Page 19 of Meet Me Under the Northern Lights

GUNNAR’S HOME, THE OUTSKIRTS OF REYKJAVIK

‘So, how was your tour today?’ Hildur asked Gunnar as they sat down to eat later that evening.

The last thing he really wanted was conversation.

The south coast tour was one of the longest day trips the company he worked for did and it had been a gruelling one today.

His eyes were tired from driving and his ears were ringing from the fault there had been in the coach speaker system that had hummed and buzzed through some of his commentary.

‘It was fine,’ he replied, pushing spiced green beans into his mouth.

He knew these weren’t from the freezer. He also knew that it meant while he had been in the shower, Hildur had not been resting but had prepared them to go with the chicken he had put in the oven for them both.

Apparently full from a homecooked meal made by his friend’s mother, Magnús had skulked to his bedroom the second Gunnar had asked if he had done his homework while he was there.

‘Was anyone sick?’ Hildur asked.

‘Hildur! We are eating!’

‘I do not know why I ask the question. Every trip someone is sick.’

He swallowed a mouthful of green beans and took a sip of his water. ‘How was the community centre?’

‘No one died,’ Hildur announced. ‘Although I very much wanted to when they decided to play Christmas bingo.’

‘You like bingo.’

‘Not when I am forced to wear a hat like Jolasveiner .’

Gunnar couldn’t help but laugh. It had nothing to do with Hildur not wanting to be festive and don the attire of the Icelandic Yule Lads, Hildur didn’t like hats in any shape or form.

‘And everyone there is so very old. It is a wonder there are not as many deaths as you have passengers being sick into carrier bags.’

‘Hildur! We are still eating!’

‘Then it is time to change the topic of conversation,’ Hildur announced, cutting into her chicken. ‘We will now talk about the “except” yes?’

Gunnar should have known Hildur wouldn’t forget their train of talk from that morning and she was a master at manipulating the conversation to go her way. He would tell her something. As little as possible to satisfy her curiosity.

‘There is nothing to tell. A tourist I helped find some accommodation for.’

‘That is not your job.’

‘No,’ Gunnar agreed. ‘But, you know, I made a call and Fridrik knew a place and I helped Chloe out.’

‘Ah! She has a name!’ Hildur exclaimed like having a name was a miracle.

‘And she was on the Northern Lights boat trip last night. That is it. Nothing else to tell.’ He focussed back on his meal.

‘Nothing to tell,’ Hildur repeated. ‘Except your face is now more red than a hat of a Yule Lad.’

‘It is not,’ he said, feeling heat creep into his cheeks.

‘So, when do you see her again? Chloe?’ Hildur asked, her expression nothing short of the kind of gleeful she got when she was winning an argument with one of their neighbours.

‘I do not see her again.’

‘Why not?’

‘Why would I?’ he asked. ‘She is a tourist. She is here to plan an event for her job.’

‘An event here in Iceland?’ Hildur asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Then she is a tourist who is coming back!’

Gunnar shook his head and was glad when his mobile phone rang from its position on the countertop and he could get up from the table.

‘Maybe that is Chloe. Wanting to see you again,’ Hildur said. ‘You need to start using that conditioner on your hair again.’

Gunnar looked at the screen on his phone. It wasn’t Chloe. It was Magnús’s teacher.

‘Hello, Mr Almr.’

‘Good evening, Mr Eriksson. I am sorry to bother you at home so late.’

‘It is OK. There is no problem, is there? With Magnús’s schoolwork?’ He leaned against the counter, almost bracing himself.

‘Not exactly with his work, no,’ came the reply.

What did that mean? There was something else? A social problem? Worse?

‘Please, Mr Almr, tell me,’ Gunnar urged.

‘Mr Eriksson, Magnús has not been in school for the past few days. Is he sick?’

Gunnar’s stomach dropped. ‘What? I… do not understand.’

‘So he is not sick?’

‘No, he is not sick.’ Gunnar put a hand to his head trying to work this out in his mind. How was this possible? ‘We… we have had some things going on here. A trip to the hospital. And I have been busy, but I have dropped him at school every day.’

And only tonight he had arranged for someone else’s family to collect Magnús from school and look after him until Gunnar had finished work.

Had Magnús not been at school today? Had he walked to the outside of school from wherever he had been to be there for his lift?

Gunnar’s brain was ticking over so many scenarios and none of them were good.

‘OK,’ Mr Almr said. ‘I understand.’

‘You do?’ Gunnar replied. ‘Because I do not. And I am ashamed and embarrassed that I did not know he was not at school.’

Now Hildur’s full attention was piqued and the older woman swivelled in her seat like she might be about to try and get up. He signalled to her to stop and she stayed where she was.

‘There is no shame, Mr Eriksson and there is no judgement either. All we want at the school is the very best for Magnús and to be able to support him and you.’

Gunnar shook his head. He was a failure. He had taken his eye off the ball. He had thought he could trust Magnús to follow the rules. He should have remembered better what it was like to be his age. ‘How long has this been going on?’

