‘Shall I make us some coffee, Mum?’ Stefanía called from the kitchen of the terraced house on Ásgarður. Thrúður made no reply. ‘Even though not many people showed up, the service was beautiful. That was down to you, Mum. You and the priest.’
Stefanía went into the living room and found her mother standing with her arms limp at her sides, staring out through the window.
‘I thought I’d been able to make a good man of him, Stefanía.’
‘You did your best, Mum. He achieved a lot.’
‘If your father hadn’t gone, then …’
‘Mum, Óttar’s behaviour had nothing at all to do with our father. There was always something wrong with him, and if you’re finally ready to face it, then so am I.’
Thrúður drew up a chair, with small, slow movements. Just as gradually, she sat down, still looking out of the window.
‘This good weather looks like it will be staying with us,’ she said at last. ‘That’ll keep the midges happy.’
Stefanía sighed. ‘We don’t have to talk about it, Mum. But you know that you did your best. You taught him to take pains over whatever he did, and to keep what you called the dark side of his soul in check.’
‘You father had his dark side as well.’
Stefanía went over to her mother, placed her hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently.
‘Mum, this is all over now. How about you make us some pancakes with sugar? Something sweet always makes us feel better.’
‘That’s a fine idea,’ Thrúður said.
She stood up with a little more energy, and made for the kitchen. Stefanía was pleased she’d put her mother back into gear. She had something to do now. Make pancakes with sugar.
Óttar, Óttar, Óttar. He had been her mother’s main task in life.
My brother was so good-looking, but he used people, she thought. He loved to see how far people would go for him. Mum thought she was helping him to keep that dark side in check, but in reality she was just teaching him to hide it all by coming across well. He learned to become accomplished at being immoral. And she was his personal trainer.
A few minutes later Thrúður brought a small pile of pancakes to the table, and they sat down and ate them silently.
‘Perfect pancakes, Mum, as always,’ said Stefanía. ‘Dead sweet.’