‘Put it down.’ A slender young woman is standing with her legs apart, her arms raised from her sides. ‘That’s mine.’
I drop the brooch and we both flinch as it hits the floor. The girl is fine-boned and small, with pale lashes striking against the dark blue of her eyes. Her head is covered with a scarf. There is a slight bump in her nose.
‘Steina!’ The girl hasn’t moved, only regards me from the doorway. She is scared of me, I think.
Another girl steps through the doorway. She must be her sister, only she is taller, with brown eyes, and the skin over her nose is clouded with freckles. ‘Róslín and her brood are –’ She stops when she sees me.
‘She was touching my confirmation gift.’
‘I thought Mamma took her outside?’
‘Me too.’
They stare. ‘Mamma! Mamma! Come here!’
Margrét hobbles in, wiping her mouth. She sees the silver brooch on the floor by my feet and the blood drains from her face. Her mouth slips open.
‘She was touching it, Mamma. I caught her.’
Margrét shuts her eyes and passes a hand over her lips as if in pain. I want to touch her on the arm. I want to reassure her. She comes towards me, furious now, and I hear the slap before I feel it. A neat crack. A tingling rush of pain.
‘What did I tell you?’ she cries. ‘You will not touch a thing in this house!’ She breathes heavily, her hand pointing at my face. ‘Consider yourself lucky that I don’t report this incident.’
‘I’m not a thief,’ I say.
‘No, you’re a murderess.’ The blue-eyed girl spits the words out, dimples flashing in her cheeks. Her headscarf has slipped and a lock of white-blonde hair falls onto her forehead. Her face is flushed.
‘Lauga,’ Margrét warns, ‘take Steina and go into the kitchen.’ They leave. Margrét grabs my sleeve. ‘Follow,’ she says, dragging me out of the room. ‘You can prove your penitence by working like a dog.’
REVEREND TóTI WOKE IN THE early hours of the morning and could not return to sleep. Today he was expected at Kornsá again. Reluctantly rising and dressing, he walked out into the crisp clean air of the morning and started to complete chores about the farm and church. He rounded up the small flock of sheep belonging to his father and milked them with exaggerated care, whispering to them by name and running his fingers over their furred ears.
Mid-morning came and went, and the sun bled into the sky. Tóti fed and watered their cow, Ysa, and then started to take the laundry off the stone church wall where his father had laid it out to dry.
‘You don’t need to do that,’ Reverend Jón said, walking towards him from the croft.
‘I don’t mind,’ Tóti said, smiling. He picked a grass seed out of a sock.
His father shrugged. ‘Thought you’d be over Vatnsdalur way.’
Tóti grimaced.
‘Why are you fussing with the laundry when you’ve her to see?’
Tóti paused, and looked at Reverend Jón, who was flapping a pair of trousers in the wind.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ he said, then paused. ‘What would you say to her?’
His father smacked his shoulder with his rough hand and glared at him. ‘Get on,’ he said. ‘Who says you’ll need to say anything? Go.’
MARGRéT TAKES ME ACROSS THE yard to show me the small plot of lovage and angelica, and then I assist her with the milking of the sheep. I suppose she does not trust me to be alone again. The small boy who arrived earlier has already rounded up the animals. Margrét points him out to me as Páll, but does not introduce us, and he does not come near me, although he stares, open-mouthed.
Then we burn my dress.
I made it two years ago. Sigga and I made one each, a working dress, blue and simple from the cloth Natan gave us.