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his stomach and he wishes he hadn’t bolted it down so fast.
‘The equipment’s in place but not connected yet. The installation and tests always take ages. Generally much longer than you expect.’ Her cheeks are flushed but otherwise her face is chalk-white, which makes her dark eyes appear black in contrast. The effect is to make her look nervous, as if she’s on the verge of confiding some fact of vital importance. Helgi wouldn’t mind taking a few snaps of her without her knowledge. But there’s no chance in the present circumstances; she couldn’t fail to notice his big, cumbersome camera. ‘Some things you just can’t hurry.’
‘Do you all work together?’ Helgi assumes they do, yet they don’t behave like colleagues around each other. While he was taking pictures earlier, he couldn’t help overhearing the echo of their conversation, and as far as he can tell this is the first time Heida has opened her mouth. The men were working outside, of course, but even so you’d have thought they’d exchange the odd word in passing. Perhaps she’s naturally shy and retiring.
‘No.’ It’s Tóti who answers. ‘I was only called out at the last minute. They obviously didn’t trust you to do the job on your own, mate.’ He throws the scrunched-up clingfilm from his sandwich at Ívar, who is evidently not amused. The rubbish is caught by the breeze and flies over the cliff.
Heida breaks the momentary silence. ‘I work for the firm that imports the radio equipment.’ She wraps up the rest of her sandwich, which she has barely touched, and puts it in her pocket.
‘Have you been there long?’ Tóti wriggles over to the lighthouse and, following Ívar’s example, leans against the wall and closes his eyes.
‘Years.’ Heida clearly isn’t going to volunteer any more information.
‘Strange I haven’t run into you before,’ Ívar comments. ‘I usually go along when they have to do maintenance on the transmitters.’ He picks a yellow stalk of grass and puts it in his mouth. It waggles up and down as he chews it.
‘I’ve always been based in the office.’ Heida fiddles with the ring-pull from her can, then crushes it in her small, neat hand.
‘You must know Konni then?’ Ívar spits out the grass stem and it blows back in his face.
‘I’m his daughter.’ Heida stares at Ívar’s closed eyes but he merely nods. It seems to Helgi that Tóti gives more of a reaction; he twitches, but that might just be because he’s falling asleep.
They sit like this for a while, Ívar and Tóti dozing, Heida and Helgi chatting about the weather and the gulls. It becomes increasingly difficult to keep the stilted conversation going and by the time they finally abandon the attempt Helgi is scarlet in the face. He’s never been particularly socially adroit and with women the small ration of conversational ability God gave him tends to desert him completely.
Heida stares in the direction of the helipad, squinting now and then, as if trying to discern something in the dense cloud. Helgi follows her gaze but can’t see anything. ‘Is there something up there?’ He can’t imagine it’d be anything but a gull.
‘No.’ Heida lowers her gaze. ‘It’s just so creepy somehow. You can’t see, and yet you can. If it was just solid grey it would be different, but it’s always shifting, so you keep thinking something’s about to appear.’
Helgi stares into the fog and immediately understands what she means. The constant movement of the tiny drops of moisture makes it impossible to focus on one spot. ‘How long can fog last out here?’
‘No idea. Perhaps they know.’ She jerks her chin towards the dozing workmen. ‘It wasn’t forecast, but then I’ve heard that weather models can’t cope with fog. I suppose it’s completely unpredictable.’ She no sooner stops speaking than the fog lifts slightly. Instead of smiling at the coincidence, Heida shudders and there is a remote look in her eyes.
‘The equipment’s in place but not connected yet. The installation and tests always take ages. Generally much longer than you expect.’ Her cheeks are flushed but otherwise her face is chalk-white, which makes her dark eyes appear black in contrast. The effect is to make her look nervous, as if she’s on the verge of confiding some fact of vital importance. Helgi wouldn’t mind taking a few snaps of her without her knowledge. But there’s no chance in the present circumstances; she couldn’t fail to notice his big, cumbersome camera. ‘Some things you just can’t hurry.’
‘Do you all work together?’ Helgi assumes they do, yet they don’t behave like colleagues around each other. While he was taking pictures earlier, he couldn’t help overhearing the echo of their conversation, and as far as he can tell this is the first time Heida has opened her mouth. The men were working outside, of course, but even so you’d have thought they’d exchange the odd word in passing. Perhaps she’s naturally shy and retiring.
‘No.’ It’s Tóti who answers. ‘I was only called out at the last minute. They obviously didn’t trust you to do the job on your own, mate.’ He throws the scrunched-up clingfilm from his sandwich at Ívar, who is evidently not amused. The rubbish is caught by the breeze and flies over the cliff.
Heida breaks the momentary silence. ‘I work for the firm that imports the radio equipment.’ She wraps up the rest of her sandwich, which she has barely touched, and puts it in her pocket.
‘Have you been there long?’ Tóti wriggles over to the lighthouse and, following Ívar’s example, leans against the wall and closes his eyes.
‘Years.’ Heida clearly isn’t going to volunteer any more information.
‘Strange I haven’t run into you before,’ Ívar comments. ‘I usually go along when they have to do maintenance on the transmitters.’ He picks a yellow stalk of grass and puts it in his mouth. It waggles up and down as he chews it.
‘I’ve always been based in the office.’ Heida fiddles with the ring-pull from her can, then crushes it in her small, neat hand.
‘You must know Konni then?’ Ívar spits out the grass stem and it blows back in his face.
‘I’m his daughter.’ Heida stares at Ívar’s closed eyes but he merely nods. It seems to Helgi that Tóti gives more of a reaction; he twitches, but that might just be because he’s falling asleep.
They sit like this for a while, Ívar and Tóti dozing, Heida and Helgi chatting about the weather and the gulls. It becomes increasingly difficult to keep the stilted conversation going and by the time they finally abandon the attempt Helgi is scarlet in the face. He’s never been particularly socially adroit and with women the small ration of conversational ability God gave him tends to desert him completely.
Heida stares in the direction of the helipad, squinting now and then, as if trying to discern something in the dense cloud. Helgi follows her gaze but can’t see anything. ‘Is there something up there?’ He can’t imagine it’d be anything but a gull.
‘No.’ Heida lowers her gaze. ‘It’s just so creepy somehow. You can’t see, and yet you can. If it was just solid grey it would be different, but it’s always shifting, so you keep thinking something’s about to appear.’
Helgi stares into the fog and immediately understands what she means. The constant movement of the tiny drops of moisture makes it impossible to focus on one spot. ‘How long can fog last out here?’
‘No idea. Perhaps they know.’ She jerks her chin towards the dozing workmen. ‘It wasn’t forecast, but then I’ve heard that weather models can’t cope with fog. I suppose it’s completely unpredictable.’ She no sooner stops speaking than the fog lifts slightly. Instead of smiling at the coincidence, Heida shudders and there is a remote look in her eyes.
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