The Silence of the Sea

Chapter 4

‘I want to stick the picture of Sigga Dögg here. Then we’ll see her every time we go to bed and can kiss her good night.’ Arna held the photo of their sister up to the headboard. ‘Is that in the middle?’

Lára came over to the foot of the bed. ‘Yes, that’s perfect.’ She sat down beside her daughters. ‘Lift it off so I can fix it.’ She stuck small greyish lumps of blu-tack under the corners and pressed them firmly down. ‘There.’ She put the packet of blu-tack back in Bylgja’s school bag and closed it. ‘You must do some homework tomorrow. I promised your teacher you’d keep up while you were on holiday, and this extra cruise is no exception.’ She leant back a little to see how the photo looked. Her two-year-old daughter beamed back at them, happy and carefree, sitting on the swing Ægir had installed in the back garden. Gazing as if hypnotised by her little daughter’s round face, Lára felt suddenly sad. It was probably the after-effects of the unsatisfactory phone call to her in-laws, who were looking after the child. She had rung them from on deck just after the yacht left port so they could all say goodbye to Sigga Dögg before they lost reception. But, as was only to be expected, the little girl hadn’t grasped what was happening. Now Lára wished she had said more and made a greater effort to help the child understand. She should have told her how much they all loved her and that she should be a good girl. A good person.

Lára shook herself. She was being melodramatic, and besides it was too late to start having regrets now as, according to the captain, they wouldn’t have reception again until they were within a few nautical miles of the Icelandic coast. And since Ægir hadn’t managed to organise a satellite phone connection on board, there would be no more conversations with Sigga Dögg on this trip.

‘Mummy, I’ve got a tummy ache.’ Bylgja was lying beside her sister, her glasses perched crookedly on her small nose, looking even paler than usual. Lára only had to compare her with her sister to realise that this was not down to the mood lighting in the cabin.

‘You’re seasick.’ Arna gave her sister a disgusted look. ‘You’re going to puke your guts up.’

Lára laid her hand on Bylgja’s forehead: it was damp. She had no idea if there was a cure for seasickness. They should have read up on it before setting off, but the voyage had been sprung on them with so little notice. Doubtless this would not be the only such problem to arise but it couldn’t be helped. Surely the captain must know how to deal with all kinds of contingencies, including nausea? ‘Just because you feel queasy it doesn’t mean you’re going to throw up, darling.’ Bylgja looked relieved at this piece of spurious wisdom. ‘Now, wait here and I’ll bring a wet flannel to put on your forehead. Maybe you should drink a little Coke too. It can help when you’re feeling sick.’

‘No, thanks.’ Bylgja grimaced; she didn’t like the idea of swallowing anything. ‘My tummy feels strange.’ She met her mother’s eyes imploringly. ‘I don’t want to puke my guts up.’

‘No one likes being sick, darling. If you stay lying down, I’m sure it won’t happen.’ She fetched a flannel from the bathroom, grabbing the small bin just in case. She wasn’t feeling too well herself; the drone of the engine and the rolling of the ship caused a sensation not unlike breathing in cigarette smoke when one had a hangover.

‘Bylgja thinks we’re going to sink.’ Arna’s voice held the aggrieved note that both resorted to when complaining about each other to their parents, though, to be fair, Arna did this rarely and Bylgja almost never.

Lára was aware that her smile failed to reach her eyes. She too had been assailed by a vague sense of unease. It was only natural, given that this was her first time at sea apart from a few ferry trips to the Westman Islands. Their surroundings were unfamiliar; she had swapped the security of dry land for life on shipboard. There would be no going to hospital if anyone fell ill out here. No dentist if they developed toothache. And no shop to run out to if they realised they’d forgotten something. But that wasn’t the worst; the worst was the seemingly infinite vastness of the Atlantic. Lára had often seen maps of the world that showed the size of the oceans relative to the landmass, but representations like that simply could not do justice to the huge flat expanse that now confronted them on all sides. Sea, sea, endless sea. They had better notice if someone fell overboard, or that person wouldn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of being rescued. ‘Of course we’re not going to sink. Nothing can happen to a boat like this.’ Seeing that the girls were unconvinced, she added: ‘I asked Captain Thráinn and he said this boat is unsinkable. So you needn’t worry – about anything.’ That seemed to work. She wished she believed her own words.

