The Silence of the Sea (13 page)

That the woman could mistake Bella for a nice person was testimony to how few visitors she received. She must have a tough time of it socially if she had shed her old friends and acquaintances, only to discover that she was not welcome among the new Icelandic elite. Too obviously nouveau riche herself, she would serve as an uncomfortable reminder to others in the group that they were no better.

‘Karítas is okay, isn’t she? Financially, I mean.’ Incredibly, Bella managed to sound genuinely concerned.

Begga paused to consider for a moment, then waved a hand over her shoulder as if dismissing her troubles. ‘Well, don’t spread it about but Karítas is fine. It isn’t like when ordinary people go bankrupt; she and Gulam have all sorts of funds and that sort of thing, but they’ve had some problems as a result of this cash-flow crisis – you know, all that unpleasantness caused by those Lehman brothers. It’s so unfair, really, because if they’d been allowed to take out more loans, it wouldn’t have been an issue. If you want my opinion, it was nothing but jealousy. They had so much that people were determined to take it away. But fortunately it didn’t work. Not completely.’

Thóra assumed an expression of sympathy. At least Begga won points for mistaking Lehman Brothers Holdings for a couple of fraudsters and trying to blame the whole disaster on them. ‘As I explained on the phone, we’re here to ask you a few questions about the yacht that Karítas and her husband used to own. We don’t actually know anything about their finances, though naturally we’re pleased to hear they’re doing well. The thing is, as you’ve no doubt heard, the yacht turned up empty the other day, minus the crew and passengers who were supposed to be delivering her to this country. I’m working for the relatives of the missing family.’ The woman’s face revealed scant pity for the victims, so Thóra tried another tack. ‘I gather that even without this tragedy the yacht would have been hard to sell.’

‘Oh?’ Begga raised heavily pencilled, over-plucked eyebrows. ‘Was she damaged? Karítas and Gulam shelled out a fortune for her back in the day.’

‘Yes, she was crippled, but after this latest incident it’s her reputation that’s likely to bring down her price. Apparently they’re a superstitious lot in the seafaring world.’

‘Will Karítas lose out as a result of this?’ Anxiety shone from the woman’s eyes as she glanced at them both in turn.

‘No, not exactly.’ Thóra took extra care over the phrasing of the next part, as she didn’t know whether the woman was aware of the change of ownership. ‘The bank’s resolution committee has repossessed the boat. I gather that part of Karítas’s husband’s loan was used to pay for the yacht, which gave the bank a claim to her. You know what financial institutions are like …’ She stopped herself from adding ‘ruthless’, in case it seemed over the top.

Begga nodded but seemed distracted. ‘Yes, I knew about that. Karítas was staying with me when she heard.’ She paused. ‘I do believe it was the last time she was in the country. It was the final straw really as she was already in a state about whether she should divorce Gulam. And it didn’t help that the authorities here wouldn’t stop pestering her and kept summoning her to interrogate her about their finances.’ She looked disgusted. ‘Can you believe it? As if there was anything more private than one’s personal finances!’ Without waiting for an answer, she continued: ‘It was driving her frantic; she even considered handing over all her papers, just to get some peace. Then the news came about the yacht and I swear I thought it would push her over the edge. But she’s got a backbone, has Karítas, so she simply left the country. Of course I miss her terribly but it’s better for her to stay away until all this fuss has died down.’

‘Do you have any idea where she went?’

‘She went to Lisbon, where the yacht was moored. She needed to pick up all kinds of stuff that was on board – personal belongings that the bank had no right to confiscate. She has a maid she could have sent instead, but she wanted to go through everything personally. The maid isn’t exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer, so I can understand why Karítas preferred to do it herself.’

‘Is she still in Lisbon? Do you think she’d be prepared to talk to me on the phone? I don’t suppose there are many people who know as much about the yacht as she does, so there’s a chance she might be able to help me piece together what happened to the crew and passengers. Perhaps she could tell me if there was a lifeboat on board that other people didn’t know about, for instance, or testify to the fact that there wasn’t one. There’s also a chance that Karítas knew about some fault that the crew were unaware of. I could use any information that would lend support to the idea that there was a problem with the boat. The case I’m dealing with concerns a life assurance policy that will only be paid out if it can be proved that the people who were on board are dead.’ She deliberately avoided referring to Ægir or his family by name in case Begga had heard about them on the news and realised that he had worked for the resolution committee.

