The Fish Can Sing (23 page)

“Jesus!” said little Miss Gú
múnsen.

“It’s vital to put them away before they turn sour,” said Gar
ar Hólm, and indeed the tray was quickly empty. “Shall we ask Madonna for another tray?”

“Yes,” said little Miss Gú
múnsen with a gasp. “I wish Daddy could see this, he always says that well-hung fish is the best; or Mummy, who always says it should be toasted white bread.”

Gar
ar Hólm wiped his mouth with his handkerchief, and laughed at us.

“How much, Madonna?” he said.

He put his hand in his pocket and made something jingle, then brought out a handful of gold coins. He threw one gold coin down on the empty tray and said, “There you are, Madonna.”

“Jesus!” said little Miss Gú
múnsen. “Is that a genuine gold coin?”

“Genuine gold does not exist, children,” he said. “Gold is by its nature not genuine.”

“Jesus!” said little Miss Gú
múnsen.

“I’m afraid I haven’t got change,” said the madonna, and
examined the coin on both sides. “There has never been so much money in my till since I came here. You will have to speak to Fri
riksen himself.”

“We’ll let that wait until next time,” said Gar
ar Hólm. “Adieu, Madonna.”

“No,” said the madonna, “I can’t have that. I scarcely dare touch it, even. I wouldn’t have a moment’s peace of mind so long as I knew it was somewhere near me.”

Gar
ar Hólm was halfway up the basement steps, with his arms around my shoulders and Miss Gú
múnsen’s as if he owned us both equally. The madonna came running after us with the gold coin.

“I beseech you, Gar
ar Hólm, take your gold coin from me,” she said.

“Give it to this young lad, Madonna,” said the singer. “He is nearer to being myself than Gar
ar Hólm is.”

The madonna put the gold coin in my hand and pressed my fingers round it.

“Here is the coin,” I said when we were out in the street. “And now I must go. I had almost forgotten that grandmother sent me out to buy pepper.”

“Just like me,” said Gar
ar Hólm. “My mother once sent me out to buy pepper, and I have not returned home yet.”