Bylgja closed her eyes behind her wonky glasses and lay back on the pillow. Arna darted her a rather resentful look, fiddling with the Snakes and Ladders game she had been hoping to play before lights out. ‘Read your book, darling. Bylgja needs to rest now but she’ll be fine in the morning.’ Lára lifted the glasses gently from Bylgja’s face and placed them on the bedside table.

‘What about you? Won’t you play?’ Arna already knew the answer: Lára had many excellent qualities as a parent but playing games with her daughters was not one of them.

‘No, darling. I’m going to see Daddy for a while, but we’ll come down and check on you before you go to sleep.’ She kissed them both on the cheek, adding to Arna in an undertone: ‘Come and find us at once if Bylgja starts throwing up. We’ll be on deck.’ From the doorway, she blew them each a kiss, then added a third, directed at the picture of Sigga Dögg. The toddler stared back at her from the glossy paper with lifeless eyes, her fat fingers clasped firmly around the ropes of the swing.

‘Do you know anything about seasickness?’ Lára flopped down beside Ægir on the padded bench on the foredeck. He had opened a bottle of red wine and rustled up two glasses. ‘I think Bylgja’s suffering. Or heading that way.’ She ran her hands through her hair and sighed. ‘You can pour me a little wine – or a lot, actually. I’m feeling a bit woozy myself but it can’t hurt.’

Ægir half-filled their glasses, as they had learnt on the wine course Lára had given him as a birthday present. ‘All I know is that there’s no cure, except to get some fresh air, I think, and stay on deck.’ He couldn’t remember where he had learnt this, as there had been no mention of seasickness on his sailing course. He sipped his wine. ‘God, that’s good. We chose well there.’ He looked forward to being able to allow himself such luxuries more often; most of their money worries were now over and the prospect of a comfortable future lay ahead. Growing older wasn’t as bad as people said.

Lára followed his example, but took a much larger gulp. ‘Should we fetch her? She could lie here beside us. She was asleep, though, or just dropping off, so maybe it’s not such a good idea.’ She replaced her glass on the table. It had a wide bowl and an unusually long stem; presumably not cheap – probably ludicrously expensive. ‘Maybe I should ask Thráinn’s advice?’

‘Oh, no.’ Ægir put his arm round her. ‘Leave him be for now. He might want to join us and I can’t face having to deal with him at the moment. Let’s just enjoy being alone together.’

It was very dark; next to nothing could be seen beyond the rail. The night might have been concealing anything; they could have been on shore were it not for the slapping of the waves and the soothing pitching of the yacht. Lára averted her gaze from the blackness and concentrated on Ægir’s dimly lit face. ‘Bylgja’s afraid the yacht’s going to sink.’ She tried to laugh as if it was funny but could hear how fake it sounded. ‘I told her there was no chance. I am right, aren’t I?’

‘Of course you are.’ Ægir ran a finger down the stem of his glass, making it squeak. ‘I mean, there are circumstances in which the yacht could founder, but we’re talking major storms or collisions with other ships, that kind of thing.’ He realised this was not what Lára wanted to hear. ‘But there’s no likelihood of that on this voyage. None at all.’

Lára was reluctant to pursue the subject. She didn’t want to look out into the encroaching darkness either, to be reminded of how alone and abandoned they were. It would have been different if she could have hoped to see the lights of other ships or stars twinkling between the clouds. They had seen any number of larger and smaller vessels as they left the coast of Portugal, but the further they had travelled from land, the fewer other ships they had seen, until at last they might have been alone in the world. ‘I’d have preferred to sit on the aft deck.’ She glanced up at the large windows of the pilot house. ‘It makes me so uncomfortable to think of those three up there spying us.’

