‘Men in your position?’
‘Cuckolds, Ezra. I’m talking about cuckolds. Do you know what that means? To be a cuckold?’
Ezra was speechless.
Jakob flicked away his cigarette. ‘It’s when someone sleeps with your wife behind your back. Other people might be aware, but you, no, you’re completely clueless. Then one day your wife decides to up and leave, just like that, like it’s none of her husband’s bloody business.’
Ezra was trying to hide his turmoil but had no idea if he was successful. He wanted to run away but was not sure his legs would carry him; his knees had turned to jelly. He was completely unprepared for this conversation and could not think how on earth to react.
‘Are you saying that Matthildur. .?’ Ezra could not finish the sentence.
‘I have my suspicions, that’s all. They prey on my mind, day in, day out, but I’ll probably never find out the truth. Not after what’s happened. Not now.’
Jakob ground the cigarette butt under his heel.
‘No, she certainly won’t be found now,’ he said, his eyes fixed on Ezra who again read blame in the other man’s gaze, his words, his entire manner.
‘Come round and see me,’ Jakob said. ‘There’s something you should probably know.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Drop by,’ said Jakob. ‘I have to finish up here. Then we’ll have a chat. I’m usually alone at home in the evenings.’
Ezra rocked in his chair, becoming distressed again. The memory was still so sharply etched. He could recall every word Jakob had said.
‘I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to go and see him but of course I couldn’t admit that, so I slunk off with my tail between my legs.’
Erlendur merely watched the old man. He noticed how choked with emotion he was, how gruelling it was for him to relive this. It may have been ancient history but it had shaped his life, perhaps more than he realised. It took a stranger, a detached onlooker, to recognise the paralysing impact of those long-ago events.
‘Didn’t you find the conversation a bit odd?’ asked Erlendur eventually.
‘I did at first,’ said Ezra. ‘I was confused. But it dawned on me later that he must know — must know about me and Matthildur. He dropped all those hints because he knew everything there was to know. Because she’d told him!’
‘Did you go and see him?’
‘Yes,’ said Ezra, speaking almost to himself. ‘In the end. I went to see him. And found out the whole truth.’
32
The doubt, fear and dread that had tortured Ezra ever since Matthildur’s disappearance assailed him with renewed vigour in the days following his bizarre conversation with Jakob. Sooner or later he would have to go and have it out with him. A dirty secret lay unacknowledged between them, and he must confront it however much he shrank from the thought. Uncertainty about how much Jakob knew had tormented him ever since Matthildur went missing back in January. There was no way of finding out what she might have said to Jakob except by asking him straight out. Perhaps he knew nothing; perhaps everything. Ezra’s deepest fear was of learning that their affair had been to blame for Matthildur’s rushing off. That it had caused a quarrel. During the months after she vanished the thought haunted him.
Three times he set out to see Jakob, only to turn back. The man’s behaviour in the cemetery had disturbed and alarmed him. Ezra paced ceaselessly around his house, brooding endlessly on the question of why Jakob’s words should have been uttered in that tone, why he had gone on about cuckolded husbands and insisted on explaining what the word meant, as if mocking him.
One evening he resolved to bite the bullet. He walked down the hill, just as he used to every morning when he collected Jakob for work; when, in spite of his shyness and inexperience, he had lost himself to Matthildur. He had been delighted and astonished by her response. She had made his timid fumbling so effortless that it had seemed as if their love was natural and predestined. Not a day had passed since when he had not been visited by her smile, by the movement of her hand, the look in her eyes, her walk, the sound of her laughter. He missed her desperately and wept over her fate — over both their fates — through the long, lonely evenings.
Seeing a light shining in Jakob’s sitting room, he knocked at the door. The wind had changed and a cold, dry gust buffeted the village from the north. He rapped again and Jakob opened up.
‘Why, hello, mate,’ he said, inviting Ezra inside. ‘I’ve been expecting you.’
The word ‘mate’ immediately struck Ezra as false. Jakob ushered him into the sitting room, picked up a bottle of brennivín once they were seated and filled two shot glasses. Downing his in one go, he refilled it straight away. It was evident that he had been drinking and Ezra remembered how obnoxious and aggressive he could get. Ezra drank sparingly, immediately regretting his decision to come. He should have chosen another time of day, when Jakob was less likely to be boozing. Glancing around, he noticed that the house was much messier than it used to be, the room strewn with dirty clothes, leftover food and unwashed dishes.
‘Nice to see you,’ said Jakob.
‘How have you been?’ asked Ezra.
‘Shit,’ replied Jakob. ‘I’m in a hell of a state, let me tell you, Ezra. Life’s no fun any more.’
‘I can believe it’s been a rough time.’
‘Rough? You can’t begin to imagine how rough it’s been, Ezra. So damned rough. Let me tell you — let me tell you, Ezra, it’s not exactly a laugh a minute losing a beloved wife like Matthildur.’
‘I’m sorry if I’ve turned up at a bad time. Perhaps I should come back later. I need — ’
‘What? Leaving already? Relax. Drink up. I wasn’t doing anything, just sitting here listening to the wireless. It’s not a bad time.’
Ezra was silent.
‘I’m not drunk,’ said Jakob. ‘I’m just a bit lonely.’
‘Of course,’ said Ezra.
Jakob pulled himself together, straightened his shoulders and started to speak, picking his words with care.
‘I’m actually a bit surprised you were willing to come here,’ he said. ‘To see me.’
‘Willing?’ Ezra was wary. ‘I wanted to give you my condolences — ’
‘Oh, really? How kind of you.’
‘I wanted to know how you’re getting on.’
‘But that’s not all, is it?’
‘I. .’
‘You’re curious about Matthildur, aren’t you?’
‘About Matthildur?’
‘Don’t play the fool.’
‘I wouldn’t dream — ’
‘Do you think I didn’t know?’
‘Know what?’
‘Do you really believe, Ezra, that I didn’t know about you and Matthildur?’
Jakob was suddenly sober. His expression was hard and unforgiving. With extraordinary bluntness and no real warning, Ezra’s suspicions were confirmed. He had been dreading this news for so long that now, when the truth was finally out, it almost came as a relief.
‘I wanted to talk to you,’ said Ezra. ‘That’s why I’m here. We didn’t want to hurt you. It just happened.’
‘Didn’t want to hurt me?’ echoed Jakob. ‘You didn’t want to hurt me?’
‘We kept meaning to tell you.’
‘But you never did.’
‘No. But Matthildur was planning to.’
Ezra realised how pathetic it sounded, as if it had been her responsibility. ‘She wanted to do it alone,’ he corrected himself. ‘Didn’t want me with her.’
‘Do you know how I found out?’ demanded Jakob. ‘Do you know how I found out I was a cuckold?’
‘No.’
‘How do you think that feels, eh? How do you think it feels when your wife’s fucking another man? Your friend, for Christ’s sake! How the hell do you think that feels?’
Ezra’s mouth was dry.
‘You were my friend, weren’t you?’
Ezra still could not speak.
‘Weren’t you my friend?’ persisted Jakob.
Ezra nodded.
‘Oh, I noticed how you two used to behave when you came to fetch me in the morning,’ Jakob continued. ‘Do you think I didn’t see how you gawped at her? I saw you mooning over her and I saw how she liked it.’