The Silence of the Sea (16 page)

The child extended her hand for the brick again and Thóra laid it on the little palm. She had a sudden urge to take in the child herself, to guarantee that her grandparents would be allowed access. But it was only a momentary impulse; a decision like that couldn’t be made in a hurry, quite apart from the fact that Thóra was in no position to add a small child to her household. ‘As soon as you’re ready, I’ll look into it for you. Even if they allow Sigga Dögg to stay here for a while, you won’t have long to make up your minds. Once Ægir and Lára are declared dead, you can expect the child protection authorities to take up her case.’ She couldn’t say any more than that. While she was fairly confident that the formalities relating to the will and Ægir and Lára’s life assurance policies would eventually be dealt with in a reasonable manner, a question-mark hung over the child’s fate. In her opinion, the best solution would probably be for the child to be adopted by a nice young couple and for her grandparents to be allowed regular contact with her, though it was unlikely to be frequent enough to satisfy them. She decided to turn to more pressing matters. If they asked her to act for them in their application for custody or access, the little girl’s case would of course take precedence, but right now there were other concerns. ‘If you can face it, I’d be grateful if you could answer a few questions relating to the points I need to cover in my letter to the insurance provider.’ They both agreed, apparently relieved by the change of subject.

‘Had Ægir or Lára been diagnosed with a critical illness, either recently or before they took out their life cover? If they failed to disclose any information about their health when they took out their policies, it could invalidate them. Any recent illness could be used to cast suspicion on their deaths.’

‘They were both fighting fit. Never suffered a day’s serious illness.’ Margeir sounded as if he knew what he was talking about. ‘Neither of them smoked and they only drank in moderation,’ he added, as if that alone were enough to provide a watertight bill of health.

‘Good. Could I have the name of their GP in case I’m asked for documentary evidence?’

‘I don’t think we know which surgery they went to,’ replied Sigrídur. She looked at her husband hopefully, but neither could answer.

‘It doesn’t matter. I can probably find out from their local health centre. Let’s turn to the incident itself. Was there no suggestion at all before they set out that Ægir and his family might sail home to Iceland?’

Margeir appeared irritated but when he spoke his voice was as flat and empty of feeling as before. ‘Not a word. They would have told us. After all, we were taking care of their daughter. No, I’m positive it wasn’t planned.’

‘People often discuss possibilities, then change their minds – they could have toyed with the idea before deciding against it. But it’s good to hear they didn’t. It’ll support your claim that Ægir was forced to step in.’ Thóra was keen to remove all doubt; she didn’t like to raise the matter, but the insurance company’s potential assertion that the family had arranged their own disappearance would be undermined if it could be proved that the voyage had been a last-minute decision. Conspiracies required considerable preparation; it was highly unlikely that they could be organised at extremely short notice. Either the decision to vanish without trace had been taken before they left Iceland, or they had made no such plan. In any case, the idea was patently ridiculous. What kind of person would abscond like that and put his parents through such anguish? The same anguish that Lára’s parents must be experiencing right now. ‘Is it at all conceivable that they were considering returning by sea but forgot to tell you?’

The woman plucked at a loose thread on her shirt cuff. Her nails were badly bitten and her hands veiny; her fingers a little crooked, perhaps from arthritis. ‘Obviously we can’t answer that. Look, I don’t know what you’ve been told; all I can say is that if they were intending to come home by boat, they didn’t breathe a word about it to me. Not a word.’ She glanced at her husband for corroboration.

‘Nor me.’ His voice was firm now. ‘And they had plenty of opportunities to raise the idea. Presumably they didn’t because it was never part of their plan.’ From his body language, it appeared he had a better command over his feelings than Thóra had imagined.

‘Fine. I wouldn’t worry about it.’ Thóra regretted having created any doubt in their minds. They had enough worries as it was. ‘Did they send you any e-mails or other messages that would confirm their travel plans? With phone numbers, for example, or information about the hotel they’d be staying at, in case of emergency?’

