1976
Hulda Hermannsdóttir always felt there was a brightness around her little daughter.
She was sitting in the bedroom, on a light April night, watching Dimma sleep. The child was peaceful now, but when she woke up she would be bursting with energy. All Hulda and Jón’s time was devoted to keeping an eye on her, but then that was to be expected as parents of a two-year-old.
They shared the chores, as far as possible.
Jón was busy with his investments and Hulda had just gone back to work part-time for the police.
They had solved the problem of who would care for Dimma during the day by finding a childminder, an older woman who lived in a basement flat on Miklabraut.
She had far more experience in looking after and bringing up children than Hulda and Jón, yet, in spite of this, Hulda never felt happy when she had to leave her daughter with the woman.
Her worries were groundless, of course; it was just that her bond with her little daughter was so strong. Making sure Dimma was safe was the only thing that mattered.
Hulda would have liked to take a longer maternity leave, but Jón had encouraged her to go back to work, and her old boss was still in his post and keen for her to return as well.
She was all too aware that there was no guarantee her position with the police would still be waiting for her if she stayed away too long.
Her thoughts returned to the sleeping child.
Was the name too gloomy, she sometimes wondered.
Dimma , ‘darkness’: rather a sinister name for such a beautiful little girl.
At the time it had struck Hulda and Jón as an excellent choice, original and memorable.
The idea had been his; he’d got it from a book, apparently.
He was already talking about having more children, but, whenever he did, Hulda tried to change the subject.
Of course, she adored Dimma, but she wasn’t ready for another child, not yet, perhaps never, though she didn’t say this to Jón.
He was so happy with their daughter. He revelled in being a father, that was undeniable, took an active part in bringing up their child and made an effort not to prioritize work, unlike many men they knew.
Meanwhile, Hulda was ambitious. She was determined to break through the glass ceiling that prevented her from aspiring to the highest ranks in the police.
She was fascinated by the puzzles she encountered at work, stimulated by the drama, the pressure and the darker side of her job.
But she left the darkness behind at work. At home with Dimma, all was sweetness and light.