Page 21 of Meet Me Under the Northern Lights

GUNNAR’S HOME, THE OUTSKIRTS OF REYKJAVIK

‘You are smiling,’ Hildur remarked, spooning yoghurt into a bowl as she sat at the table, leg up on the chair opposite. ‘It was Chloe.’

‘No,’ Gunnar said, putting his phone back on charge.

‘Gunnar Eriksson. You said her name. I may sometimes be stupid, but I am not deaf.’ She grinned, digging the spoon into the yoghurt mound she had made.

‘It is nothing,’ he said. ‘She is coming on the tour today.’

‘Oooo,’ Hildur said, excitedly.

‘Hildur, stop that,’ Gunnar said as Magnús burst into the kitchen.

‘What is Hildur doing?’ Magnús asked, picking up toast from the table.

‘Nothing for you to worry about,’ Gunnar answered. ‘Do you want orange juice?’

He had decided he was going to keep things completely normal with Magnús this morning at home.

Then, when they had dropped Hildur off at the community centre he was going to speak to the boy in the truck.

The truck had always been a safe space for talking since the first time Magnús had opened up to him after he lost his parents.

‘No,’ Magnús declined. ‘I need to leave, or I will be late.’ The boy was already picking up his backpack and heading towards the front door.

‘What?’ Gunnar said, thrown by this. ‘What do you mean late? Late for what?’

‘I am meeting Isak. His dad is taking us to school today.’

Magnús was not looking him in the eye. In fact, his whole body language was screaming out ‘lie’. Had he performed this act before and Gunnar just hadn’t noticed?

‘Magnús,’ Gunnar said.

‘I don’t have time to talk. I will get the bus home tonight.’ He made strides towards the door, fast. Gunnar moved faster, a bit like Hildur had done last night. He planted his back against the framework.

‘Stop,’ Gunnar said firmly.

It was enough to catch Magnús off-guard, shoulders rolling forward, head dipping, seeming unsure of his next move.

‘I have to go,’ the boy said in nothing more than a mumble.

‘Magnús,’ Gunnar said, softer. ‘I know you have not been going to school.’

The boy lifted his head now, showed a flash of defiance. ‘I have been going to school. You take me there every day.’

‘Do not be smart with me, Magnús. I will say it a different way. You have not been staying in school.’

There was no quick remark to follow just a very blank, emotionless expression now. And then, a shrug.

‘You think it does not matter?’ Gunnar asked, anger nibbling. ‘You have better things to do with your life than get an education?’

Another shrug.

‘Magnús,’ Hildur called from the table. ‘Gunnar is not mad with you, you know. He worries about you. We both worry about you.’

Gunnar was mad. He was just proceeding with caution. He swallowed.

‘Magnús, you know if there is something you need to talk to me about then I am here to talk about it with you.’

Magnús said nothing. He was standing completely still, eyes locked on the window behind the kitchen sink.

How did you get through to someone who was trying so hard not to let anyone in?

He could relate, that was how he had always been in life when he had lost his own parents, but when you were on the receiving end it was frustrating.

He racked his brain back to when he had saved Magnús, ran with him over his shoulder to safety…

‘OK,’ Gunnar said decisively. ‘No school today.’

‘What?’

It was Magnús and Hildur at the same time.

‘Yes. You will come on the coach with me,’ Gunnar said, nodding.

‘But—’

‘There is no more conversation to be had,’ Gunnar said. ‘So, shall I call Isak’s dad and tell him you will not need a ride to school today?’

Magnús said nothing.

‘OK, good. That is decided then. Hildur, we will leave in fifteen minutes.’

Hildur sighed and pushed away her yoghurt bowl. ‘Can I not go to school with Isak’s dad?’

Magnús turned around and headed back towards his room.

‘Magnús, be ready. Take a coat. It will be extra cold where we are going.’

His words were lost to the slamming of the door separating the living area from the bedrooms.

‘You will take him on your tour?’ Hildur asked.

‘There is no other choice.’ Gunnar’s hope was the boy would open up on his coach like he had used to open up in his truck.

‘And you will introduce Magnús to Chloe?’ Hildur asked. ‘Who will also be on the tour.’

Gunnar had not thought about that. And he was not about to start thinking about it now.

‘Just be ready to leave in fifteen minutes,’ he said, following the same path Magnús had taken to avoid awkward conversation.