Why Did You Lie? Read Free

so you’d better finish up and return to your seat.’ The pilot sounds more authoritative than before. Helgi takes two more pictures, aware, without bothering to check, that he’s botched them, then squeezes back into his seat and only then does he unclip himself from the life-line. In its place he fastens the seat strap.
    The co-pilot clambers back to them, closes the door and starts busying himself with winch, cables and strops. He slaps the knee of the passenger nearest the door and gets the man to stand up while he fastens the equipment around him. They talk together while the pilot jerks hard on all the ropes of the harness to test them. Then they take up position by the door, which the co-pilot reopens without batting an eyelid. The passenger takes a small, involuntary step backwards and the other man explains what to do with a good deal of gesturing. The next thing they know, the man is sitting in the doorway, his legs dangling. The others avoid looking at each other but all three press themselves instinctively as far back in their seats as they can. Soon it’ll be their turn.
    The other man goes next, then the woman. Helgi admires the way she copes with her nerves, which are betrayed by the trembling of her slim hands and her pale, hollow-eyed profile. He gives in to the temptation to take some pictures of her preparations and regrets not having done the same for the men. It would have been amusing to compare their reactions. They had puffed out their chests and held their heads high, filling their lungs with air and their minds with imaginary courage. Their playacting didn’t end until they began their descent and the last that could be seen of them was a terrified scarlet face and bulging eyes. The woman’s expression shows a healthy respect for her fear coupled with a stoical calm that he wishes he himself possessed. Especially as he’s next.
    Once the strop and cable have been winched up again, the pilot beckons him over and Helgi stands up, knees trembling. Like a condemned man on his way to the scaffold, he allows the other man to truss him in ropes and push his legs into the strop, then flinches as he checks his handiwork. He is overwhelmed by a familiar sense of shame at being fat as the man touches his body, and wonders if the equipment is calibrated for a lighter weight than his. What if he plummets out of control because he’s too heavy? But he says nothing, reluctant to discuss his weight with a stranger, and positions himself like the others in the opening, legs dangling above the pillar of rock. Craning forwards, he looks down at the faces of the other three on the helipad. They gaze up at him, waving cheerily as if to beckon him and let him know that the descent is not as bad as expected. They survived it and he will too. Like passengers climbing off a rollercoaster and waving to the next in line.
    Then of course the rollercoaster flies off the rails on a sharp bend because one of the passengers is too heavy.
    Helgi lets go and starts his descent. He feels the wind rushing up his body and the line seems terribly thin and inadequate. The only thought in his head is whether he’s far enough down to survive a fall, when quite suddenly he feels a hard bump and a jerk that runs up his spine like a pianist running his fingers over the keys. He straightens up, grins at the other three and hurriedly undoes the clips on his harness so he won’t be dragged back into the air. The worst moment is when he has released all bar one and knows that if he’s pulled upwards now, the fastening is bound to give halfway. But at last he’s free and watches the empty harness jerking back up to the helicopter.
    The noise of the rotors is too loud for conversation, so they all stand staring upwards. No one wants to be on the receiving end of the next consignment to be lowered. From what Helgi could gather before they boarded, the plan is to renew the lighthouse radio transmitter, replace a broken solar panel and touch