‘We’re not on e-mail,’ Sigrídur replied, ‘but Ægir gave us a list of dates and hotels, as well as their mobile numbers. They were very anxious because it was the first time they’d left Sigga Dögg on her own. The list is still on the fridge. Do you want me to fetch it?’ Thóra nodded and the woman rose to her feet with an effort. As she went into the kitchen she held a hand to her hip as if it was painful. The sight did nothing to boost Thóra’s confidence about their chances of gaining custody. But her spirits rose when she saw the list, because it supported the current interpretation of events. The family had been intending to fly home and resume life as normal after their holiday. The neatly written itinerary with the phone numbers of the two hotels they would be staying at, one in London, the other in Lisbon; their flight numbers and departure and arrival times – this was all evidence that they had wanted to be absolutely sure they could be contacted and that Ægir’s parents would be in no doubt about where to find them at any given time. They gave her permission to take the note away with her, as long as she promised to return it afterwards.

‘Did you hear from them at any point while they were away? Before they left port, for instance?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Sigrídur. ‘They rang often. The last time was to tell us they were coming home by ship. They’d actually embarked by then and were just leaving harbour. I spoke to them both. Ægir gave me a brief account of how it had come about but they were mainly ringing to speak to Sigga Dögg.’ She reached down and picked up the little girl. ‘They said they’d ring back before they lost their signal but they never did. I don’t know why. Maybe they lost reception sooner than expected. I’ve no idea how far out at sea mobile phones stop working.’

‘Neither have I.’ Thóra had hoped to hear that they’d been in touch with Ægir or Lára during the voyage, via satellite phone or radio. That would have made it easier to ascertain when the family had gone missing. But it couldn’t be helped; doubtless the police had information that would narrow the time frame, like the captain’s communications with shore.

Sigga Dögg laid her cheek against her grandmother’s chest and cuddled up to her. After a bit of wriggling to find a comfortable position, she turned her head to watch Thóra. The toddler’s large grey eyes observed her intently, though it was unclear what she was expecting. Perhaps she thought Thóra was yet another social worker come to set her a test or ask her questions – not that she seemed capable of answering; she hadn’t said a word since Thóra arrived. ‘Has she started talking yet?’

The girl’s grandfather answered. ‘Oh, yes. She can say plenty. Though she’s been much quieter since … you know. She understands more than you’d think. Actually, that’s why we’re unhappy with what the experts have been saying to her. You’d have thought professionals like them would know better.’

‘What do you mean?’ Thóra was puzzled. ‘Are you saying you’ve witnessed inappropriate behaviour?’

‘No, we weren’t allowed to be present during yesterday’s visit.’ He reached out and gently stroked Sigga Dögg’s leg. ‘But it doesn’t alter the fact that she’s suddenly started coming out with things she can only have heard from other people, and since it wasn’t from us, it must have been those jumped-up government flunkeys. We haven’t felt up to receiving visitors, so she doesn’t really see anyone else.’ He withdrew his hand. ‘Not that we’ve had to turn many away.’

‘What’s she been saying that’s led you to that conclusion?’

They both pursed their lips as if reluctant to answer. Then their eyes met and Sigrídur silently urged Margeir to speak. ‘Things connected to the accident. Things she can’t have made up herself. A two-year-old knows nothing about d-e-a-t-h, let alone d-r-o-w-n-i-n-g.’ He laboriously spelt out the words. ‘She must have heard that from someone else and, as I said, there aren’t many obvious candidates.’

Thóra’s mind kicked into action. Was it possible that the child had heard this not from the social worker or psychologist, but from her parents? Could they have been plotting in front of the little girl? It was just conceivable that it might emerge now, when the child grasped that all was not well with her parents and sisters. Thóra opened her mouth to ask a leading question but couldn’t frame one. If Lára and Ægir were lying on a beach somewhere, soaking up the sun, then his parents were plainly not in on the secret. Their grief was too real, their bewilderment too palpable for them to be acting a part. The more she thought about it, the more impossible it seemed. No one would do that to their parents or child. ‘Children are easily distracted,’ she said. ‘I’m sure she’ll soon become interested in something else.’ She caught the little girl’s gaze. ‘Maybe pussy-cats? Do you like pussy-cats? I’ve got one. She’s rather fat.’

Sigga Dögg raised her head from her grandmother’s chest, her lips slightly parted, a trickle of saliva glistening between them. It looked almost silver in the strange light from the window.