A grandfather clock chimed once to mark the half hour. Looking at her watch, Thóra saw that it was only twenty past ten. Clearly, the dusting wasn’t the only thing that required attention around here. Begga was suddenly keen to offer them more coffee. They accepted, and then, ignoring the woman’s evasion tactics, Thóra repeated her question.

‘I don’t know if she’ll talk on the phone. She’s been badly burnt by all this and I think she’s afraid her phone’s bugged. I mean, she hasn’t rung me once since she left, though usually she makes an effort to stay in touch.’ She began to rearrange the cups and pot on the tray, turning them all to face Thóra and Bella. ‘I am her mother, after all.’

‘Where is she now? I promise you we have absolutely nothing to do with the Financial Supervisory Authority or any other official body.’ Thóra put down her cup, taking care to position it correctly on the saucer.

‘In Brazil. I think.’ Begga watched Bella drain nearly a whole cup in one go. ‘I got a postcard from her this morning. She’s sent me cards before on her travels. On my birthday last year, for instance. She was in America at the time.’

‘Could we see the one you received this morning?’ Bella came straight to the point and Thóra could have kissed her.

‘No, I’m afraid not.’ Begga was affronted by the request. ‘It’s private and I really don’t see what it could have to do with the yacht.’

It would be odd, to say the least, to send a private message on a postcard that anyone could read, but there was no easy way of breaking this to Karítas’s mother, and not even Bella could bring herself to do so. Besides, the woman was right; the card had nothing to do with their business. ‘Have you been on board the yacht yourself?’ Thóra deftly changed the subject.

‘Yes. Twice, in fact.’ Begga reminded Thóra of her cat at its smuggest. ‘It’s absolutely amazing,’ she added, on an indrawn breath, leaning back a little and fluffing up her hair, inadvertently revealing grey roots.

‘Did anyone happen to mention the life-saving equipment while you were on board? Did Karítas or her husband point it out to you?’

‘I haven’t met Gulam that often and when I did we didn’t discuss the yacht. For one thing, my English isn’t good enough, and anyway the subject wouldn’t have crossed my mind. The few times we’ve been together since Karítas married and moved out, I’ve tried to discuss more important matters, like whether they’re planning to have children. I keep hoping she’ll come home for a long holiday or that I’ll be able to visit her abroad for more than a few days at a time, but it never seems to be the right moment. Her husband’s always so preoccupied with business and I suspect him of wanting to have Karítas to himself. Understandably, of course.’ She gave a cloying smile. ‘But he didn’t always get his own way as I do perhaps have more of a claim on her when it comes down to it. After all, she is my daughter.’ She apparently regretted having said anything negative because she added hastily: ‘Don’t misunderstand me; it’s not that I bear a grudge against him. Not at all. Gulam’s a wonderful man and quite devoted to Karítas. She can have anything she wants.’

‘He’s a bit old. Isn’t that kind of weird? He must be about your age.’ Again, Bella took it upon herself to ask the difficult question. Wham bam. Straight to the point.

Begga’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. ‘He’s a little older than me. But it’s quite different with men. They’re slower to mature than women, so an age gap like that can work perfectly well.’ An embarrassed silence ensued; clearly none of them believed that men lagged almost thirty years behind women in maturity. ‘In any case, there was no need to make a fuss about life-saving equipment. That yacht’s unsinkable.’ She gave them a scornful look. ‘And it didn’t sink, did it? I don’t know what safety equipment could have stopped those people from going missing.’ There was no reply to this, so Thóra and Bella simply sat there sheepishly. This seemed to cheer the woman up. ‘Not that I had the time or inclination to do anything but enjoy myself while I was on board. I don’t know when I’ve eaten so well or drunk so much good wine. It was as if the meals arrived on a conveyor belt.’ Again she looked like the cat that got the cream.

They continued chatting until the clock struck eleven (at ten to, of course). Little of importance had emerged so Thóra seized this opportunity to end their visit and thanked Begga for her hospitality. They were walking away from the house when Begga suddenly called after them: ‘If you do manage to get in touch with Karítas, you might ask her to give me a ring. I need to get hold of her rather urgently about a small misunderstanding over the property tax.’

