3

IRIS WAS BEGINNING to wonder whether it had been a mistake to beat such a hasty retreat from Hawaii. It felt like a new low to be standing in a tour office in Reykjavik trying to explain her credentials to an Icelandic man who obviously thought he was still in his twenties judging by the collar-length surfer dude hairstyle that would look more at home on Dylan. And now he was offering to accompany her to a hotel.

As it was, she was too tired to argue. It'd be nice to have some help with her bags. That was the only downside of travelling as much as she did; her whole life was in those bags and she couldn't seem to travel light.

Siggi went through a door at the back of the small office and came back with his coat, which he pulled on, along with a knitted hat which frankly looked ridiculous.

‘Nice hat.' She couldn't help herself.

‘You think so? My boss's wife knitted it for me.' He tipped his head and shot her a resigned smile.

Iris thought she must be more jet-lagged than she felt because the fact he was wearing the hat so as to not hurt the feelings of the woman who made it for him, never mind what he looked like, was very endearing.

‘What can I say? It suits you.'

His blue eyes, a lighter shade than her own, seemed to hypnotise her for a second as his gaze locked onto hers. Then he looked away, breaking the spell, as he reached and picked up her holdall, landing it easily on his shoulder.

‘You can manage the case?' he asked.

‘Yes, of course.' Iris pulled her own coat and hat back on and wheeled the case back outside, waiting while Siggi locked the door before he led the way along the street.

‘I thought it was supposed to be spring,' she said, having to turn her head to stop the wind from hitting her square in the face.

‘Yes, it is. This is good weather for Iceland. There has been no snow for two weeks.'

‘You still get snow in March?'

‘And April. It starts to warm up in May and then it is beautiful.'

Iris clutched at her hood with one hand as they turned a corner and the wind came from a different direction.

‘Here,' said Siggi, standing aside to allow her to enter the building first.

‘Oh, that was close.'

‘It is a small city. Most things are close.'

The foyer was bright and modern but welcoming, with a gently trickling water feature that would be at home in a high-end spa, right in the middle.

Siggi went up to the woman on the desk and said something to her in Icelandic. She picked up a phone and spoke into it, all the time giving Siggi the dirtiest look Iris had ever seen.

‘She is just calling Anders,' he said.

‘I don't mind checking in. You don't have to get your friend involved. You've done enough already. Honestly, thank you, but there's no need.'

At that moment, a man who Iris assumed to be Anders came through a door behind the reception desk.

‘ H?, Siggi!' he said.

‘ H?,' said Siggi, as they had a brief hug. The manly kind where they both clapped each other on the back.

‘Excuse us for a moment,' Siggi said to Iris, and the two men started conversing in Icelandic.

It wasn't too much of a stretch for Iris to realise that Siggi was asking Anders for something he couldn't do. He kept shaking his head, but Siggi seemed undeterred. She hoped he wasn't trying to negotiate a discount or something like that. She'd just met the man, so she wasn't sure why he was doing anything to help her out.

‘Siggi,' she interjected. ‘I'm fine with checking in myself.' She smiled at him in a way she hoped conveyed that there was no need for further discussion, and headed to the desk herself.

‘Hello. I'd like to take a room please. For two weeks, but I may need to extend if that's possible?'

Suddenly, Anders was next to her. ‘I am sorry. What is your name? Iris…?'

‘Bellingham.'

‘Please check Ms Bellingham into room fourteen.'

The receptionist raised her eyebrows but took the almost imperceptible nod that Anders gave her in response as confirmation.

‘Thank you, Anders,' Iris said.

‘You are welcome. You have a very persuasive friend.'

Iris was about to launch into an explanation about how they weren't friends because they'd only met twenty minutes ago, but Siggi had helped her find a lovely hotel in a good location, and in record time, so she wasn't going to start arguing. Instead, she smiled and thanked him again before he disappeared through the door he'd come through.

‘I'm also very happy to pay the advertised rate,' she said to the receptionist, out of earshot of Siggi, who was busy looking at his phone. ‘I'm not sure what Siggi arranged with Anders, but it's not necessary.'

‘He was asking Anders to find a room for you even though we are full,' the woman said without cracking a smile.

‘Oh.' Iris was taken aback. ‘But you do have room?'

‘Anders is going to move someone else's booking to another hotel.'

Siggi had joined her by the desk, overhearing the end of the conversation.

‘No, it is not what you think,' he said, his face the picture of innocence as he turned to Iris. ‘There is room.'