‘Mummy.’

Thóra felt the blood rise to her cheeks. What had she been thinking of to talk about cats to a child in this situation? She knew nothing about child psychology, despite having almost completed the practical when it came to her own children and grandchild. That clearly wasn’t enough, however. ‘Yes, sweetheart.’ Unsure what else to say, she hoped the child would stop talking, or that one of her grandparents would jump in. But they sat in silence, perhaps disconcerted by how much they had revealed to a virtual stranger.

‘Mummy got water in mouth.’ The little girl’s own mouth turned down. ‘Oh, dear.’

Thóra coughed, flustered. She glanced at Sigrídur and Margeir. ‘Is this what you meant?’

They nodded, their eyes perturbed. ‘There’s more,’ said Sigrídur, almost in a whisper. ‘Just wait.’

The child didn’t seem to notice that she had her grandparents’ full attention. She sat with eyes wide open, gazing at Thóra who had the feeling that the little girl was frustrated at being unable to communicate what she wanted to say. ‘Oh, dear. Poor Adda and Bygga.’ She stuck out her lower lip to indicate sadness. ‘Bad water.’

Thóra wasn’t sure if she had heard right; it sounded as if the little girl was referring to her sisters Arna and Bylgja. ‘Bad water?’

The child nodded. ‘Poor Adda and Bygga.’ She inclined her head towards Thóra, the gesture uncomfortably adult in such a young child. ‘Big bad water. Water in mouth.’

Thóra’s mobile bleeped in her bag; a pale blue light was visible through the opening. Profoundly grateful for the interruption, she fished for it apologetically. The office number flashed up. She put it on silent, though the screen continued to glow. ‘It doesn’t sound as if she’s repeating anything that adults would say.’

‘Well, who else could she have got it from? She hasn’t met any other children since …’ Sigrídur clutched her granddaughter tight as if she was afraid Thóra would snatch her away. Her voice was shrill and she placed her hands solicitously over the little girl’s ears to protect her from hearing her agitation.

‘Is it possible she could have heard someone discussing the family’s fate and is trying to understand it in her own way?’ The big water must surely mean the sea and water in mouth could be a child’s understanding of drowning, though a two-year-old couldn’t be expected to comprehend such a word.

‘I wouldn’t know; as far as I’m aware no one’s discussed it in front of her. But whatever’s behind it, it’s terribly distressing. She woke up crying last night, stammering these words between sobs and calling for her mother. The same thing happened this morning. She’s quiet now, but last night she was out of her mind with terror. What can you say to a child who calls for her mother, when no one knows what’s happened to her?’

‘I can’t begin to imagine.’ Thóra realised it was time to call a halt. These people were seething with suppressed rage and grief over what had happened and with anxiety about the future. It must be a terrible strain to live with such uncertainty. She pitied the psychologist and social worker who had to advise them. ‘Look, I know it’s naive of me, but I really hope they’re found drifting in a lifeboat somewhere and that everything will soon be back to normal.’

They regarded her suspiciously at first, then seemed to accept that she was sincere. Margeir stretched. ‘So do we.’ He clenched his fists until the knuckles whitened. ‘As you can no doubt imagine.’

The phone on Thóra’s lap had gone dark. When she darted a glance at it, it flashed once to indicate a text message. ‘Excuse me.’ It might be Bragi or one of her other colleagues needing to get hold of her urgently. But the message was from Bella:
Saw online body turned up – prob from yacht.

Instantly all hope of finding them adrift in a lifeboat vanished.

Thóra was far from satisfied when she hung up. It wasn’t that she had expected to be supplied with exhaustive detail about the body that had been washed ashore but she had hoped to get a little more for her trouble. In the event, the news websites proved more informative. The police had stonewalled all her enquiries with:
I’m afraid we can’t reveal any information at present.
She was still in the dark about the gender and age of the deceased, and could receive no confirmation that the body was even connected with the yacht.

‘Who is it? Do you know?’ Bella appeared in the doorway and leant against the frame, holding a steaming mug of coffee. The aroma wafted across the room, and Thóra realised she was in dire need of caffeine. For a split second it crossed her mind to ask Bella for a sip, but she was not that desperate.