The Mist

his breast pocket and shook it as if for emphasis. ‘Always prepared.’ His smile looked a little constrained and Erla sensed that he was troubled. Was it beginning to dawn on him that there was something odd about Leó’s visit? Perhaps the threat of a power cut, on top of the strange coincidence of the phone stopping working, had got him worried.
‘They still haven’t reported you missing,’ Erla murmured, just loud enough for both men to hear.
‘I wasn’t listening, actually,’ Leó said. It was a feeble excuse. They wouldn’t have failed to notice if there had been mention of a lost ptarmigan hunter on the radio. ‘And the news isn’t over yet.’
Neither Einar nor Erla said anything. Leó dropped his eyes to his plate and took a mouthful of lamb. The newsreader droned away in the background. ‘I expect they’re all still searching for me and haven’t come down from the mountain yet. I … I’m sure that’s why. They’d do a thorough search of the area themselves before going to get help.’
‘All?’ Erla queried, pouncing on the word. ‘How many of them are there, then?’
‘Mm?’ Leó sounded puzzled. ‘Three.’
‘Oh, that’s strange,’ Erla said, careful to remain outwardly composed. She hoped he couldn’t hear from her voice how fast her heart was beating or how troubled she was underneath.
‘Strange?’ It was Einar who asked. ‘Why?’
Erla looked at her husband, then back at their visitor: ‘I thought you said earlier that you’d been out shooting with two friends? That there were only three of you in total?’
Although visibly disconcerted, Leó was quick to retort: ‘Did I say that? Two? No, there are three of them. There were four of us altogether. You … you don’t go on a trip like that in winter without, without … plenty of back-up.’ It was blatantly obvious to Erla that he was lying.
He returned her gaze with a challenging stare and she could have sworn that for an unguarded moment there was a flash of pure hostility in his eyes, before he quickly mastered it and resumed his bland expression.
The lights flickered again and Erla shivered.
Einar seized the excuse to change the subject. ‘Bloody power cuts.’ This was typical of him. Apart from good-humoured wrangling about politics, he had never been able to stand conflict of any kind, whether verbal or physical, and always went out of his way to avoid confrontation. Like water, he was adept at finding the path of least resistance. Until he was pushed too far, that is. Then she never knew how he’d react. But that’s just the way her Einar was and there was no changing him. You couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks, and all that. No, Erla knew it was up to her to take the initiative, as usual. Up to her to get rid of this potentially dangerous man.
‘Bloody power cuts,’ Einar repeated. ‘The electricity often goes at Christmas, I’m afraid.’
‘At Christmas? That must be a pain.’
‘Yes, it is, but it can’t be helped,’ Einar said. ‘Christmas puts such a strain on the system, you see. But we’re used to making the best of things. Aren’t we, love?’
Erla nodded, without a word.
‘We just open our presents and read by candlelight. It’s grand, actually. Reminds me of the old days. My family’s lived here for centuries, you know. It’s our ancestral stamping ground. Our little patch of earth. And you have to look after your own.’
‘You can say that again.’
‘What do you do yourself, Leó?’ Erla asked. ‘You said you were here with friends from Reykjavík. I take it you live there?’
‘What? Oh, yes, I live in Reykjavík. That’s right. I’m a teacher.’
‘School’s broken up, then?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Which school is that?’
‘Which school?’ he repeated, as if to win time.
Hasn’t he rehearsed his story better than that? Erla thought to herself.
‘The university, actually,’ he said. ‘I teach at the university.’
‘What?’ Erla asked, then clarified: ‘What do you teach?’
‘Psychology.’
‘Well I never, you’re a psychologist, are you? I hope you’re not planning to analyse us!’ Einar said with mock alarm, but the joke failed to dispel the tension.
‘No risk of that.’ Leó’s smile was forced.
The lights dimmed again.
‘You know, I’m afraid we really are in for a power cut. It always starts like this. Have you got a candle in your room for the night, Leó?’ Einar looked first at their guest, then inquiringly at Erla.
‘I don’t think there’s a candle in his room,’ she answered after a pause. ‘But I’m sure we can find a spare one, since it’s only for the one night. After all, he’s leaving tomorrow morning. I assume you’ll be setting off early, Leó? As soon as it gets light?’
‘Yes, absolutely. That’s the plan.’
‘Take the matches.’ Einar handed him the box from his breast pocket. ‘We’ve got another box in our room. And don’t let the darkness get to you, mate.’
‘Thanks for supper. It was very good.’
‘Erla’s an excellent cook. Are you sure you wouldn’t like any more?’
‘Thanks, but I couldn’t, I’m stuffed. You’re real lifesavers. I’m feeling a lot better already. You should open a guesthouse.’ He looked at them both in turn.
Einar smiled. ‘We do get visitors from time to time, so we’re used to it. Only last summer, well, late summer, there were a couple of lads from Reykjavík – nice kids. Stayed with us for three or four days. Which reminds me, Erla, I posted their letter last time I went to the village.’
‘Their letter?’
‘Yes, I found a letter that must have slipped down between the books in the guestroom, so I took it with me. I expect they’ll have been wondering what happened to it – or rather the person it was addressed to will.’
‘That must…’ Leó paused as if searching for the right words, then went on: ‘Everything clearly moves at its own pace here in the countryside.’
‘You can say that again,’ Einar replied. ‘The papers are always out of date by the time they reach us, and the clock stopped years ago!’ His laughter had a hollow ring.
Erla’s gaze was drawn