Why Did You Lie? Read online

  She’d had less success with their son. Tumi had never been persuaded to take up any sport or show his face at her workplace, as his weedy figure attested. Of course, his gangling frame would fill out one day, and Nói hoped this would happen sooner rather than later. Still, before long an interest in girls was bound to spur him on to making more effort with his appearance and becoming more sociable.

  Tumi and his friends still seemed happiest in each other’s company, spending long hours hunched over computer games, mowing down figures jerkily seeking refuge. They spoke little among themselves; in fact the only words his small group of friends seemed to exchange were monosyllables like ‘fuck’, ‘shit’ and ‘man’, which they yelled at the games as they crowded round the large TV monitor in Tumi’s bedroom. It was something of a relief to Nói that all his son’s friends were social misfits to a man. He took it as proof that Tumi’s indifference to anything except computers couldn’t be blamed on his failings as a parent. Since Nói had never known his own father, he tended to worry that he wasn’t performing well enough in the paternal role. He had nothing, either positive or negative, to measure himself against.

  ‘Where’s Tumi?’

  ‘Asleep.’ Vala upended a plastic bag of dirty clothes on the floor and sighed. ‘Why didn’t we wash this back in Florida?’

  ‘The weather outside was too tempting, remember? And we were supposed to be on holiday. I don’t know about you, but in my opinion laundry and holidays don’t go together. Neither does sweltering heat, actually, but that’s another story.’

  Nói dodged as Vala threw a dirty sock at him. Coffee slopped out of his mug and he dried the splash with the sock that he had caught in mid-air.

  ‘Would you mind waking him? I need you two to help.’ She made a face. ‘I want to blitz the whole house today. Get rid of everything associated with those people.’

  Nói tutted. ‘Are you thinking of the coat? We hardly need to go through the whole house; they’re sure to let us know if they’ve forgotten anything else.’

  ‘I doubt it. They left a bag of dirty laundry by the washing machine. I feel like throwing the whole lot in the bin. I’m certainly not going to wash it.’

  It was Nói’s turn to grimace. Other people’s dirty clothes revolted him as much as a clump of a stranger’s pubic hair. If it were up to him they would set fire to the bag. ‘What kind of idiots are they?’

  ‘Don’t ask me. Maybe they overslept and had to leave the house in a hurry. I can’t find the sheets that should’ve been on our bed either. And when I looked under the bottom sheet I noticed that the mattress protector’s missing too. It’s not in the laundry basket, anyway. And Púki’s litter tray was absolutely disgusting, as if they hadn’t let him out the whole time they were here. I almost threw up when I emptied it earlier.’ She sounded aggrieved. The house swap had been her brainwave: Nói had been utterly opposed to it at first, although he had caved in eventually. Impersonal hotels with clean towels and minibars were more up his street. All the time they were there he had lived in fear of opening a cupboard in search of a glass and finding something excruciatingly personal, like a sex toy or a leaflet on living with prostate cancer. Things he would rather not know about.

  The only reason he had given in was that Vala had been in such a state before the trip. Her sudden decision that they should go abroad had come in the wake of a bout of depression she’d suffered in the run-up to Christmas. She hadn’t seemed to care that it would mean taking Tumi out of school after term had started. Nói hadn’t wanted to rock the boat, and in the event he was glad he had gone along with her wishes because she was soon back in her usual good mood. She was the perfect woman in his perfect life and he was prepared to go to great lengths to keep her happy.

  ‘There’s no way they can have overslept. The flights to America leave in the late afternoon.’

  ‘They were travelling onwards to Europe.’

  ‘Jesus. Then I hope you haven’t invited them to stay here on their return journey. Is that why they left all their stuff behind?’ Nói felt overwhelmed with dismay. If that was the case, he would soon be getting that minibar and room service after all – he would damn well stay at a hotel if these people were going to make themselves at home in his house again.

  ‘No, you idiot. Of course not. They’ll only be stopping over to change planes.’

  ‘Couldn’t we take their crap out to the airport, then? Surely the airline can put out an announcement for them to come and fetch their dirty laundry.’

