‘He’s not here anymore,’ Gunnar said as he got back into the car.

‘Then where is he?’

‘He was released. They couldn’t keep him any longer. They said to check the shelter on Lindargata. That’s where the street people stay.’

‘This really is completely crazy, isn’t it?’ she asked, hoping that Gunnar would agree, that this was just the confused mind of a mad old drunk dreaming up something to excuse his own guilt.

But Gunnar shrugged. ‘If you think it through, nobody’s going to believe someone who’s on the street, especially if he comes across as not all there. He makes the ideal scapegoat.’

They sat in silence for the rest of the way to the shelter. Gunnar parked on the corner and hurried inside to ask about Pétur. Úrsúla stayed in the car, her feet restless with impatience. She longed to run inside after him, to find Pétur and question him about every detail of the whole affair. She wanted to know what he meant by all those notes he had left for her, why he had jumped her outside the shop, and why he had spent all that time in the boot of her car. But most of all she wanted to know what had happened in that cell the night her father died.

‘He hasn’t been seen here for days,’ Gunnar said as soon as he returned. ‘Not since he beat the crap out of his pal, another homeless bum, who was staying here as well.’

221

Saturday

99

The children lay in the big double bed with Úrsúla, their eyes wide and fastened on her. Tears flooded down Herdís’s cheeks as she listened to her mother’s account, and the expression on Ari’s face showed that he had discovered a completely new side to her. Of course he had. She had never told them much about her upbringing, just a few vague words to say that her father had died and her mother had worked hard to make ends meet. But Nonni had told her that the time had now come: they were already hearing about the story from the media. He was right, of course. It went without saying that she should have told them long ago how her father, their grandfather, had lost his life.

She stroked their cheeks tenderly, and for the first time in far too long she felt herself properly close to them, and enjoyed the feeling. This time Ari didn’t shrink from her touch, and there was none of the usual ‘oh, Mum’ or ‘duh’ from Herdís. They both sat watching her intently while she tried to find neutral or pleasant words to describe the misery and the violence for them. Kátur lay on her lap and snored quietly, and Nonni sat at the foot of the bed with a cup of coffee in his hand, occasionally offering a word or a comment. For the moment there was nothing outside this little world of theirs: no ministry, and certainly no Thorbjörn. Nothing but the four of them was of any importance, there in the light of the lamp that cast its gentle glow over them that dark midwinter morning, packed close together and snug in soft bedclothes. It was now, right now, that Úrsúla rediscovered her clear love for them 222all. She felt her heart swell with an emotion she had not experienced for a long time. Maybe the session with the psychologist was starting to work already.