Thóra smiled back. ‘No, I would really like to try it,’ she lied, and shook the slender shaker over the greyish albumen. Then she handed the salt on to Bella and watched as her secretary did much the same. Bella peered out of the corner of her eye at Thóra, clearly suffering the same dilemma.
Maria, Leifur’s wife, was watching them closely from the opposite end of the table. She was visibly displeased. She looked away from the two women and turned to her husband. ‘I don’t know why you always have to force this on your guests, especially as we have visitors so rarely,’ she said, lifting her glass and gulping down her white wine. ‘It stopped being clever a long time ago.’ Her glass banged loudly on the table when she put it down, and it was embarrassingly clear that she’d had a bit too much to drink. She was an extremely good-looking woman who had probably been a great beauty in her youth, but she was painfully thin and Thóra would have bet anything she’d had medical assistance to keep herself looking so good. Her clothing was impeccable and appeared to be mostly brand new, although it wasn’t the latest fashion. Her outfit was classic, a knee-length beige skirt and cream silk shirt that matched her pale suede high heels. Since Maria had very fair colouring, she looked so monotone that Thóra thought she’d be invisible if she walked in front of a haystack.
‘Maybe you’d have preferred to serve your famous burnt French onion soup, dear,’ said Leifur, shooting his wife a look that was anything but loving. He did not seem to be dressed as formally as her, although he wore a shirt and smart trousers. Perhaps the casual impression came from his gestures and facial expressions, since he was in every respect more relaxed than his wife.
‘Have you always lived here in the Islands?’ asked Thóra, in an attempt to lighten the mood. She had experienced her own marital troubles and hindsight told her that incidents like this were the reason others had started to decline her and Hannes’s dinner invitations before they finally divorced. There had been no need to serve half-raw wild birds’ eggs to drive away their guests.
‘God, no,’ snapped Maria.
‘Maria isn’t from here, as you might’ve guessed,’ said Leifur, smiling sarcastically at his wife.‘We met when I was studying in Reykjavik and lived together there for two years until my graduation. With the exception of my school years I’ve always lived in the Islands.’ Leifur set aside the empty shell of one egg and reached for another. ‘I always wanted to study to be a sea-captain, but ended up in business.’ His experienced hands broke the shell off the top of the beautifully coloured egg. ‘It was clear that my father’s fishing company was growing and I felt a business degree would be of more use to the family and the company.’
‘And you turned out to be right, isn’t that so?’ asked Thóra. She knew from Markus that the fishing company was doing very well. She stuck her spoon into her egg, scooped out some of the hard congealed stuff and tried to swallow it quickly.
‘Yes, I suppose I did,’ said Leifur. ‘I actually doubt that my education makes much difference. We’ve been lucky with the catches, and have very experienced captains. Actually I have been able to strengthen the company’s foundations, but that’s only part of the picture. Things are getting a bit tight now, what with the quotas being curtailed, not to mention the instability of the krona.’
Thóra nodded and decided not to get into a deeper conversation about the exchange rate or finances. There was little more boring to her than money talk, and there was a risk that she would Display her own ignorance if the conversation continued on its current path. ‘And Markus hasn’t been involved with the fishing company at all?’ she asked.
‘No, he’s gone his own way,’ replied Leifur. ‘Luckily, maybe,’ he added.‘It’s never a good idea to run a company with two directors. Since father retired I’ve been running the show alone, and doing well. Markus doesn’t complain, and it wouldn’t matter if he did. He’s happy with his share of the profits.’
Maria snorted. ‘You would’ve done even better if you’d sold. You’re not the only one with a degree in business administration in this family, and I know very well how much you can get for the quota and the ships. Magnus says that we could live perfectly well off the interest alone, Markus included.’ She took another gulp of wine. ‘But God help us if the quota and the company were to be sold.’
Thóra didn’t know which Magnus she was referring to, but was fairly certain that she didn’t mean Leifur and Markus’s father. Whoever she meant, Thóra thought she knew where the root of the disagreement between the couple lay. Maria wanted to sell the company and move to Reykjavik. Yes, that’s where Laugavegur High Street was, with shops where one could spend all one’s money. She would fit perfectly inside a terribly expensive penthouse in 101 Reykjavik, the downtown district, where she would look out over the blue bay past a single lily in a vase as she sipped cafe au lait. Leifur, in contrast, would clearly feel about as welcome in such minimalist surroundings as a patchwork quilt. He clearly wanted to hang on to the company and live in the Islands, where he could continue to work in the fishing industry. Perhaps moral obligation played a part too; if the quota and the fishing company were sold, how could he continue to live in the Westmann Islands? His must be a difficult position, bearing the responsibility for the jobs of so many workers in such a small community. Although Thóra was no specialist on the Islands’community after two short visits, she felt that it reflected certain characteristics of the whole of the country in the not so distant past. Iceland before the age of capitalists. Iceland when most people were on almost equal financial terms and the wealthiest men were the pharmacists. Leifur and Maria’s house was no different from any other house in the neighbourhood: large and well kept but far from luxurious. It must feel strange to have that much money but never spend it, especially for Maria, who obviously appreciated the finer things in life. Thóra thought it best to change the subject. ‘Do your parents still live here?’ she asked Leifur, taking another mouthful of egg. It seemed never-ending, and she couldn’t imagine anything but an ostrich laying one this size.
‘Yes,’ replied Leifur.‘They live in this street, a few doors down, but we’re not sure for how much longer. Dad has become extremely difficult and Mum is so old and tired that she can hardly cope. Maria has been helping her but they’re getting to the point where they’ll need specialist help, which is hard to find here in the Islands.’
Maria received unexpected Brownie points from Thóra for this. She looked at the woman and decided that despite her cold manner she must have a warm heart. It wasn’t so difficult to put yourself in her shoes, an empty nester with not enough to do, while her husband was rushed off his feet. If the woman was from Reykjavik, her support network must be there; old girlfriends could hardly stop by for coffee here.‘You have children, don’t you?’ she asked, addressing Maria.‘Do they live here?’
‘No,’ the woman replied sadly. She added quickly: ‘I mean, no, they don’t live here, but yes, we have children. Two, Magnus and Margret.’ She sat up straighter. ‘Margret is abroad, doing a medical degree, but Magnus is a business administrator like his father. He works for one of the big banks and recently became director of property management.’ She glanced at her husband. ‘So it’s foolish to think that one of them could take over the business. Magnus already makes twice what his father does.’