  ‘Yeah, right. The airport has a dedicated team for that.’ Vala slammed the washing machine shut. ‘Don’t be such a fool. Of course they don’t – they blow up any luggage that gets left behind.’ She stood up. ‘We’ll just have to post it to them. Collect all the bits and pieces we find when we spring-clean the house and chuck them in a box.’

  Nói sighed to himself. ‘Spring-clean the whole house?’ There was always a chance he’d misheard.

  ‘From top to bottom. There’s an odd smell I want to get rid of.’

  Nói sniffed the air and though he couldn’t remember what the house normally smelt like, it was still there, that faint, alien taint that had greeted them on their arrival this morning. It was neither acrid nor nasty, but disconcerting nevertheless. Still, he could live with it; he didn’t know how one got rid of smells but assumed it would involve a major – and tedious – operation. The simplest solution would have been to spray air freshener in all the rooms but Vala was allergic to synthetic scents, so that was out of the question.

  Nói made do with shaking his head, then finished his coffee and went to rouse Tumi.

  Púki was lying curled in a ball in front of the bedroom door, tail wrapped around as if to hold himself together. His ears flickered slightly when Nói approached, then he raised his head and stared at him, unblinkingly. It was as if the cat expected something of him or wanted to convey some message: It wasn’t me in the bathroom.

  ‘Who was it then, old boy?’ muttered Nói. The cat didn’t stir when he opened the door so he had to step over him.

  Inside the lights were off and the curtains were still drawn. There was a musty smell and their son had managed to strew his belongings over the floor and half the desk, though they had only been home for a few hours. Before evening the room would be as much of a pigsty as it had been before they went to America.

  Tumi’s tan looked even deeper against the white sheets; the unaccustomed colour suited him. More familiar was the sight of the open laptop beside him. Nói was about to close it when he decided to grab the opportunity to take a quick peek at the webcam in the chalet. Vala would be annoyed if she caught him using the computer in the kitchen. He perched on the side of the bed, taking care not to wake Tumi. His son muttered something without opening his eyes or stirring.

  To his surprise, Nói saw that three new files awaited him on the holiday chalet webpage, all from that morning. Selecting the oldest, he fast-forwarded through the first few seconds that showed a still of the living room and open-plan kitchen, as it should. He tried enhancing the brightness but the video was still too dark for him to see properly. Yet he thought he could detect a faint movement at the end of the decking or just beyond it, though there was no telling what it was, no matter how Nói tried to enlarge the image or tilt the screen this way and that. Eventually he gave up and opened the next video clip. The timer showed that the camera had been activated almost immediately after the first recording, so it was equally dark. Again he fast-forwarded through the first part, then slowed down a few seconds in when the movement appeared. He did his best to watch the whole screen and flinched when something white suddenly appeared under the door that led to the decking. He zoomed in until it was clear that there was a crumpled piece of paper or letter lying on the floor. Nói pulled back a little from the screen and racked his brain to remember if they had ever received any post or flyers at the chalet before. He zoomed in again in a vain attempt to read what was written on the paper but it appea
red to be blank. It was impossible to be certain in the poor light, however; the paper could just as well have been a hand-drawn advertisement for the local women’s institute cake sale, or a notice from the electricity company that they were turning the power off for maintenance work. The thought reassured him. Of course, it must be something like that.

  He checked the third recording, reassured by this innocent explanation. The footage had been captured a little after the last one, but by now he had grown accustomed to the grainy image and could see what it showed more clearly. As a result he had no problem making out the figure walking along the decking – presumably the postman. The face of the black silhouette was invisible and all he could really tell was that it was human. Nói frowned when he realised that, instead of leaving, the figure was walking across the decking, past the large window, to vanish round the corner of the chalet in the direction of the shed and barbecue. Then all was still until the figure reappeared, passed the window, then stepped down from the decking and melted into the darkness.

  Nói stopped the video at the point where the shadowy figure was in the middle of the window. It was impossible to tell whether it was a man or a woman, but he was fairly sure the person was wearing a dark-coloured anorak with the large hood pulled up. He stared at the frozen image with a vague sense of misgiving that he couldn’t explain. Perhaps it had something to do with the way the figure moved, head lowered to its chest, as if something ominous awaited it beyond the decking.

