Why Did You Lie? (16 page)

Chapter 12

27 January 2014

The air inside the tiny lighthouse is dank, cold and sour-tasting. Helgi pushes himself up on his elbows, grimacing as his bones make contact with the bare floor. An icy draught is pouring in through the gaps round the door but he is grateful to be able to fill his lungs with something other than the fug inside his sleeping bag. Lying awake in the early hours, he had pulled his head inside it in case it was having a cold face that was preventing him from dropping off. It must have worked because he can’t remember anything else until now. While his eyes are adjusting to the darkness, he sits up properly and rubs his sore elbows, then turns his head from side to side, his stiff neck joints clicking. His bed at home with its soft mattress and warm duvet seems light years away.

At his feet Heida is lying curled up in a ball as if to prevent their sleeping bags from touching in the cramped space. Her head is resting on her arm and her curly hair looks as if she has ruffled it with her fingers during the night. She is deathly pale in the gloom. Something black and silver is sticking out from under her sleeping bag and after puzzling over it for a while, Helgi realises it’s a torch. His own is tucked inside his bedding, just in case.

Helgi flushes slightly when Heida opens her eyes. How embarrassing to be caught gawping at someone when they wake up. ‘Did I disturb you? Sorry.’

‘No. I was already awake. I just couldn’t face getting up. It’s so cold.’

Helgi can’t argue with that. The air is almost crackling with frost. ‘Want me to pass you your jacket?’ Personally he is eager to get out of here; he finds it excruciatingly awkward being alone with a woman he doesn’t know and having to behave as if they’re old friends. He has the feeling she’s waiting for him to come out with something clever or witty, and he seems incapable of rising to the occasion. Why can he never manage that with women? He struggles to his knees and reaches for his anorak. The shiny fabric feels stiff to the touch – from the cold, presumably – and when he has pulled it on he feels even chillier until his body has warmed it up.

Heida watches his actions without moving. ‘Is that any better?’

‘Not much, to be honest.’ Helgi tries slapping his arms against himself for warmth. ‘But you don’t really have any choice if you’re going to venture out of your sleeping bag. I’m guessing there’s a hard frost outside.’

Heida sits up and takes the thick jacket he passes her. She bashes the back of her hand against the wall as she is pulling it on but her wince of pain turns to a look of shock once she is encased in the freezing anorak. ‘Jesus!’ Heida wraps her arms around herself and crosses her legs inside the sleeping bag. ‘Are they awake?’

‘Don’t know. Doubt it. I haven’t heard any movements outside.’ Helgi gropes for his shoes but can only find one. The other turns out to be under his sleeping bag, which would explain the ache in the small of his back. ‘I wonder what sort of night they had? At least we had a roof over our heads.’

‘I expect they’re used to it.’ There is no sympathy in Heida’s voice.

Helgi wants to ask if she chose to have him inside with her because she regards him as the biggest pussy of the lot, but stops himself. He doesn’t want to hear the answer. Instead, he puts on his shoes and stands up. ‘I’m just popping outside.’ He doesn’t like to say he needs a leak, though it must be obvious. She can hardly imagine he’s going for a walk. Just before he reaches for the door handle, he turns. ‘You talked in your sleep last night.’

‘Oh?’ Heida looks startled and Helgi instantly regrets mentioning it. It makes it sound as if he was watching her in the night. But really he wasn’t.

‘I woke up to hear you saying something. I expect you were sleep-talking. It didn’t sound as if you were talking to yourself, anyway. Or to me.’

‘What did I say?’ Heida seems cross and Helgi kicks himself for bringing it up.

‘I didn’t understand. It almost sounded like another language.’

Heida stares at him, muttering something under her breath that Helgi can’t catch. He seizes this opportunity to go outside.

The instant he opens the door he is met by a gust of wind so violent that he almost loses his grip on the handle. Nature is reminding them who’s in charge, in case they had any doubt. He steps carefully outside and manages, with considerable difficulty, to close the door behind him. But the moment he lets go of it he discovers that it’s not the only thing round here that’s inclined to flap like a sail. It’s so hard to keep his balance that he decides against moving far to relieve himself. Holding on to the lighthouse he can move down to the next step, from which, with care, he can reach the third, which ends on the brink, and pee off the edge. It’s a precarious feeling, edging his way down, hearing the raging sea below in the semi-darkness, and he’s glad to be able to zip up again.

