37

Time passed in a crazy, recurring whirl, repeating itself, but at the same time constantly bringing new things for him to deal with. He had gone to a funeral in the cathedral with Eddi, who was so tanked and such a sensitive soul that he began to weep after the eulogy for a man he didn’t know from Adam.

‘After that, I feel like I know the fellow,’ Eddi said, and sniffed.

They had probably sung the hymns a little too enthusiastically because it wasn’t long before the undertaker came and told them to keep it down. The undertaker was a good guy, though; he let them stay where they were, on the pew at the back, as long as they didn’t cause any bother. Some undertakers wouldn’t let them in, but this one was always good to them.

After, they had gone to the wake held in the cathedral’s hall, but they had struggled with the stairs; Eddi because of how drunk he was, and him because of his wretched bad foot. They stuffed themselves at the cold buffet and announced that ‘he was always a friend to me’ in sob-choked voices to anyone who would listen. Nobody had the heart to throw them out, and nobody wanted to dishonour the departed by being less than charitable. It always worked.

Eddi had puked the whole lot up on the steps outside, after they tumbled down them on their arses. It was strange how it was always harder coming down steps than climbing up them. He had helped Eddi, miserable, nauseous and wailing with artificial sorrow, up to the shelter, where they washed their faces at the sink and got ready to get some sleep.

He woke with the sermon echoing in his head, and crossed himself, thankful for this power against the evil that had pursued him ever since the Devil had brought little Úrsúla under his sway.

The warden suddenly appeared before him, anger in his eyes, and ordered him to get to his feet.

‘You know we don’t tolerate any trouble here!’ he said, and 93added that Eddi was in a state because of him and had been taken to A&E. ‘You’ve given him a black eye and fat lips, not to mention knocking out one of the few teeth he had left! And the bathroom’s awash with blood. What the hell’s that about – beating the shit out of your pal?’

The anger in the warden’s eyes was shot through with disappointment. He was all right, this guy, but like everyone who worked there, he was strict.

‘I won’t deny what I don’t remember,’ he muttered as he pulled on his coat.

It was clear that the Devil’s works were gathering around him. And now that the Devil had his hooks in the interior minister herself, nothing and nobody was safe.

‘You need to have a word with yourself, Pétur. You’re not coming in here again unless you abide by the house rules,’ the warden yelled at him as he set off into the snow.