Surtsey had been obsessed with the place her whole life. Just as the Inch was being spewed from the bowels of the earth, a new volcanic island created from an unknown fault line in the Firth of Forth, Surtsey’s mum was in the back of a taxi on the way to the old Royal to give birth to her. Hence the weird name, Louise naming her daughter after another new island born from the sea, the Icelandic island she’d visited as a young volcanologist herself.
Surtsey was at the hut now. She hesitated with her hand at the door then swallowed and pushed it open.
Empty. A blanket stretched across the bed, the stove cold, equipment untouched.
She left and looked around again. Further west was a rise in the rock, dipping down to a small cove. A seagull came out of the darkening sky, a bluster of wings, then landed out of sight behind the mound.
Surtsey walked towards it, her stomach tight. She checked her phone again, no message. She picked her way over the cracked surface, careful in her Converse. She liked the way the trainers looked with the dress, made her feel less prim.
As she approached the edge of the lava flow two crows burst up from behind it, cawing and flapping, a flurry of black feathers. They descended behind the bank, out of sight again.
Surtsey reached the edge of the outcrop. Thirty yards below, on the sand of the cove, a dozen gulls and crows were gathered on a single low rock, a blur of squawking activity, pecking at each other. Surtsey watched for a few moments trying to make sense of it. Gradually she realised they weren’t pecking each other, they were pecking at the rock beneath them.
Then she got it.
It wasn’t a rock it was a body, and they were feasting on it.
2
She looked around as if someone might appear with an answer. She scanned the horizon for any activity apart from the chaos of birds. Nothing. The air was full of caws and screeches and she couldn’t concentrate.
She looked at her phone then back at the birds. She picked her way down the rocky escarpment, sharp stones jabbing the soles of her shoes. Her dress snagged on a ragged edge and she pulled it free. She felt hot, blood in her cheeks with the effort.
The sound of the birds grew louder as she got nearer, the tussle at the beach in full flow, gulls lifting into the air then settling back down. Surtsey saw clothing, a light jacket, jeans, brown shoes. Clothes she thought she recognised. The birds were concentrating on the exposed head and hands, where they could get better purchase.
She stumbled onto the sand, the birds ignoring her, but as she walked closer the nearest crows began shuffling away from her. She hesitated, hand to her mouth. She looked back up the way she’d come, then out to sea. The sun was setting now, just a few strands of pink between the slats of the bridges in the distance. It was still light, though, would be for a couple of hours yet at this time of year.
She turned back to look at the body. She was twenty yards away. She saw a seagull pick something from the face, flap up into the air chased by two others. It evaded them, switched back beyond high tide and landed, pulling whatever it was between its beak and feet.
Surtsey’s stomach lurched. Acid rose from her stomach, but she swallowed it down. She took a breath and strode towards the body, waving her hands, shooing the birds away, clapping and shouting. They flustered into the sky but didn’t go too far, circling above her, a mass of black and white darting and skipping through the air, eyeing her.
She stood over the body and felt another rush of blood, heart clattering in her ribs, fingers tingling.
Tom.
She closed her eyes, kept them closed for a long time.
She opened them and looked away, up at the vents towering above her, over at the spread of dried lava tumbling down the hillside from them. Out to sea. Then eventually she turned back to his body, made herself look.
His head was caved in on the right hand side, blood soaking the sand and making it shine. His scalp was a mess of skin, bone and hair on that side, his ear mangled and hanging off, eyebrow collapsed, cheekbone flat. His eyes stared up at the sky.
She’d seen those eyes earlier today back at the office, glancing at her in a team meeting, something passing between them, a little spark. Nothing profound, just a look.
She fell to her knees, felt the roughness of the sand on her skin. She thought about Alice, the girls. How would they cope? She thought about the reaction in the department, the professor no longer there to guide them.
She reached out to touch his hand but hesitated. The wedding ring, a simple platinum band. He never hid it or took it off when they were together, and she’d never asked him to.
Above her the crows and gulls suddenly stopped fighting and flew higher into the sky. She put her hands to her face, covered her eyes. Sat on her knees for a moment, then felt a vibration, subsonic, a sensation she recognised. It grew stronger and the sand shuffled around her knees. She felt a ripple through her body from the land beneath. An earthquake, a pretty strong one. She tried to get up but a judder pitched her forward and she rested her hand on Tom’s