‘Mind you don’t get blown over.’

Helgi starts so badly that he only just avoids losing his footing. He takes a moment to recover, then turns carefully, once he’s sure he looks calm, not like a man in a panic. He came within a hair’s breadth of falling. Ívar’s face appears in a gap in the concrete handrail of the lighthouse gallery. Helgi coughs and inches his way back up the steps. ‘How did you two sleep?’

‘How do you think?’ Ívar grins, his face scarlet, strands of hair sticking out from under his crooked hat. ‘I vote we swap tonight. You two outside, us inside.’

Helgi clings to the wall with bare fingers as he leans back to see Ívar’s face. The cold, rough surface hurts his unprotected skin. ‘I really hope it doesn’t come to that. Surely they’ll fetch us later today?’ His hands are trembling and he hopes Ívar won’t notice.

‘An optimist, eh?’ The head disappears, then reappears above the rail. Ívar has risen to his knees and is adjusting his hat with gloved hands. ‘We should’ve made them fetch us by boat yesterday. It’s almost impossible in weather like this. At least, I can’t see you and Heida climbing down the rock and jumping into a boat in a sea like this. Not you, anyway, mate.’

‘I meant by helicopter.’ The wind snatches the hood off Helgi’s head but he doesn’t dare let go of the wall to pull it back up. It is unnerving having to crane his neck like this: the slightest movement could make him lose his footing.

‘Like I said. You’re an optimist.’

Helgi can’t be bothered to stand here arguing; he wants to go back inside. All he’s getting out of this is a stiff neck and he doesn’t like the undercurrent of their conversation. They don’t seem to be able to speak to each other without descending into sniping, as if there’s something simmering beneath the surface, something Ívar is not saying but would like to fling in his face. Helgi hasn’t a clue what it could be; they’ve never met before apart from that one conversation in the bar that evening. And since Helgi was perfectly nice at the time, he can’t see what he’s done to deserve this hostility. ‘I’m going to try and make some space so we can all eat inside. We can’t risk the food blowing into the sea. You two come down when you’re ready.’ The joints in his neck click so loudly as he turns his head that he thinks Ívar must have heard them.

It is darker inside the lighthouse. Given the strength of the wind now, it’s obvious why the window was blocked off: no glass would be capable of withstanding such a battering, year in, year out. Helgi’s sleeping bag takes to the air when he opens the door and falls back to the floor as he slams it behind him. Heida is still sitting on hers. She has put on her boots, hat and padded ski gloves. In the gloom her hands look like those of a robot.

‘You’re certainly dressed for the weather.’ His voice sounds falsely cheerful to his ears.

‘I heard you talking. Are they awake?’

‘Ívar is. I said I’d make room so we can all have breakfast in here. It would be crazy to try and eat outside in this gale.’ Helgi starts bundling up his belongings. It doesn’t take long but he has difficulty rolling up his sleeping bag in the confined space. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Heida tidying her own things away much more neatly; nothing is bundled up or stuffed quickly into her backpack, yet it takes her no longer than him.

‘Ívar implied we might have to spend another night here.’

Heida’s eyes convey all she thinks about that. She groans, her face grim. ‘I just can’t do it. I’m scared to.’ As though she thought simply saying this would somehow alter their fate.

‘Perhaps he’s talking rubbish. We’ll find out more when he comes down. I imagine he’ll ring the coastguard. They’re always rescuing people from all kinds of scrapes, so they must be able to pick us up.’ Helgi doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t want to spend another night on the rock, though neither does the thought of the winch appeal much in this weather. Hopefully they’ll come later this afternoon. By then the wind should have dropped and he’ll have had time to prepare himself mentally for being hauled up to the helicopter. They both look up on hearing some sort of commotion overhead. ‘Hope they haven’t blown away.’ Helgi smiles at Heida but she doesn’t reciprocate, so he turns back to carry on fighting with his sleeping bag.

The next minute the door crashes open and Ívar sticks his head in. He is even redder in the face than before. ‘I can’t find Tóti.’ He doesn’t let go of the door or show any sign of coming inside. The wind sends all the loose objects on the floor flying.

‘What do you mean?’ Helgi straightens up.

