He and Matthildur stood by the door in the early-morning quiet and he asked if she needed anything. She did not.
‘Thanks, anyway,’ she said.
The third morning he dawdled even longer and the owner was fuming by the time he finally turned up to work. Matthildur had not been up when he passed the house, so he had hung around until he heard a noise inside and plucked up the courage to tap on the door. She had smiled as she opened it, still in her nightie.
‘I prepared some lunch for you last night,’ she said, handing him a small parcel. ‘It’s so kind of you to drop by in the mornings.’
He accepted the food in surprise.
‘There was really no need,’ he said, without wishing to sound ungrateful.
‘Oh, no, it’s nothing special,’ she said, amused at his astonishment.
‘Thank you very much.’ He put the packet in his bag. ‘Jakob’s back tomorrow, isn’t he?’
‘I’m expecting him this evening,’ Matthildur replied. ‘He’ll go out with you in the morning.’
On the fourth day he walked up to Matthildur’s house. He had not heard from Jakob but assumed he would have returned home the night before, so he knocked on the door as usual. He turned towards the harbour: fog lay over the fjord but he hoped it would disperse during the morning. The door opened and Matthildur appeared. It was immediately clear that she had been crying.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked. ‘What’s happened?’
She shook her head.
‘Has something happened to Jakob? Is he here?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘He’s not here. I don’t know where he is.’
‘Wasn’t he meant to come back yesterday evening?’
‘Yes, but he didn’t show up, and I don’t know when he’s going to.’
She seemed extremely agitated and disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a letter that she brandished in his face.
‘Did you know about this?’ she demanded.
‘About what?’
‘What sort of man he is,’ she retorted and slammed the door in his face. Ezra stood there at a loss. He hesitated, wondering if he should knock again. The boat was waiting: he could not stay. In the neighbouring houses people were waking up. He vacillated for a while longer before eventually setting off down the hill, but kept pausing in case the door opened again. Nothing happened. He had never seen her so distressed and couldn’t bear to think of her alone in that state.
When Ezra came ashore later that day his eyes went straight to the house but it was dark and appeared empty. He walked home, preoccupied, and opened his door which, like everyone else in the village, he always left unlocked. As he put down his bag he was startled to see Matthildur sitting at his kitchen table in the gloom. He reached for the light switch.
‘Do you mind not turning it on?’ she asked.
‘All right.’
‘I’m sorry about the way I behaved this morning,’ she said. ‘I’ve been worrying about it all day.’
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, looking around to see if Jakob was with her. ‘I hope you’re feeling a bit better.’
‘I am.’
‘Are you alone?’
‘Yes, I’m alone. I wanted to talk to you. Is that all right?’
‘Of course,’ said Ezra. ‘Of course. Are you hungry? Would you like some coffee?’
‘No, thank you,’ she said. ‘Don’t go to any trouble. That’s not why I’m here.’
‘Why are you here?’
Matthildur did not answer immediately. He joined her at the table. He was glad she was there, glad she had been waiting for him when he came home, though he had no idea what was going on.
‘Is Jakob back?’ he asked.
‘Yes, he came home late this morning.’
‘But he’s not with you now?’
‘You needn’t worry — no one saw me come in,’ said Matthildur. ‘Not that I’d care if they did. I couldn’t care less.’
‘What. . what’s the matter, Matthildur?’ he asked. ‘What happened this morning?’
‘I had a letter yesterday evening from my sister Ingunn.’ She took an envelope out of her pocket. ‘She moved to Reykjavík a while back and we haven’t written much. I knew she was against me marrying Jakob but until now I didn’t know why. You can read it if you like.’
She handed it to him and he read it twice before putting it down on the table.
‘What does Jakob have to say?’
‘Nothing,’ said Matthildur. ‘He remembers Ingunn from Djúpivogur; he admits that much. But he reckons there’s no way the baby’s his. Says he’s told Ingunn before but she’s got this crazy idea. He claims she’s off her rocker.’
‘And you knew nothing about this?’
‘Ingunn never told me till now. I knew she had a child in Reykjavík but I never for one minute connected it to Jakob.’
‘Was he aware that you and Ingunn were sisters when you met?’
‘Yes, and I knew they were acquainted,’ said Matthildur, ‘but that’s all, nothing about the baby or what sort of relationship they’d had. He never mentioned it, never mentioned the affair. He still won’t talk about it. Refuses even to discuss it. He just told me to shut up. He hit me, then stormed out of the house. Where he is now I don’t know.’
‘He hit you?’
‘Yes, on the head.’
‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes, it just gave me a bit of a shock.’
‘Do you believe your sister?’
‘Yes.’
‘What are you going to do, then?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Matthildur. ‘I don’t know what to do. I wanted to see you because I had to know if you were aware of this. Did you know he’d had a child with my sister?’
‘I had no idea,’ Ezra assured her.
‘So he never mentioned any of it to you?’
‘Not a word.’
‘He could have children all over the place for all I know. He’s probably been chasing skirt in Djúpivogur all this time!’
She reached out for the letter and before he knew what he was doing he had laid his hand shyly over hers. The gesture was almost instinctive. Instead of snatching back her hand, she met his gaze.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, releasing her hand. ‘It’s not. . I’m sorry. You’re upset.’
‘It’s all right.’
‘I’ve never experienced this before,’ he whispered.
‘Don’t be ashamed,’ she said. ‘I feel happy when I’m with you.’
He glanced up again and their eyes locked.
‘You’re a good man, Ezra.’
‘You can’t imagine how I’ve been feeling. The way I feel.’
‘Perhaps I can,’ she said.
‘You don’t mind?’
In the darkness he saw her shake her head.
‘What about Jakob?’ he whispered.
‘He can go to hell,’ said Matthildur.
23
A doctor entered Hrund’s room, examined the drip and enquired how she was feeling. After a curious glance at Erlendur, who did not say a word, he briskly took his leave. Hrund asked Erlendur to arrange her pillows more comfortably and refill her glass. He poured her some water from the jug and Hrund took a sip, then set the glass down again.
‘My mother got the story out of Ezra years later,’ she said. ‘After Jakob died. Ezra never meant to tell her and of course he never would have done if she hadn’t pestered him. But I can well believe she only learned a fraction of the truth. Ezra’s a very dark horse, though I’ve always had a soft spot for him.’
‘I’ve only met him the once,’ said Erlendur. ‘Naturally, he didn’t say a word about any of this.’
‘No, I don’t suppose he’d tell you,’ said Hrund.
Concerned that she might be tiring, Erlendur asked if he should come back later when she had had a rest.