‘I didn't ask you to do anything like this for me. All I wanted was a hotel room. In any hotel. I don't want other people to be inconvenienced because of me.' Because the reception area was quiet, and because by now, Siggi's expression was that of a disappointed puppy, Iris managed to contain her annoyance to a low whisper. ‘Why would you try and pull strings for me?'

‘I'm sorry. You look tired and this is the closest place. It is good luck that I know Anders.'

Suddenly, almost as if him mentioning it made her realise, she felt tired. Right to her bones.

‘I am tired and the thought of having to find another hotel isn't that appealing. If it helps, I'm happy to look for somewhere else tomorrow.' She said this last part to the receptionist.

The sullen woman managed a tight smile and said, ‘There is no need, Ms Bellingham. Anders is happy to make the arrangements for you to stay here.' Then she shot Siggi a quick look of disgust.

Siggi was grinning from ear-to-ear, seemingly unbothered about what this woman thought of him. There was probably some history there, Iris realised.

‘Do you need help with any bags?'

‘I'll take the bags,' said Siggi, before Iris could answer. He was already heaving her holdall back onto his shoulder and had picked up her case and started up the stairs, so there seemed little point in making a fuss.

‘Thank you. I think we have it covered.' She gave the receptionist a weary smile in a final attempt to get on her good side, if she had one.

‘Your room is on the third floor. Breakfast is between seven and ten and here is a card with the code for access to the rooftop spa.'

Iris thanked her again and headed up the stairs after Siggi, ready to forgive him everything now that she'd found out there was a spa.

‘Thank you,' she said, stopping outside room fourteen, where Siggi stood with her bags. ‘I wasn't expecting this when I emailed you this morning. Your tour company really goes the extra mile.'

‘It's no problem,' he said, putting his hands in his coat pockets. ‘Have a good rest. I will reply to your email when I have spoken to the boss.'

‘That'd be great, thanks.' She'd almost forgotten why she'd been in his office in the first place. Hopefully, after a few hours' sleep, she'd be refreshed enough to make a proper plan for her visit.

‘Nice to meet you, Iris.' He backed away slowly, a half-smile playing on his lips as he shifted his gaze to the floor and then turned away, walking towards the staircase.

Iris watched him walk away, then opened the door to room fourteen and dragged her bags across the threshold. Without even looking out of the window, she drew the heavy curtains across, then stripped off all of her clothes and climbed into bed.

When she woke, she lay still, taking in the sumptuous bed that had cocooned her as she slept. The mattress was so squooshy, and the duvet so soft and voluminous that she briefly wondered whether to go back to sleep. After another few minutes, her brain kicked in and reminded her she had instruments to set. She reached for her phone and saw that she'd slept for the whole day. It was just after seven in the evening and her stomach was urging her to find something for dinner.

With a sigh, she sat up and pushed the duvet aside, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and setting her feet down on some thoroughly plush carpet. How much was she paying a night? Perhaps she'd misunderstood, because it had sounded affordable, but it definitely wasn't enough for this level of luxury. Then she remembered the back and forth between Siggi and Anders, rolling her eyes and smiling as it all fell into place. As much as it had annoyed her this morning, she was grateful to Siggi and Anders for showing her — an absolute stranger — such kindness.

After a steaming hot shower, she dressed, then opened the curtains. Reykjavik was before her; silhouettes of buildings, lights twinkling in the darkness, and people bustling along the street below. This place had a heart, she already knew that, and she was excited to explore it.

‘Hi,' she said to a different receptionist than the one this morning. ‘I wonder if you could suggest somewhere nearby where I can grab some dinner.'

‘Of course,' she said, smiling. ‘There is a pizza restaurant along the road this way,' she said, gesturing with hand signals. ‘Or there is a fish and chips place if you go this way, and then towards the harbour. And there are lots of other places, so you may see somewhere your prefer on your way.'

‘I might try the fish and chips.' It was a taste of home that she hadn't had, or even thought about, in a long time.

‘Good choice.'

‘Thank you. Sorry, what's your name?'

‘You're welcome. I am Bríet. Enjoy your meal.'

Iris hesitated, and then asked, ‘And who was your colleague on the desk this morning?'

‘That was Embla.' Bríet glanced around. ‘You came in with Siggi ólafsson. Embla used to be with Siggi.'

‘Oh. Okay. Thanks Bríet.'

‘Embla is always angry with Siggi. It is not you.'

Iris stepped from the warmth of the hotel into the fresh air. She took a deep breath, enjoying the feeling of the cold on her face while the rest of her was bundled up in layers of clothes. It was almost the opposite of Hawaii, and most of the other places she went more frequently, where the inside was air-conditioned and cooler than the outside.

