2

SIGGI óLAFSSON WAS lying in bed. He had to go to work, but he had no motivation to. Instead, he was swiping through the photos on his phone from the trip he'd taken to Thailand over Christmas. Now, in March, it seemed like a distant memory and he knew the only way to shake the despondency that had settled on him was to plan his next getaway. He'd been almost everywhere that he'd ever wanted to go. Places he'd heard of as a child and longed to visit, and places he'd discovered on the way. He was a nomad at heart and couldn't settle back at home in Iceland for long. It was beyond him why Iceland was such a popular tourist destination. It was cold, dark and bleak for at least half of the year and that was when most of the tourists came. Why?

He sighed and threw off the covers. He'd be late if he wasn't careful and although his boss, Jonas, was easygoing, he was a stickler for punctuality. Siggi liked and respected Jonas and was grateful that his friend was willing to let him work whenever he wanted to. It helped that Jonas didn't mind too much when Siggi took off for his next adventure with next to no notice.

Yawning, he stepped into the shower and stood under the hot water, enjoying it sluicing over his body, then washed before he switched it to cold with barely a gasp since he was so used to it. Now he was awake. He dried off, grinning at himself in the bathroom mirror as he caught his reflection, before dressing in several layers of clothing. He ate a simple breakfast of overnight oats which he warmed through on the stove, because it was no good going out into the cold without something warm inside you, and drank a large mug of black coffee.

Sighing as he added yet more layers in the form of a fleece jacket, down-filled coat and hat and gloves, he laced his boots, locked the door to his flat and ran down the three flights of stairs to the ground floor. The building overlooked the main road that ran along the sea-front. It was the opposite end of the town to the harbour, where he would have enjoyed a much more interesting view. He was stuck with a grey sea that churned across the road from his third-floor flat, but he wasn't living there enough to need anything more than a bolt-hole and a bolt-hole didn't need a good view.

Siggi shoved his hands in his pockets and began walking briskly along the sea-front towards the middle of the old town where Iceland Adventures, Jonas's company, had their office. Today, Siggi would man the office. He preferred being out on excursions but he'd not long been back from a trip himself and had yet to be allocated those jobs on the rota. In the meantime, answering calls and emails in the office saved Jonas or one of the others from having to fit the admin in as well as leading tours. Jonas's wife, Rachel, sometimes helped in the office too. She ran excursions to artists and craftspeople who opened their studios for tourists, so she was happy to help but was glad to have Siggi back to give her a break.

He unlocked the office and turned the lights on as he went in. Before he did anything else, he turned the coffee machine on, popped a pod in and left it pouring while he took off his coat, fleece and hat. The phone had been diverted to the on-call mobile phone overnight, so Siggi cancelled the divert and fired up the computer. He sipped his coffee while he checked the emails for anything urgent that might relate to today's excursions. It wasn't uncommon for people to have missed a flight or something else that derailed their plans at the last minute. He sent a couple of texts to let his friend Olafur know he would be two people down on his glacier walking trip and another to Brun who was doing an airport collection later on in the morning because an additional four people had booked overnight.

‘Hey, Siggi,' Jonas said with his usual grin as he came into the office, clapping his hands together to warm them before he took his coat off.

‘Jonas, I thought you were having the morning off.'

‘You know how it is,' he said, shrugging.

Siggi knew. Jonas loved showing Iceland to anyone and everyone. He hardly ever had a day off, even in the quieter months. But his love for his country and his business shone through, making it one of the most popular tour companies in Iceland. It helped that most people who worked for him had been friends forever. It made the entire company feel like a family, and the people who went on tours with them ended up feeling they were part of it too. In fact, Jonas had met his wife when he'd collected her from the airport. And Brun had been the tour guide for his girlfriend, Fliss, when she'd visited Iceland for a book tour.

‘I'd have had a lie-in,' Siggi said, with a rueful grin.

Jonas laughed. ‘You never change. You still live the life of a teenager.'

It was true. Of all his friends, Siggi was the only one who hadn't settled down. He hadn't wanted to, but it had been hard for the last few years, as his friendship group turned from a group of guys hanging out at the pool or the bar to a group of couples. They still went to the bar, less often to the pool, but it wasn't the same and now he felt like an outsider. The fact that he travelled for weeks at a time also meant that he missed out on a lot of what went on in his friends' lives.

