The Fox Page 2

  ‘Kristinn. The man who owns the salon,’ Sajee replied, twisting the ring on her index finger, a narrow gold rope. ‘Liu told her friend about me because she had a problem. Her relative in China is very ill and she had to leave. Liu asked me if I could take the job and I was so pleased. Then this message came. There are four women working there so it will be good for me because I work alone and don’t know many people. And I don’t have to write anything because the man looks after all that kind of thing.’

  ‘Which man?’

  ‘Kristinn,’ she said with a sigh.

  ‘Höfn isn’t a big town. You’re sure about all this?’

  ‘Yes. Read it yourself,’ she said shortly, irritated by his questions.

  Sveinn looked through the messages again.

  ‘There’s a third message from the same number,’ he said, concentrating on the screen.

  ‘Yes,’ Sajee said eagerly. ‘The one that says Kristinn who owns the salon will pick me up at the airport.’

  ‘That’s right, and with the date and time,’ Sveinn said. He put the phone down, crossed his arms and looked at her with concern. ‘Then there’s the same text again, exactly the same as in the other messages. I don’t want to be unpleasant, but like I said, I know most people here and don’t know anyone who runs a beauty salon. Could you have misunderstood?’

  She quickly looked down at the tiled floor. The remnants of slush ice were melting there into a brown puddle. She was tired and out of sorts after the flight. On top of that, a nervous feeling was gathering inside her.

  ‘But what do I know?’ he said quickly, hoping to lift her spirits. He was the type who liked people around him to be happy, always ready to help and to make every effort to solve to any problem. ‘Have you tried to call the number?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Many times, and I’ve tried to call Liu, but her phone is out of range.’

  ‘Let’s give Adda Lísa a call,’ Sveinn said, turning back to the computer. ‘She’s the only beautician I know of around here.’

  He punched numbers into the phone and offered it to her. She took it and after a moment’s thought passed it back to him.

  ‘Would you speak for me? Sometimes people don’t understand me easily.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said and turned away. Sajee watched in agitation as he walked back and forth as he talked.

  ‘Adda Lísa has never heard of this place,’ he said eventually. ‘She works by herself and shuts the doors when she takes time off,’ he said and stood for a moment in thought. ‘To tell you the truth, I don’t know what the best thing to do is. You’re welcome to have a ride into town with me later. It’s a bit of a distance,’ he said, glancing at his watch. ‘Between us we ought to be able to get to the bottom of this.’

  He gave her a look that was supposed to be encouraging, but this time there was no laughter.

  3

  Worried and frightened, she sat on the couch to wait, staring out at the snow, the empty car park and the distant mountain peaks. She tried to push aside the uncomfortable feeling that she had been duped. Sveinn strode over to her and picked up the black suitcase.

  ‘Shall we be on our way?’ he asked cheerfully.

  She looked at him in confusion for a moment as she gathered her wits. She stood up, zipped her coat up to her neck and went out into the cold.

  Darkness was already falling as they drove away from the airport and flakes of snow spun past in the wind. Posts with reflectors attached to them showed the way, until the street lights of Höfn appeared. Sveinn stopped at a few places, either making phone calls or knocking on doors, while Sajee waited in the car.

  There was nobody to be found who remembered offering her work.

  ‘It doesn’t look promising,’ he said after the last call, turning up the heater as he noticed her shivering.

  ‘Could you drive me to this place?’ she asked, holding out the card that Thormóður had handed her.

  ‘Sure,’ Sveinn said, with relief, and his habitual bark of laughter. ‘I need to be on my way home as well, and I hope it all gets sorted out for you.’

  She nodded and stared out through the windscreen. The road passed through the town, almost down to the harbour and the boats at the quays. Sveinn turned and drove along a row of low terraced houses. The hostel was at the end of the row, and it didn’t look as smart as the picture on the card Sajee had been given.

  ‘I’ll look after myself from here,’ she said, opening the car door. ‘Thank you for your help.’

  She was about to say more, but Sveinn had already got out of the car to open the boot.

