Why Did You Lie? (31 page)

Inside Vala was standing by the washing machine, bending over a box. She turned slowly but because of the swelling it was impossible to tell if she was surprised. She seemed somehow unreal, as if the Vala he had married was hidden inside a stranger.

‘What on earth are you doing?’ Nói moved closer to see what was concealed in the box but Vala tried desperately to shake her head. She had something in her left hand and was trying to hide it under her baggy T-shirt.

‘What have you got there?’ Nói stepped in front of her and she gave up her vain attempt to conceal the evidence. She held out several sheets of paper, then pointed at the box where two more were lying on top of an old pair of trainers. They were the same kind of notes as had turned up in the chalet and in the hall earlier that evening, and the messages were of the same sort:
Why did you lie?
;
The day of reckoning is nigh
;
Just you wait, liar
, and more in that vein.

‘When did these arrive?’ Nói met his wife’s eyes and she mumbled incomprehensibly. He would have to phrase the question better. ‘Did they come just now?’ She shook her head:
No.
‘Did they come before we went abroad?’ She nodded:
Yes
. ‘Do you know who sent them?’ She didn’t react. He stared at her in disbelief. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? You must know what’s going on if you hid these from me, and if so you must know who sent them.’

Another feeble head-shake:
No
. Tears ran down her cheeks. They must have stung but Vala didn’t appear to notice. Again she shook her head:
No
.

Chapter 26

28 January 2014

‘Is this night ever going to end?’ Heida is so hoarse that Helgi passes her the bottle, despite their resolve to drink as little water as possible. They can always melt some snow. Besides, it doesn’t matter if they run out because they’re going to be rescued at daybreak – if that ever comes. Time is still creeping forward with an agonising slowness. The air in the lighthouse is dank. Since the storm died down the weather has turned frosty and still, but they are able to keep reasonably warm thanks to each other’s body heat. They are all pretty stiff by now, though.

‘I need to stretch my legs. Are you coming?’ Helgi takes back the water bottle once Heida has sipped a little. ‘I want to see if the stars are still out; look at something other than these four walls. Even if it’s only darkness.’

She looks at him with a hint of hesitation and doubt in her weary face, then nods slowly and struggles to her feet. They are both sitting swaddled in their sleeping bags but haven’t dared to lie down. If they do, they’re afraid they’ll nod off, which would put paid to their decision to stay on guard all night. Ívar did his best to make himself comfortable, then fell sound asleep almost instantly. Neither of them prodded him or made any effort to keep him awake, despite the thunderous concert of snoring that ensued. They have been speaking in an undertone ever since for fear of waking him.

The knife is nowhere to be seen, though Helgi has made rather feeble attempts to get Ívar to admit that he no longer has it. He’s a failure both as an actor and as a storyteller. Adopting an exaggeratedly hearty manner he had pretended he needed the knife to fix the zip on his sleeping bag. The excuse could have been better thought out as Ívar immediately wanted to see what was wrong. And of course the zip turned out to be working perfectly. Ívar gave Helgi a puzzled look, then shook his head and returned to his spot. His hand never moved towards the empty sheath. It was fortunate he didn’t look in Heida’s direction as she could have been posing for Munch’s
The Scream
: mouth agape, hands clamped to her cheeks. She had obviously been expecting a fight to break out. Her look of terror had faded once it was clear that peace would be maintained for the moment, but he could tell she hadn’t relaxed until Ívar fell asleep.

Ívar doesn’t stir as they climb out and close the door behind them.

‘I read somewhere that there are fewer stars visible in the night sky than there are Cheerios in a full packet.’ Heida gazes up at the heavens. The gale has dragged the clouds away with it, south over the sea, and countless stars are now glimmering overhead. ‘Though I find it hard to believe. The person who claimed that can’t have been here.’

‘No, I suppose not.’ Helgi clenches his fists in his anorak pockets and curses himself yet again for losing one of his gloves. ‘It’s really beautiful. A great improvement on the ceiling of the lighthouse. I feel as if I’ve been staring at whitewashed concrete for the last ten years. I couldn’t take it any more. I’m almost prepared to try and survive out here until it grows light.’

‘But it’s freezing. You’ll die of cold.’ From her tone, Heida doesn’t seem to regard this as such a bad fate, but she adds: ‘Just because something’s beautiful doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous.’

