‘This,’ Hildur said, beginning to limp around the chair, each step bringing her nearer to the roof’s edge. ‘Is Bernard Lundgren.’
Lundgren. It took Gunnar a few moments to make the connection. Brigitta Lundgren – the girl that had been bullying Magnús.
‘Hildur,’ Gunnar said. ‘What are you doing? Is this Brigitta’s father?’
Hildur snorted then. ‘No. Brigitta Lundgren’s father would have had a heart attack on the stairs up here he’s so fat and unhealthy.’
‘Hildur—’
‘I find that with all problems in life you should start by going to the very head of the family. To the “president” of the living ancestors, the elder, the wisest, the one who should be the moral protector of all those that go after him. Bernard is Brigitta Lundgren’s grandfather and, at one time, he was married to my late sister.’
There was emotion in Hildur’s tone as there was whenever she spoke about her sister, which was very seldom. But, being emotional was not an excuse for whatever this was.
‘And so, Hildur, you have tied Bernard to a chair on the edge of the school roof and are doing what with him exactly?’
‘We are making him listen,’ Magnús told Gunnar with a nod of affirmation. ‘And we did give him coffee from a flask.’
Gunnar closed his eyes. Could this get any worse? And what was he supposed to do? It was as laughable as it was terribly sad. His non-traditional family had felt that he had not done enough to help Magnús’s situation and this is how things had ended up.
‘And if he doesn’t listen?’ Gunnar asked. ‘What are you going to do with those scissors? Cut off his ears?’
‘No!’ Magnús exclaimed in horror. And then his expression turned sheepish. ‘Only cut off his beard.’
‘Oh my God,’ Gunnar said, exasperated. ‘Hildur! What are you thinking?’
‘I am thinking,’ Hildur said, ‘that how could someone my sister loved so deeply have gone on to teach his son that people with money and status in the community can get away with hurting good, soft souls who would never dream of doing wrong unless they are severely provoked.’ Hildur plucked some things from a bag she was carrying. They looked like photographs.
‘Hildur, you and I, we have always had a good relationship, no? What do you want me to do?’ Bernard asked.
‘I want you to look,’ Hildur ordered, bringing the photo right up close to the man’s face. ‘And see that these photographs clearly show the nature of events at school. Your granddaughter taunting Magnús and Magnús finallypushing,nothitting.’
‘I see, Hildur and I hear.’
‘Then make things right,’ Hildur said with fierce determination, waddling on her brace boot. ‘Set the records straight. Tell your son who the true culprit of all this is – his daughter, your granddaughter. And, make certain that he withdraws the allegations to the police so Magnús’s name is clear from any wrong-doing.’
‘And if I do all this you will untie me? Get me off this roof and let me go back to my bed?’ the old man said, still wriggling.
‘Let us be very clear,’ Hildur said, leaning a little into the man’s space. ‘I did not tie you to this chair. You did that for yourself.’
‘Because you ordered me to. After you drove me here in a van.’
A van? Whose van? And Hildur was driving a van! With a broken ankle?
‘I do not know what you mean,’ Hildur said. ‘How could an old woman with a broken ankle drive a van?’ She shook her head and tutted. ‘And if you, or any other member of your family would dare to suggest such a thing then you know what will happen.’ She took the scissors from Magnús and made them open and close in quick succession. ‘Snip. Snip. And, this time, I do not mean your beard.’
Gunnar had seen and heard quite enough. ‘Hildur, come now, this stops now. Give me the scissors.’ He reached out a hand.
‘No!’ Hildur roared. ‘Not until he has given his word. Like a true Icelander. Like the man my sister always told me you were. A good man. An honest man.’
‘I… give you my word,’ the old man said, really beginning to shiver now and each movement rocking the chair, one leg perilously close to the edge.
Hildur moved then, pacing towards the edge of the roof and looking down at the people gathered below. ‘Now hear this!’ she declared like she was about to give a presidential speech. ‘Magnús Ólafsson is innocent! He was a victim of a gross injustice and everyone needs to know that just because you are considered to have a different upbringing, with a family that is not born by blood, it does not make you a lesser human! In fact it makes you more human.’ She spread her arms out wide. ‘We are all born of nature! Made up of the particles of this Earth! We are all family! And, when you realise that, it becomes the greatest raisin at the end of the hotdog!’
With that familiar, yet weird Icelandic phrase delivered to the crowd below, Hildur turned back to Gunnar, Magnús and Bernard Lundgren, looking triumphant. And then she teetered, lost her balance on her injured foot and fell backwards from the roof.
46
REYKJAVIK DOMES