‘It is getting harder to live "on the road",' Siggi said, making air quotes with his fingers. ‘I have started to miss a comfortable bed and hot showers. I think it is a sign I am getting old.'

‘Hey, we're all getting older. Once you settle down with someone, I expect travelling will seem less appealing.'

Of course, Jonas saw everything through the lens of his own experience, as did the rest of his friends. As if there was a universal guide to life and happiness, and that eventually Siggi would cotton on and start following the same plan as they all had. Siggi had stopped pointing out that maybe he didn't want to settle down in Reykjavik for the rest of his life. Meeting someone and making a home here didn't appeal to him at all. But he didn't know what he wanted to do instead. That was the problem. The travelling that he had always loved only seemed to emphasise the fact that he had grown out of the typical backpacker lifestyle. Often surrounded by people in their early-twenties who had no worries and their whole life ahead of them, the age-gap more recently felt cavernous. He had nothing in common with them but nothing in common with anyone else in his life either.

‘Did you see the IMO report on Reykjanes?' Siggi asked, keen to change the subject. The Icelandic Met Office, the IMO, constantly monitored all the natural hazards in Iceland. For somewhere that expected seventy or so earthquakes every day, the institution was a part of everyday life.

‘No.' Jonas frowned and pulled out his phone. ‘What's going on?'

‘There have been some minor earthquakes north of Hraunvik.'

‘That is not good news.' Jonas read the report while Siggi searched for more information on the computer. ‘Seems relatively stable still. We'll keep an eye on things.'

It wasn't unusual to hear reports like this. Iceland existed because the tectonic plates that form the continents of America and Europe were so volatile. The rift between the plates caused constant volcanic activity and earthquakes, and Icelanders were used to living with the geological uncertainty. In return, they harnessed the heat from beneath the earth's surface, and that gave the island cheap heat and power and the ever popular hot springs.

But for Siggi, the news from Hraunvik was close to home. He had family in the town. Family he wasn't close to; a decision he'd made fourteen years ago and regretted ever since. The threat to the town had started him dwelling on what might have been.

‘You are thinking of Arna?' Jonas said quietly.

Siggi nodded. ‘But what can be done?'

Jonas shook his head. It was a conversation they'd had many times, and there was nothing new to say.

‘I have an email here that is strangely related,' said Siggi, peering at the screen.

‘Related how?'

‘Some woman claiming to be a volcanologist asking if someone can accompany her to the Reykjanes peninsula to set up some equipment. I think she's British.'

‘That sounds like a tourist who is hoping to get a front seat for the next eruption or something.'

It wasn't unusual for them to get requests from people wanting a private tour to an eruption. It was something they could do, depending on the situation. They were always guided by the authorities, who were well-versed in dealing with the public wanting to view a lava flow. But these things were so unpredictable that they never agreed to anything outside of these parameters, however much someone was willing to pay. The safety of their clients was paramount.

‘I don't understand why they're not working with the IMO or the University? Don't they usually set up equipment themselves?'

Jonas shrugged. ‘No one's ever asked before, so I guess so.'

‘I will politely reject that request.'

‘That is fine with me. Okay, I'm going to the unit to get the kayaks down and check them over.'

Now that it was getting warmer, by Icelandic standards at least, it was time for the company to introduce activities that didn't revolve around snow and ice. It was fun, giving them all more variety in the schedule and the opportunity to get more work. That was why Siggi always made sure he was around at this time of year. It was the best time to build up his savings, ready for his next adventure.

He responded to the email, saying in a much more polite way that they weren't in the business of aiding and abetting amateur volcano hunters. Then he made himself another coffee.

Around an hour later, the door opened and a figure wearing too many layers for him to have any indication of gender or even whether it might be someone he knew, bundled inside, dragging a large leather holdall and a battered suitcase.

‘ Halló, get ég hjálpae tér ?'

The person, a woman, Siggi could see once she'd pulled her hood down and taken off her hat, looked at him blankly, but with something in her eyes that Siggi thought, unfortunately, might be anger.

‘Do you speak English?'

‘Yes, of course. Can I help you?' He smiled in what he hoped was a charming, flirty way that would disarm her.

‘I emailed you earlier asking about a guide and driver to take me to the Reykjanes peninsula.'

‘Yes. I am very sorry —'

‘Look, I'm not some idiot who doesn't know what they're dealing with. If the only reason you've said no is because you think I'm a volcano chaser, I'd appreciate it if you could review my request. You can see I'm genuine.'