  ‘You don’t want me to come inside with you?’ he called to her, lugging her suitcase to the door where the flowerpots were almost buried by snow.

  ‘No. That’s fine, she said firmly. ‘It’ll be fine. Thank you.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said in a clear tone, waving him goodbye.

  ‘All right, then. I’m sure it’ll sort itself out,’ he replied. ‘Good luck.’

  Her companion from the flight stood behind an old-fashioned reception desk with the phone to his ear. Still wearing his coat, he looked busy.

  ‘Hello again. Are you on the way out?’ Sajee asked, stamping the snow from her shoes. ‘I’m so sorry, I’m making a mess.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. Good to see you,’ he said, coming around to the front of the desk. ‘Welcome to the Hostel by the Sea.’ He bowed his head courteously and put his hands together as if he wanted to offer her some kind of Asian welcome. ‘You need a room?’

  ‘Yes. At least for tonight,’ she said. ‘How much does it cost?’

  She was unable to hide the concern in her voice.

  ‘We always have the best prices,’ he said, slipping out of his coat. ‘There are no tourists at the moment, so we have plenty of empty rooms. If you clean up after yourself then I won’t charge you.’

  ‘I can pay,’ she said quickly. ‘I just hadn’t expected to have to find a place to stay.’

  ‘Really? Is there a problem?’ he asked, stroking his neatly trimmed beard.

  ‘I think so. It looks like there was some misunderstanding about the job,’ she said.

  ‘You’re in trouble, then?’

  ‘Yes…’ she said slowly. ‘Maybe there isn’t a job.’

  ‘Really? That’s a shame,’ he said with concern as he took a set of keys from a hook. ‘Who offered you this job?’

  ‘A man called Kristinn, but his phone’s dead. So is the woman’s, the one I was supposed to be working for. He was supposed to come and collect me. And there’s no salon here. I don’t understand this…’

  Sajee fell silent and covered her mouth. She knew how ridiculous this sounded, but Thormóður didn’t appear to be surprised, but looked at her curiously.

  ‘So who is this woman?’

  ‘Her name’s Liu,’ Sajee said.

  ‘She’s a friend of yours?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How did you make your way here?’ he asked, running fingers through the thick, fair hair at the top of his head.

  ‘A man who works at the airport drove me. I showed him the card you gave me.’

  ‘I see.’

  He held out his hands like a priest bidding parishioners stand.

  ‘Maybe chance has thrown us together? I had a good feeling when I looked into your beautiful eyes on the flight today,’ he said and gave her a warm smile. ‘I hope you’ve managed to recover after that experience.’ He patted her shoulder, picked up her case and set off along the corridor. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll sort something out for you.’

  She tried to think back as she lay in bed a few hours later, still wide awake. The bed was soft, the duvet was snug and the door was locked, but painful thoughts kept her from sleeping. The more she thought about it, the clearer it became that this job offer had been a trick to get her out of the apartment on Snorrabraut. Things had been tense between her and Liu who rented the other room. They shared a kitchen a
nd a little living room, but the bathroom was out in the corridor and was shared with even more people. The place was small, and even so, Liu’s friend Jinfei had spent most evening with them and frequently slept in the living room. There was every chance they had plotted to get rid of her so that Jinfei could have her room. Their sudden interest in Sajee’s wellbeing must have been an act. As she thought things over, it seemed almost clear-cut, but she was still unwilling to believe that Liu could be so manipulative. But what was she supposed to think after having tried all evening to call both numbers?

  She sighed and burrowed deep into the duvet. How was she going to get herself out of this situation? It would be expensive to fly back to Reykjavík, and what was she supposed to do there now that she was homeless and unemployed? It wasn’t easy to find a place to stay in Reykjavík, and it would be expensive.

