Chapter 32 Elin

32

Elin

Parque Nacional, Portugal, October 2021

Kier's map conjures a new place.

Geography and story melding to create something vivid and vital. So raw, so personal, Elin feels like she's intruding on something, but she can't look away.

The granite peaks dominating the park have become something fluid and animal, a frenzied reaching for the sky. Rivers, bisecting the valley, are nothing more than violent streaks of colour. Layers of thick, textured paint give it a gravitas that belies the levity of the colours.

Kier's done the impossible: made an already vast place bigger, bolder. Infused it with meaning. Elin finds herself blinking back tears. The alchemy of art. Someone else's soul reaching out, finding yours.

‘It's got you too.' Watching Elin, Luísa smiles. ‘She's managed to capture the very essence of the park even without the detail. This … it's a kind of cartographic art. After Kier showed me, I did some research. I read that until cartography became a science, mapmaking and landscape painting were associated activities. You can see that in this, can't you? The places she's chosen, how she's painted them, it tells a story.'

‘It does.' She still can't pull her eyes away. ‘Do you know where these places are?'

‘Most of them.'

‘This one.' Elin points. ‘It's the river beach, isn't it? I recognise the dam behind.' The hard lines of the dam have been softened by the sinuous markings of the river and beach, the trees encircling it. A fierce sense of movement conjured by just a few small lines.

Luísa nods.

‘This tree she's painted, at the edge of the beach, it's made up of letters,' Isaac murmurs. Tiny letters, crisscrossing over one another to form the trunk.

Elin examines it, chilled. There's something frenzied in how she's painted them.

‘It's a tradition,' Luísa says, watching her. ‘That when a couple first gets together, they carve their initials on the tree.'

Interesting. Had Kier formed a romantic connection while she was here?

‘And this?' Isaac gestures to one of the granite peaks.

Luísa frowns. ‘This one … I'm not so sure. I'm guessing it's a viewpoint, but if so, it's not well known like some others.'

Kier painted a small circle a little way out from one of the peaks. Inside the circle is a miniature of the park itself. The circle bothers Elin, not just the outline, overpainted several times in a shade of blue so dark it's almost black, but also the uneasiness of the landscape she's gestured to inside. The colours, perhaps. Light, lighter than the rest of the painting. Lighter than they would be in nature.

‘I think you're right,' Isaac murmurs. ‘It's a viewpoint. The circle looks like a lens. Focusing on the land beyond the peak.'

‘It's possible.' Luísa's finger hovers above the left-hand side of the canvas.

‘And that one?' Elin asks. ‘A waterfall?'

She doesn't answer right away.

‘Is something wrong?' Isaac looks at Luísa with concern.

‘Yes,' Luísa says finally, blinking. ‘It's just, seeing this, now I know Kier's missing, it's hard. This waterfall … years ago, a local boy threw himself off, then others started doing the same. Copycats. In English, they've started calling it Suicide Falls. People travel here, from all over, to—'

They all fall silent, staring at the waterfall Kier has painted. The cascading water – greys, whites, blues – are daubed on in thick, angry brushstrokes. Absolute turbulence.

Clearing her throat, Luísa moves her finger a few inches right. Tall trees circle an empty space. The trees are nothing more than ciphers – smudged browns and blacks, hinting at branches. In the centre of the space is a column of light, soaring upwards.

‘There's something almost celestial about how she's painted it,' Elin murmurs.

‘I thought the same. It's a clearing, probably part of the forest badly hit in the fires over the years.' Luísa shrugs. ‘I don't know what the significance would be for Kier. She never mentioned she'd been there.'

‘Did Kier ever speak to you about how she'd painted the map?' Isaac asks.

‘Only briefly. She was embarrassed, I think, by the fuss I made.' The tension in Luísa's face gives way to a smile.

Elin nods. ‘Are we okay to take a photo?'

‘Of course.'

After taking the picture, they talk for a few more minutes, and then Elin reaches for a leaflet on the desk, writing on the back. ‘If you think of anything else, here's my number.'

The scent of fried fish and herbs follows them out of town, the cafés on the backstreets thronged with locals enjoying a late breakfast in the sun. Elin's stomach growls.

‘Fancy stopping?' Isaac peers through the window of the café on their left.

‘Yeah, I'm starving.'

As they settle at a table on the side of the terrace, Isaac takes out his phone. ‘Didn't want to say anything while we were in there, but did you notice something about Kier's map?' He presses a finger to the screen. ‘This park's a pretty big place, but the points that she's painted circle roughly around one spot.'

‘The camp,' Elin says, chilled. ‘It all comes back to the camp.'