‘I wish you were as well,’ Agla said. ‘But I have the feeling you’re best off at Hólmsheiði for the moment.’

‘Yeah, I know. I’m getting treatment for the withdrawal symptoms,’ Elísa said. ‘I have an AA meeting tomorrow and again the next day. I’m going to be at every one from now on.’

‘That’s good, sweetheart.’

‘Am I your sweetheart?’ Elísa giggled quietly and Agla imagined her standing hunched against the white-painted wall by the wing pay-phone, and immediately felt a strong wave of desire.

‘You’re my sweetheart,’ Agla whispered. ‘And now you’re mine. You’re free of the Boss and all of that crowd.’

‘I’m free of them at least for as long as I’m in here,’ Elísa said. ‘The problems start when you’re let out and old friends start to call, you know. Of course you’re fond of them and don’t want to lose them, and all that. But before you know it you’re back in the shit and doing all sorts of stupid stuff.’

There was a desperation in Elísa’s voice, so Agla hushed her.

‘It won’t be like that next time,’ she said. ‘I’ve fixed things with Sonja. With the Boss. You’ll be left completely alone.’

‘How did you do that?’ Elísa suddenly sounded agitated. ‘I owe one of the guys who works for the Boss and promised to do something for him instead, and those debts don’t disappear, even after a couple of years. You don’t know how all this works, Agla.’

‘Don’t worry about all that. You’re safe. The Boss doesn’t own you any longer. You’re mine.’

‘That’s if you want me now,’ Elísa said and burst into sobs. ‘I’ve no idea how it happened, but I’ve just been told my blood test says I’m pregnant.’

103

His father was sitting in the living room, watching TV when Anton came home. He dropped onto the sofa next to him, kicked off his shoes and loosened his tie.

‘Well, then,’ his father said, with the habitual artificial cheerfulness Anton knew he switched on in order to appear buoyant when things had been difficult. More than likely his mother had been more than usually unpleasant to him this evening. ‘How’s things with the younger generation? How was your evening? And the meal?’

‘The meal was fine,’ Anton muttered.

‘Good to hear,’ his father said. ‘I told them to look after you, and let them know that it’s Júlía’s birthday. Did they make something out of that?’

His father switched channels, as the ten o’clock news bulletin was about to start.