Nora walked with her headache and obvious hangover through an undecorated wooden passageway to a small dining hall that smelled of pickled herring, and where a few research scientists were having breakfast.
She got herself a black co๏ฌee and some stale, dry rye bread and sat down.
Around her, outside the window, was the most eerily beautiful sight she had ever seen. Islands of ice, like rocks rendered clean and pure white, were visible amid the fog.ย ๎ขere were seventeen other people in the dining hall, Nora counted. Eleven men, six women. Nora sat by herself but within ๏ฌve minutes a man with short hair and stubble two days away from a full beard sat down at her table. He was wearing a parka, like most of the room, but he seemed ill-suited to it, as if he would be more at home on the Riviera wearing designer shorts and a pink polo shirt. He smiled at Nora. She tried to translate the smile, to understand the kind of relationship they had. He watched her for a little while, then shu๏ฌed his chair along to sit opposite her. She looked for a lanyard, but he wasnโt wearing one. She wondered if she should know his name.
โIโm Hugo,โ he said, to her relief. โHugo Lefรจvre. You are Nora, yes?โ โYes.โ
โI saw you around, in Svalbard, at the research centre, but we never said hello. Anyway, I just wanted to say I read your paper on pulsating glaciers and it blew my mind.โ
โReally?โ
โYes. I mean, itโs always fascinated me, why they do that here and nowhere else. Itโs such a strange phenomenon.โ
โLife is full of strange phenomena.โ
Conversation was tempting, but dangerous. Nora smiled a small, polite smile and then looked out of the window.ย ๎ขe islands of ice turned into actual islands. Little snow-streaked pointed hills, like the tips of mountains, or ๏ฌatter, craggy plates of land. And beyond them, the glacier Nora had seen from the cabin porthole. She could get a better measure of it now, although its top portion was concealed under a visor of cloud. Other parts of it were entirely free from fog. It was incredible.
You see a picture of a glacier on TV or in a magazine and you see a smooth lump of white. But this was as textured as a mountain. Black-brown and white. And there were in๏ฌnite varieties of that white, a whole visual smorgasbord of variation โ white-white, blue-white, turquoise-white, gold-white, silver-white, translucent-white โ rendered glaringly alive and impressive. Certainly more impressive than the breakfast.
โDepressing, isnโt it?โ Hugo said. โWhat?โ
โ๎ขe fact that the day never ends.โ
Nora felt uneasy with this observation. โIn what sense?โ He waited a second before responding.
โ๎ขe never-ending light,โ he said, before taking a bite of a dry cracker. โFrom April on. Itโs like living one interminable day . . . I hate that feeling.โ
โTell me about it.โ
โYouโd think theyโd give the portholes curtains. Hardly slept since Iโve been on this boat.โ
Nora nodded. โHow long is that again?โ
He laughed. It was a nice laugh. Close-mouthed. Civilised. Hardly a laugh at all.
โI drank a lot with Ingrid last night. Vodka has stolen my memory.โ โAre you sure itโs the vodka?โ
โWhat else would it be?โ
His eyes were inquisitive, and made Nora feel automatically guilty.
She looked over at Ingrid, who was drinking her co๏ฌee and typing on her laptop. She wished she had sat with her now.
โWell, that was our third night,โ Hugo said. โWe have been meandering around the archipelago since Sunday. Yeah, Sunday.ย ๎ขatโs when we le๎ย Longyearbyen.โ
Nora made a face as if to say she knew all this. โSunday seems for ever away.โ
๎ขe boat felt like it was turning. Nora was forced to lean a little in her seat. โTwenty years ago there was hardly any open water in Svalbard in April.
Look at it now. Itโs like cruising the Mediterranean.โ
Nora tried to make her smile seem relaxed. โNot quite.โ โAnyway, I heard you got the short straw today?โ
Nora tried to look blank, which wasnโt hard. โReally?โ โYouโre the spotter, arenโt you?โ
She had no idea what he was talking about, but feared the twinkle in his eye.
โYes,โ she answered. โYes, I am. I am the spotter.โ
Hugoโs eyes widened with shock. Or mock-shock. It was hard to tell the di๏ฌerence with him.
โ๎ขeย spotter?โ โYes?โ
Nora desperately wanted to know what the spotter actually did, but couldnโt ask.
โWell, bonne chance,โ said Hugo, with a testing gaze.
โMerci,โ said Nora, staring out at the crisp Arctic light and a landscape she had only ever seen in magazines. โIโm ready for a challenge.โ
