Why Did You Lie? Read Free Page A

up the exterior paintwork. They’re also going to measure the area around the helipad and gauge the potential for enlarging and strengthening it to make it fit for purpose again. How this is to be done without loss of life is a mystery to Helgi. The platform is built on a foundation of stone and in order to assess the terrain around it, someone will have to climb down and cling by his toes if he is to find a foothold on the sharp, wind-eroded snags. Helgi hopes fervently that no one will ask him to help.
    Together they labour to free each consignment as it is lowered, then push it aside so it won’t get in the way of the next. Helgi can no longer feel his arms by the time the co-pilot finally winches down to signal that the drop is complete. He is nonchalant on the descent, smiling and waving at them. His breeziness in no way abates once he has landed.
    ‘That’s the lot, then!’ the man bellows and Helgi can’t help wondering if he ever accidentally yells at his wife like that at the end of a day’s work. ‘You’re all sorted, aren’t you?’ Helgi nods, awkwardly, and the others follow suit. ‘The forecast’s good so we assume we’ll be picking you up tomorrow evening unless we hear from you first. You’ve got double rations, so if you think you’ll need to spend another night, just let us know. Be careful and, you know, try not to get agoraphobia.’ The man grins, revealing teeth as white as his helmet. ‘And no going for an early-morning jog. It could end nastily.’ Still smiling, he signals to the pilot to winch him up and shortly afterwards pops his head out to wave goodbye. The door closes, the helicopter tilts slightly, then describes a swift arc away from them. As it recedes into the distance, the thunder of the rotors fades until finally they can no longer hear it.
    They look at each other self-consciously and no one says anything. It is Helgi’s acquaintance Ívar who finally makes a move, muttering that they had better stow the gear. The younger man follows him. They search among the small piles on the platform until they find what they’re looking for and break open some boxes. Both seem completely unaffected by vertigo, though to Helgi it looks as if they are stepping dangerously close to the edge and it wouldn’t take much to lose one’s footing on the rough concrete. He considers making another attempt to talk to the two men, but decides against it. Ívar was reluctant to speak to him at the airport; he doesn’t seem to remember him, which isn’t really that surprising. A few days ago Helgi had struck up a conversation with him in a bar that seemed mainly to attract lonely, friendless types like himself, plus the odd tourist who appeared horrified at the idea that this might be the fabled Icelandic nightlife.
    Ívar had been pretty wasted, bragging about a perilous trip he was about to make. After letting him ramble on for a while, Helgi asked if there was any chance he might be allowed to go along to take pictures. Ívar had thumped him on the back, so hard it hurt, and said it might well be possible. Helgi seemed like a good bloke and he would be glad of the company. Helgi should just ring and ask the coastguard, making sure to mention that Ívar was OK with it. Which he had done.
    He watches the men laying aside tools in a neat row. They work in silence, having no apparent need for words. Both clearly know what they’re doing and their movements are practised and confident. Helgi thanks his lucky stars he doesn’t have to participate in the repairs to the lighthouse or measurements of the helipad. He finds it hard to imagine how there can be any room for manoeuvre in these confined conditions and is sure any activity must be extremely dangerous, whatever security measures are taken. He’d be only too happy to stay out of the way – the only condition for his being permitted to go along – but easy as it was to make such a promise, he sees now that it will be almost impossible to