2012
Helgi managed to make a good start on Elín’s book during the half-hour or so that the plane was in the air.
He had never particularly enjoyed reading while flying, but he could do it if he had to.
At least it was better than reading on car journeys, which made him feel sick.
The problem was that he liked to read in congenial surroundings, as that gave rise to the best associations.
But travelling by air was the last place you’d look for comfort.
The stench of high-octane fuel, the cramped seats, the deafening roar, none of this was a worthy background for a good book.
The novel turned out to be as engaging as he’d remembered, a strong debut from an author who had gone on to be hugely successful.
He felt he’d got to know Elín a little as a result.
There was an author photo on the back cover.
Elín had presumably been in her forties when it was taken.
She had a thin face and wavy, shoulder-length hair.
The photo was in black and white, as if to enhance the air of mystery, but the author was smiling faintly at the reader, which detracted a little from the darkness.
Helgi had seen recent pictures of Elín, and she had aged, of course, but with dignity, and her expression hadn’t changed.
He didn’t switch on his phone until he had emerged from the terminal and was on his way to the taxi rank.
The city looked bleak on that first day of November, the weather raw and blustery.
Back in Akureyri, winter had already arrived, but here at Reykjavík’s domestic airport on Vatnsmyri it was still autumnal, though the damp cold pierced him to the bone.
At times like this he preferred the north.
Next moment, he was stopped in his tracks by the discovery that he had countless unread text messages from Aníta. As he stood there, rooted to the spot, the chill cut through his coat.
Call me.
Where are you?
Please call me.
All the messages were along the same lines. Helgi had never seen this side of Aníta before. Something had to be wrong. He called her.
‘Hi, sorry, I was on a plane. I had to fly back early because of work. Is everything all right?’
She didn’t immediately answer, then said:
‘Your girlfriend, Helgi – your ex-girlfriend, I mean…’
He caught his breath.
‘Bergthóra? What…’
Naturally Aníta was aware of Bergthóra’s existence; she’d heard stories about her and the mental abuse she’d subjected Helgi to. He hadn’t told her about the physical violence, though, as he couldn’t face talking about it.
But Bergthóra didn’t know about Aníta.
He hadn’t made the relationship public in any way, had only told a few old friends, yet now…
‘She came to see me at work,’ Aníta said. She sounded breathless, as if she was finding it hard to force out the words.
‘What? She came to see you at work?’ he repeated, unable to believe his ears. An image rose in his mind of the woman who had done her best to ruin his life.
‘Yes, Helgi. I was told someone had asked to see me, then she walked into my office. I didn’t recognize her at first – she looked different from the photos I’ve seen.
I thought she must be a doctor who wanted to talk to me for some reason, or maybe a patient wanting to lodge a complaint. I was polite to her, but then…’
She broke off briefly, before resuming:
‘Then she introduced herself. She said her name was Bergthóra and that she was your partner…’
‘My partner? Is that the word she used?’ He felt a cold sense of dread.
‘Yes.’
‘Are you sure?’ he asked, only to regret it immediately. He didn’t mean to cast doubt on Aníta’s story.
‘Quite sure. It totally threw me. And the look on her face as she said it. Like…’ She hesitated. ‘Like she owned you.’
He didn’t want to hear any more, but there was no avoiding it.
‘Did she say anything else? Or…’
‘Yes. She said she’d heard we were… How did she put it?… That we’d starting seeing each other, that was it.’
Helgi wondered how the hell she’d got wind of the fact, and – even worse – what she had been intending to achieve by going to see Aníta.
‘What did she actually want?’ he asked. He was still standing in the biting wind by the terminal building, unable to move until he was satisfied that everything was all right. He added: ‘Is everything OK?’
‘Yes, I’m just a bit freaked out. To be honest, I didn’t know what to think. She gave the impression that you two were still together and that she wanted to remind me of the fact. She told me to stop seeing you, to leave you alone.’
Helgi was stunned. ‘She told you to leave me alone?’
‘Yes. It was all so strange. There wasn’t any doubt, was there? You know, that you…’
‘There’s not a shadow of a doubt that Bergthóra and I are no longer together,’ Helgi replied.
‘Our relationship came to a dramatic end when I walked out on her. I haven’t talked to her since or answered any messages from her.
Mind you, she’s stopped sending them.’ The disturbing thought occurred to him that Bergthóra might have stopped hassling him precisely because she was planning to turn her focus on Aníta instead.
‘Was she threatening at all?’ he asked.
There was a delay, then Aníta said: ‘No, not exactly. She didn’t threaten me, but it was obvious she wasn’t happy that we were seeing each other.’
Helgi thought he could hear a tremor in Aníta’s voice.
‘I’ll have to talk to her.’
‘No, please don’t. I don’t think that’s a good idea. She just needs time to get over it, don’t you think?’
Helgi heaved a deep breath.
‘Yes, maybe.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you. I just found the whole thing so unsettling. I’m feeling a bit calmer now, though. Thanks for ringing – I’m definitely feeling better. I’ll just tell the receptionists not to let her in again.’
‘Yes, you do that. I can’t understand what she’s trying to achieve.
’ Unsettling , Aníta had said, and he couldn’t agree more.
‘Do you think she could have been drinking?’ he asked.
At the time of their break-up, he’d told Bergthóra in no uncertain terms that she should go to rehab, even though it was no longer any of his concern how she lived her life now that their ways had parted.
She had reacted badly to the suggestion, insisting that her drinking wasn’t a problem.
While she was prepared to admit that she sometimes crossed a line when she’d had a drop too much, she claimed that she was perfectly in control when it came to deciding whether or not to open a bottle.
I’m perfectly capable of handling my drink, just like you , she had said, without so much as blinking.
‘I’m really not sure,’ Aníta said, after a moment’s pause. ‘It wasn’t obvious, but of course people are different and you can’t always tell if someone’s been drinking.’
Even Helgi hadn’t always been able to tell from looking at Bergthóra whether she was drunk; it was her behaviour that gave her away. Her violent outbursts of temper.
‘Why don’t you go home and take it easy?’ he suggested. ‘It can’t have been a pleasant experience.’
‘Oh, no, I’ll stay on at work. There’s a lot to do, and it wasn’t that bad, honestly. I think I can cope with finishing the day.’ He heard her laugh but thought it sounded hollow.
‘OK, I’ll call you later this afternoon or this evening – I don’t know how long I’ll be.’
They said goodbye.
Helgi was still holding his phone. He started to punch in the first digits of Bergthóra’s number, then had second thoughts and shoved the phone back in his pocket. He wanted to ring her and give her a piece of his mind, tell her that behaviour like that was totally out of order. Vent his anger.
But of course that wasn’t the right way to handle the situation.
It took him a while to realize that this kind of reaction was exactly what Bergthóra was after.
She had gone round to see Aníta in order to get his attention, to make him pick up the phone and call her.
Well, it wasn’t going to work. He had broken off all communication with Bergthóra and he was determined to stick to that decision.
Knowing what she was like, he was fairly sure she would only pull that stunt once.
Life was like a game of chess sometimes: it was best to plan a few moves ahead.
To his regret, he had allowed Bergthóra to dominate the game for far too long; allowed her to go on the attack in the fullest sense of the word, but, thank God, he’d taken control before things could end in disaster.
Common sense would always win out in the end.
There was nothing to be afraid of.