‘They’re not.’ Ægir turned to look at the pilot house, which was on the level above them. ‘Take a look. There’s no one there. I think Thráinn’s gone to bed and Loftur’s reading in the saloon, so Halli must be manning the bridge alone and it’s not as if he has to stand at the helm, staring ahead. It’s all more or less automatic.’

No sooner had Ægir turned away from the bridge than Halli’s dyed thatch of hair appeared. Lára couldn’t discern his face properly but she could tell that he was watching them. ‘He’s looking our way.’ She murmured the words as if afraid he could lip-read. ‘What on earth’s the matter with him?’

‘Stop it. He can’t even see us. He’s inside a brightly lit room and we’re outside in the dark. Just because we can see him doesn’t mean he can see us.’ Nevertheless Ægir blew out the tea-light in the little candle-holder he had found in the galley. ‘There, now it’s impossible for him to watch us. I can scarcely make you out and you’re right beside me.’

Although what Ægir said sounded sensible, Lára could have sworn that Halli was peering at them. ‘He makes me uneasy somehow. I was trying to catch his attention earlier but he pretended not to notice and didn’t even look round. He never speaks either, just stares when he thinks we’re not looking. He does it to the girls too and it makes my flesh crawl. His expression’s so sinister – as if he’d like to throw them overboard.’

‘Stop it, will you? He’s just an ordinary bloke who doesn’t have much time for kids. I’ve yet to meet a young man who dotes on them if he doesn’t have children himself. You’d be more worried if he was over keen.’

Lára bit her lip but couldn’t tear her eyes away from that white head. She didn’t relax until he had vanished from the window. Then she took another sip of wine and leant against Ægir. ‘What do you think it’s like to be stinking rich and live like this all the time?’

‘All right, I suppose. Though it must be stressful too. Imagine what the guy who owns this boat felt like when his world came crashing down. It must have been horrendous. Especially as he must have been aware that no one manages to amass a second fortune like that.’

‘Did he lose the lot?’

‘I doubt it. It’s unbelievable how many smokescreens people like him manage to erect when it comes to money. Stashing it away here and there, using all kinds of shell companies and front men, so it’s impossible to get to the bottom of it all. What we have managed to recover from his bankruptcy suggests that he’s got a fortune hidden away somewhere. Probably in so many different places he’s lost count.’ The yacht gave a sudden lurch before resuming her former lazy rocking. Ægir had to grab the back of the bench to keep his balance. ‘Apparently his wife Karítas possessed some information that she was prepared to share with us on condition that she got to keep what was registered in her name. But she changed her mind – no doubt in return for a substantial bribe. Or maybe she had nothing to gain because it turned out that the whole lot was in her husband’s name after all.’

‘She changed her mind?’ Lára loosened her grip on the table edge. ‘How terribly convenient.’

‘You’re telling me.’ Ægir took another sip of wine, with a look of satisfaction that even the darkness could not hide. ‘In spite of that we’ve managed to seize a considerable proportion of the guy’s assets. Like this yacht, for example. At least he can’t cruise around in luxury any more, with staff to cater to his every need. But I bet he’s still pretty comfortably off. Our life is a hard grind by comparison.’

‘Her dresses are still hanging in the closets in our cabin. I was going to unpack but there’s no room to put anything away. Do you think she minded losing all those clothes? I’d have taken them with me.’

Ægir drained his glass, leaving only the dregs behind. ‘The yacht was sealed off without warning. They didn’t have time to remove any belongings. Anyhow, I bet she’s got so many clothes she wouldn’t even notice. Having said that, Thráinn did mention that the seal had been broken when he came on board, though nothing appeared to have been taken. The lock was intact, so whoever meant to break in probably gave up. Maybe he was disturbed or lost his nerve.’

‘Unless it was Karítas or her husband. Someone with a key.’ Lára took another mouthful of wine, shooting a quick glance at the bridge: Halli was nowhere to be seen. ‘Though come to think of it, it can hardly have been her or she’d have taken the clothes.’

‘I doubt Karítas needs those dresses. I’m sure she’s perfectly well off.’

