Katrín got to her feet but couldn’t see the house from where she stood on deck. From one of the panoramic shots that Garðar had taken of the area it had looked as if it was located at the edge of the settlement, but rather high up, so it should be visible. What if it had simply collapsed after Garðar and Líf had been on their reconnaissance trip? Nearly two months had passed since then, and the area was subject to no small amount of foul weather. She was about to suggest that they verify this before the boat sailed away when the skipper, doubtless starting to worry that he might have to carry them off the boat, said: ‘Well, at least you’re lucky with the weather.’ He looked up at the sky. ‘It could still change despite the forecast, so you should be prepared for anything.’
‘We are. Just look at all this stuff.’ Garðar smiled, a trace of his previous conviction returning to his voice. ‘I think the only thing we have to fear is pulled muscles.’
‘If you say so.’ The captain didn’t elaborate on this, and instead lifted a box onto the pier. ‘I hope you have fully charged phones; if you climb up to the top of that hill you can get a connection. There’s no point trying down here.’
Garðar and Katrín both looked towards the hill, which seemed more like a mountain to them. Líf was still staring back at the eddying black surface of the sea. ‘That’s good to know.’ Garðar patted his coat pocket. ‘Hopefully we won’t have any need for them. We should be able to make it through the week; we’ll wait for you here at the pier, like we discussed.’
‘Bear in mind that I can’t make it out here if the weather is bad. But if that’s the case, I’ll come as soon as it clears up. If it’s a bit rough, obviously you don’t need to stand here waiting on the pier; I’ll come up to the house to get you. You can’t hang around here in the cold and wind.’ The man turned and looked over the fjord. ‘The forecast is fair, but a lot can change in a week. It doesn’t take much to make the boat bob like a cork, so we’ll have to hope it’s not too rough.’
‘How bad does the weather have to be to stop you from coming?’ Katrín tried to hide her irritation at this pronouncement. Why hadn’t he told them this before they made arrangements with him? Maybe they would have hired a bigger boat. But as soon as the thought entered her mind, she realized that they wouldn’t; a bigger boat would have cost far more.
‘If the waves are high on the open sea it’s not likely I’d attempt it.’ He looked back over the fjord again and nodded at the water. ‘I won’t sail if they’re much worse than this.’ Then he turned to face them. ‘I need to get going.’ He went to the stack of supplies on deck and passed Garðar the mattress that was lying on top. They formed an assembly line to move the boxes, paint pots, firewood, tools and black bin bags stuffed with non-breakable items onto the floating pier. While Katrín arranged the items along the pier to keep the end of it free, Líf was allowed to rest. She was in a bad way; it was all she could do just to hobble onto land and lie down near the top of the beach. Putti followed her, jumping about on the sand, obviously delighted to have solid ground under his feet and blind to the sorry condition of his owner. It took all Katrín’s strength to keep up with the men, and sometimes they were forced to jump onto the pier to help her. Finally the cargo stood in a long line on the dock, a kind of guard of honour for the visitors. The skipper started shuffling his feet impatiently. He seemed more eager than them to part company. His presence provided a sense of security that would disappear with his little boat over the horizon; unlike them, he had dealt with the forces of nature before and would be prepared for whatever might befall him. Both Garðar and Katrín flirted with the idea of asking him to stay and give them a helping hand, but neither of them expressed it. Finally the man brought things to a close. ‘Well, all you need to do now is get ashore, and you’re on your way.’ He directed his words at Garðar, who smiled half-heartedly, then clambered onto the floating pier. He and Katrín stood there, staring down at the man with bewildered expressions. He looked away, half embarrassed.
‘You’ll be fine. I just hope your friend feels better.’ He nodded towards Líf, who was now sitting up. Her white jacket stood out sharply, a reflection of how poorly the new visitors fitted into these surroundings. ‘See, the poor love seems to be feeling better already.’ His words failed to cheer them up – if that had been his intention – and Katrín wondered how they looked to him: a couple from Reykjavík, a teacher and a graduate in business administration, both barely over thirty and neither of them cut out for any great physical exertion; not to mention the third wheel, who could barely lift her head. ‘I’m sure everything will be all right,’ the captain repeated gruffly, but without much conviction. ‘But you shouldn’t wait too long to get your gear up to the house; it’ll be dark soon.’
A heavy, tangled lock of hair blew across Katrín’s eyes. In all the rush not to forget anything on the list of necessary building materials and supplies, she had forgotten to bring hair-bands. Líf claimed she’d only brought one with her and had had to use it during the sea crossing to keep her hair out of her face as she vomited. Katrín tried to push the hair back with her fingers, but the wind immediately ruffled it again. Garðar’s hair wasn’t faring much better, though it was a lot shorter than hers. Their hiking shoes looked like they’d been bought specifically for this trip, and although their windproof trousers and jackets weren’t brand new, they might just as well have been – they’d been given them as wedding presents by Garðar’s siblings, but this was the first time they’d had a chance to use them. Líf had bought her white ski-suit for a skiing trip to Italy and it was about as appropriate to their current environment as a bathrobe. It was also clear from their pale skin that they weren’t big on outdoor pursuits. At least they were all in good shape from spending hours at the gym, although Katrín suspected that whatever strength they’d managed to build up was unlikely to be sufficient for the work they’d be doing here.
‘Do you know if any other visitors are expected to come here this week?’ Katrín crossed her fingers behind her back. If so, there would still be hope that they could get a ride home earlier if everything went badly for them.
The skipper shook his head. ‘You don’t know much about this place, do you?’ They hadn’t been able to talk much on the way due to the noise of the engine.
‘No. Not really.’
‘No one comes here except during the summer, since there’s no real reason to be here in the dead of winter. People stay in one of the houses over the New Year, and one or two house-owners pop over sometimes to make sure that everything’s in order, but otherwise it’s empty here during the winter months.’ The man stopped and looked over what was visible of the settlement. ‘Which house was it you bought?’