‘OK,’ he said finally. ‘Where do you go? Into Reykjavik?’
‘Yes, I am booked on a bus at?—’
‘OK, you will come with me.’
‘Wait. What?’
‘Fast,’ he said, reaching out and taking her arm. ‘You will come fast.’
Chloe swallowed as all the connotations of that sentence hit her as severely as the current wind chill. Where was her suitcase? Why was she letting a man guide her to who knew where?
‘Stop,’ she said, trainers skidding on the ground as she forced them both to a halt.
‘Listen, I know this is not the situation anybody wants but if my boss knows that you fell into me and?—’
‘That I fell into you?’
‘Your voice is very too loud now,’ he whispered. ‘Here in Iceland we like quiet.’
‘If you think this is my voice being loud then Iceland really isn’t ready,’ Chloe said louder than before.
‘OK, OK, it’s just I have not had the best beginning to today and?—’
‘Funnily enough, neither have I,’ Chloe interrupted.
‘OK, well, we can swap our disastrous day stories on my bus. Is this your suitcase?’
She turned around, remembering that yes, she had luggage, and she also did not yet have somewhere to stay and all this distraction was not helping her towards her current goal.
‘Yes,’ she answered, taking steps to retrieve it.
‘Let me,’ the man said, reaching it before her.
‘It’s fine,’ Chloe said, fingers on the handle.
‘I insist. We do not want any more accidents and the road, it is icy.’
‘Well, I fell over you, not because of the ice so I will take my case and take my chances.’
Chloe yanked at her luggage and that’s when it burst like an overfilled water balloon, everything she had crammed in there in a frenzy last night spilling out over the ground. She yelped. Definitely too loud for Iceland.
‘OK. We go now.’
And before Chloe could do or say anything else, this stranger who said he had a bus, destination not quite known, was picking up all her clothing.
6
BUS TO REYKJAVIK
Gunnar never let anyone sit on the seat nearest to his driving space apart from the tour guide. If tourists sat there they wanted to chat, ask him about road signs, restaurant recommendations, attractions they should not miss. They always seemed to forget that driving in Iceland was sometimes treacherous, even for those who were used to navigating it. But this woman didn’t seem like a normal tourist. She was dressed like one: coat, hat over dark brown hair, too many clothes in too small a case but right now, instead of looking out of the window through the cold light drizzle, taking in the sights, she was typing furiously on a laptop. He hoped she wasn’t making a complaint about him or leaving a one-star review on Tripadvisor. There was only one way to find out…
‘What do you do?’ Gunnar asked, concentration back on the road.
‘What?’
‘Your work on your computer.’
‘Oh, I’m not working right now. I’m trying to book somewhere to stay.’
