John did not speak. Didn’t defend himself didn’t explain. I unlocked the door and stepped outside. And there. Wrapped in john’s arms bror leaned weeping against his chest. It was like an out of body experience and I was looking at myself. Maria he sobbed my maria. Probably with his mouth full of black curly hair.

As the storm died down john loosened his hold. He had a scratch along his arm and it was seeping blood. Bror held something in his hand. Not knife but a corkscrew.

I wrested it out of his sweaty grip and said what were you trying to do. Jump at him with a corkscrew. Bror stared at the floor his hair falling in greasy strands across his face.

Are you coming home with me he said.

I’ll drive you back john said and bror didn’t argue. Allowed himself to be led down the steps and into the jeep.

I was left standing in the hall still unable to get my head round what had happened.

Maybe lay a fire I thought. Make coffee.

The ancient kitchen was baffling. Only a woodburning range not even a fridge. The handle sticking out through the tiles above the cooker had to be for the upper vent. I opened the different 37doors on the range. Tried to work out where the wood was meant to go. The lowermost seemed logical. I poked a couple of logs inside and poured on a slug of citifolks kindling. The fire took almost at once. As it burned I fed it with more wood. Warmth was spreading slowly across the cold floor and entering the walls.

When john came back the kettle had just boiled.

He opened a trapdoor in the floor and pulled out butter and cold meat. How was bror I asked but he didn’t answer.

Maybe I was speaking to his deaf ear.

We sat down together for a while. Considered our shared experiences in silence. What had been and what would happen next. I poured myself another cup of coffee. John slurped from his saucer. Held the basket with soft flatbread and nodded meaning have some more to eat. Pushed the butter dish closer to me.

There’s some skyr if you’d rather.

Bror I said. I didn’t know how to follow up. Maria.

Maria is my daughter’s mother and she was once my wife but she was also your brother’s lover as well as many other men’s he said. Andreashorn found her behind the sawmill. It was last summer and at first it looked as if she had fallen asleep in the grass. She was lying on her back her hands clasped as though praying but when he came closer he realised she was dead.