Reykjavík by Ragnar Jónasson & Katrín Jakobsdottír

Author:Ragnar Jónasson & Katrín Jakobsdottír [Jónasson, Ragnar & Jakobsdottír, Katrín]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781405955713
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2023-08-16T22:00:00+00:00

1986

25 August

Sunna had borrowed a car, an old Skoda, from a friend, for the drive north to Húsavík. It was on the other side of the country from Reykjavík, and flying was expensive Besides, she needed time to herself to think. The funeral was scheduled for one o’clock on Tuesday, so she drove up on the Monday. It was a beautiful late summer’s day, the grass clothing the landscape was still green, the birch scrub thick with leaves, though the fresh colours had faded and matured.

She left the city, heading north towards the long, slumbering hulk of Mount Esja, through the farming district of Mosfell, which was fast developing into an urban centre. Then on, skirting the foothills of the mountain, round the Kjalarnes peninsula into the long road around Hvalfjördur. She drove slowly, partly to savour the beauty of the fjord, but mostly because her mind was preoccupied with working through what had happened.

What possible reason could anyone have had to push Valur to his death like that? It had to be linked to the Lára case. Valur didn’t have any enemies. He hadn’t fallen out with anyone in his private life. No, this had to be connected to his job. He must have uncovered some secret that couldn’t bear the light of day. And surely that could only be about Lára? It had to be significant that the TV news had announced a big reveal was imminent, that he might even have solved the old mystery.

The Skoda steadily ate up the miles. It was nearing midday when Sunna drove into the picturesque little west coast town of Borgarnes, so she stopped at the Stadarskáli service station for lunch – burger with chips and cocktail sauce – a mixture of ketchup and mayonnaise that the Icelanders claimed as their own – real comfort food, which helped to lift her mood a little.

Long hours later, having crossed seemingly endless expanses of moor and mountain, Sunna finally reached the Adaldalur valley, the last stretch before home. As the evening sun cast its enchanted glow over the wide bay of Skjálfandi, touching the snow-capped mountains with pink, she felt overwhelmed by an almost palpable sense of grief and loss. This was the countryside where she and Valur had grown up, where they had played together, gone to school, messed around, shared secrets, clubbed together to buy their parents Christmas presents at the Co-op, picked blueberries, gone in search of adventure and discussed their future dreams. That chapter in her life was now irrevocably closed: Valur was gone for ever.

After the greyness of Reykjavík, the little town of Húsavík had never looked lovelier, the colourful fishing boats in the harbour, the wooden houses on the docks, the distinctive, Swiss-chalet-style church and the burnt-orange and green slopes of the mountain, all luminous in the rays of the setting sun.

She dreaded seeing her parents so much that she remained sitting in the car outside the house for a while, delaying the inevitable. But in the

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