4
WITH brIMFAXI AT the boat builders for the next few weeks, Leifur found himself at a loose end.
Living in Hafnarfjoreur had suited him while he’d been a fisherman.
It was a quieter harbour than the more industrialised one in Reykjavik, and he’d always enjoyed the short voyage home after he’d landed his catch.
It felt as if he were leaving work behind for the day.
But now, faced with not having a boat, and with friends who had once worked for him having had to go elsewhere for work, he was lonely.
Staying in the house made him stir-crazy.
After years of wishing he had more time to do this, that and the other, now that he had the time he was at a loss to remember what any of those things were.
He had no hobbies and wasn’t inclined to start one now, knowing that he’d be back at work again in a few weeks.
It was precious time, he knew that, but knowing it just added to the pressure of feeling he should fill his days with fun while he could.
‘It is no good sitting here with me day after day,’ his mother, Peta, said eventually, after a week of Leifur spending his days with her for lack of anything else to do.
‘I have things I want to do. I know you think old people like me sit and watch the television all day, but I am out of the house more than I am here. ’
It was a surprise and a shock to him that his mother seemed to have a better social life than he did.
One he hadn’t been aware of until now. When he’d been fishing, it was rare to have a day off, and if he did, he had to spend the time catching up on admin, so to his shame he didn’t see her very often.
‘I don’t think you’re old,’ he said weakly.
‘Leifur. I know it has been hard for you, losing the business,’ she said, putting her hand on top of his.
He cringed. It sounded awful. Losing the business.
But that’s what it was. ‘It’s a chance for a new start,’ he said, without feeling it was true.
He was saying what he thought she wanted to hear.
Worrying her with how he actually felt wasn’t fair, although he had an inkling she might have more of an insight into that than he did.
‘It has to be the right new start. You must not make decisions based on the past. It’s important that you see this as an opportunity to do something different for yourself if that’s what you want.’
‘This is different, Mamma. It may not seem so, but it means I can keep Brimfaxi . And I won’t be out in all weathers like I was before.’
They looked at each other. Coming from a long line of fishermen, they both knew and lived with the risks that came with that profession. It was an unspoken, accepted part of the job. And had affected their family in the very worst way when his father had been lost at sea in bad weather.
‘That’s good,’ his mother said, smiling.
‘But if you’re going to be working the same kind of hours as normal people, it’s time you started socialising with normal people.
See your friends, Leifur.’ She stood up and chucked his cheek exactly as she had for his whole life.
‘And speaking of socialising, I’m late for my mahjong game. Would you like to join me?’
‘No, thank you.’ He stood up too, and kissed her cheek. ‘I will see you tomorrow.’
‘ Nei, nei, nei . Please find something else to do. I love you, Leifur, but this is too much.’
He laughed. ‘Okay, Mamma.’
On the stroll back to his own house, he thought about what she’d said.
Because of the unsociable hours he used to work, it had been impossible to keep up friendships with anyone who wasn’t also doing the same thing.
How did you get new friends? He could go to the bar in town, but that was more likely to be full of people his mother’s age.
All the people his age would rather go to Reykjavik for a night out, but there was no way he was brave enough to do that by himself.
And worst of all would be if he ran into his brother or his friends from the boat.
He wasn’t ready for that; to hear the inevitable fishing stories.
He knew it would make him feel like an outsider, as if they had moved on and left him behind.
And he’d feel like he was missing something amazing, even though the reality had been very different towards the end.
Either way, neither finding new friends nor seeing his old ones were appealing options right now.
Perhaps it was something that would come in time as he eased himself into a different rhythm.
As he was letting himself into his house, his phone rang. It was Jonas from Iceland Adventures.
‘ Hae , Jonas.’
‘ Hae , Leifur. So, the work on the boat is underway?’
‘Yes. They already have the fish holds out and the equipment off the deck.’ It had been hard to watch the changes, so Leifur had decided it was better to keep his distance for now.
He trusted his friend at the boatyard, so there was no need to keep checking in.
The few weeks it would take to complete the work would hopefully give him time to come to terms with the changes to Brimfaxi .
The fishing equipment was being sold, and Jonas had insisted that Leifur keep the profits. He said it was only fair, even though it would have helped pay the loan off, and Leifur wasn’t in any position to argue. He’d been living off his savings for the past few months, and there wasn’t much left.
‘That’s good news. I was calling to see if you have time to come into the office this week. I thought it might be good to get started on some of the planning while we wait for Brimfaxi .’
It did Leifur’s heart good to hear Jonas refer to the boat by her name. It told him that Jonas understood how much Brimfaxi meant to him.
