They continued chatting until the clock struck eleven (at ten to, of course). Little of importance had emerged so Thóra seized this opportunity to end their visit and thanked Begga for her hospitality. They were walking away from the house when Begga suddenly called after them: ‘If you do manage to get in touch with Karítas, you might ask her to give me a ring. I need to get hold of her rather urgently about a small misunderstanding over the property tax.’
Thóra turned and looked back at the woman standing in the porch of her daughter’s house, a house that must have required endless outgoings that Begga almost certainly couldn’t afford on her own. Perhaps a smaller home and a larger social circle would have been preferable if the daughter had really wanted to make her mother happy. ‘I’ll do that. Of course.’
They carried on walking but did not hear the door close. No doubt the woman was still standing there, watching them leave, as if to eke out this unremarkable visit. Thóra felt bad as they drove away.
‘What’s the betting that Karítas’s old man has killed her to prevent the divorce or shut her up?’ Bella abandoned the attempt to fasten her seatbelt and turned to face Thóra. ‘Postcard, my arse. Anyone can send a postcard: Having a great time in Rio – kiss, kiss, Karítas. I bet he just copied a sample of her handwriting, then used Google Translate to put it into Icelandic. Think about it – no one’s seen her since she went to fetch the stuff on the yacht.’ In spite of her dislike, Bella had clearly been following the news about her old schoolmate with avid interest.
Thóra was no gambler but she wouldn’t have taken that wager even if she’d been an inveterate risk-taker. ‘Let’s hope that’s not true.’ If only for her mother’s sake.
Chapter 8
‘God, this is good, if I say so myself.’ Lára spoke with her mouth full, but swallowed before continuing: ‘To think that only this morning I was sure no food would ever pass my lips again.’ The family had spent most of the day languishing in the enormous bed, the girls sandwiched between their parents, each with a book that they glanced at whenever they weren’t dozing. Ægir had nodded off a few times himself, only to start awake again immediately, without knowing why. Lára, meanwhile, had slept like a log for at least two hours, untroubled by her husband and daughters’ movements. The pills had made them so drowsy and lethargic that they had wasted the whole afternoon, but thanks to them they were now feeling almost as well as before they had left harbour. Almost – but not quite.
They were all seated in the galley apart from Loftur, whose turn it was to stand watch on the bridge. The family had taken so much trouble over the meal that anyone would have thought it was a celebration. No sooner had the girls revived than they were itching for a distraction, so they were given the task of laying the table for supper. They took the job seriously, unearthing a white tablecloth, stiff with starch; linen napkins which they inserted into silver napkin rings that could have done with a polish, and elegant glasses to match the rest of the tableware. Ægir brought out some wine to complete the party atmosphere. Thráinn had immediately accepted their invitation to dine with them, perhaps because the girls asked him and it was harder to say no to them. Halli had refused at first, but relented when Thráinn dismissed his talk of grabbing a sandwich to eat in his cabin. It was difficult to tell if he regretted his decision but although he hung his head and stared at his plate for most of the meal, he did at least seem grateful for the food.
Lára and Ægir had taken care of the cooking, setting to once they had searched the fridge for something they felt up to digesting. The outcome of their efforts lay before them in large dishes. ‘Cheers.’ Ægir raised his glass and waited for the others to follow suit. ‘Pity we didn’t have the sense to bring along a few bottles of white. We should have known there’d be fish.’
‘That’s all right.’ Thráinn took a deep gulp. ‘We’re not fussy, are we, Halli?’
‘No.’ The young sailor was as taciturn as ever. Perhaps it was his age, or simply that he was unused to having families on board. Ægir would have felt the same if a family of four had invaded his office. Halli sipped his wine, but did not look particularly appreciative. Maybe he was more of a beer drinker; after all, he was considerably younger than the other three adults.
‘It is okay for you two to have a little drink, isn’t it? I mean, if you’re on duty?’ Lára forked up another piece of fish.
‘Sure. We’re on autopilot and cruising at a gentle speed. We go as slowly as possible at night, but make up for it during the day. Since we’re just pottering along at the moment it doesn’t matter if we have something to drink. I’ll be my usual self when I take over the watch later. Don’t worry – it takes more than a couple of glasses of wine to get me drunk.’
‘Who sails the boat at night?’ asked Bylgja.
‘We take it in turns to keep watch, but there isn’t much to do. We just lie on the couch within reach, and plot our position at hourly intervals in case anything goes wrong.’
‘Like what?’ Arna looked up from the search for fish bones that had delayed her from starting her meal. Her tuna steak had been shredded to pieces.
Thráinn looked ill at ease; evidently he hadn’t been prepared for the question. ‘Well, mainly it’s so we’ll know where we are if there’s a power cut and the GPS drops out. But if the electricity did go, it’s unlikely to be serious, and it’s not going to happen anyway. And even if something else went wrong, we’d be all right; in the worst case scenario we’d have to request assistance from another ship.’
‘But there aren’t any other ships out here.’ Bylgja was eating more dutifully than Arna and had more colour back in her cheeks, perhaps because she had succumbed to the sickness first. Neither had mentioned Karítas or nightmares again, which was a relief. ‘We haven’t seen any and can’t hear any either.’
‘They’re out there even if we can’t see them. The sea’s very, very big. But if you’re interested I can show you the equipment on the bridge that tells us what vessels are nearby. We’ve got radar too, of course.’
‘To find our way?’ Bylgja looked up from her plate.
Thráinn smiled. ‘Yes, you could say that. Radar shows us what’s in the sea around us so we don’t collide with anything.’
Lára topped up Thráinn’s glass. Until now the men had behaved as if the family were not there. They would reply if asked a direct question but never volunteered any comment. Halli and Loftur were still rather aloof but Thráinn at least seemed to be thawing. ‘Have you crewed this yacht before?’ Although she didn’t let on, Lára was hoping they might be able to share some indiscreet titbits of gossip about Karítas. She had read so many articles and news items about her in the tabloids that she almost felt she knew her.
‘No, I’d never set eyes on the boat till the other day. I must say I wouldn’t have minded sailing her round the Med in summer. Or the Caribbean.’ Thráinn peered out into the darkness. It had begun to rain as they sat down to eat and the drops rattled on the windows, making it feel quite cosy inside. ‘Though I gather it’s almost a charity gig to crew these yachts; they don’t pay half as well as the trawlers. People with money tend to be pretty tight with the purse strings.’