‘Hasn’t he just gone for a pee?’ Heida stands up too, inadvertently treading on a booklet that has blown out of one of the radio equipment boxes. ‘He might have climbed out onto the crag for a bit of privacy.’

‘Are you soft in the head? There’s nowhere to hide here. Do you think I didn’t have a look around when I saw he wasn’t in his sleeping bag? Are you a complete fucking idiot?’

‘What are you saying?’ Helgi stuffs his bag into a corner and takes a step towards the door. ‘If this is meant to be a joke, it’s not funny at all.’

‘I’m not joking, you stupid bastard.’ Ívar staggers as the wind snatches at the door. ‘He’s vanished.’

Helgi looks at Heida, who is still standing on the booklet. The pages flap, as if she has trodden on a small bird that is desperately fluttering its wings. ‘Wait here. I’m going to find out what’s going on.’

By way of reply, Heida zips her jacket up to her neck. ‘No way. I’m coming too.’ When she lifts her foot off the booklet it flies into the corner, where it continues to flail around in the draught. Helgi fights an impulse to tell her to stay put; she’s not his responsibility and what she does is none of his concern. When he asked her to wait, it was because he was afraid the violence of the wind and the limited standing room by the lighthouse could put them in even greater danger. The more people milling around out there, the bigger the risk.

He would much rather stay in here himself.

The moment they step outside the wind seems determined to show off its strength. They stagger around and bump into one another, but finally the three of them manage to climb onto the gallery around the lighthouse.

There’s nobody there.

Ívar stands upright, gesturing with one hand while hanging on to the rail for dear life with the other. ‘Look. He’s not here.’ He turns to the crag that rises up behind the lighthouse. ‘And there’s nowhere to hide.’

They all survey the narrow gallery. There are two sleeping bags on the floor, shiny with sea-spray. On top of one is a sports bag that Helgi assumes belongs to Ívar. The other sleeping bag keeps bellying out and collapsing again, without moving from its place, and Heida pokes at it warily with her toe. Then she peers in through the opening. ‘His backpack’s inside.’

‘Is that yours, then?’ Helgi indicates the sports bag that is preventing the other sleeping bag from taking to the air.

‘Yes. What the fuck’s the matter with you?’ Ívar’s eyes flash and spittle flies from his mouth. ‘Are you doing a stock check or do you think Tóti’s hiding inside it?’

Helgi blushes furiously, though he doubts either of them notices. His face must be ruddy from the cold anyway. ‘I’m just trying to work it out. I need to think.’

‘Think? What about? Tóti’s vanished. He’s not here and he’s not out there.’ Ívar waves in all directions. He meets Helgi’s eye and adds, as if reciting a nursery rhyme: ‘He’s not anywhere.’

‘We must stay calm.’ Helgi tries to mask his own fear. ‘There’s no point quarrelling. As far as I know none of us has any experience in this sort of thing, so we’ll just have to do our best. Was he here when you woke up?’

‘No.’ The violence has left Ívar’s voice and there’s a break in it. The man you’d have thought nothing could shake; a strong, weather-beaten tough guy; the type who’d love it if the axle of his jeep snapped during a storm in the depths of the Icelandic wilderness. But suddenly he has got a grip on himself again and rubs his grey stubble. ‘I just didn’t twig because of the gear in his sleeping bag. It looked like Tóti was lying inside. But when I prodded it I realised he wasn’t there.’

Heida picks her way right round the gallery, but there is no sign of Tóti. ‘Could he have climbed down the chain? Been rescued before us?’

‘Of course not. Do you think he would have gone without telling us?’ Ívar snatches off his hat and scratches his head. The wind makes his thin hair stand on end. He licks his salt-crusted lips and takes a deep breath. ‘He’s not here.’ All eyes turn to the sea that surrounds the rock.

The waves rage against each other as if driven by invisible forces. The dark shadows under the crests all look as if they could be Tóti, but they keep disappearing before the eye can make out what is there. It doesn’t help that it isn’t properly light yet.

‘He must have fallen.’ Helgi clears his throat and looks away as Ívar glowers at him. ‘Maybe he went to relieve himself and the wind knocked him off or he slipped. That’s the only possible explanation. I very nearly fell off myself just now. Were you aware of him at all last night? Is it possible he went for a leak and didn’t come back?’

‘What does it matter
when
he disappeared?’ Ívar is shouting now, and not just to drown out the wind.