‘How about tomorrow?’
‘Tomorrow’s great. Shall we say eleven?’
‘Should I bring anything with me?’
‘Bring the business plan, but no, nothing else.’
Another kindness for Jonas to refer to the sheaf of paper he’d presented a couple of weeks ago as a business plan.
The prospect of having something to do tomorrow spurred him into action. He’d spent long enough lying around feeling sorry for himself. He was a ball of nervous, excited energy at the prospect of the planning meeting, and he wanted to turn up with something that showed he was all in.
For starters, there was no way he was presenting the same sheaf of paper he’d shown Jonas on Brimfaxi as the business plan.
He’d also thought it might be useful to have some idea of what their closest competitors were doing in terms of timings and what they were offering.
He rummaged amongst the cluttered mess on top of the sideboard and found the laptop he rarely used now that he didn’t have to keep on top of weather forecasts and fishing quotas.
Unsurprisingly, the battery was dead, and it look another few minutes to track down the power supply.
But then, he absorbed himself in typing up his notes into a decent plan for the first season, or a starting point at least, adding in information from some of the tour companies who offered sea-based tours.
By the time he’d finished, he was peckish, although it was only mid-afternoon.
He stood in the small kitchen and looked around him.
His house was messy, dusty and, now that he took a proper look, disgusting.
When he was fishing, he spent more time on the boat than he did in the small cottage he owned that overlooked the sea.
He either wasn’t there enough to make the place dirty, and now that he was, he was having quite an impact, or it had always been like this and he’d never noticed it before.
After eating a hastily-made sandwich, he opened all the windows, letting the gusty wind fill the house with fresh air.
Then he tidied up before starting a seriously deep clean.
It took the rest of the afternoon, but by the time he finished, it felt as if he’d wiped the slate clean.
He was starting a new life, and now he was ready. And absolutely starving.
There were a couple of meals in the freezer that his mother had made for him.
Not being organised enough to write on them what they were at the time, he had to guess.
He chose one, hoping that it would be the meaty casserole that it looked like, and tipped it into a lidded cast-iron pot, which he put in the oven along with a large potato.
Then he pulled a beer out of the fridge, popped the cap, grabbed a square of tarpaulin that he kept by the door and went outside to sit by the water’s edge.
The bank that sloped towards the sea from his house was soft and mossy, and still had patches of lying snow that hadn’t quite melted yet.
The moss had covered the lava from an old eruption, so the ground was uneven and impossible to set a chair on.
Leifur laid the tarpaulin out, careful not to let go of it until he was sitting down in case the wind caught it, and leant back on the bank to enjoy his beer, feeling for the first time in a long time that he’d done a good day’s work .
He stared out at the sea. If he were still fishing, he’d be in the midst of the prime fishing season now, and he couldn’t deny he was missing it.
But he’d not allowed himself to look at the statistics.
If he found out that the capelin had been good this season, it would mean he’d made the wrong choice, yet he didn’t want to delight in other people’s misery if the hauls had been bad, even if that validated his decision. It was better not to know.
Something caught his eye. A small wooden boat with a motor was rounding the head of the sheltered bay where Leifur’s cottage sat with a few others.
It was a lovely spot, but not somewhere anyone came past in a boat by themselves, unless they lived there.
He raised a hand to his brow to shade his eyes from the rapidly setting sun and to get a better look.
There was a woman on the boat, sitting at the back with one hand on the tiller, her eyes focused on something.
From what he could see, she was wearing very practical outdoor wear and a life vest. Smart woman.
She obviously knew what she was doing. He saw her turn to face him and raised an arm to wave.
She paused before she waved back, a grin that he could see from here lighting up her face.
He laughed and waved again. Still smiling, she turned the boat and headed back out into the fjord.
Leifur sat there, wishing that she’d ventured closer to the shore.
He’d love to ask her what she was doing out there.
Ridiculously, seeing her out there alone, he felt as if she might be a kindred spirit.
Someone else who had an affinity for the sea like him, and he felt sorry that he would never see her again.
He laughed softly to himself, shaking his head. What was wrong with him?
Relationships of that kind had been difficult to navigate with his old job.
Partly because of the unsocial hours but partly because once he’d seen how his father’s death had devastated his family, and how terrified his mother had been to see her sons continue to risk their lives every day, it wasn’t something he felt able to ask someone to do for him.
He stayed outside until the sun had set, feeling the cold seep into him, his layers finally giving in against the chill of the night. He picked up his tarpaulin and empty beer bottle and headed towards the welcoming glow of his cottage, feeling ready for the beginning of his new life.