‘I know.’ Helgi is still gazing at the heavens. He could add that he has never personally experienced true beauty. Whenever he comes across glorious scenery he whips out his camera, which effectively forms a barrier between himself and the subject. And the people who have crossed his path have never been particularly beautiful, either inside or out. But no, his sojourn on the rock must be making him cynical. Of course he’s met beautiful, kind people. ‘God, I can’t wait to get out of here. I just hope I don’t develop claustrophobia as a result of this miserable experience.’

‘No, I’m sure you won’t.’ Heida picks her way carefully over to the helipad and Helgi follows. On the way she turns and looks at him, her eyes dark, her face like ivory in the moonlight. ‘You haven’t taken many pictures since we were stranded here. Why not?’

‘I’ve photographed every single rock, so taking more pictures wouldn’t achieve anything. And I don’t particularly want photos of us three, squashed in there.’ It’s none of her business but the main reason is that it will make it easier for him to shake off the press when they start pursuing him after all this is over. He’ll lie that his batteries ran out and the only pictures he has were taken before disaster struck. If it is established that Tóti was murdered, he will have no peace from people making him offers for photos of the scene, so it’s better not to put himself in temptation’s way. He’s not entirely sure why he’s intending to let such a fantastic opportunity slip through his fingers but thinks it probably has something to do with the feeling that he would be betraying those who shared his predicament. Even though he doesn’t really care for them. Especially not Ívar. Maybe he likes Heida more than he realises. ‘If you’d like a photo of yourself standing here in the middle of the night, I can fetch my camera.’

‘Thanks but no thanks.’ She straightens up once she has the concrete helipad underfoot. ‘Do you honestly think we’ll get home?’ She has lost interest in him and his pictures.

‘I can’t imagine what could prevent us now. The weather seems OK and it can’t change that much by morning. And the problem with the helicopter’s been fixed, so it looks to me as if we’re almost home and dry.’ He had received a text message just before midnight informing them that the repairs were completed. He would have preferred a phone call but he could understand why the coastguard didn’t want to talk to them. ‘It would be bloody unlucky if anything happened to stop it coming now.’

‘Luck hasn’t exactly been smiling on us so far.’

‘I don’t know. We’re alive, which is more than can be said for Tóti.’ Helgi kicks a pebble, which bounces across the platform and over the edge. He listens for a faint splash but hears nothing, despite the hush. The seabirds are either roosting for the night or floating on the sea, somewhere far below.

‘Don’t talk about him.’ Heida’s tone is pleading. ‘I’d rather not have to hear his name again any time soon, though I suppose I’ll have to if what you say about the police turns out to be right.’ Her sigh produces a white jet of steam.

Helgi can’t now remember what he said when they discussed the possibility of arrest and a police inquiry into Tóti’s death. They talked so much that he can no longer recall who said what. Nor does he want to remember. ‘I can’t work out if I’m more hungry or thirsty. The question is, should we eat the small amount of food we’ve got left and put up with being hungry tomorrow?’

‘Yes.’ Heida’s eyes are shining. ‘Let’s. Do you think we can do it without waking Ívar?’

‘I wasn’t suggesting we should leave him out. It wouldn’t be fair and, anyway, it could be risky. I’d rather listen to my stomach rumbling than you two screeching at each other again.’

‘I don’t screech.’ Heida turns her head away and Helgi wonders if he’s made her angry again. ‘I just don’t understand why we should feed a dangerous lunatic like him. It’ll only make him stronger. It would be best for everyone if he slept till the chopper arrives.’

‘But what if he wakes up hungry in the night? Or the chopper doesn’t come? What then?’ Earlier that evening Helgi had decided to avoid mentioning anything that could exacerbate his companions’ pessimism. Now he has let this slip out, he doesn’t know how to recover the situation. ‘But of course it’ll come – all I meant is, what if he wakes up early and demands his share of the food?’

‘We’ll leave some for him. Since you insist. I have no desire to eat with him, though. I want to eat out here. In the open air, as far away from him as possible.’

The idea appeals to Helgi: it’s not often he is invited to dine under the stars with an attractive woman. ‘Did you always feel this way about Ívar or is it because you think he killed Tóti?’ As far as he can recall, they had got on all right at the beginning of the trip, yet he had sensed some underlying tension.