Thóra turned and looked back at the woman standing in the porch of her daughter’s house, a house that must have required endless outgoings that Begga almost certainly couldn’t afford on her own. Perhaps a smaller home and a larger social circle would have been preferable if the daughter had really wanted to make her mother happy. ‘I’ll do that. Of course.’

They carried on walking but did not hear the door close. No doubt the woman was still standing there, watching them leave, as if to eke out this unremarkable visit. Thóra felt bad as they drove away.

‘What’s the betting that Karítas’s old man has killed her to prevent the divorce or shut her up?’ Bella abandoned the attempt to fasten her seatbelt and turned to face Thóra. ‘Postcard, my arse. Anyone can send a postcard:
Having a great time in Rio – kiss, kiss, Karítas
. I bet he just copied a sample of her handwriting, then used Google Translate to put it into Icelandic. Think about it – no one’s seen her since she went to fetch the stuff on the yacht.’ In spite of her dislike, Bella had clearly been following the news about her old schoolmate with avid interest.

Thóra was no gambler but she wouldn’t have taken that wager even if she’d been an inveterate risk-taker. ‘Let’s hope that’s not true.’ If only for her mother’s sake.

‘God, this is good, if I say so myself.’ Lára spoke with her mouth full, but swallowed before continuing: ‘To think that only this morning I was sure no food would ever pass my lips again.’ The family had spent most of the day languishing in the enormous bed, the girls sandwiched between their parents, each with a book that they glanced at whenever they weren’t dozing. Ægir had nodded off a few times himself, only to start awake again immediately, without knowing why. Lára, meanwhile, had slept like a log for at least two hours, untroubled by her husband and daughters’ movements. The pills had made them so drowsy and lethargic that they had wasted the whole afternoon, but thanks to them they were now feeling almost as well as before they had left harbour. Almost – but not quite.

They were all seated in the galley apart from Loftur, whose turn it was to stand watch on the bridge. The family had taken so much trouble over the meal that anyone would have thought it was a celebration. No sooner had the girls revived than they were itching for a distraction, so they were given the task of laying the table for supper. They took the job seriously, unearthing a white tablecloth, stiff with starch; linen napkins which they inserted into silver napkin rings that could have done with a polish, and elegant glasses to match the rest of the tableware. Ægir brought out some wine to complete the party atmosphere. Thráinn had immediately accepted their invitation to dine with them, perhaps because the girls asked him and it was harder to say no to them. Halli had refused at first, but relented when Thráinn dismissed his talk of grabbing a sandwich to eat in his cabin. It was difficult to tell if he regretted his decision but although he hung his head and stared at his plate for most of the meal, he did at least seem grateful for the food.

Lára and Ægir had taken care of the cooking, setting to once they had searched the fridge for something they felt up to digesting. The outcome of their efforts lay before them in large dishes. ‘Cheers.’ Ægir raised his glass and waited for the others to follow suit. ‘Pity we didn’t have the sense to bring along a few bottles of white. We should have known there’d be fish.’

‘That’s all right.’ Thráinn took a deep gulp. ‘We’re not fussy, are we, Halli?’

‘No.’ The young sailor was as taciturn as ever. Perhaps it was his age, or simply that he was unused to having families on board. Ægir would have felt the same if a family of four had invaded his office. Halli sipped his wine, but did not look particularly appreciative. Maybe he was more of a beer drinker; after all, he was considerably younger than the other three adults.

‘It is okay for you two to have a little drink, isn’t it? I mean, if you’re on duty?’ Lára forked up another piece of fish.

‘Sure. We’re on autopilot and cruising at a gentle speed. We go as slowly as possible at night, but make up for it during the day. Since we’re just pottering along at the moment it doesn’t matter if we have something to drink. I’ll be my usual self when I take over the watch later. Don’t worry – it takes more than a couple of glasses of wine to get me drunk.’

‘Who sails the boat at night?’ asked Bylgja.

‘We take it in turns to keep watch, but there isn’t much to do. We just lie on the couch within reach, and plot our position at hourly intervals in case anything goes wrong.’