‘Only this week but…’

There was a ‘but’. This was not good.

The teacher continued. ‘But there have been a few other concerns we had that might have something to do with Magnús’s absence.’

Gunnar did brace himself now. ‘Go on.’

‘Well, last week, there was an altercation between Magnús and one of his classmates.’

‘An altercation?’ Gunnar was already thinking the word ‘fight’ and hoping he was wrong.

‘We do not know exactly what happened but both students were dismissive of it when we asked them, shook hands, settled down and?—’

‘And why did no one tell me about this? I am Magnús’s guardian. If there is anything going on I need to be kept informed.’

‘Mr Eriksson, at the time we decided it was an incident that needed no further action but, in light of Magnús’s absences?—’

‘And the other boy? Has he been missing from school too?’

‘Other boy?’

‘The one Magnús had whatever you are calling an “altercation” with. Can we not cut through to the truth? Which one hit the other first?’

Gunnar was caught between feeling defensive and annoyed. Had he had prior knowledge of this he might have been able to better control the situation.

‘I am sorry,’ Mr Almr said. ‘I was not clear. The other student was a girl. But, as I said?—’

‘What?’ Gunnar exclaimed. Now he was nothing but angry. Whatever had happened, Magnús was involved in a verbal or physical situation with a girl!

‘Mr Eriksson, I know this may have come as a shock but, really, this call was to?—’

‘You will leave this with me now,’ Gunnar spat. ‘I will speak to Magnús, I will find out what is going on, I will make him apologise and accept any punishment that you think is necessary and I will ensure that he is in school tomorrow and every other day after that.’

‘Mr Eriksson, if you could wait a?—’

‘Goodbye, Mr Almr.’

Gunnar ended the call and paced immediately towards the door that led to the bedrooms.

‘Gunnar, wait!’ Hildur ordered.

He wasn’t waiting, not for anything or anyone. He was going to get hold of Magnús and give him the talking-to of his life. How dare he miss school! How dare he lie to him, pretend that everything was normal!

‘Gunnar! I said no!’

The door to the corridor slammed shut and somehow there was Hildur, out of her chair, back firm against the door, blocking his path.

‘Hildur, you should be sitting down,’ Gunnar said.

‘So should you,’ the woman replied.

‘After that phone call?’ Gunnar exclaimed. ‘Did you know that?—’

‘I heard enough to figure things out.’

‘Then you know I have to speak to Magnús and find out what the hell is going on!’

‘Yes,’ Hildur agreed, back still pressed against the door. ‘Speak to him. Not shout at him.’

‘Hildur! He hit a girl!’

‘We do not know that yet.’

‘He did something that was not right.’

‘Maybe.’

Gunnar shook his head. ‘He has been absent from school.’

‘Weren’t we all at one time or another? I know you were. And, me too.’

‘Hildur, let me through the door,’ Gunnar ordered.

‘Not like this,’ Hildur told him, voice full of determination. ‘Not angry and wanting to shout. What good will that do?’

‘It will show Magnús that his behaviour is unacceptable!’

‘Will it?’ Hildur asked, one eyebrow rising. ‘Or will it frighten the boy and make him immediately think that you do not understand and retreat into himself more so that he never opens up to you about what he thinks or how he feels?’

‘Hildur.’

‘What?’

‘If he does not go to school, they will say I cannot cope looking after him and the authorities will look for another family. And… maybe they will be right.’

Gunnar put his hands to his head in exasperation, anger quickly dissipating into frustration.

‘Do not say that,’ Hildur said. ‘That boy clung to you when you rescued him. He did not speak for days. He would not talk to anyone but you. Look how far he has come. And that is down to you.’

Gunnar swallowed, shoulders dropping. He remembered the rescue like it was yesterday, but only when he was made to or it infiltrated his sleep, his subconscious demanding that he process.

Moving forward was his choice in dealing with crises.

Problem-solve. Don’t dwell on the negative.

But was that the kind of nurture that was best for Magnús?

He had to work to pay for the house, the food, the ice skates; there were not enough hours in the day for any kind of emotional support.

‘Whatever has happened,’ Hildur continued. ‘You must make small steps to uncover it. It is like pulling back many layers of wrapping paper in the game where the parcel is passed. One sheet at a time.’

‘Maybe I am not the right person for that,’ Gunnar said.

‘Gunnar Eriksson,’ Hildur admonished. ‘You are the only person for that. You were chosen for this.’

He shook his head. ‘Please, Hildur, do not make this about the huldufólk .’

‘I am not talking about the huldufólk choosing, Gunnar. I am talking about Magnús. He chose you.’

He had no immediate answer for that. His insides flooded with so many emotions as he realised that, for now, in this moment, Hildur was right.

‘What do I do?’ It took a second for him to realise that he had said the words aloud. It wasn’t Hildur’s responsibility. He had taken on the care of Magnús.

‘Nothing tonight,’ Hildur said, finally stepping away from the door and putting a hand on his shoulder. ‘Tomorrow will be a new day. Begin again with a clear head, yes?’

He nodded. ‘Yes.’