  The longer she lay in the darkness the more obvious it all became. How could she have been so gullible? Little things came to mind that began to fit together. Sometimes the two of them would fall silent if Sajee appeared in the shared kitchen, and would sit and wait until she had left the room – even though she didn’t understand a word of Chinese. Last week she discovered that the food she had put in the freezer compartment of the fridge had been thrown in the bin, and Liu pretended not to understand when she questioned her about it. Most of the time they struggled to understand one another and often resorted to gestures as there were so many words neither of them knew in Icelandic.

  Maybe Liu didn’t even know where Höfn was, just that it was a place a long way from Reykjavík. Sajee squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the duvet over her head. It was painful to be duped, but the shame in every fibre of her body was even worse.

  4

  After a bad night’s sleep and a couple more attempts to contact Liu and Kristinn, Sajee went along the gloomy corridor to the hostel’s kitchen. The man had told her the night before that since there were no guests, she could help herself. In the fridge was a yellow tub of skyr, decorated with a tempting picture of pineapple and mango. She spooned some into a bowl with sugar and some milk, and sat down to eat as she looked out of the corner window at the harbour. Men in padded overalls hurried back and forth as tubs of fish were swung ashore from the boats. Sajee sat and ate without much of an appetite, watching the activity.

  The synthetic fruit flavours made her shudder and she felt a wave of homesickness.

  She conjured up images of people at home in Sri Lanka with an occasional familiar face appearing from the crowd. She imagined her sister Chamundi, with tired eyes and surrounded by her brood. Sajee always felt a stab of conscience when she thought of her, and sent her money whenever she could. Then there was Janitha, who had bought himself a motorbike when he turned fourteen and a year later roared away and out of their lives. She missed them all, as well as the crowds, the smells, the noise and the heat. She wanted to call Hirumi or her sister, but couldn’t bear the thought of telling them how she had been tricked. They’d say it was her own fault and wouldn’t hide their disappointment in her. Hirumi had often told Sajee that she could just be grateful for the work she had cleaning houses, and that she should forget dreams of any other life. All the same, she couldn’t help herself. Sometimes she’d add a man and a little girl with a dot of red dye between her eyes into her dreams. There might even be a boy as well, but as the number of imaginary children grew, her sister’s tired eyes always came to mind.

  5

  ‘Good morning.’

  Thormóður’s voice was deep and cheerful. This was the man with the gentle smile who had held her hair from her face while she had retched and thrown up during yesterday’s dreadful flight, and he was genuinely pleasant. The previous evening she had been about to go out to find something to eat when he had called to her.

  ‘I’ve made soup and baked some bread,’ he had said, pushing the blond fringe back from his forehead. ‘Would you like to join me?’

  Over their meal she had told him the whole story and left nothing out. She showed him the text messages and told him her suspicions of what Liu and her friend had plotted. It was a relief to share all this with someone. Thormóður had listened attentively to every word, without interrupting.

  ‘I’m so ashamed,’ she said, staring out of the window. A few points of light sparkled in the darkness, but the harbour was deserted. ‘Now I have no work, because I told all the people I have been cleaning for that I was going away. Some of them weren’t happy that I left without much notice and I’ve definitely lost my room in Reykjavík.’

  ‘Do you have anyone in Iceland who can help you?’ he asked thoughtfully. ‘Anyone at all?’

  Sajee shook her head. Liu wasn’t picking up, and Hirumi was away in Sri Lanka. There was nobody else she was close to and this was a difficult situation that she wanted to solve for herself.

  ‘If you want something desperately, it’s easy to become blind to what’s around you,’ Thormóður said gently. ‘Those lovely dark eyes of yours shouldn’t be sad. I’ll see what I can do to help you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, repeating her words after a moment as Thormóður didn’t appear to have heard her. He was engrossed in his phone as she went back to her soup.

  ‘Could I work for you?’ she asked, and he looked up. ‘I can do all sorts of things.’

  ‘I´m sure you can, but that wouldn’t work out and I have an idea,’ he said. ‘Something that could help us both out of a problem,’ he added cheerfully as he got to his feet. She was confused, unsure of what he meant, so she just smiled and started clearing the dishes from the table, until he stopped her.

  ‘Don’t worry about that.’