Siggi managed to stop a laugh rumbling out of him. Because this woman, her eyes flashing angrily at him, was the complete opposite of what he knew most volcanologists to look like. She was slightly over five feet tall, slim with curly hair that sat above her shoulders and was brown with sun kissed golden streaks in it, much like his own. She had an elfin face which, if he wasn't witnessing the rage behind her eyes, he wouldn't have imagined could look cross.

‘With respect, I do not know you are a volcanologist by how you look,' he began.

She tipped her head to one side, thoughtfully, but Siggi could tell from her expression that she was waiting for him to make a comment about gender. And he wasn't going to do that.

‘I have met many volcanologists and they rarely work alone. Where is your team? And you are not Icelandic, so why are you not with someone from the Icelandic Met Office, the IMO? That is what would make me think you are genuine.'

Luckily for Siggi, side-stepping the gender stereotyping that she seemed to expect had taken the wind out of her sails. Suddenly, she looked tired.

‘I'm sorry,' she said, unzipping her coat and pulling it off, dumping it on a chair while she unzipped the next layer to reveal a well-worn knitted sweater. ‘I've just got off a plane from Hawaii and I wanted to go and set up some equipment before a well-meaning colleague from the IMO tells me there is no need and that I can use the data they are already collecting.'

‘And their data is not good enough for you?'

She sighed. ‘It's not exactly what I want. It's hard to explain.'

‘Well, you are convincing me; even so, we cannot take you. That area is out of bounds because of the warnings.'

‘Like, literally, they've barricaded the roads in and out of the peninsula?'

‘Well—'

‘I know they haven't. Do you know how I know? Because they're waiting for me to tell them whether or not that ought to happen. The data they're collecting is brilliant, and it's got them this far, but now there's more at stake. They need my data. It goes deeper and is more accurate. I've been working on my model for years.'

‘So,' Siggi peered at the computer and brought the email up from earlier. ‘Iris. If I call someone I know at the IMO, they will know who you are?'

‘Couldn't you just google me? I'd rather get some stuff set up before I have to start bargaining with people about whether it's a good idea or not. Although that already seems to be happening.'

‘Would you like a coffee while I google you?'

‘Thank you. That'd be lovely.'

Iris sat on the chair opposite him on the other side of the desk and sipped the coffee he'd made for her while he looked her up.

It was incredible. She actually was a leading expert on predicting eruptions. She was working on a project that was looking not only at whether an eruption was imminent, but more detailed information about what kind of eruption, what kinds of problems might be caused by gases or ash, and even how long it might last.

‘Um, sorry, I don't know your name. But are you still looking or have you started looking at something else and forgotten I'm here?'

Siggi looked across at her. The person he'd just been reading about seemed at odds with the woman sat across from him. Perhaps her irritation and impatience was down to jet-lag if she really had just flown in from Hawaii because the woman he'd googled was accomplished in a way that no one could achieve without a kind of quiet determination.

‘My name is Siggi and you can consider yourself verified,' he said, smiling, and surprisingly drawing a smile from her in return.

‘Does that get me a ride to Reykjanes?'

‘I cannot decide that. I need to ask a colleague and also, I would like to check with a friend at the IMO.' He held his hands up as she opened her mouth to protest. ‘It will be off the record, but you have not yet seen the lay of the land. I want to know what we are dealing with if I take you out there.'

‘Okay, fair enough. So you'll take me.'

‘If it all checks out, I will.'

‘Thank you. Now, can you suggest somewhere I could stay?'

He had to stop himself from suggesting his place because if he'd heard that question from any other woman he thought was attractive, he'd have seen it as an invitation for him to ask. But she wasn't the kind of woman he would want a casual hook-up with. He could already tell that she was very different from the women he usually had relationships with. Not that he could really call any of them relationships.

‘I have a friend who owns a hotel a few minutes from here. Does this look okay?' He pulled up the website for Anders' hotel and pushed the mouse towards her.

‘This looks great. Which way is it?'

‘Why don't I take you? I can help with your bags.'

‘Are you sure? Don't you have to man the office?'

He shook his head. ‘I can close for five minutes. It is no problem.'

‘Thank you.' This time, she smiled widely. It transformed her face and made her blue eyes sparkle in a completely different way. Siggi found himself intrigued and desperate for her not to leave the office without him knowing he would see her again.