Hypothermia - Страница 25

‘You didn’t confide in each other at all?’

‘No. I mean, he was my brother and all that, but we were very different and… you know…’

Elmar wolfed down his food. He added that he generally only took half an hour for supper.

‘Do you know if your brother had got himself a girlfriend before he went missing?’ Erlendur asked.

‘No,’ Elmar said. ‘I don’t know of any girlfriend.’

‘His friend says he had met a girl but it’s all very vague.’

‘Davíd never had any girlfriend,’ Elmar said, taking out a packet of Camel cigarettes. He offered it to Erlendur who declined. ‘Or at least not that I was aware of,’ he added, glancing over at the rummy table.

‘No, that’s the thing,’ Erlendur said. ‘Your parents clung for a long time to the hope that he’d come back.’

‘Yes, they… they thought about nothing but Davíd. He was all they ever thought about.’

Erlendur detected a note of bitterness in the man’s voice.

‘Are we done, then?’ Elmar asked. ‘I’d quite like to join them for a hand.’

‘Yes, I’m sorry,’ Erlendur said, standing up. ‘I didn’t mean to ruin your supper.’

20

Eva Lind came round that evening. She had seen her mother and heard about the encounter with Erlendur. He said it had been a mistake to try to bring them together. Eva shook her head.

‘You’re not going to meet again?’ she asked.

‘You’ve done everything possible,’ Erlendur said. ‘We simply don’t get on. There’s too much awkwardness between your mother and me that we just can’t overcome.’

‘Awkwardness?’

‘It was a very acrimonious meeting.’

‘She said she stormed out.’

‘Yes.’

‘But you still met up.’

Erlendur was sitting in his chair with a book in his hand. Eva Lind had taken a seat on the sofa facing him. They had often sat there opposite one another. Sometimes they quarrelled bitterly and Eva Lind rushed out, hurling abuse at her father. At other times they managed to talk and show each other affection. Eva Lind would sometimes fall asleep on the sofa while he read her the story of an ordeal in the wilderness or else some Icelandic folklore. She used to visit him in a variety of states, either so high that Erlendur couldn’t make any sense of what she was saying or so low that he was afraid she would do something stupid.

He hesitated to ask if Halldóra had relayed their conversation to her in detail but Eva spared him the trouble.

‘Mum told me you never loved her,’ she began warily.

Erlendur turned the pages of his book.

‘But she was crazy about you.’

Erlendur didn’t say anything.

‘Maybe it goes some way to explaining your weird relationship,’ Eva Lind said.

Still Erlendur did not speak, he merely gazed down at the book he was holding.

‘She said there was no point talking to you,’ Eva Lind continued.

‘I don’t know what we can do for you, Eva. We can’t agree on anything. I’ve already told you that.’

‘Mum said the same.’

‘I know what you’re trying to do but… We’re difficult parents, Eva.’

‘She says that you two should never have met.’

‘It would probably have been better,’ Erlendur said.

‘So it’s completely hopeless?’

‘I think so.’

‘It was worth trying.’

‘Of course.’

Eva stared at her father.

‘Is that all you’re going to say?’ she demanded.

‘Can’t we just try and forget it?’ he said, looking up from the book. ‘I tried. So did she. It didn’t work. Not this time.’

‘But maybe another time, you mean?’

‘I don’t know, Eva.’

Eva Lind sighed heavily. She took out a cigarette and lit it.

‘Bloody ridiculous. I thought maybe… I thought it was possible to make things a bit better between you. It’s probably pointless. You’re both completely hopeless cases.’

‘Yes, I suppose we are.’

Neither of them spoke.

‘I’ve always tried to see us four as a family,’ Eva Lind said. ‘I still do. Pretend we’re a family, which of course we’re not and never have been. I thought we could establish some kind of harmonious atmosphere around us. Felt it might help all of us, me and Sindri and you and Mum. Christ!’

‘We tried, Eva. We won’t get anywhere. Not now. I think we would have made our peace by now if the will was there.’

‘I told her about your brother. She knew nothing about him.’

‘No, I never told her. Any more than anyone else. I’ve never talked about him to anyone.’

‘She was very surprised. She didn’t know your parents either, granny and grandad. She seemed to know very little about you.’

‘It was your grandmother’s birthday the day before yesterday,’ Erlendur said. ‘Not a major anniversary, but her birthday all the same. I always used to try and visit her on her birthday.’

‘I’d have liked to have met her,’ Eva Lind said.

Erlendur looked up from his book again.

‘And she’d have liked to have known you,’ he said. ‘Things would probably have been rather different if she’d lived.’

‘What are you reading?’

‘A tragedy.’

‘Is it the one about your brother?’