  Guðgeir tightened his grip on the shovel and doubled his effort. He had cleared the steps and cleared around the cars on the drive, and he needed to finish the job properly. He didn’t need to be at work until midday and this would kill time until then. The door of the olive-green house swung open and his landlord, Sveinn, appeared and made his way down to the little wooden decking platform that had been built beside the house with screens sheltering it on two sides. He was a man of quick movements, bundled up in a heavy brown coat and the chequered scarf he wrapped around his short neck made him look even bulkier.

  ‘That’s a fantastic job you’re doing there, Guðgeir,’ Sveinn called out, with the short burst of laughter that ended most of his sentences. Guðgeir still hadn’t figured out of this was the product of some deep-seated inferiority complex, or just a habit. ‘You’re making life easy for us all. I told the old lady that if you move back to Reykjavík it would do me in completely. You’re the best tenant we’ve ever had. We’ll never even think of renting to tourists as long as you’re downstairs.’

  ‘Good morning, Svenni. Thanks,’ Guðgeir said, without pausing from the task he had set himself. Sveinn pulled the door shut with a bang behind him and took cautious steps along the cleared steps between snow a metre deep on each side.

  ‘I didn’t mean that literally,’ he said awkwardly, reaching out to place a hand on Guðgeir’s shoulder, but instead landing in in the middle of his back. ‘I mean about you going back to Reykjavík being the end of me. I didn’t mean … You know. Just a manner of speaking.’

  His laughter died on his lips.

  ‘No problem. I don’t take it personally,’ Guðgeir said, slowing his pace. He gave Sveinn a cheerful smile to make it plain that he hadn’t given the remark a moment’s thought. But that wasn’t quite true, and he was well aware that things that were prominent in people’s minds were often the ones that clumsily broke the surface. He was also often made aware that people were uncomfortable that a man who had been a senior Reykjavík police officer was now working as a security guard in a coastal town. The higher you climb, the further you fall, people said. There was gossip everywhere and he knew all about it. Höfn had welcomed him, but there was a curiosity there as well, and he sensed the unasked questions. Guðgeir was the man who had screwed up so much; a solid reputation, a good job and a fami
ly. He had made a serious mistake and had then made an error of judgement in keeping quiet about sensitive information that concerned him at a personal level. There had been weeks when his name had been in the media practically every day, as often as not accompanied by his picture. Little was held back in the comments that had become part of any media coverage, even though it was obvious that most of them had minimal understanding of the actual events. Gradually the story faded away and disappeared from public consciousness, but the hurt done to the family remained. The children were devastated and sleeping pills helped Inga cope as she struggled with insomnia. It had been a terrible time and nothing would ever make up for the loss of his colleague’s life. Before leaving for Höfn, Guðgeir had paid regular visits to Andrés’s parents and his relationship with them had helped more than anything else to think his way through this debilitating experience and to get on with life. While Guðgeir recognised that nothing would ever again be as it had been, he was determined to regain as much as possible of his old life. He needed to rebuild trust and his family were at the top of the list. After some tough months he was becoming optimistic and every new day strengthened his belief that fortune would again come his way.

  ‘Good morning, Thor… I’m sorry, I’m not sure how to say your name,’ Sajee said and laughed apologetically.

  ‘Don’t worry about it. There’s no need to strain the brain too early in the morning, and it looks like I’ve found you a place to work and live,’ Thormóður said with satisfaction, pushing his fringe aside. The red wine stain stretched from his hairline down to the middle of his forehead. It was broadest at the top, narrowing like the leaf of a water lily.

  ‘You’re serious? Where? At a salon?’

  She jumped to her feet. The table lifted, the bowl was overturned and sugar spilled everywhere. Sajee was mortified. Yesterday she had spilled coffee over him, and now there was splashes of skyr all over the table. Thormóður laughed, pulled some sheets from the roll of kitchen paper and crushed them into a bunch. It was clear that he didn’t need to count the pennies. She looked away, as she still felt a twinge of discomfort at the sight of unnecessary waste.