Lára glanced round with a blithe smile. ‘Don’t worry, we’re a hardy lot. I bet it’ll be fun to picnic out here, even if it is chilly.’ She tugged at the cover with renewed vigour and managed to pull it off to reveal a large oval table.
Ægir thought he had better distract Thráinn before the man made some unguarded comment. Lára could be very unforgiving and was quite capable of bearing a grudge for the rest of the trip. ‘I’ll put it back afterwards. The girls can help me.’ The captain’s expression did not change. Ægir looked out over the harbour and beyond to the deep-blue expanse of sea that awaited them. ‘Is that everything, then?’
‘Where are Halli and Loftur? I want to see them.’ Arna addressed this comment to Thráinn. The boys seemed to have vanished.
‘Halli’s down in the engine room getting ready for departure and Loftur’s giving him a hand.’ The captain raised his eyes from Arna to meet Ægir’s gaze. ‘The yacht’s hardly been moved since the trouble began with the owner, so I had them check the engine even more thoroughly than usual. We don’t want to break down in the middle of the ocean now, do we?’ The question did not appear to be rhetorical.
‘No, I don’t suppose we do.’ A gull took flight from the smooth surface of the sea beside the boat, spreading its long wings to soar lazily over the harbour. Ægir realised he was still clutching his incongruous briefcase, which made it look as if he was about to take himself off to his office and stop getting under the professionals’ feet. He was unwilling to put it down, though; the deck was slippery and there was a risk it might slide overboard.
‘By the way,’ said Thráinn, sounding disgruntled, ‘the Internet doesn’t work and neither does the satellite phone. Weren’t you supposed to take care of that? At least, I was told you were here to deal with that sort of thing.’ He glowered at the briefcase as if it were to blame. ‘Not that it’s essential to have it working – but it would be better.’
Ægir took his eyes off the gull, realising to his chagrin that he felt guilty, as if Thráinn were a strict teacher and he had failed to hand in his homework. The briefcase only heightened the impression. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t manage to sort it out. The owner owed the telecom company a fortune and they were reluctant to open a new account for us unless the debt was paid off. They were being completely unreasonable and would probably have backed down in the end, but I didn’t have time to argue. To arrange it for this trip I’d have had to find another service provider and I have to admit that, not knowing the ropes out here, I didn’t have a clue.’
‘You could have asked me. I’d have found out for you.’ Thráinn glared at Ægir, then at the clock. ‘Well, too late to worry about that now. We’ll be off shortly. You’d better find something to hold on to at first. You’ll soon get used to the motion but there’s no point taking a tumble.’ He disappeared into the pilot house.
Ægir hurriedly stowed his briefcase in a safe place amidst the pile of shopping, glad to be rid of it. He rubbed his upper arms: the air was growing colder and his thin jumper provided little warmth. His wife and daughters were sitting on one of the padded benches in the bows. Lára was tentatively stroking Bylgja’s hair as the girl snuggled up to her chest, apparently intent on the other yachts moored in a seemingly endless row along the docks, but since he couldn’t see her face, her eyes might have been closed behind her smeary glasses. He went over to them and when Lára looked up he kissed her on the brow.
‘What do you say, girls? How do you like it?’ He ran his eyes over the sailing boats that Bylgja was studying and couldn’t help marvelling at how much money there was in the world and how unevenly it was distributed. ‘It won’t be like this all the way. We’re heading north, so it may get a bit rough.’
‘This is fantastic.’ Lára shifted Bylgja’s head. As she smiled, tiny wrinkles appeared round her eyes. Ægir found them charming, though to her they were a source of endless grief. She pressed her lips to Bylgja’s head and spoke into her hair. ‘By the time we’re out on the ocean we’ll have developed our sea legs and the motion will seem like fun.’ She gave her a smacking kiss.
Ægir put his arms round Arna and they sat in silence, watching the activity on shore. Halli came out on deck and jumped up onto the docks, where he cast off the moorings before hopping back down. Again, the hull emitted a booming echo. He disappeared below and shortly afterwards the yacht moved off.
She glided smoothly downriver to the sea. In the evening sunlight the city appeared tranquil, the warm pastel hues of the buildings lovelier than ever. ‘Aren’t you excited, little Miss Speccy?’ Ægir took hold of Bylgja’s soft chin and turned her face towards him. She met his gaze with a woebegone look.
‘Who’ll take care of us now, Daddy?’ She pointed to the huge Christ monument which was rapidly receding into the distance.
‘Jesus, of course. He takes care of everyone, doesn’t he? Wherever they are.’
‘He won’t look after us at sea. He only looks after the city.’
Ægir smiled. ‘No, he doesn’t. He protects everyone, no matter where they are.’ Ahead the ocean waited, vast, rough and pitiless. For the first time in his life he wished he was religious, that he believed in something. Who would watch over them at sea?
‘Hey, are you okay?’ Lára reached over and squeezed his shoulder. ‘You look so sad.’
He shook off his sense of foreboding, making an effort to appear happy. ‘What? Of course. Everything’s fine.’ She didn’t seem to believe him, but turned back to the view without comment. He tried to snap out of his gloom; it would be absurd not to make the most of this moment. It would be fine. According to the captain, the voyage was about one thousand six hundred nautical miles, so if all went to plan they should reach Iceland in five to six days. The weather forecast wasn’t bad and there was no reason to believe this would be anything other than an enjoyable experience. The time would pass quickly enough. Besides, what could possibly go wrong?
Chapter 3
Winter refused to relinquish its grip. Spring kept making fleeting appearances only to vanish again almost immediately, the brief thaws merely serving to kindle false hopes and remind people what they were missing. Thóra shivered as she stood down by the harbour, waiting to meet a representative of the bank’s resolution committee and look around the yacht. Her thin summer coat provided little protection against the north wind, which succeeded now and then, with admirable persistence, in whipping up drops of moisture from the sea, leaving an unpleasant tang of salt on her lips.
‘Oh, why haven’t I been to the hairdresser?’ Thóra’s hair, unusually long for her, kept whipping over her face and plastering itself against the lip-gloss which she now regretted having applied before she got out of the car.
‘How should I know?’ Bella was coping better with the gale than Thóra. No doubt her khaki army jacket was made of thicker fabric than her boss’s coat, and the bulging pockets must have provided good ballast. And her hair was so short that she probably couldn’t mess it up if she tried, even with her hands. Only the enormous baubles dangling from her ears rocked to and fro. ‘When’s this bloke coming, anyway?’
‘Soon.’ It was worse than travelling with her daughter and tiny grandson. Are we there yet? She should never have given in to Bella’s nagging. She was still furious with the secretary about the photocopier, and the fact that Bella couldn’t care less only made her angrier. In point of fact, Thóra herself hadn’t given in; it was Bragi who had insisted that Bella should be allowed to tag along to see the yacht. Thóra had consented with bad grace, aware that this was his revenge for the previous month when she had persuaded him to take Bella to the district court. Thóra had been expecting an important client and the only ploy she could think of to remove the secretary from reception was to ask her to assist Bragi with his case. According to him, far from helping she had contented herself with sitting beside him, alternately fixing the judge and the counsel for the prosecution with a menacing glare. In spite of this they had won, and Bragi, in his modesty, put it down to Bella’s presence, saying that from now on he would always take her along as a mascot when there was a lot riding on a case.