She walked along the road, taking the turn she hoped would lead her towards the harbour, but not minding if she took a wrong turn because there was nothing like being somewhere for the first time and taking it all in. Iris always felt that her first impressions of a place stayed with her, and however many times she went back, the same feelings were evoked again and again. In this area of Reykjavik, the streets were lined with two-storey buildings, each a little different from its neighbours and each painted, some in bright colours. The trees lining the street were laden with fairy lights through their branches and spiralling down their trunks, giving a festive feeling even though it was March.

Iris took her time. Although she was hungry, she didn't want to miss anything. She paused now and again to look in shop windows, left the street altogether on a couple of occasions to explore tiny side streets, and made a mental note of a couple of places that might be nice to eat at on a night when she wasn't craving fish and chips like she was since Bríet's suggestion. Then the road opened out onto a wider, busier road with the sea and harbour on the other side and a huge glass building that dominated the sea-front. Curious, and because she was headed that way anyway, Iris crossed the road and walked across the plaza in front of the building. A sign told her it was a concert hall called the Harpa. The doors slid open automatically as she approached them and she went inside. It was cavernous with the front wall, made up of elongated hexagons of glass, soaring above her and continuing across the ceiling. Opposite, the wall was dark grey, probably lava rock, Iris thought, and the foyer narrowed towards one end where the two walls met. A staircase rose majestically along the length of the building, with sofas on the many landings, making Iris think it would be the perfect place to while away an hour or two with a coffee, watching the world go by.

Her phone was buzzing in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw that Jay was calling her. The temptation to ignore his call was strong, but he never called out-of-hours unless it was important.

‘Jay.'

‘Hey, Iris. I've been speaking to my opposite number at the Icelandic Met Office and arranged for you to go in and meet them the day after tomorrow. That gives you a day to get settled before you get started.'

So, not that important. ‘Okay, that's fine. Can you email the details?'

‘Of course. So, how is Reykjavik?'

She could have told him that the city had all but won her over already, but she didn't want to share it with him. ‘Yes, great, thanks. I've found a nice hotel and hopefully have someone who can take me to the Reykjanes peninsula tomorrow.'

‘That's fast work,' he said, sounding impressed.

‘Well, best to get a handle on it as soon as we can.'

‘Quite. Let me know how it goes on Friday.'

‘Will do. Bye.'

Iris left the Harpa, the spell broken, and headed in the direction she hoped the fish and chip shop was. If only she could put her feelings about Jay aside, she thought for the millionth time.

Her phone buzzed again and she pulled it out, barely looking at who was calling, assuming Jay had forgotten to tell her something.

‘Yes?'

‘Iris.' Her brother Finn sounded surprised.

‘Finn! Sorry, I thought it was Jay calling again.'

‘Is this a bad time?'

‘No, I'm wandering around Reykjavik trying to find fish and chips.'

He laughed. ‘Well, I won't keep you. I just thought since you're almost in the same time zone for once, I'd try and actually speak to you.'

‘I've missed you.'

‘Me too.'

‘How're Mum and Dad?'

‘They're good. They're away with Don and Carol until next week.' Their parents always went to Tenerife for a few weeks in February and March for some winter sun.

‘And how are you?'

‘I'm okay.'

Iris was used to this from Finn. It was an automatic response, one he was more likely to use when she was away, not wanting her to worry about him. But she did worry because he'd had a lot of ups and downs in his life that he'd struggled to weather.

‘Really? I worry about you when Mum and Dad are away.'

‘Iris. I'm almost forty. I can be left by myself sometimes now,' he joked.

‘I know,' she said affectionately. ‘But now I'm on the same side of the world as you, we can talk more often.'

‘I'll let you go and find your fish and chips. Call me tomorrow when you have chance.'

‘Okay, love you, Finn.'

‘Love you.'

Not for the first time, Iris wondered what price she was paying for the nomadic lifestyle she led. It meant she was always at arm's length from her family because it was hard to keep in touch enough to be involved in their lives like she would be if she saw them more often. And more recently, she could blame the fact that she'd never had more than a fling with anyone in the past few years on the travelling too. What was the point of letting herself catch feelings for someone she was going to have to leave behind? Because that was what she had chosen. Her career over everything else and most of the time she was happy with that. But deep down, she knew that her career had saved her. She could devote herself to that without fear of rejection and, in fact, the single-minded way she had thrown herself into work after the split with Patrick was the reason why she was about to become the person who could predict volcanos more accurately than anyone else in the world. That had to be worth sacrificing her personal life.