Under Her Breath

This story stands alone, but follows on from Under the Ice, which finishes as Hannah spots a friend she's missed for too long. Their lives touched briefly once before but finally Kay and Hannah can meet in better circumstances.

Hannah turned to the students, who looked to her expectantly. She was never very good at speaking off the cuff and hadn't anticipated this meeting. What completely threw her concentration was a familiar face smiling back at her. Karolina!

Hannah cleared her throat and behind her back, dug a fingernail into her thumb to suppress her nerves.

"Hello everyone. I'm Dr Hannah Turner, one of your course supervisors. I know that our Danish hosts here at the NRI in Greenland will do everything they can make you feel welcome and provide you with practical assistance to your field work. I must apologise that I'm only here for twenty-four hours, so come and see me down the hall this morning if you have any pressing questions. That's in room P17, Oscar?"

Hannah queried her liaison officer, who acknowledged her question with a nod.

"I'll leave you to your safety briefing. I know it might seem unnecessary but it might save your life, so stay focused. Good luck with your projects -- I know how important they are to you, so please copy me in to your results. Thank you."

The students turned back to re-packing orange emergency shelters but in the crowd, Hannah lost sight of Karolina.

Karolina was a final year student, originally from Poland. They had first met two years earlier on a research yacht in the UK. The sailing adventure had turned into a nightmare when Hannah's boyfriend dumped her, but Karolina had offered an olive branch of friendship. But the timing was wrong, Hannah felt unable to take things any further with Kay, so they'd parted amicably. She often wondered if they'd meet again.

Hannah followed Oscar back to his spacious office with its panoramic views over the icy fjord and harbour of the capital, Nuuk. Hannah had arrived in the harbour by ferry the previous day and knew how cold the wind blew across its Arctic water, etching patterns across its inky surface. The memory made her shiver, despite the warmth of the office. She vowed to never complain about the weather in the UK again.

Professor Oscar Poulsen was a man in his fifties with thinning hair and pale eyes that seemed permanently worried behind owl like glasses. He enjoyed hosting researchers from round the world, but Hannah was a favourite, with her ability to switch easily from serious study to quips and humour. She was good company. Her long legs and blonde curls weren't above his attention either, though seeing her slim figure and exuberant energy made him wistful for his younger days.

The professor offered Hannah space at his table where she could enter the new field data on her laptop. In addition to enjoying arduous fieldwork she had a talent for seeing patterns amongst numbers, spotting trends and drawing conclusions that others overlooked. Her trip to gather ice samples at a remote outpost had been cut short by bad weather, but unknown to Oscar, Hannah and her Danish guide, Noah, had hit things off very well.

Noah was a great bear of a man who treated her as his equal, which she'd found refreshing. A smile crept over her face as she recalled Noah's dry wit and dead pan delivery. She'd allayed his scepticism of scatter-brained academics by demonstrating her practical skills. Despite his tetchiness, on better acquaintance she found him pretty irresistible. Maybe it was the subtle vulnerabilities of a strong man that appealed to her or maybe it was their isolation. Either way, Noah was a true gentleman and a passionate ogre in bed.

Whatever it had been, it was distracting from her work. She realised she was staring at the distant mountains, kissed orange by the sun in contrast to the blues of the shadows. Hannah chased the memory away and turned back to her data.

After an undisturbed hour Oscar suggested they break for lunch.

"It seems as though your students have no use for you, Hannah." Oscar chuckled.

"Maybe they're frightened of me," Hannah replied, stretching out a crick in her back and standing to join him at the door. "I've been told I can be intimidating."

"Pfft -- I find that hard to believe, Hannah. You're strong in your science, not your opinions."

"Thanks Oscar. Are they staying nearby? There's a student I know from another trip. I was hoping to catch up with her."

"They're being put up in the bunkroom here in the centre. There's only twelve of them so they're all sharing the one room. It saves on heating, you know!"

"Oh well -- they won't want me cramping their style. I'll be relying on your suggestions for a final night in Nuuk," Hannah sighed in reply.

"Oh, you mean nookie in Nuuk, Hannah? That can be arranged!" Oscar snorted at his own bad pun.

"Oscar! I'm shocked." Hannah laughed with him. "Come on, let's try the canteen for now."

As Oscar and Hannah enjoyed a light lunch together, a lone figure walked up the corridor to room P17. She looked through the glass panel and tried the door but found it locked.

"Come on, Kay. We're all taking a walk into town. Are you with us?" hollered an English student down the corridor to her.

"Okay, sure. I'll be there," Karolina called back. She looked at the note she had scribbled to Hannah and wrinkled her nose. She contemplated leaving it pinned to the door, but folded it into her pocket instead and hurried after the others as they left for the town in a boisterous group.

Oscar was a kind and generous host, but Hannah felt distracted. She only had a few hours left in Greenland and knew she ought to be making the most of the opportunity, but her long journey home the next day made her fret.

