The Girl Who Died by Ragnar Jonasson (ap literature book list .txt) 📕

had also told them about his links to the underworld, explaining that she didn’t know exactly what he had been mixed up in but that she could give the police some names. And now she was frightened, terrified that these men would come after her in an attempt to shut her up.

When she slept she dreamt of Hannes, but all her dreams were nightmares. A different sequence of events every night, but always ending in the same way, with Hannes dead, murdered by those men.

XII

The choice at Gudrún’s branch of the Co-op was what you’d expect in the worst corner shop in Reykjavík, with prices to match. Some might have found it charming, romantic even, to live in an isolated hamlet like this, but Una was already fed up with having to forgo various luxuries that she had taken for granted in Reyk-javík. It didn’t help that the shop was only open between three and five in the afternoon, and not every day of the week either.

Of course, she could always knock on Gudrún and Gunnar’s door, but Una was keen to avoid doing that, guessing that it would lead to her being roped in for coffee and a chat every time she bought something.

Apart from the inevitable fish, there was hardly any fresh produce available. Una had discovered that the villagers were largely reliant on their chest freezers when it came to cooking anything else.

She stood by the till, packing her shopping into a bag.

‘Shall I put it on your tab again?’ Gudrún smiled.

At that moment the bell over the shop door jingled. Una turned hopefully, only to see Kolbrún’s mother, Inga, walk in, accompanied by a man who must be her husband, Kolbeinn.

Kolbeinn smiled at Una, his gaze lingering on her as if he were sizing her up. Their daughter wasn’t with them. Kolbeinn, although greying slightly at the temples, was a handsome man, tall, lean and muscular. It was easy to believe he had spent his whole life working at sea.

‘Hello,’ Inga said, in a colourless voice.

‘Hello there,’ Una replied.

‘Hi, Una,’ Kolbeinn said, his manner much friendlier, his eyes still fixed on her. ‘We haven’t met, but I’m Kolbeinn, Kolla’s father. It’s great to meet you at last.’ He extended his hand and took hers in a firm grip that lasted a little longer than strictly necessary. ‘Buying something exciting for supper?’

‘Er … well …’ A small bottle of Coke and a packet of liquorice would hardly count as exciting, but she had bought them as a little treat for herself, to be enjoyed that evening as she curled up in bed with a good book. She was learning to read herself to sleep since there was no TV on offer.

But Kolbeinn didn’t wait for an answer: ‘Everything going well with Kolla? She, er, she speaks highly of you.’ Judging from his tone, this was something of an exaggeration. Kolbrún was so unforthcoming in lessons that Una didn’t for a moment believe that the girl praised her teaching to her parents afterwards. Una was aware that she needed to concentrate on getting to know the child better and coax her into opening up a little. No doubt it would take time, but then she had the whole school year to achieve a transformation.

‘Yes, your daughter’s a credit to you,’ Una replied, before hastily correcting herself: ‘A credit to both of you, I mean.’ For a moment, she had forgotten Inga’s presence and felt as if she were talking only to Kolbeinn. His wife was standing there, a pale figure in her white winter coat, with her pallid complexion, melting into the background, not saying a word.

‘She’s special, Kolla is. I reckon it’ll do her a world of good to have an experienced teacher like you. There’s more chance she’ll make something of herself. I don’t think it’s healthy for kids to live in a place like this. We’re planning to move away sooner or later, maybe even go abroad. Perhaps spend a year in Denmark, something like that.’

‘Sounds good,’ Una said, a little shortly. She was feeling uncomfortable with Inga standing there silently watching, though at least Kolbeinn seemed like a nice guy.

‘I can’t spend my whole life at sea,’ Kolbeinn continued. Then he added, humorously: ‘I’ve eaten enough bloody fish to last me a lifetime. Breaded haddock, poached haddock, grilled haddock – God, I don’t know how I’ve stood it for so long. I hope you’re not having haddock for supper!’ He patted her shoulder and smiled again. ‘Anyway, see you soon.’

Una nodded. ‘Nice to see you both.’ She hurried out of the little shop, hugging her white plastic bag full of unhealthy treats. But when she was outside on the pavement she heard the bell jingle as the door opened behind her and, looking round, saw Kolbeinn standing there.

‘Hey, Una,’ he said casually. ‘Maybe we should meet up some time and have a word about Kolla. The girl can be a bit shy. You need to approach her the right way. Could we find half an hour for a chat some time?’

‘Er, half an hour? Yes, sure, of course.’

‘Great. I’ll see you, then.’ He smiled.

XIII

Kolbeinn was sitting facing Una in Salka’s sitting room, where she had just finished teaching. He had sent his daughter home, closing the door firmly behind her, and now he was looking at Una with that easy smile on his face. ‘So, how do you like our village?’

She would rather have got straight down to business, as she never had much patience with small talk, and the purpose of the meeting was supposedly to discuss Kolbrún and her schoolwork.

When Una didn’t immediately respond to his conversational gambit, Kolbeinn answered himself: ‘It is a bit small, yes, I know. Crazy, really, even to think of living out here, but it’s possible to make a go of it, especially when the pay’s good.’

‘I’m only on a teacher’s salary.’

‘You’re not planning to stop here long, are you?’

‘Just for the one winter, I