‘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.
‘Sigga Dögg doesn’t know Mummy’s dead.’ Arna closed her eyes. ‘She’s so lucky.’
‘She’ll find out, darling, as soon as we see her again. But I’m not sure she’ll understand. She’s so young.’
‘She’s still lucky. I wish I didn’t know.’
‘Me too.’ He would have given anything to have Lára back but, since that was impossible, he wished he could have deceived himself, even if only for a few days or until they reached port. Having to cope with the grief and terrifying uncertainty at the same time was unendurable. He felt as if the chances of a happy ending would be many times greater if all he had to contend with right now was the uncertainty. But deep down he knew it wasn’t like that; there could be no good moves in this game.
‘Can we go up on deck and see if we can spot Iceland?’
‘No,’ he snapped and immediately regretted how harsh it sounded. He didn’t want Arna to suspect that something even worse had happened. ‘It’s too dark. We wouldn’t be able to see.’
‘We would. There might be lights. You can see lights from outer space.’
‘That only applies to big cities. I’m sure Reykjavík isn’t visible from space or from this far out at sea, for that matter.’ He lacked the energy to explain about the curvature of the earth. ‘All there’d be is black sea and more black sea.’
‘Perhaps the captain has binoculars that work in the dark. We could go and find him. I don’t believe he’s a bad man.’
‘No, I don’t suppose he is, but it doesn’t change the fact that only soldiers and commandos have binoculars like that. They cost a bomb and, anyway, sailors don’t need to see in the dark; they have radar and all kinds of other equipment to do it for them.’ Ægir hastily steered the conversation away from Thráinn; it was easier to talk nonsense about binoculars. The memory of how the man’s body had floated away was too horrible, and somewhere at the back of his mind a voice whispered that the captain had not been quite dead when he was thrown overboard. The voice grew ever more insistent, though Ægir didn’t believe it. If that had been true, surely Thráinn would have at least attempted to raise his head out of the water? And what did it matter if he had drowned within reach? Thráinn had given Lára the gun and Ægir would never forgive him for that. It had almost certainly influenced his decision to do nothing as Thráinn vanished into the darkness. The captain was to blame for Lára’s death. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. ‘Aren’t you thirsty?’
Arna shook her head and lay down on her back. She stared up at the same ceiling tile as Ægir had focused on earlier; perhaps like him she found it soothing to have nothing but its blank white surface before her eyes, not reminding her of anything. He longed to lie down beside her and copy her example but stopped himself. There were important matters to think about; such as how to act for the best in their current predicament. A noise overhead made him start and shoot an involuntary glance at the ceiling. It sounded as if it was coming from the same deck that Thráinn’s body had been dragged over. The noise, innocent enough in itself, would not have startled him in other circumstances, but now it reminded him that Halli was still at large and doubtless preparing his next move, which would surely be aimed against him and the girls. ‘What’s the matter, Daddy?’ Arna had turned to him and her face reflected his own alarm.
‘Nothing, darling. I’m just tired.’
‘Do you think it’s the bad man? The man Halli said was on the boat?’
‘No. There’s no one else here. It’s probably only Halli.’ Ægir had to make sure that neither Arna nor Bylgja found out what had happened to Thráinn. If they panicked it would make the whole situation far worse. Things were bad enough already. ‘Or Thráinn.’ All at once he regretted throwing the gun overboard. If he hadn’t, he could have hunted Halli down and killed him. The thought wasn’t in the least shocking. On the contrary, it was so tempting that he allowed his mind to play out the sequence of events, a smile rising to his lips as he blasted imaginary bullets into the young man’s back. It faded the instant Ægir forced himself back to earth. He must concentrate.
Bylgja stirred and half-opened her eyes. She appeared to be still asleep, though her gaze was resting on the colouring book that lay open in front of her. Arna passed her the red glasses and she sat up, struggling to focus, yawned and put them on. ‘I dreamt about Mummy.’
‘I didn’t.’ Arna looked hurt, as if her mother had been showing favouritism from beyond the grave. ‘I didn’t dream about anything.’
Ægir tried to block out his daughters’ chatter and concentrate on the sounds outside. Halli must need to sleep at some point as he’d had no more rest than Ægir. Even if he’d seized the opportunity while Ægir was dozing, a short nap like that would not have been enough to overcome his fatigue. But if Ægir could find out when next Halli went to sleep, he would have a chance to act to secure his daughters’ safety. For that he would need a plan, though. So far the only idea that had occurred to him was to escape in a lifeboat. Perhaps that would do. He didn’t have time to consider all the options and assess which was the right one. After all, there was no right decision.
They heard the door to the corridor open, then slam shut. Ægir gasped, feeling his heart miss a beat. What if there was another gun on board and Halli had got hold of it? What point would there be planning their getaway or trying to defend themselves? ‘Who’s that, Daddy?’ Arna whispered anxiously. She must sense that he felt threatened by whoever was out there. He laid a finger on his lips. The girls’ eyes widened and Bylgja clasped her hands over her mouth as if to prevent herself from screaming. Ægir came close to emulating her when he pressed his ear to the door and heard somebody walking along the corridor, systematically trying the handles to the cabins. Adrenaline coursed through Ægir’s veins for the split second that he doubted he had locked the door. But when their handle was grasped from outside, the door remained shut. All three stared transfixed at the handle, which remained motionless for a moment before someone turned it again, more forcefully. None of them said a word or moved so much as a little finger, as if they were actors in a film that had been paused. Not until they heard footsteps retreating down the corridor and the door at the end opening and closing again did they draw breath.