Meltwater (Fire and Ice)

so new. The room in
which the congregation sat was a simple rectangular space, but it was dominated by the glass eastern wall.
    The lights were on in the church’s little white-walled garden behind the window, red being the dominant colour. Egill changed the colours according to the ecclesiastical calendar. The
altar was very simple, but behind it loomed the silhouette of the cross in the garden.
    She knelt to pray. She would stay there all night if need be.
    Time passed; she was not sure how much time. A feeling of serenity slipped over her, like a gentle down blanket.
    She knew what she had to do.
    She heard a bang behind her. Someone was coming into the church. She hoped it was Egill and not one of the parishioners. She would like to pray with him.
    But it was no one.
    She stared up at the altar, the cross, admiring its simple beauty.
    Then she heard rapid footsteps behind her.
    Ingileif ran her fingers over Magnus’s cheek. ‘What are you thinking?’
    They were in his bed. They had both been good to their word and had managed a late dinner at the Laekjarbrekka restaurant in Bankastraeti. Magnus had driven there via the Kringlan Mall, which
stayed open late on a Thursday, where he had bought the promised baseball bats, and delivered them to Thórsgata. Plus a softball.
    ‘I’m thinking I hope your plane is cancelled tomorrow.’
    ‘That’s not very nice.’
    ‘Oh, yes it is.’
    Ingileif kissed him. ‘I don’t suppose you’ll be waiting with me in the terminal.’
    ‘No, I don’t suppose I will. I will drop you off at the airport if I can.’
    ‘Fat chance.’
    ‘You’re right,’ said Magnus. He did need to focus on the investigation: he had felt guilty leaving at seven that evening. And once that was done, he should have a conversation
with Snorri about Benedikt’s murder.
    There was another thing he wanted to do when the investigation was over. ‘Can I come and visit you in Hamburg?’
    ‘Why would you want to do that?’
    ‘To see you,’ Magnus said. ‘I’d like to see you again. Soon.’
    ‘Oh, yes, of course,’ said Ingileif. ‘That would be nice. Yes.’
    Magnus could tell she didn’t mean it.
    ‘When?’ he asked, although he wanted to ask ‘why not?’
    ‘Oh, I don’t know. The summer’s quite busy.’
    Magnus sat up in bed. ‘Ingileif. What are you saying?’
    She sat up next to him. ‘Nothing,’ she said. She leaned over to kiss him and moved her hand down his stomach.
    He pushed her away. ‘No, Ingileif. You don’t want me to come and see you in Hamburg. Why not?’
    She straightened up and put her hands in her lap. Not looking at him she said: ‘It might not be a good idea.’
    ‘Why not?’
    She took a deep breath. ‘Kerem wouldn’t like it.’
    ‘And who the hell is Kerem?’
    ‘Kerem is a friend of mine. He’s an artist.’
    ‘I thought so,’ Magnus said through gritted teeth. ‘I thought so. So who is this Kerem guy? And what kind of a name is Kerem anyway?’
    ‘It’s Turkish. But he’s German; he was born in Germany. We’re just friends, that’s all. I’m not hiding him: if you ever looked at my Facebook page you’d
know all about him.’
    ‘Like you and me are just friends?’
    ‘Look, Magnús, we discussed this. I am not going to pry into your life if you don’t pry into mine. When I went to Hamburg we didn’t say we wouldn’t see other
people. Quite the opposite.’
    ‘No, Ingileif, we didn’t discuss this. And you pry into my life all the time. Which I quite like, by the way. Does this Kerem know where you are right now?’
    ‘No,’ said Ingileif. ‘And he doesn’t have a right to know.’
    ‘Would he be happy if he did?’
    ‘Why are you always so damn American? Everyone has to be in a relationship or out of a relationship. Can’t you just enjoy life? Haven’t you had fun the last few
days?’
    Magnus lost it. ‘You’re using me, Ingileif, and I don’t like it!’
    ‘You don’t like it!’ Ingileif said, throwing the covers off the bed. ‘Fine! I’ll stop using you. See how you like that.’ She turned on the light and began to
gather her clothes, putting each thing on as she found it.
    ‘Yeah,’ said Magnus. His voice had risen to a shout. ‘I don’t like it. And you know it’s wrong! That’s why you’re giving me all this righteous
indignation.’
    ‘Go fuck yourself, Magnús,’ Ingileif said. ‘Because I sure as hell am not going to!’
    The door slammed and she was gone.
    Magnus flopped back