Far North - Michael Ridpath [38]
‘Have you been up to Bjarnarhöfn recently?’ Magnus asked.
‘Yes. I took my husband and the kids to stay in Stykkishólmur for a few days in July with Uncle Ingvar. He’s a doctor at the hospital there. But we visited Grandpa and Grandma a few times.’
‘How are they?’
‘Very good, considering their age. They both still have all their marbles. And Grandpa still potters about on the farm.’
‘But Uncle Kolbeinn does most of the work?’
‘Oh, yes. And he lives in the farmhouse. Grandpa and Grandma have moved into one of the smaller houses.’
Bjarnarhöfn was made up of a number of buildings: barns, three houses and of course the little church down towards the fjord.
‘Has he changed much?’
‘No. He’s pretty much set in his ways.’
‘The old bastard,’ Magnus muttered.
Sibba looked sympathetic. ‘You didn’t enjoy your time at Bjarnarhöfn, eh?’
‘No. You were lucky growing up in Canada, away from them.’
‘I remember visiting when I was a child,’ Sibba said. ‘In fact, I remember staying at Bjarnarhöfn when you and Óli were there. You were both very quiet. Like you were scared of Grandpa.’
‘We were. Especially Óli.’ Magnus winced. ‘It’s still difficult to think about it now. You know Óli and I never talked about it after we went to America? It’s like the whole four-year period was blanked out of our minds.’
‘Until I came along?’ Sibba said. ‘I’m sorry. I should never have told you about your father and the other woman. It just didn’t occur to me that you wouldn’t know, it’s all that the rest of the family ever talked about. But of course I was older than you: you and Óli were just little kids.’
‘I’m glad you did, Sibba. In fact, that’s what I want to ask you about.’
‘Are you sure?’ Sibba said.
‘Yes.’ Magnus nodded. ‘I need to find out what happened in my parents’ lives. It’s been nagging at me ever since Dad was murdered.’
Sibba’s eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘This doesn’t have anything to do with that, does it?’
‘I doubt it. But I’m a cop, I like to ask questions until I get answers. You are the only member of the family I think I could talk to. Grandpa has turned the others pretty much against me.’
Hallgrímur, Magnus’s grandfather, had three sons and a daughter: Vilhjálmur the eldest, who had emigrated to Canada in his twenties, Kolbeinn, Ingvar and Margrét, Magnus’s mother. Sibba was Vilhjálmur’s daughter who had grown up and been educated in Canada, but had moved to Iceland after university, gone to law school and then on to a career as a lawyer in Reykjavík. Magnus had always liked her the most of his mother’s family.
She looked at Magnus closely. ‘So, fire away. I’m not sure how much I can help you.’
Magnus sipped his coffee. ‘Do you know who the other woman was?’
‘I did, but… no… I forget her name,’ Sibba winced, struggling to remember. She shook her head. ‘No. It will come to me. She was Aunt Margrét’s best friend from school. She lived in Stykkishólmur. They both went to teacher training school in Reykjavík.’
‘Was she teaching at the same school as Mom?’
‘No idea.’
‘Did you ever meet her?’
‘No. But I heard about her. I could ask my father, if you like?’
‘That would be great. But do me a favour. Don’t tell him that it was me asking.’
‘OK,’ said Sibba, reluctantly. She checked her watch. ‘I’ve got to go. I’ve got a meeting in five minutes.’
She stood up and kissed Magnus on the cheek. It was a nice gesture. Magnus was short of family in Iceland: there were none left on his father’s side. This was the closest he got.
‘Are you sure you want to know all this?’ she asked.
Magnus nodded. Ingileif was right. ‘I’m sure.’
Björn rode his bike the short distance from Seltjarnarnes down to the harbour. Harpa had left early for the bakery, dropping Markús off with her mother on the way. Björn had told Harpa he was going back to Grundarfjördur to join a trawler that was going out for a couple of days. He had an hour or two to kill, so he went down to his favourite place in Reykjavík.
He parked his bike and strolled along