“How long is that again?” He laughed. It was a nice laugh. Close-mouthed. Civilised.
Hardly a laugh at all. “I drank a lot with Ingrid last night. Vodka has stolen my memory.”
“Are you sure it’s the vodka?” “What else would it be?” His eyes were inquisitive, and made Nora feel automatically guilty.
She looked over at Ingrid, who was drinking her coffee and typing on her laptop. She wished she had sat with her now.
“Well, that was our third night,” Hugo said. “We have been meandering around the archipelago since Sunday.”
“Yeah, Sunday. That’s when we left Longyearbyen.” Nora made a face as if to say she knew all this.
“Sunday seems for ever away.” The boat felt like it was turning. Nora was forced to lean a little in her seat.
“Twenty years ago there was hardly any open water in Svalbard in April. Look at it now.”
“It’s like cruising the Mediterranean.” Nora tried to make her smile seem relaxed. “Not quite.”
“Anyway, I heard you got the short straw today?” Nora tried to look blank, which wasn’t hard.
“Really?” “You’re the spotter, aren’t you?” She had no idea what he was talking about, but feared the twinkle in his eye.
“Yes,” she answered. “Yes, I am. I am the spotter.Hugo’s eyes widened with shock. Or mock-shock. It was hard to tell the difference with him.
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