The Silence of the Sea Read Free

had owned up and it was unlikely anyone would now.
    The engineer seemed surprised. ‘Really? Then I must have misunderstood. The girl in reception mentioned your name.’
    Thóra was livid; she might have guessed. Bella. Of course. ‘Did she, indeed?’ She couldn’t say any more since there was no point arguing with the engineer. It wasn’t his fault he had been misled by her malicious secretary. She plastered on her best smile, smothering a desire to storm out to reception and throttle Bella. ‘Well, you needn’t take any notice of her – she’s a bit slow on the uptake. It’s not the first time she’s got the wrong end of the stick, poor thing.’
    Judging by the man’s face, he thought they were both mad. ‘Right, well, I’d better get on. I’ll have the copier picked up later today. I expect that would be the best solution.’ He picked up the toolbox and clasped it to his chest, apparently eager to return to other, more conventional jobs. Thóra couldn’t blame him.
    She escorted him to reception where Bella sat grinning behind her desk. Thóra shot her what she hoped was a meaningful look, but saw no sign of apprehension in the secretary’s smirk. ‘Oh, Bella, I forgot to tell you – the chemist rang earlier. The colostomy bag you ordered has arrived. Size XXL.’
    The repairman stumbled over the threshold in his haste to leave, almost knocking down an elderly couple who had materialised in the doorway. Flustered, they apologised in unison, then dithered outside the door; either they expected someone else to land in their laps or they were getting cold feet. If Thóra hadn’t swooped on them with profuse apologies for the collision, they might well have turned away, using the incident as an excuse to back out. She recognised the look on their faces: she had lost count of the clients who’d worn that expression the first time they walked into the office. It was a combination of surprise at being compelled to seek out a lawyer and fear of having to leave the office, humiliated, when the subject of the fee came up. Ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances.
    When the awkwardness occasioned by the repairman’s departure had passed, Thóra asked if she could help, moving to block their view of Bella behind the reception desk, in a black T-shirt with a picture of the devil emblazoned over her ample bosom and a coarse English epithet underneath.
    ‘We wondered if we could speak to a lawyer.’ The man’s voice was as colourless as his appearance; it was impossible to tell if he had noticed the foul reek. Both looked around retirement age. The woman was clutching a faux leather handbag, the reddish-brown surface worn through here and there to reveal the white canvas beneath. The man’s shirt cuffs were a little frayed where they were visible under his jacket sleeves. ‘I tried to call but there was no answer. You are open, aren’t you?’
    Bella seemed to think the phone in reception had been connected so she could spend all day gossiping with her friends, especially if they lived abroad, judging by the bills. At other times she generally left it to ring unanswered so she could go on surfing the Internet in peace. ‘Yes, yes, we’re open. Unfortunately our receptionist is ill, which is why no one answered.’ At worst this was a white lie, since no one could claim Bella was fit for work, though unfortunately in her case the condition was chronic. ‘I’m glad you decided to come by anyway. My name’s Thóra Gudmundsdóttir and I’m a lawyer. We can have a chat now if you like.’ As they exchanged greetings, she noted that both had decidedly limp handshakes.
    The couple introduced themselves as Margeir Karelsson and Sigrídur Veturlidadóttir. Thóra recognised neither name. On the way to her office she observed their puffy features and although she couldn’t detect any alcohol on their breath, their appearance hinted at drink problems. Still, it was none of her business, at least not at