Description: Chapter 1 The waves rolled the boat to and fro in a constantly changing rhythm. The prow bobbed gently up and down as sharper movements shook the vessel, rocking it fiercely from side to side. The skipper struggled to fasten the little boat to a narrow steel post, but the weathered floating dock kept retreating, as if it were part of a game. He patiently repeated the same movements over and over, pulling the frayed rope in the direction of the post, but each time the coarse loop was about to fall into place, it seemed to be yanked away. It was as though the sea were playing with them, showing them who was in charge. In the end the man managed to secure the boat, but it was unclear whether the waves had grown bored of teasing him or whether the captain's experience and patience had got the better of them. He turned to the three passengers, his expression serious, and said: "There you go, but be careful stepping up." Then he jerked his chin at the boxes, bags and other things that they'd brought with them. "I'll help you move this off the boat, but I can't help you take it to the house, unfortunately." He squinted at the surface of the sea. "It looks like I'd better get back as quick as I can. You'll have time to sort all this stuff out once I'm gone. There should be a wheelbarrow around here somewhere." "No problem." Garar smiled faintly at the man but made no move to start unloading the boat. He shuffled his feet and exhaled loudly, then turned his gaze inland, where several houses were visible above the line of the beach. Further away several roofs glinted. Although it was early afternoon, the faint winter light was fading quickly. It wouldn't be long before it was completely dark. "This place isn't exactly buzzing with life," he said, with false cheer. "Well, no. Were you expecting it to?" The skipper didn't hide his surprise. "I thought you'd been here before. You might want to reconsider your plan. You're welcome to come back with me; free of charge, of course." Garar shook his head, studiously avoiding looking at Katrn, who was trying to make eye contact with him so she could nod, or indicate in some other way that she really didn't mind going back. She'd never been as excited as him about this adventure, though neither had she opposed it outright. Instead she'd gone along with it, letting herself be carried along by his enthusiasm and his certainty that it would all go according to plan, but now that he seemed to be wavering, her own confidence in it had ebbed away. Suddenly she felt quite sure that total failure was the best they could hope for, but chose not to imagine the worst-case scenario. She glanced at Lf, who was supporting herself on the gunwale, trying to regain the balance she'd left behind on the pier in safjrur. After battling seasickness for most of the voyage, Lf looked utterly wretched, bearing only a passing resemblance to the perky woman who'd been so keen to come with them that she'd ignored Katrn's words of caution. Even Garar didn't seem himself; as they'd drawn closer to shore, the bravado he'd shown as they prepared for the trip had faded. Of course, Katrn could hardly talk; she was sitting on a sack of firewood, doggedly refusing to stand up. The only difference between her and the other two was that she'd never been looking forward to the trip. The only passenger who seemed excited to disembark was Putti, Lf's little dog, who-in defiance of all their assumptions to the contrary-had turned out to have excellent sea legs. Apart from the lapping of the waves, the silence was absolute. How had she ever imagined this could work? The three of them, all alone in the dead of winter in a deserted village way up north in the middle of nowhere, without electricity or heat, and the only way back by sea. If something happened, they had no one to rely on but themselves. And now that Katrn was facing the facts she admitted to herself that their resourcefulness was decidedly limited. None of them was particularly outdoorsy, and almost any other task you could name would suit them better than renovating old houses. She opened her mouth to make the decision for them and accept the captain's offer, but then shut it without saying a word, sighing quietly to herself. The moment had passed, there was no going back, and it was far too late to protest now. She had no one to blame but herself for getting involved in this nonsense, because she'd let numerous opportunities to raise objections or change direction go by. At any point since the house project had first been raised she could have suggested that they decline the offer to buy a share in it, for example, or that the renovations could wait until summer, when there was a regular ferry schedule. Katrn suddenly felt a cold breeze and pulled the zip of her jacket higher. This whole thing was ridiculous. But what if it wasn't really her passivity that was to blame, but the eagerness of Einar, now deceased, who'd been Garar's best friend and Lf's husband? It was hard to be angry with him now, when he was six-feet under; nonetheless it seemed clear to Katrn that he bore the greatest responsibility for this absurd situation. Einar had hiked in Hornstrandir two summers ago and so was familiar with Hesteyri, where the house was located. He had spun them the story of a village at the end of the world, beauty and peace and endless hiking trails in an unforgettable setting. Garar had been inspired-not by the lure of nature, but by the fact that Einar hadn't been able to rent a room in Hesteyri, since the only guesthouse there had been full. Katrn couldn't remember which of them had gone on to suggest they see if any of the other houses there were for sale and transform one into a guesthouse, but it didn't matter; once the idea had been mooted there was no going back. Garar had been unemployed for eight months and he was completely gripped by the idea of finally doing something useful. It was hardly going to dampen his interest when Einar expressed a keen desire to take part, offering to contribute both labor and capital. Then Lf had stoked the fire with extravagant praise for the brilliance of the idea and characteristically effusive encouragement. Katrn remembered now how much Lf's eagerness had got on her nerves; she'd suspected it was partly motivated by the prospect of time apart from her husband, as the renovations would require him to spend long periods of time up north. At that time their marriage had appeared to be falling apart, but when Einar died, Lf's grief had seemed bottomless. An ugly thought stirred in Katrn's mind: it would have been better if Einar had died before the purchase of the house had been completed. But unfortunately that wasn't how it had happened: now they were stuck with the property, and only one man excited about the renovation project where there had been two. The fact that Lf was so keen to take on her husband's role and press on with the repairs probably had something to do with the grieving process; she had neither skill nor interest in that kind of work, that much was certain. If she'd wanted to pull out, the house would have gone back on the market and they'd probably be sitting at home watching TV now, in the comforting arms of the city where night was never as black as here in Hesteyri. When it became clear that the project hadn't died with Einar, Lf and Garar had gone west one weekend and sailed from safjrur to Hesteyri to take a look at the house. It had certainly been in poor condition, but that did nothing to diminish Garar and Lf's excitement. They returned with a pile of photographs of every nook and cranny of the house and Garar went straight to work planning what needed to be done before the start of the tourist season. From the photos, Katrn would have said that the house was held together by its paint, despite Garar's insistence that the previous owner had carried out all the major repairs needed. For her part, Lf added flowery descriptions of Hesteyri's incredible natural beauty. Before long, Garar was making in-depth calculations, raising the price of an overnight stay and increasing the number of guests that could fit into the little two-story house every time he opened his Excel spreadsheet. At least it would be interesting to see the place with her own eyes and work out how exactly Garar intended to accommodate all these people. Katrn got to her feet, but couldn't see the house from where she stood on deck. From one of the panoramic shots that Garar had taken of the area it had looked as if it was located at the edge of the settlement, but rather high up, so it should be visible. What if it had simply collapsed after Garar and Lf had been on their reconnaissance trip? Nearly two months had passed since then, and the area was subject to no small amount of foul weather. She was about to suggest that they verify this before the boat sailed away when the skipper, doubtless starting to worry that he might have to carry them off the boat, said: "Well, at least you're lucky with the weather." He looked up at the sky. "It could still change despite the forecast, so you should be prepared for anything." "We are. Just look at all this stuff." Garar smiled, a trace of his previous conviction returning to his voice. "I think the only thing we have to fear is pulled muscles." "If you say so." The captain didn't elaborate on this, a

Please Wait