Free The Silence of the Sea by Yrsa Sigurðardóttir

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