“Is that your mother?” he asked Simon.

Simon looked at the photograph.

“Yes. That’s Mum. She’s dead.”

“I know.”

Simon looked out of the window again and Erlendur put the photograph back on the desk. They sat in silence for a while.

“What are you looking at?” Erlendur asked.

“Mum told me everything was all right,” Simon said, still looking out of the window.

“It is all right,” Erlendur said.

“Are you going to take me away?”

“No, I’m not going to take you anywhere. I just wanted to meet you.”

“Perhaps we could be friends.”

“Definitely,” Erlendur said.

They sat in silence and now both of them looked out of the window.

“Did you have a good father?” Simon suddenly asked.

“Yes,” Erlendur said. “He was a good man.”

They fell silent.

“Will you tell me about him?” Simon said eventually.

“Yes, some time I will tell you about him,” Erlendur said. “He…”

Erlendur paused.

“What?”

“He lost his son.”

They stared out of the window.

“There’s just one thing I want to know,” Erlendur said.

“What’s that?” Simon said.

“What was her name?”

“Who?”

“Your mother.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Mikkelina has told me about her, but never what her name was.”

“Her name was Margret.”

“Margret.”

At that moment Mikkelina appeared in the doorway and when Simon saw her he stood up and went to her.

“Did you bring me any berries?” he asked. “Did you bring any redcurrants?”

“I’ll bring some berries in the autumn,” Mikkelina said. “This autumn. I’ll bring you some berries then.”

At that very moment a small tear began to form in one of Eva Lind’s eyes as she lay motionless in the gloom of intensive care. It grew into a large drop that ran slowly out of the corner of her eye, down her face, under her oxygen mask and across her lips.

A few minutes later she opened her eyes.