exactly where she is and will be able to put me in touch with her. Which is what I’m hoping for.’
Matthew shook his head, still unconvinced, but at that moment Gylfi and Sigga appeared with Orri asleep in his father’s arms. Sigga took the little boy from him and carried him into the bedroom, but Gylfi hovered. It was obvious that he was bursting with news. ‘Dad rang from Norway.’
‘Oh?’ said Thóra. ‘How’s he?’
‘He’s had an idea. A brainwave, actually.’ Gylfi perched on the arm of Thóra’s sofa. Recently he had shot up to his full height, though he had yet to fill out. Before she knew it, he would be an adult. ‘He’s met a guy in Norway who works for an oil company and apparently he could sort out a job for me if I wanted.’
‘A job?’ Thóra sat bolt upright. ‘This summer, you mean?’
‘Yes. And winter. It’s insanely well paid.’
‘Just hang on a minute.’ There were so many questions racing round Thóra’s head that she didn’t know where to start. ‘I thought you were going straight to university after you’d finished school. This is a crazy idea, isn’t it? And what about Sigga? She’s got a year left of sixth form – are she and Orri supposed to go with you or stay behind?’
‘Sigga can take her final year by distance learning. And I’d be up for taking a gap year. It would give me time to work out what I really want to study. We’d save some money too. I said the pay was unbelievable, didn’t I?’ There was no mistaking his elation; he looked ready to go on-line and buy his ticket right away.
‘Wages may be high in Norway, but the cost of living is astronomical. All your money would go on day-to-day expenses. I mean, what do you think it costs to rent a flat there?’ Thóra racked her brain for a way of dampening his enthusiasm, of making him wake up to the fact that this was an appalling idea. The last thing she wanted was to lose them to a foreign country, though she had been aware for some time that it would not be long before he, Sigga and Orri moved out to set up their own home. She had even assumed it would happen soon after he started university that autumn, but it had never crossed her mind that they might take Orri to live abroad.
‘That’s what’s so fantastic. Dad’s got this big flat, which he only uses every other month. We could share it with him when he’s there and the rest of the time we’d have it to ourselves.’ Gylfi beamed. ‘It’s a brilliant arrangement. And the job’s awesome. I’d work for two weeks, then have three weeks off.’
Thóra exclaimed: ‘That can’t be right. What kind of job is it anyway?
‘On an oil rig. They fly you out there by helicopter.’ He couldn’t stop grinning at the thought.
‘I see.’ She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Of all her ex’s idiotic ideas, this took the biscuit. Gylfi on an oil rig. He had hardly ever left Reykjavík, let alone experienced the sort of conditions he could expect on a floating steel platform in the middle of the Arctic Ocean, or wherever this oil rig happened to be. ‘You know, Gylfi, this is a terrible idea.’ She looked to Matthew for support but he didn’t say a word, and his face was unreadable. ‘The reason it’s well paid is that it’s incredibly dangerous, and anyway you’re far too young and inexperienced. The journey alone would be too risky. It’s out of the question.’
The smile fell from Gylfi’s face. ‘It’s not “out of the question”.’ He stood up. ‘Anyway, it’s not up to you. I’m going to put together a CV and send it to Dad to pass on to the guy. There’s no guarantee he’ll agree to take me on, but if he does, I want to do it.’ Gylfi’s eyes sought out Matthew but he encountered the same shuttered expression. He turned back to his mother: ‘You’ll just have to get used to the idea. Why are you always so negative?’ He stomped into his room.
Thóra sat in silence, trying to bring her emotions under
Matthew shook his head, still unconvinced, but at that moment Gylfi and Sigga appeared with Orri asleep in his father’s arms. Sigga took the little boy from him and carried him into the bedroom, but Gylfi hovered. It was obvious that he was bursting with news. ‘Dad rang from Norway.’
‘Oh?’ said Thóra. ‘How’s he?’
‘He’s had an idea. A brainwave, actually.’ Gylfi perched on the arm of Thóra’s sofa. Recently he had shot up to his full height, though he had yet to fill out. Before she knew it, he would be an adult. ‘He’s met a guy in Norway who works for an oil company and apparently he could sort out a job for me if I wanted.’
‘A job?’ Thóra sat bolt upright. ‘This summer, you mean?’
‘Yes. And winter. It’s insanely well paid.’
‘Just hang on a minute.’ There were so many questions racing round Thóra’s head that she didn’t know where to start. ‘I thought you were going straight to university after you’d finished school. This is a crazy idea, isn’t it? And what about Sigga? She’s got a year left of sixth form – are she and Orri supposed to go with you or stay behind?’
‘Sigga can take her final year by distance learning. And I’d be up for taking a gap year. It would give me time to work out what I really want to study. We’d save some money too. I said the pay was unbelievable, didn’t I?’ There was no mistaking his elation; he looked ready to go on-line and buy his ticket right away.
‘Wages may be high in Norway, but the cost of living is astronomical. All your money would go on day-to-day expenses. I mean, what do you think it costs to rent a flat there?’ Thóra racked her brain for a way of dampening his enthusiasm, of making him wake up to the fact that this was an appalling idea. The last thing she wanted was to lose them to a foreign country, though she had been aware for some time that it would not be long before he, Sigga and Orri moved out to set up their own home. She had even assumed it would happen soon after he started university that autumn, but it had never crossed her mind that they might take Orri to live abroad.
‘That’s what’s so fantastic. Dad’s got this big flat, which he only uses every other month. We could share it with him when he’s there and the rest of the time we’d have it to ourselves.’ Gylfi beamed. ‘It’s a brilliant arrangement. And the job’s awesome. I’d work for two weeks, then have three weeks off.’
Thóra exclaimed: ‘That can’t be right. What kind of job is it anyway?
‘On an oil rig. They fly you out there by helicopter.’ He couldn’t stop grinning at the thought.
‘I see.’ She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Of all her ex’s idiotic ideas, this took the biscuit. Gylfi on an oil rig. He had hardly ever left Reykjavík, let alone experienced the sort of conditions he could expect on a floating steel platform in the middle of the Arctic Ocean, or wherever this oil rig happened to be. ‘You know, Gylfi, this is a terrible idea.’ She looked to Matthew for support but he didn’t say a word, and his face was unreadable. ‘The reason it’s well paid is that it’s incredibly dangerous, and anyway you’re far too young and inexperienced. The journey alone would be too risky. It’s out of the question.’
The smile fell from Gylfi’s face. ‘It’s not “out of the question”.’ He stood up. ‘Anyway, it’s not up to you. I’m going to put together a CV and send it to Dad to pass on to the guy. There’s no guarantee he’ll agree to take me on, but if he does, I want to do it.’ Gylfi’s eyes sought out Matthew but he encountered the same shuttered expression. He turned back to his mother: ‘You’ll just have to get used to the idea. Why are you always so negative?’ He stomped into his room.
Thóra sat in silence, trying to bring her emotions under
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