Sandra Field - The Sun At Midnight

For the next hour they climbed steadily towards the plateau, beyond which lay the valley where the muskoxen roamed. At about six o’clock Kathrin said breathlessly, ‘We should fill our water bottles at this stream. And let’s take a short break.’ Loosening the straps, she lowered her pack to the ground.

The stream gurgled out of the hillside between rocks carpeted with green and scarlet mosses. Chewing on some trail mix, Jud said reflectively, ‘Colour leaps out at you here, doesn’t it? The flowers and mosses are so vivid, so full of life.’

She had often noticed the same thing. She said eagerly, ‘I think it’s because at first glance the Arctic offers a kind of sensory deprivation—dun-coloured tundra, grey rocks, and the white of last year’s snow. Even the sky’s pale blue, as though the ice cap has sapped it of all its strength. So the flowers make straight for the heart.’

‘You love it here.’

She nodded. ‘I feel as though I’ve come home...I don’t know why.’

His eyes fixed on hers, Jud said, ‘It’s a land pared to the bone. No euphemisms possible—only truth.’

She knew instantly that he had shifted from the landscape to the personal. For a moment she looked around her at the vast sweep of land and sky, recognising that her anger early that morning now seemed petty and unworthy of her. She said gravely, ‘Jud, seven years ago my world turned upside down. I’ve done the best I can since then, in my own way, to deal with that. But I really don’t want to talk about it...please.’

He was hunkered down very close to her, the breeze ruffling his hair. ‘You think I stole that money.’

‘I know you did. You confessed, didn’t you?’

‘Ivor made the phone call, Kit.’

‘He couldn’t have—I was with him at the time.’

‘You were in love with him.’

‘I wouldn’t have lied, Jud!’

‘You did lie.’ As she made a sudden move, he stayed her with one hand on the sleeve of her jacket. ‘You were young and vulnerable and very much in love...perhaps it was inevitable that you supported Ivor over me.’ A harsh edge to his voice, he added, ‘I just need to know the truth, that’s all.’

There was a scar across his knuckles, a scar white as bone. Staring down at it, because she could not bear the force of his gaze, Kathrin said, ‘How did you hurt yourself?’

‘In prison—I was on a labour gang for a while,’ he said impatiently. ‘Kit, the truth...surely this place deserves the truth.’

When she looked up, her eyes were deep, troubled pools of darkness. ‘I’ve told you the truth. Just as I told it at the trial.’

In total frustration Jud picked up a chunk of granite, banging it so hard against a boulder that chips flew; the noise seemed a violation of the unfathomable silence of the tundra. ‘I thought better of you than this,’ he said.

In a clumsy movement Kathrin scrambled to her feet. ‘You’re proving my point—this is just why I don’t want to talk about what happened,’ she cried. ‘What’s the use? It’s over and done with. Finished.’

He stood up as well, balancing his weight on the rocks. ‘I could have photographed muskoxen on lots of other islands in the Arctic. I came here because I saw your name on the roster of scientists at the camp...I always figured you’d end up somewhere like this.’

‘Then maybe you’d be better off going to one of the other islands,’ she said steadily.

‘I’m staying here.’ He paused, his eyes narrowed. ‘There’s something else I should tell you—some time in the next week or so, Ivor will be coming here, too.’

Kathrin’s heart gave a great lurch in her breast. ‘ What did you say?’

His face as immobile as if it had been carved from stone, Jud repeated, ‘Ivor will be visiting the camp in the next few days—he pilots the company helicopter.’

‘ No !’ She took two steps backwards over the uneven ground, all the horror of that last meeting with Ivor invading her as if the intervening years had never happened. ‘Not Ivor—not here.’

‘You’re still in love with him,’ Jud accused savagely. ‘For God’s sake, how can you be so blind?’

Scarcely hearing him, Kathrin whispered, ‘Tell me you’re joking, that this is some kind of cruel game. This isn’t a place Ivor would choose to be; he’s not like you and me—why would he come here?’

‘To make money—why else does Ivor go anywhere? Mining, Kit. Uranium and silver. That’s why Ivor’s coming here.’

Her heart was pounding as if she had run all the way from the camp. ‘I never want to see him again,’ she said raggedly.

‘Too bad. Garry told me you’ll be one of the people Ivor will be interviewing. The effect on muskoxen of overhead flights and survey crews,’ he finished mockingly.

Standing as he was on the rocks, Jud towered over her: a man hardened beyond belief. ‘You’re out for revenge, aren’t you?’ Kathrin faltered. ‘That’s what your game is—revenge.’

‘Truth. Not revenge. There’s a big difference. And—believe me—it’s no game.’

She had no answer for him, no reserves to draw upon. In her overwrought state the panorama that only minutes ago had been the harbinger of tranquillity now seemed bleak and inimical, no more home than, ultimately, Thorndean had been. Seeking refuge in action, she hauled on her backpack, turned her back on Jud and headed up the slope as fast as she could.

AN HOUR later Jud and Kathrin reached her tent, a brave yellow triangle on the hillside. Neither of them had spoken a word since they had stopped by the stream; while Kathrin had forced herself to an outward composure, her emotions were still in a turmoil. Ignoring Jud, she set up the viewing scope on its tripod and scanned the width of the valley. ‘No sign of them,’ she said finally. ‘That means at least another two hours to get beyond those cliffs. We’ll have to check the river valley as we go.’

‘I think we should eat here,’ Jud said.

‘Fine by me,’ she answered indifferently, fiddling with the knobs on the tripod.

‘Look at me, Kit.’

‘I hate it when you call me that name.’

‘It’s what I’ve always called you and I plan to continue.’ He went on in a level voice, ‘I had to tell you about Ivor—I didn’t want you meeting him the same way you did me.’

‘Oh, sure,’ she said sarcastically, ‘you’re the soul of kindness.’

He ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. ‘I’m damned if I’m going to spend the next four days trading insults with you! It’s a waste of time and this place asks better of us. Let’s for heaven’s sake call a truce.’

‘I don’t trust you,’ she blurted.

Jud flinched. But his recovery was so quick that Kathrin was left to wonder if she had imagined the pain that had so fleetingly tightened his features. He said irritably, ‘Then let’s bring it down to its lowest level. We’re the only people within ten miles of each other—surely we can at least have a little civilised conversation as we eat.’

It seemed a sensible request. Not that she felt sensible. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she said.

‘Good. If you want to take down your tent, I’ll get supper.’

Anything that kept them busy with separate tasks was fine with Kathrin. She cleaned the dirt from the tent pegs, slid the poles together, and folded everything into a neat bundle, which she stowed on top of her backpack. Then, once again, knowing how easily a lone animal could be missed, she traversed the valley with her scope.

Supper was Pam’s beef stew with home-made bread, and was eaten largely in silence, for Jud, despite his request for civilised conversation, had withdrawn into himself. Seated on a boulder, Kathrin scrubbed her plate clean with a piece of bread. ‘I wonder why food tastes so good out here?’ she ventured.