The Mist

left anything behind in the summer house, she locked the door and put the key conscientiously under the mat. All her possessions, the most precious of which were her exercise books, fitted into one large backpack. What she needed now was to move on to somewhere new and meet new people in a different environment. It didn’t really matter where, and she hadn’t made any specific plans. To be free as a bird – the thought made her heart sing.
Unnur walked unhurriedly along the road towards Selfoss. There was little traffic at this early hour. She was used to having to get up at the crack of dawn for school and that hadn’t changed just because she was her own mistress these days, with no obligations. The way she saw it, self-discipline was essential if you wanted to become a successful novelist. And she found the lifestyle suited her so well that she had even begun to wonder if she should forget her plans to go to university. Of course, she knew this idea was bound to meet with opposition from her parents, and perhaps it was an illusion, a vision of the future that appealed to her now but that wouldn’t survive the cold light of day once she returned to her old life. Still, whatever happened, she was determined to finish her book.
She knew from experience that it could take a while to get a lift. Very few drivers were prepared to stop and pick up a stranger. When they did stop, they almost without exception addressed her in English, although they were clearly Icelanders, since they couldn’t believe that anyone except a foreign tourist would stand on the side of the road, hitching a lift. It pleased her to think that she didn’t fit any of the usual stereotypes. Her mother would never have dreamt of letting her hitchhike round the country, so she had lied to her and said she was planning to rely on buses. Apart from that, she had told her parents as little as possible, merely that she meant to spend a whole year travelling in Iceland, meeting new people and taking jobs here and there to support herself. From time to time she sent them letters, and in return they left her completely to her own devices. They trusted her. All she had promised was that, once the year was up, she would come home to Gardabær and enrol at the university.
Several cars had passed while she had been walking, but no one had paid her any attention. That was all right; she was in no hurry. The next stage of her adventure was just beginning. She was hoping to be able to work in exchange for a roof over her head but could afford to pay for accommodation if necessary. She had brought along her savings and, while she wasn’t exactly loaded, she knew how to make her money last. There was the knowledge, too, that her parents would send her anything she asked for, which was a useful safety net, though she had no intention of using it. Not unless she was desperate … It irritated Unnur a little that she had grown up in such a privileged home. She wanted to be independent, to prove that she could look after herself, and only now, finally, did she feel the umbilical cord had been truly cut.
Hearing the sound of an approaching engine, she paused at the side of the road and turned round. It was an old white BMW. Her parents used to have a car like that. Unnur stuck out her thumb and the driver slowed down. At last. Now she could take the next step, though her destination remained tantalizingly unknown.

VIII
Erla stood on the mat as if turned to stone, unable to utter a word. Her heart began to pound and she was, for the first time in ages, genuinely frightened.
‘I was just looking for, you know, the toilet,’ said Leó. He was lying, she was sure of it. The bedroom door had stood open, as always, and there was no way he could have confused it with the toilet. The bathroom door had been open too, right next to the spare room, so he could hardly have failed to notice it.
‘It’s…’ she stammered, ‘… it’s down there, next to your room.’
‘Oh, yes, of course, of course, I remember now.’ He smiled. It was a charming smile in its way, but Erla found it oddly menacing. She rapidly changed her mind about asking Leó any difficult questions without Einar there as back-up. Her anger had been quickly replaced by fear. Ignoring the impulse to go into their bedroom and check that he hadn’t touched anything, she decided to go straight back outside, however strange it might look, and find Einar.
She watched her husband feeding the sheep, her heart still beating unnaturally fast. The air in the barn was full of the familiar sounds of bleating and munching, the sweet scent of hay mingling with the odours of dung and wool, and the warmth rising from the milling backs of the ewes. She used to take pleasure in the company of the animals, but over the years she had grown to resent them as yet another link in the chain that held her prisoner here.
She wondered if she should say anything or just remain alert and keep an eye on their visitor while staying close to Einar. Simply trust that nothing bad would happen and that Leó would leave in the morning. Yet she had a horrible premonition that this was wishful thinking on her part.
‘Are you all right, love?’ Einar asked. Her anxiety must show in her face.
‘Yes, fine. I’m just a bit uneasy about that man. I don’t like having him here.’
‘Uneasy? Why? We’re used to having visitors from time to time, love.’
‘I know, but that’s different.’
‘Different in what way? We always get the odd paying guest in summer as well as the usual helpers.