‘I just think he’s a nasty piece of work. Quite apart from the Tóti business. That was the impression I got. He was really spiteful to me the first day and I’ve never found it easy to forgive. I know it’s a flaw in my character but in this case I believe it’s justified.’ She falls silent, then moves to the edge of the helipad where it overhangs the cliff and sits down, letting her legs dangle. Helgi wants to sit beside her but is afraid of accidentally brushing against her. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d underestimated his bulk. In his mind he’s thin.

‘I’m going to fetch the food and leave some behind for Ívar. If you’re dying of hunger you can have some of mine. I’m not that desperate. After all, I’ve got more to fall back on than you.’ His cheeks grow hot at the reference to his weight. Perhaps this trip will be the incentive he needs to go on the diet he has been planning for as long as he can remember. At least he knows now that hunger is nothing to be afraid of. It’s really not so bad. Thirst is much worse. ‘Maybe we should collect the small amount of snow that’s settled and melt it inside the lighthouse.’

Heida doesn’t turn to look at him but continues to swing her legs over the edge. ‘Is it safe? It may have got mixed up with bird shit and you can catch typhoid from birds.’

‘We can see later. I’m prepared to take the chance. You can have the water in the bottle.’

‘Or we both can and Ívar can have the snow.’

Helgi has a warm feeling inside as he hurries as quickly as he dares back to the lighthouse to fetch the food. He slips cautiously through the door, taking care not to wake the snoring man. If it weren’t for the ugly noises he would think Ívar was dead or in a coma. It would hardly be possible for someone to sleep any more deeply. In the cool-box he finds half a sandwich with roast beef filling and half with prawn salad. The people who put together these provisions in the belief that they would last an extra day are clearly suffering from anorexia. He reaches into the box. The layer of mayonnaise has turned yellow on one of the sandwiches so he takes the other and decides to give it to Heida. The one that’s looking a bit past it is good enough for Ívar. For himself he takes the apple he has already taken a few bites out of. There are two custard creams left and he puts them in his pocket too. That’s all. It’s hardly a feast but even so he’s looking forward enormously to the meal, if you can call it that.

He puts his ear to the door after shutting it behind him and listens for the snores that break out almost immediately. Unbelievable how the guy can sleep. What a bit of luck. It would ruin the atmosphere if Ívar blundered out and demanded to join in.

Helgi squats down far enough away from Heida to be able to manoeuvre without the risk of bumping into her, then shuffles closer on his bottom. He fishes the sandwich, biscuits and half-eaten apple from his pocket and hands her the sandwich. He places the biscuits between them. ‘God, this is fantastic. We should open a restaurant.’

She makes a face at him. ‘Do you seriously believe people would be interested in buying stale sandwiches?’

‘No. I meant the setting. Plenty of people would be willing to dine out here. Just sitting in silence, gazing at the stars … Perhaps we can wait out here.’ He toys with the apple but doesn’t want to bite into it for fear the crunching noise will spoil the purity of the silence. You’d have thought the sea had fallen asleep too as barely a splash can be heard now from the base of the cliff.

‘Maybe.’ Heida takes a bite of sandwich and stares out into the gloom. ‘I feel better out here than in there, anyway. Actually I feel good, believe it or not. Though my bum’s cold. Weird. I suppose it’s a sign our ordeal’s nearly over.’ She glances at Helgi and smiles, then repeats her words as if this will make them come true. ‘Yes, it’s nearly over.’

Helgi smiles back and nods. But his smile is not genuine. The night is still young. Suddenly he remembers that Tóti isn’t far away. He bends forward to look down. He knows the body is floating there on the black surface of the sea and imagines the glazed eyes staring blindly at the stars that had so enchanted him and Heida. They immediately lose all their charm and Helgi jerks back, his face as pale as hers.

His worries are building up inside him like a boulder in his chest. This is going to end badly, he knows it.

Chapter 27

26 January 2014

At this hour of the night the police station reminded her of a noisy children’s toy whose battery has run down. Where before there had been a din and bustle, now there was deathly silence. Everything seemed to be on hold: the printers were quiet, the coffee machines deserted. Nína walked along the empty corridor, relishing the sound of her footsteps, relishing not having to encounter her colleagues. But that wasn’t why she was here in the early hours. She had started awake in the middle of the night and been unable to get back to sleep. It wasn’t particularly surprising as there was no real way of making oneself comfortable in the armchair in Thröstur’s room. It was so long since she had slept in a bed that she was beginning to forget what it felt like.