  Tumi stirred and rolled over on his side. Nói just managed to grab the laptop before it slipped onto the floor. ‘What are you doing on my computer?’ his son mumbled huskily from the depths of his pillow.

  ‘Good afternoon. So you’re actually awake.’ Nói closed the webpage, snapped the computer shut and left the question unanswered. He didn’t want to bother Tumi with his no doubt groundless worries. Some things were not for kids. ‘Your mum’s on the warpath downstairs. Time to drag yourself out of bed and lend a hand.’

  ‘I’m still tired,’ groaned the boy.

  ‘You’re always tired.’

  ‘What’s the rush? We’ve only just got home. Can’t it wait for a bit? It’s not as if the cases are blocking the way into the house.’ Although Tumi showed no signs of leaping out of bed, he was at least sitting up. His tousled hair was blonder than usual and under the heavy fringe you could see his mother’s large blue eyes and his father’s strong square jaw.

  ‘You may not have to go to school till after the weekend but your mother and I have got to go to work in the morning.’ Suddenly Nói was filled with the same urge as Vala had described – to obliterate every trace of the American couple, for their son’s sake. Tumi would be alone at home tomorrow and Nói didn’t want any hint of their presence left in the house. ‘On your feet.’ He slapped his thighs and stood up. ‘Jump in the shower, then come straight down.’ A voice inside his head whispered to him to tell the boy to leave the bathroom door open but he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud – it was too ridiculous. He made do with smiling at Tumi, then left the room.

  ‘Shit, I really don’t feel like going to work tomorrow.’ Nói pulled off the rubber gloves, which were damp inside. He couldn’t wait to wash off the unpleasant odour. He blew out a breath, proudly surveying the results of his hard work. The kitchen was looking pretty good. Admittedly there were marks here and there on the stainless steel, but he was too knackered to let it bother him.

  ‘Well, I’m looking forward to it. I can’t wait to have a proper workout.’ Vala collapsed onto a chair. ‘I’m tired of not being tired, if you see what I mean.’

  ‘No.’ He had given up hope of ever developing the same passion for physical exercise as his wife. He made the effort to stay in reasonable shape for her sake, but nothing more.

  ‘Drop by after work and I’ll show you what I mean. I promise you’ll be stiff for the rest of the week.’

  ‘Sounds tempting, but no thanks.’ His hands shone as he rinsed off the washing-up liquid; he would smell like a pine tree but it was better than the foul stink of rubber. The sudden memory of the figure on the decking wiped the smile off his face.

  ‘Don’t think I’m going to let you off. If you don’t come tomorrow, it’ll have to be the day after.’ Vala stretched and her shoulder joint clicked. ‘You’ll recover from your jetlag sooner if you’re physically tired.’

  Nói had planned to go to sleep physically tired that night, but not from the gym. ‘I promise.’ But even the thought of sex with Vala wasn’t enough to distract him from the nagging feeling that there was something amiss at the holiday chalet. ‘By the way, have the keys to the chalet turned up?’ He tried to sound casual.

  Vala shook her head and dropped her arms. ‘They’re here somewhere. We may have cleaned the whole house but we still haven’t done a proper search. I spent most of my time scrubbing the stairs and the wall beside them. I don’t know what they’ve been doing but it was disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. It just goes to show how tired we were this morning that we didn’t notice. I could swear there was urine on the stairs.’ She closed her eyes and rolled her head in circles. ‘If they’ve accidentally taken the keys with them, they’ll post them back to us.’ Her head came to a standstill but her short blonde ponytail continued to swing. ‘You can use his coat as security.’ Then she opened her eyes and smiled at Nói. ‘Did you see the bed? I changed it and put on the valance. It looks fantastic.’

  ‘Great.’ Nói didn’t want to spoil her pleasure but the ruffles around the bed reminded him of an old lady’s tablecloth. In fact, the less they said about the bed, the better. Neither the sheets nor the mattress protector had turned up and he was cross enough about that. Nói scrunched up a piece of kitchen towel after drying his hands. The bin turned out to be full so he took out the bag. ‘Have you had any messages from them? I haven’t heard a thing.’

