‘Can you hear that?’ Chloe continued. ‘It is the whispers of… thehuldufólk. The little hidden people that protect Iceland and its legacies.’
Gunnar couldn’t help a small quiet laugh escaping his lips. She was using what he had told her to get him out of a fix. No one had ever done anything like that for him before.
‘I don’t hear anything,’ an American voice drawled.
‘Argh!’ Chloe gasped. ‘You can’t say that! Because, if you are a disbeliever, who knows what will happen?’ She whispered, ‘To all of us.’
‘I hear something,’ another voice said. ‘Like a light whistling.’
‘Yes!’ Chloe said immediately. ‘That is it! Thehuldufólk!’
Gunnar clicked the microphone back on. ‘And we will be hearing more about thehuldufólkwhen we make our stop. So, sit back, relax and let us see if we continue to hear their almost silent whispering.’
In the mirror he saw Chloe retake her seat.
* * *
It was a coffee and comfort break before they reachedSkógafosswaterfall and Gunnar needed both. He handed Magnús a steaming paper cup as they stood outside the service station with fantastic views the passengers were taking photos of.
‘You never let me have coffee,’ Magnús said, readily accepting it.
‘Well, today I do,’ Gunnar said. ‘Do not question it.’
Magnús took a sip of his coffee.
‘Listen, Magnús, I am sorry for my words coming out on the microphone for everyone to hear.’
Magnús shrugged. ‘At least you did not sing. That would have been worse.’
Gunnar drank, let the silence elongate in the hope that…
‘I did not hit anyone,’ Magnús said.
‘OK,’ Gunnar replied.
‘You do not believe me?’
‘I want to, Magnús. But I also believed you were at school this past week.’
‘I wanted to tell you but…’
‘But?’
‘But you are always so busy working and then Hildur fell and?—’
‘All I am hearing are excuses, Magnús,’ Gunnar said.
But what the boy had said about him working a lot was touching a nerve. He knew that, felt responsibility for it, guilt even. And now Magnús had stopped talking, and was burying his head in his coffee. He needed to offer solutions, not still seek to blame. Moving forward from this was what was required.
‘Tell me what happened,’ Gunnar said.
‘Which time?’ Magnús asked. ‘The time she cut my hair? The time her friends spat on me? Or the time she put dog shit into my locker?’
‘What?’ Gunnar gasped.
Magnús shrugged. ‘I am the boy who should have died along with my parents.’
Gunnar didn’t know what to say, but what he did know was his insides were now bubbling like the molten lava from that fateful night. ‘Did this girl say that to you?’
