So it came as a huge disappointment to discover that the papers – a quick shuffle revealed ten pages – were all in Russian. She leafed through them several times in the hope of finding something she could understand, skimming the text on every page, but it was no good. Some were handwritten, others computer printouts, the rest clearly official documents, but she hadn’t a clue what information they contained.
Taking out her phone, she considered calling a state-registered translator, but she could leave that until tomorrow. Instead, she would drive out to Njardvík and show Dóra Baldur’s mugshot; see where that got her.
No, the documents had to take priority. Hulda was on the point of ringing to book a Russian translator when her phone bleeped to indicate an incoming text. It was from Magnús. Damn, she still needed to call him back. The message read: ‘Meet me at the office now!’, the exclamation mark speaking volumes. Her heart skipped a beat. She’d never had much time for Magnús, especially in the present circumstances, and wasn’t above bitching about him with her colleagues when she was confident that they felt the same. And she’d lost count of the thousands of times she’d cursed him under her breath for his general incompetence as a manager. But, when all was said and done, he was still her boss, and his message had the intended effect. Temporarily shelving any idea of getting the documents translated or visiting Dóra, she jumped to obey his command. She was being summoned for a reprimand, that much was clear; a completely new experience for her.
XXI
The snow had stopped after that first brief flurry, but the sky was leaden with clouds promising more to come.
Suddenly, without any warning, he made a sharp turn, leaving the road and starting out across country, making for a distant range of mountains. She flinched and braced herself, clinging to the door handle. ‘Is this a road?’ she asked, alarmed.
He shook his head. ‘Nope,’ he said, ‘we’re driving on the snow-crust. This is where the fun really begins.’ He grinned, as if to underline that he was being humorous.
After sitting in silence for a while, she ventured to ask if there was any risk they might damage the terrain. Were they allowed to do this? Something about the untouched landscape struck a chord with her; it felt as if they were driving through an uninhabited wilderness where no human had ever set foot before; as if they had no right to be there.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ he snapped. ‘Of course it’s allowed.’
She was a little taken aback by his tone, unsure how to react, but then she didn’t know him very well. Was it possible that he had a darker side, lurking under that friendly exterior?
She tried to shrug off her sense of disquiet.
‘Want a go?’ he asked abruptly.
‘What?’ she asked.
‘Want a go?’ he repeated. ‘At driving.’
‘I can’t. I’ve never driven a four-by-four, and I’ve never driven off-road like this, in snow this deep.’
‘Don’t be silly, have a go,’ he said, smiling, as if it was all just friendly banter.
She shook her head doubtfully.
His response was to brake and kill the engine, out there in the middle of nowhere, the road far behind, and the mountains, their apparent goal, even further off ahead.
‘This is where you take over,’ he said smoothly, and, without more ado, jumped down from the car, marched round and opened the door on the passenger side. ‘It’s child’s play. There’s nothing to it. I promised you an adventure, remember?’
Nervously, she climbed down from her seat, picked her way gingerly through the deep snow to the driver’s side and got behind the wheel. Luckily, the four-by-four was a manual and she was used to manuals, so she switched on the ignition, put the car carefully into first gear and set off at a crawl, slowly breaking a path through the snow.
‘You can go faster than that,’ he taunted, and she changed warily into second, putting her foot down a little more firmly on the accelerator.
‘Over there – to your right; the going’s better there,’ he directed, peering at the confusing image on the satnav fixed to the inside of the windscreen. ‘Now, quick! We need to avoid those tussocks of grass.’
She made a sharp right. The conditions left little leeway for mistakes and, for a moment, she was afraid she wouldn’t make the bend and that they would roll. Her heart was hammering against her ribcage, but the car made it safely round.
‘It’s a bloody nightmare getting stuck in a patch of tussocks,’ he explained, then peered at the satnav again. ‘Now you’re crossing a river,’ he announced, and laughed.
‘Crossing a river? Seriously? Is there a river underneath us?’ Her heart began to pound again.
‘Sure, there’s water all over the place, under the ice.’
‘Are you absolutely sure it’s safe?’
‘Well …’ He paused for effect. ‘We’ll just have to hope the ice doesn’t give way right now.’
She clutched the wheel involuntarily, and his mocking laughter did nothing to allay her fears.
XXII
The farmhouse was situated on a mountainside near the coast, in a sparsely populated district not far from the vast, flat sands that stretched between the Vatnaj?kull ice cap and the sea. From the yard where the mother stood holding her daughter by the hand, there was a breathtaking panorama of mountains, glaciers, sandy plains and sea. She had never visited the remote south-east of the country before and, while she couldn’t deny the magnificence of the scenery, that wasn’t why she was here. She had come to say goodbye to her daughter: to give her up for adoption, leave her behind among strangers in this isolated spot.
In spite of her valiant efforts to hold back the tears, her father had evidently sensed her reluctance. He had made a point of praising the couple’s generosity and stressing how healthy it would be for the little girl to grow up in the countryside, surrounded by nature and fresh sea air. The child would be quick to adapt, he assured her: she’d already experienced one big change in her life, and, unfair though it was to expect her to go through another so soon, it would be best to get it over with. After all, what prospects did she have in town? None of them had any money to speak of and all they had to look forward to was hard grind and an unrelenting struggle to put food on the table. That sort of life was tough on kids, and his granddaughter deserved better. Hanging unspoken between father and daughter was the fact that the couple from the east had offered to compensate the family for their outlay, and that this compensation was out of all proportion to the cost they had incurred in bringing up the child. Though neither would have put it into words, they knew they were in effect selling the little girl – for a sum so considerable that it would make a real difference to their lives. Blood money, that’s what it was. The girl’s mother had already made up her mind not to touch a penny of it. Her father could do what he liked; use it to pay off his debts if he wanted to. But, much as she hated to acknowledge it, the truth was that she stood to gain as well, directly or indirectly, for as long as she lived with her parents.
She hung back, clutching her daughter’s hand, while her father walked slowly up to the house. The owners must be aware that they had arrived: there was no one else around.
She noticed that her daughter was shivering: perhaps it was the icy wind blowing down from the mountains in spite of the beautiful weather. Or perhaps the little girl could sense that something awful, something momentous, was about to happen.
How could I have let myself be talked into this? It was all the mother could think as she watched her father walking up to the front door.