Far North - Michael Ridpath [126]
‘OK,’ said Josh, staring at the card Sophie had handed him.
He let her go first, and then ambled into Clare Market in the heart of the tight cluster of buildings that made up the London School of Economics, pulled out his phone and dialled the number. Detective Sergeant Piper didn’t answer, but he left a message.
Josh was always having outlandish theories but none of them ever turned out to be true. Could that really be about to change?
Magnus walked the short distance to Ingileif’s gallery. It was on Skólavördustígur, a short road that led up the hill from Laugavegur directly to the scaffolding-clad sweeping spire of the Hallgrímskirkja. The street was lined with galleries and art shops, although since the arrival of the kreppa quite a few had closed. Ingileif’s gallery had survived, just. She owned it with five partners, all female artists of one kind or another. They sold paintings, jewellery, some furniture, fish-skin bags designed by Ingileif herself, lava candle-holders and some small items of furniture. All high-end expensive stuff.
As Magnus walked past the window, he saw her staring outside, an empty expression on her face. Even though she was looking straight at him, she didn’t seem to see him. It was only when he walked through the door that she noticed him.
She smiled quickly and briefly. He held her. After a few seconds they broke apart. She turned away from him, moving towards the back of the gallery, putting a little distance between them.
‘I’m sorry I stormed out on you last night,’ Ingileif said. ‘I was pretty drunk.’
‘I could tell.’
‘But why don’t you trust me, Magnús?’
‘I do.’
‘No, you don’t,’ Ingileif said. Pink spots appeared on her pale cheeks, a sure sign that she was either angry or embarrassed. Magnus guessed angry. ‘Admit it, you don’t trust me.’
‘I do,’ Magnus said. ‘I didn’t last night, but I do now.’
‘Why now? What’s changed? Magnús, I did it all for you, don’t you see that? Do you think I enjoyed listening to that fat old man droning on for hours on end? Do you think I actually wanted to sleep with him? I was trying to help you out. I thought you’d be pleased with me, instead of which you are upset because I didn’t stick to the rules and you think I enjoy seducing old men. I’m sorry, but if you think that, there isn’t much of a future for us.’
Magnus sighed. ‘I don’t think that, Ingileif. You’re right, I got the wrong end of the stick. I didn’t understand what you were doing. And it’s true I don’t completely understand you. That’s one of the reasons why I love you.’
Ingileif’s grey eyes searched Magnus’s. He didn’t know whether they found what they were looking for.
‘I think I’m going to go to Germany, Magnús.’
Magnus was about to say, ‘don’t do that,’ when he stopped himself. He couldn’t stop her: she could do what she wanted. ‘That would be a shame.’
‘You said there’s a good chance you’ll be going back to the States. Why should I stay for you if you won’t stay for me?’
Magnus nodded. ‘That’s true.’
‘Well, then?’ Ingileif’s expression softened. ‘It’s not just you, Magnús. I should go. It would be a good opportunity for me. And it would be good to get away from this country for a bit. That stuff earlier this year with Agnar’s murder, all the things I learned about my father, my brother, I need to put that behind me.’
‘I thought I helped you with that,’ Magnus said.
‘I thought so too. But part of me holds you responsible for it. It’s not fair, but it’s true. I need to leave, Magnús.’
Magnus looked at Ingileif. The familiar grey eyes, the little nick above her left eyebrow, the smaller scar on her cheek. He had been lucky to know her, to love her even. But he couldn’t control her. He couldn’t keep her, he shouldn’t keep her. Why should someone like her stay just for him?
‘Do what you have to do,’ he said. And he turned and left the gallery.
Ísak walked out of the small shop with a plastic bag full of half a dozen items: bits and pieces of fishing tackle and a sharp knife that one could use for gutting a fish.
Or for something else.