearer, she realized it was Hjördís and Thór, and behind them she made out Salka. Had they all been visiting Guffi?

Una was astonished. She couldn’t decide whether to go over or to wait and see. In the end, she chose caution.

From where she was standing in the shadows, she noticed that they hadn’t been the only ones visiting Guffi, because a short way behind Salka came Inga and Kolbeinn, and finally Gudrún and Gunnar. Apparently, the entire village had congregated at his house, yet no one had thought to tell her.

When they were close enough to see her in the faint gleam of Guffi’s outside light, Thór bowed his head, but Hjördís looked straight at her, defiantly, as if she had nothing to hide or be ashamed of.

‘Una, nice to see you,’ she said, stopping right in front of her. ‘Were you looking for us or just going for a walk?’ Thór halted too but made no move to join in the conversation.

Una vacillated. This probably wasn’t the time or place to discuss what she had been intending to say to them. Besides, she found Hjördís’s manner so grating that it removed any desire she’d had to warn her. It would serve her right to receive a surprise visit from the police.

‘Or was it Thór you were after?’ Hjördís added, the sarcasm plain in her voice. ‘I can make myself scarce if you two need to talk.’

‘I wasn’t looking for anyone,’ Una retorted, sarcastic in return. ‘I see you’ve all been enjoying yourselves at Guffi’s. He must have forgotten to invite me.’

Hjördís smiled. ‘Guffi never forgets anything.’

‘As it happens, I was on my way round to see him anyway,’ Una announced, finally managing to disconcert the other woman.

Hjördís didn’t answer straight away, just stared at Una, then turned to Thór, before eventually remarking: ‘Well, I’m sure he’ll give you a warm welcome.’ She stalked off, with Thór following a few paces behind,