Read Online Why Did You Lie? by Yrsa Sigurðardóttir, Katherine Manners, Hodder, Stoughton - Free Book Online Page A

other two seem to be unconsciously following his example. At least, they have no reason to snub him, whatever Ívar’s motives. Helgi guesses the man is still wondering what he said or did that evening they met in the bar. This suggests he doesn’t always behave himself when he’s drunk, which doesn’t surprise Helgi as sober Ívar is not exactly a charmer. Still, he hopes the man is becoming reconciled to the idea of his being here, as he’d like to be allowed to join in their conversation once it gets dark.
    Helgi swallows the last bite of his sandwich. Their cool-box had looked full when they opened it but already there’s worryingly little left. The remaining food will have to stretch to all tomorrow’s meals until the helicopter picks them up in the evening. They decided to have an early supper while the fog was blocking their view and are now sitting in a quiet huddle by the lighthouse, eating and listening to the noises around them. Full but not satisfied, Helgi decides to break the ice. He was careful to eat less than the others, conscious that if they run short of food, they’re bound to look at him, the fat man, and wonder if he took more than his share. ‘Did we bring a lifebuoy with us or is there one lying around here somewhere?’ The last part of his question is redundant. Since the helicopter vanished from sight three hours ago, Helgi has seen everything there is to see on the rock, every stone, every blade of grass. It’s unthinkable that he could have failed to notice a lifebuoy.
    Tóti is the first to answer. ‘No.’ He swallows and dislodges the crumbs of his sandwich from his teeth before continuing. ‘Are you wondering what’ll happen if we fall off?’
    Helgi nods. He folds up his sandwich wrapper and puts it in the rubbish container. ‘I thought it would be useful to have one to hand. Just in case.’
    ‘There’s no point throwing a lifebuoy to a dead man.’ Ívar rubs a hand over his balding scalp as if to check whether a bird has landed on it while he was eating. Two gulls, drawn by the smell when they took out the food, are now hovering overhead, invisible in the fog. From time to time they swoop down like missiles out of the greyness, swerving just above their heads and disappearing again. At some point in their lives they have learnt to be wary of humans and Ívar underlines this lesson by lobbing stones after them. ‘The sea’s shallow at the base of the rock. If anyone falls off, that’ll be the end of their worries.’
    So far Helgi has had little to do with the woman, Heida, who has been inside the lighthouse, installing the new transmitter, so the huskiness of her voice comes as a surprise when she finally opens her mouth. ‘Can’t we talk about something else?’ She doesn’t address anyone in particular but peers out into the fog, as if talking to someone floating in mid-air.
    ‘Sure. Talk about whatever you like. I’m not stopping you.’ Ívar leans against the whitewashed wall, closes his eyes and rests his hands comfortably on his stomach. They are weather-beaten, with skin as coarse as that on his face. Helgi can’t help thinking that these would be the perfect hands for committing atrocities; these are fingers that long to maim. As if reading his mind, Ívar shoves them in his anorak pockets as he speaks again. ‘For God’s sake not politics, though. It could end badly, this close to the edge.’
    Heida’s expression indicates that she doesn’t want to discuss politics any more than she wants to discuss the rocks at the bottom of the cliff. Helgi can’t tell if she’s uncomfortable about being the only woman among a group of strange men, or unnerved by the precipice. He’s ill at ease himself, though he’s never been especially bothered by heights. He casts around for some subject to cheer her up. ‘How’s the technical stuff going? Everything up and running?’ It’s as lame as talking about the weather. Suddenly the sandwich feels like lead in