Yrsa Sigurðardóttir - The Silence of the Sea

‘He was going to meet me in Lisbon before the yacht left. But it didn’t work out.’

‘Why not?’ Thóra had given up trying to be nice.

‘I didn’t go. Something came up and I didn’t need his help any more. Or so I thought.’ Karítas bared her teeth in a failed attempt at a smile. ‘But now I’m hoping you can sort out the red tape for me and let me in. You know, better late than never, and all that.’

Thóra studied this woman who had been created in the likeness of an angel, the beautiful outer shell concealing something much darker inside. The missing people were of no consequence to her, merely an inconvenience. It didn’t seem to matter that they included two little girls. ‘I’ll consider it if you tell me what it is you want. The police have been over the yacht with a fine-toothed comb. I can’t quite see what could be so important to you apart from the dresses.’

‘You don’t need to worry about that. If you’re going to get all weird about it I’ll pay you. How about that?’

‘No, thanks.’ Out of the corner of her eye Thóra caught Begga’s expression of relief and swung round to her. ‘Is something the matter?’

The woman jumped. ‘Oh no, nothing. I was just worried about the money. We’re in a spot of bother at the moment, you see. Only temporary, mind.’ She turned to her daughter. ‘Darling, when it comes to little things like this it makes more sense to trade information than to pay for it. She doesn’t want your money anyway.’ She gazed pleadingly at her daughter, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. Her grey roots had not been touched up since Thóra and Bella’s last visit.

Karítas was not remotely grateful for this intervention. She shot her mother a spiteful look. ‘I’m selling this house, Mum. It’s not up for discussion. You’ll just have to fend for yourself until everything’s sorted out.’ She added to Thóra: ‘Lawyers handle conveyancing, don’t they?’ Her mother seemed to shrink in her ornate chair, a symbol of a lifestyle that would soon be history.

‘I’m not an estate agent.’ Thóra caught a smirk on Bella’s face. She seemed to be delighted with her employer, for the first time in living memory. ‘And I’d like to know why you didn’t go ahead with your meeting with Ægir, since it was so important to you.’

‘I told you. The situation changed. I didn’t need him any more and I wasn’t going to pay him for what someone else was prepared to do for less.’

‘Someone else?’

‘Yes. I bumped into one of the crew members in town – I recognised him – and he was much nicer than that Ægir. I discussed the problem with him and he was more than willing to oblige. But everything got screwed up because his stupid friend had an accident and he had to help him, so he couldn’t meet me as planned. He rang and said he’d sort it when they reached Reykjavík. What was I supposed to do? By then it was too late to try and persuade Ægir to meet me because the captain had arrived and was staying on board. So I had a wasted journey to Lisbon and was forced to wait until the Lady K got to Reykjavík.’ She closed her eyes. ‘Then everyone goes and disappears, and I’m the one that loses out.’

‘What was this man called?’ asked Thóra, though there could only be one answer if the man’s friend had had an accident in Lisbon.

Karítas was silent for a moment, thinking. Then she turned her heavily mascaraed gaze on Thóra. ‘Halli, I think. He used to work for me on the Lady K in the old days. Yes, I’m pretty sure his name was Halli.’

The hardest part, Ægir thought, was not having a clue how far they were from their destination. He had no idea how long he had been asleep; nor could he remember what Thráinn had said about the length of time remaining. Had he said twenty-four hours, or a day? And if the latter, what had he meant by a day? Twelve hours? Was it possible they only had a few hours left at sea? He cursed himself for not having checked the clock at the time or demanded more detailed information. Had he done so, he would have been able to calculate how far the yacht had sailed while he was asleep and plan his next moves accordingly, such as whether it would pay to jump ship in a lifeboat with the girls. The raft might be equipped with an emergency transmitter that would be activated when it hit the water, but Ægir didn’t know how far the signal would carry, so this course of action would only make sense if the yacht was nearing Iceland. The ocean surrounding them was so vast that there was almost no chance of crossing the path of another vessel if they were still up to a day’s journey from land.

In any case, it was too late now. Thráinn wouldn’t be giving any more answers, at least not in this world; and Ægir wasn’t about to seek out Halli, as the question would no doubt be his last. He lay back and stared at the ceiling, then closed his eyes and watched the white specks dancing on the lids. Never had so much ridden on a decision of his. Never had he felt so bewildered – or alone.

‘Daddy? What’s the time?’ He looked over at Arna who was sitting up rubbing her eyes. She had fallen asleep on a crayon and it had stuck to her jumper without her noticing.

‘I don’t know.’ He didn’t wear a watch and hadn’t charged his phone since they lost reception. He perched on the edge of the bed beside her and reached for the crayon. It was blood red and the sight of it over her heart disturbed him. ‘It’s night-time, as far as I can tell.’

‘When will we be home? My tummy hurts.’

‘Soon, hopefully.’ Ægir smoothed her hair but it sprang up again in a mass of tangles. ‘We might go home in one of the lifeboats. How would you like that?’

‘I don’t care. I just want to go home.’ She pushed his hand away. ‘Then we won’t have to be brave any more.’

‘You’re right.’ Ægir lapsed into silence, not knowing what else to say. The easiest course would be to lie and claim there was nothing to fear; before they knew it they would be home, where no one would have to behave themselves any more. But that wasn’t true; there was no guarantee that they would ever reach Reykjavík and, even if they did, they were unlikely to take any comfort in their homecoming now that Lára was gone. ‘You’ve coped so well, Arna. Much better than I’d have dared hope. With any luck you won’t need to keep it up much longer.’

‘Good.’ Arna lay down again with her eyes open. She regarded her sleeping sister, then asked: ‘What do you think Sigga Dögg’s doing?’

‘I expect she’s gone to beddy-byes by now.’ Ægir spoke in a low voice; the thought of his youngest daughter was too painful to bear. She would grow up without a mother and he wasn’t sure he was capable of providing her with the sort of care she would have received from Lára. He didn’t know how to comfort his daughters, how to brush their hair, choose their clothes or presents, or help with their homework. And he was a hopeless cook. He worked too hard, but then he had to; if he applied to work fewer hours he would soon find himself out on his ear. Not that money would be a problem. Indeed, perhaps that would be the best solution after all that had happened; to retire from work and become a full-time father instead; devote himself to his daughters. But how long would it be before people began to wonder how he was supporting himself and the kids? A year, two years, three? It didn’t matter: sooner or later the time would come. And he would be unable to answer. The sudden thought of Lára’s life insurance policy brought a bad taste to his mouth. It would solve that particular problem. But what would it feel like to see that huge sum appear in his bank account? He had long dreamt of a fortune but it had never occurred to him that he would acquire it like this. He had paid far too high a price.