Why Did You Lie? by Yrsa Sigurðardóttir, Katherine Manners, Hodder, Stoughton Page B

can stay with me and Dóri for a while. I quite understand that you can’t face being here. In fact, what the hell, why don’t you move in with us properly? Just because Thröstur chose death doesn’t mean you should give up on your own life.’ The superficial tidy-up had obviously failed to deceive her. ‘We can put you up in the den. It’s not as if we use it much.’
    ‘It’s very kind of you to offer. But there’s no need. I’m starting to get on top of things.’ Nína did her best to appear convincing: don’t smile too much or too little. ‘Please try not to worry about me. I’m in a horrible place right now but the end’s in sight.’
    ‘Are you sure about that?’ Berglind knew her too well to be taken in.
    ‘Absolutely positive.’ Nína didn’t drop her eyes, didn’t give in to the temptation to look out of the window. Even the hateful garage was better than Berglind’s penetrating gaze. ‘I’m getting there. Honestly.’ She freed her cold hand from her sister’s warm one. ‘Anyway, can you imagine what it’d be like if I lived with you?’ Nína’s smile was suddenly genuine. ‘It would be a nightmare. Remember how furious you used to be if I went into your bedroom when we were kids? No, I really can’t picture it.’
    Berglind laughed. ‘I don’t have any posters for you to scribble on these days, so we should be OK. But no, perhaps it is a bad idea. At least let’s go to the gym together or something, though. It would do me good too.’
    Unlike Nína, Berglind was one of those people who loathe exercise. The fact that she was prepared to go to the gym for her sister’s sake spoke louder than words. While friends were quietly dropping off the radar, Berglind kept phoning and coming round. With her, Nína never felt as if she was ruining the atmosphere simply by being there. ‘Are you sure you want to go to the gym? Why don’t we just go to the dentist together and have our old fillings drilled out and replaced?’ Now it was Nína’s turn to squeeze her sister’s hand. ‘I suggest we do something else when I’m finally feeling more human – something you’d enjoy. And I promise it’ll be soon. Just not quite yet.’ For a moment Nína wondered if she should tell her sister about the old case she had come across in the police archives earlier that day; that as a seven-year-old Thröstur had been involved in an inquiry which apparently related to a suicide, and that she suspected this was the explanation for what he had done all these years later. Recently she had been racking her brain for a possible reason, without success, and this explanation was no more foolish than some of the others she had grasped at. She was no expert in psychology but she’d learnt enough about people through her job to realise that their behaviour could be governed by the most unexpected things.
    The problem was that Nína didn’t know what the old inquiry had been about. She had skimmed through other files in the archives in a vain search for further information but the page seemed to be the only one extant about the incident. She didn’t know whose suicide it was or even if the case was concerned with a suicide. The report could have ended up in the wrong folder by mistake, or perhaps the page had become separated from the rest and gone astray.
    ‘A penny for your thoughts?’ Berglind was frowning. They weren’t accustomed to sitting in silence. As far as Nína could remember, her sister hadn’t shut up since she’d first learnt to talk. When they shared a room as children she had even talked regularly in her sleep. At the time Nína had thought it was because the day wasn’t long enough for her to get everything off her chest. And because Berglind had talked non-stop when they were growing up, Nína had been forced to cut in every time she wanted to speak, which had left her with the bad habit of interrupting people. It had got her into trouble more than once when talking to her