‘Yes. I’d like… can I read it to you?’

‘You don’t need to make it up to me,’ Eva Lind said.

‘For what?’

‘For the way you and Mum behave.’

‘No, I want you to hear it. I want to read it to you.’

Lifting the book, Erlendur leafed back a few pages and started to read in a low but steady voice about the violent blizzard that had shaped his entire life.

Tragedy on Eskifjördur Moor

By Dagbjartur Audunsson

For centuries the main inland route from Eskifjördur to the Fljótsdalshérad district used to pass across Eskifjördur Moor. There was an old bridleway that ran north of the Eskifjördur River, inland along the Langihryggur ridge, up the near side of the Innri-Steinsá River, through the Vínárdalur valley and over the Vínárbrekkur slopes to Midheidarendi, then up on to Urdarflöt and along the Urdarklettur crags until it left the Eskifjördur area. To the north of this is the Thverárdalur valley flanked by the mountains Andri and Hardskafi, with Hólafjall and Selheidi beyond them to the north.

There used to be a farm called Bakkasel Croft, which stood on the old route over to the Fljótsdalshérad district at the head of Eskifjördur fjord. The farm is now derelict but around the middle of the century Bakkasel was home to the farmer Sveinn Erlendsson, his wife Áslaug Bergsdóttir and their two sons, Bergur and Erlendur, aged eight and ten. Sveinn kept a few sheep and also taught at the primary school in Eskifjördur. Saturday 24th November 1956 dawned cold and bright, with a fairly deep covering of snow on the ground. Sveinn was planning to round up a few sheep that had wandered off. The weather at that time of year was very unpredictable and there was little bare ground. Sveinn and his two sons set out on foot from Bakkasel at first light, intending to be home before dark.

At first they made their way inland towards the Thverárdalur valley and Mount Harđskafi without finding any sheep. Then they headed south, ascending on to Eskifjördur Moor. They had made slow progress inland over Langihryggur to the Urdarklettur crags when the weather abruptly took a turn for the worse. Sveinn was concerned enough to consider heading straight for home but before they knew it a violent storm had blown up with a northerly gale and blizzard. Conditions continued to deteriorate until they could no longer see their way and before they knew it they were groping blindly through a complete white-out. The boys became separated from their father. He searched for them for a long time, shouting and calling in vain, before finally making his painful way down from the moor, following the Eskifjördur River home to Bakkasel. The conditions were so extreme by now that he could no longer stand upright and was forced to crawl the last stretch. He was in a desperate state when he reached home, hatless, coated in ice and barely in his right mind.

They phoned for help from Eskifjördur and the news soon spread around the district that the two boys were fighting for their lives in the violent storm that had now hit the village as well. A volunteer search party gathered at Bakkasel that evening but deemed it impossible to start the search until the wind dropped a little and daylight returned. These were difficult hours for the parents, knowing that their two sons were out there on the moor, caught in the blizzard. The boys’ father in particular was distraught and barely in a fit state to talk to anyone, overwhelmed – beside himself, almost – with grief. He considered the boys beyond all aid and refused to take part in organising the search party, whereas his wife, Áslaug was tireless in looking after the helpers and at the head of the company when they finally set out at first light next day.

By then search parties had been called out from the villages of Reydarfjördur, Neskaupstadur and Seydisfjördur, and quite a crowd had gathered. Although the wind had lost much of its force the searchers were hindered by deep drifts. They made first for Eskifjördur Moor, armed with long poles to poke into the snow, and tried to find the brothers’ tracks. But with no luck. It had been snowing heavily all night. It was thought that the brothers were together and had probably dug themselves into a drift. They had been missing for some eighteen hours by the time the rescue operation commenced and, given the freezing temperatures on the mountainsides, it was clear that the searchers were involved in a race against time.

The brothers had been warmly kitted out when they left home, in winter coats, scarves and woollen hats. After about four hours of searching a scarf was found, which Áslaug said belonged to the elder boy, and the search was intensified in the area where it was discovered. A volunteer by the name of Halldór Brjánsson from Seydisfjördur thought he met resistance when he stuck his pole into the snow and when people began to dig there they discovered the elder brother. He was lying as if he had fallen face down. Although he was showing signs of life, he was very cold and frostbite had started to form on his hands and feet. He was barely conscious and could give the searchers no clue as to his brother’s whereabouts. The man who could travel fastest was sent to fetch hot milk, then people took it in turns to carry the boy down from the moor and home to Bakkasel. A doctor was waiting there to examine him and issued instructions for restoring warmth to the boy. He dressed his frostbite and in time the boy began to recover, though it was obvious that he had had a narrow escape. He had come very close to dying of hypothermia.