  ‘No idea. I haven’t been on the computer.’

  ‘Haven’t you checked your e-mail on your phone?’ He and Tumi had given her an extremely expensive smartphone for Christmas but Vala would only use it for making calls.

  ‘No. Why?’

  He had no good answer to this, so he knotted the bag and carried it out to the dustbin.

  The cold that met him at the front door came as a shock. He had adjusted to the Florida heat straight away and now missed being able to wander in and out without having to put on a coat. It seemed too much hassle to pull one on now, so he took a deep breath and dashed out in his T-shirt and indoor shoes.

  For some reason the outside lights were off but he could see by the glow of the lamppost in the street. He cursed as he passed one of the bollard lights lining the drive and saw broken glass lying on the paving. He hadn’t noticed it when they arrived this morning and Vala hadn’t mentioned it either. The same applied to the next post, and also the third and last before the parking space. None of the lights lining the parking spaces were working either: all the bulbs had been smashed. Vala was right; they must have been half blind with exhaustion this morning.

  Nói rubbed his freezing upper arms. Up to now their neighbourhood had been left in peace by vandals, though it wasn’t that far from the town centre. He supposed there was no point ringing the police, and anyway he was too tired to be bothered with all that right now. He would buy new bulbs tomorrow – better replace them before Vala came home as there was no need to start her fretting about yobs. Maybe it would be a good idea to install a security camera at home as well. He hurried to dispose of the rubbish but when he opened the bin his anger flared up again. There was a pizza box in the bottom. Those bloody idiots! He had written them clear instructions that no cardboard or paper was to go in the rubbish bin or the dustmen would refuse to empty it. He had also left them the phone number and address of the nearest pizza place, and the box was proof that they had at least taken that information on board. So it wasn’t as if they hadn’t seen his notes.

  Nói found himself hoping uncharitably that the couple’s bags had
gone missing on the way to Europe, that they had been subjected to an intimate search at airport security and that it would rain non-stop for the rest of their trip. And that strikes would pursue them the length and breadth of the Continent. He realised he was overreacting: he must be more tired than he’d thought. Cold, tired, pissed off and in no way ready to return to work tomorrow. He fished out the box to transfer it to the correct bin. To his surprise, it was heavy and when he opened it he found a whole, untouched pizza inside. A margherita. This evidence of their lack of sophistication did nothing to improve his opinion of them.

  Nói headed back to the house. His skin prickled at the thought of the dark parking area and rubbish store behind him. It felt as if someone were watching him and he couldn’t have been more relieved to get back inside.

  Only then was his mind calm enough to register what he had glimpsed beneath the pizza box in the bin. Nói opened the cupboard and took out his coat.

  Chapter 7

  26 January 2014

  The sun has gone down and the damp is creeping into their bones. Helgi has to make a superhuman effort to stop his teeth chattering. He put down his gloves earlier when changing the lens on his camera and, as bad luck would have it, one of them blew over the cliff. He could see it floating on the gentle swell, fingers splayed, as if a hand were reaching up to the surface from below. Then it sank into the depths and a large air bubble appeared and burst as if the sea were belching after swallowing this morsel.

  Instead of favouring one hand over the other, Helgi has taken off his other glove too and is burrowing both hands into his pockets against the chilly wind. There is little else he can do to keep warm. Heida and Ívar are inside the lighthouse but he doesn’t like to squash in there with them. He could put on more clothes but doubts this would help much. To make matters worse, the area of flat ground on top of the stack is so small that there’s no real way of stretching one’s legs except by jumping on the spot. Helgi makes do with this, realising, as he does so, how absurd it is for a fatso like him to be bouncing up and down, hands in pockets, on a rock in the middle of the ocean. He slows down and eventually his feet are barely leaving the ground, which makes him look even more foolish. Tóti is watching him, but looks away briefly when Helgi comes to a standstill. Then their eyes meet, and although they are standing as far apart as is humanly possible on Stóridrangur – Helgi on the helipad, Tóti by the lighthouse – Helgi can detect the contempt in the other man’s face.