Page 7 of Meet Me Under the Northern Lights

REYKJAVIK

Chloe was standing in a car park, below the towering presence of a magnificent-looking church, its spire layering up towards the ice-blue sky.

There were quite a number of people taking photos of the church and the statue of a man in front of it.

Was this her first Icelandic attraction?

Should it be put on an itinerary for the Sinclairz Chairs event?

She shivered, debating getting her phone out to look on Google Maps for the name of this church.

And where had Olga gone? Gunnar. He said his name was Gunnar.

She looked for him amid the crowd. He shouldn’t be hard to spot. Tall, late-twenties/early-thirties, navy-blue coat and matching beanie. Except… most people seemed to fit that category, as though how they were dressed was some kind of winter uniform.

‘Hello, krúttio mitt .’

Chloe jumped as Gunnar popped up from behind her, breath visible in the air. She’d googled this phrase, krúttio mitt. It meant ‘my sweetie’. She kind of liked it…

‘Take care,’ he said. ‘All these jumps and dives you take… the ground is icy. We do not want more accidents.’

‘You made me jump!’ she exclaimed.

‘And you must keep yourself calm when I tell you that my friend’s place is not free.’

Her heart dropped. Sadly, probably stupidly, she had been counting on this working out. What was she going to do now?

‘But, there is another place,’ Gunnar said. ‘A friend of my friend has a smaller apartment. His friends were coming to stay there, but now they are not.’

‘Why?’ Chloe asked, suspicion coating her tone.

‘Why what?’

‘Why are this friend of a friend’s friends not coming to stay any more.’

Gunnar frowned like the question she had asked was the trickiest conundrum. ‘I do not know. I did not ask. Do you want me to call him back and say you do not want this place?’

‘No,’ Chloe said quickly. ‘No, don’t do that.’ She sighed. ‘Just, tell me it’s… not a dungeon.’

‘Oh,’ Gunnar said, shaking his head. ‘I did not realise. You did not tell me you had such very specific requirements.’

‘What?’

He laughed then. ‘I am a good person. I do not know people who have dungeons. Do you?’

‘Well, there’s the royal family for a start,’ Chloe answered. ‘Not that I know them personally. OK, never mind, just give me the address and is there a key I collect or something?’

‘Yes,’ Gunnar answered. ‘I will take you to it now. It is on the way of turning around and driving people back to the airport.’

‘OK, great. Oh, so… how much is it to rent? And do I have to pay in the Icelandic money because I don’t have any of that so?—’

‘You have no króna ?’

He had said it like it was against the law not to have any in her possession. Was it? She really didn’t want to add getting arrested to today’s itinerary. ‘No. I mean, can I get some? From a cashpoint?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, but there will be a fee.’

She had the company card. She could do that. ‘OK, so how much is the not-dungeon to rent?’

‘I do not know,’ Gunnar said.

‘What?’

‘My friend’s friend just said his place was available. I did not talk in details.’ He sighed. ‘But, you know, I am sure the space has been paid for so?—’

‘It’s fine,’ Chloe said with a shiver as the cold suddenly got to her. ‘Th… thank you.’

‘Ah, it almost sounded like it was difficult for you to say.’

‘It’s just the cold.’ She straightened herself. ‘Thank you.’

* * *

‘I am sorry for this chaos on the bus.’

He couldn’t believe it. Only two minutes from their stop at Hallgrímskirkja Church and one of his passengers had thrown up.

Fortunately, most of it had gone into an impressively sturdy pig-emblazoned carrier bag from the Bónus supermarket he kept for such eventualities.

However, his braking at the first alert of the sickness had meant a rucksack had fallen from the overhead storage and hit another passenger.

Today was not going his way at all. But, after that distraction, he felt no guilt for having to make a stop at this apartment.

‘Oh, it’s OK. I thought you handled both situations really well. I don’t think any low reviews could come from it. Definitely not from me anyway.’

He nodded. ‘OK, so, this is the apartment. I do not know what it is like, but my friend has texted me a code for the key safe. It is…’ He checked the screen of his phone then whispered, ‘1234.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Sshh, we do not want the passengers on the bus to hear the special code.’

He watched the woman looking at the front door of the place and the small black box attached to the door.

It didn’t look much from the outside, but Henrik had assured him it was definitely a few grades up from a dungeon.

She opened the lid of the box and began to turn the dials to the appropriate numbers.

Once they were set the key was released.

‘Thank you, again, for your help. I will definitely not sue you for knocking me over or badly repacking my case.’

He smiled. ‘Do you need me to come in? Light the flaming torches in the dungeon.’

‘I think I’ll be good.’

‘OK, well, enjoy but…’ He was hesitant. Why was he hesitant? Then…

‘I should give you my phone number,’ he said.

‘O-K.’

‘Not in a strange way,’ he continued.

‘A strange way?’

Why was he starting to feel hot? It was minus temperatures. He rarely felt hot, even when it had actually made it over twenty degrees here in the summer…

‘In case there is a problem and you need…’ What was he saying?

‘A bus?’

He nodded. ‘Exactly.’

‘And your number, is it 1234?’

He smiled as she took her phone from her coat pocket and he recited the number.

‘OK, Olga,’ she said. ‘I have that saved now.’

‘Good. Then I will leave you to settle in.’

‘And meet the other prisoners disorganised for their holidays chained to the brickwork.’

‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘So, bless .’

‘Bless? Really?’

He smiled. ‘It means goodbye. In Icelandic.’

‘Really? Or is this a trick?’

‘You are very suspicious of everything.’

‘I prefer the word “cautious”.’

He nodded. ‘OK, well, I need to get back to my bus before anyone else has time to be sick.’ He turned towards the vehicle parked at the edge of the road only a few steps away. The sooner this shift was over, the sooner he could get back to the people who relied on him.

‘Just a second,’ the woman said.

He stopped in his tracks, then turned to face her again.

‘Chloe,’ she introduced herself. ‘My name. It’s Chloe.’

He smiled and held out his hand. ‘It is nice to meet you.’

She put her hand in his. ‘You too.’

And now he needed to let go. Because something he hadn’t felt in a long long time was sliding through him like a sharp ice skate on a clean rink. He dropped her hand like it was hot lava and waved his in the air.

‘ Bless .’