‘Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you don’t have clothes that you’re really attached to and want to wear again and again. Especially evening dresses like those.’ Reaching for the bottle, she took Ægir’s glass and refilled it almost up to the brim; she had learnt less than him on the wine course. ‘Do you think I’d fit into them? If I get bored perhaps I could amuse myself by trying them on.’

‘I think you should leave them alone.’ Ægir took the glass back, looking a little disapproving when he saw how full it was. ‘I’d rather we didn’t touch more than necessary.’ He smiled. ‘Just the essentials, like these glasses. We couldn’t have drunk fine wine like this out of coffee mugs.’

A loud knocking sounded above their heads, causing Lára to jump so badly that she slopped her wine and nearly swept everything off the table. ‘What on earth was that?’ Looking up, she saw Halli standing at the window, banging on the glass. He beckoned to them.

Ægir raised his brows. ‘What do you suppose he wants?’

‘There’s only one way to find out.’ Lára stood up. ‘Bring the bottle; it’s getting chilly out here. Let’s go inside after we’ve spoken to him. We’ll be more comfortable in the saloon. And we won’t have to put up with his spying any more.’

‘Have you forgotten that Loftur’s lying on the sofa in there?’

‘We’ll scare him away by coming over all lovey-dovey.’ She grinned and gave him a long hard kiss on his unshaven jaw, until she was forced to do a sudden sidestep by the plunging of the yacht. Apparently the sea didn’t approve of such intimacy.

‘I told you we’d be on deck, darling. Why didn’t you go there?’ Lára tucked Arna into bed and picked up her book from the floor, where it must have fallen when the little girl nodded off.

‘I couldn’t remember if you said you’d be at the front or the back, and I didn’t dare go out and end up on the wrong side. I thought I’d better find the captain and ask him for help. But he wasn’t there, only Halli.’

‘That was a good idea.’ Ægir stroked the hair from Bylgja’s brow and felt it with his hand. ‘She hasn’t got a temperature; she just feels a bit clammy. Maybe it’s passed. She hasn’t thrown up, has she, Arna?’

The other girl shook her head. ‘She was asleep. I was going to wake her up but I was afraid she’d puke all over me. That’s why I ran – I didn’t want to leave her alone here too long. Not with that woman.’

‘Woman?’ Lára felt Arna’s forehead, to check if she too was coming down with a fever. Perhaps both girls had caught a bug during the holiday. ‘What woman?’

‘The woman in my dream. She wanted to hurt me. And Bylgja.’

‘You were dreaming. There’s only one woman on board, and that’s me. You don’t think I’d hurt you?’ She pressed the tip of her daughter’s nose. ‘Never in a million years.’

Her words had no effect. ‘She doesn’t want us here. Maybe it’s her bed.’ Arna sat up. ‘Can we sleep with you?’

‘Hey, it was just a dream, poppet. No one owns this bed, except maybe the people at Daddy’s office. And they don’t mind in the least if you sleep here. No mysterious woman has any say in the matter. If you close your eyes, I’ll sit here beside you until you go to sleep. But the moment you open them, I’m going. Deal?’

Arna agreed and after turning out the light Lára sat down beside her. Ægir tiptoed over to the door, bracing himself against the wall in the steadily increasing swell. As he pulled the door quietly to behind him, Lára opened her mouth to ask him to leave it open a crack but changed her mind; the door would only bang if it was left ajar. She put her arm round her daughter and before long the girl’s breathing was deep and regular. Unable to bring herself to get up straight away, she stayed on, listening to the girls sleep. When she finally eased herself carefully to her feet, Arna stirred, frowning as if she was having another nightmare. Lára considered staying with her but then Arna quietened down again, and Ægir was waiting above. Pausing in the doorway, she wrinkled her nose. She smelt a waft of strong, heavy perfume that seemed to emanate from the corridor. But that couldn’t be right, because when she stepped out of the cabin to sniff the air, the scent seemed fainter outside. And when she checked again it had gone.

She shrugged, closed the door to the girls’ cabin and made her way out along the narrow, dimly lit corridor.