She was a person who needed order in her life, to have fall-back plans, to have memorised her flight number, its departure time, the gate number and she had memorised her passport number so that there was no room for unwelcome surprises.

Back in Oscar's office she was unable to settle and was only picking at her work. Under the table she ran her fingers over her thigh pocket to ensure her passport and ticket were still there. She had a printed ticket because she never trusted her phone with an electronic alternative. She actually had two print outs because she didn't trust her memory either.

Oscar sensed her discomfort and lounged back in his chair.

"Hannah? Why don't we take a walk up to Myggedalen point? I've been stuck in this office all week and it looks like it'll be a good sunset. There's a fantastic view over the town and harbour and up towards the mountains."

"Am I making it that obvious, Oscar? I don't feel able to concentrate because I'm only here for a few hours. It sounds a great idea. Is there anything else you need from me right now?"

"Really? No. Our people will upload the lab work over the next few days and you're only at the end of the phone. It's just number crunching now, isn't it? It would be a shame to miss out on a walk on your last day."

"That's a great idea, Oscar. Thank you."

They collected their winter jackets and once clear of the mud strewn ice of the main road, struck out along a quiet path that wound alongside the water's edge.

There are few trees in Greenland and plants must be quick to snatch the brief warmth of summer months. Beside their path, only the black spikes of crowberry plants pierced the snow that decorated their twigs with coronets of ice.

Hannah paused to admire the traditional wooden houses overlooking the harbour. Their brightly painted exteriors added welcome splashes of colour to the grey wintry scene.

"They're like Christmas cake decorations with sugar ice roofs," Hannah commented over her shoulder as they walked. "Are they occupied all year?"

"Yes, they are family homes not seasonal ones. People here often have several jobs, so you might find a fisherman working at the airport or a teacher who runs guided tours," Oscar replied. "We have an expression 'A red house and a potato field', because that's all you need in life to be happy."

"So what's your second job, Oscar?" Hannah enquired with a smile.

"Aha! Well I sometimes help my sister with her bar at night. I check the drinks. For freshness, of course," Oscar volunteered, touching the side of his nose and they both laughed. "Now here we are. Worth the walk wasn't it? You'll have seen that saddle shaped mountain when you flew in. I love this spot, winter or summer."

The waters of the fjord were now in shade, its iron sea surface punctuated by the sapphires and blues of small icebergs. In the far distance the chiselled bare rock of the Sermitsiaq mountain caught the last of the afternoon sunshine, but here in the shadows it had become chilly once more.

Hannah jumped up and down on the spot to stay warm, her breath white and her face pinched with cold. They had dawdled too long.

"Cold, Hannah?" Oscar enquired.

Hannah repositioned her woolly hat with her mittens and nodded back, her blue eyes bright but watery with the frigid air.

"Then can I offer you a drink at my sister's bar? We could have supper there too," suggested Oscar.

"Oh, that's kind of you Oscar, but you know what? I just want to sort myself out for travelling tomorrow. If you can suggest a hot take-out in the town, I think I'll go back to my guest house. Thanks though."

"Sure, no problem. It was good to share this walk with you. Lets take the path between these houses. It's less exposed and the path is well lit." Oscar led the way back into the town where they said their goodbyes.

Oscar had pointed out a take away that offered tasty battered fish, so Hannah made a selection then walked back to her lodgings. All she wanted was to shut the world out behind her bedroom door. After the hectic pace of the last few days, making time to relax on her own was an inescapable need, not a luxury. Events had overrun her.

To an outsider, it might seem sulky or self-indulgent, but to Hannah and autistic people like her, it was as essential as a computer clearing its trash. Data overload. She could still function up to a point, but slower and slower. She needed 'recovery time'.

She switched on the table lamp and sat in its comfortable homely glow. The room otherwise was now quite dark. The table in front of her was plain and bare, just the paper carrier bag with her supper. She sat with unfocused eyes and munched, barely noticing what she was eating.

The chaos of multiple conversations, people's expressions, their body language, their smell, the drops of diesel fuel that stained her shoe on the ferry, the oppressive low pulse of air-conditioning in the Institute building, became slowly ordered, filed, analysed, stored, with emotional values neatly attached to each in her memory.

After a time, an hour, maybe two, Hannah became aware of where she was and that the fog of exhaustion was lifting from her mind. Even her movements now felt lighter, the dull throb of a headache vanished, the noise of breathed air flowing in and out of her body gone from conscious thought.

The food was cold but mostly eaten. She was pleased she had eaten something but felt guilty for being wasteful. She was sure the cleaner would notice the food discarded in the bin the next morning and judge the English visitor. Hannah would fold her towels and make the bed to show contrition.

She needed a shower and bed, but not before repacking her bag in readiness for her journey. There was a daily link to Reykjavik, an overnight stay then another flight to Manchester.

She was nearly ready for bed but switched off the room light to look outside. Her heart skipped a beat to see the night sky full of feathery green light. She forgot her packing and she raced to pull on a jacket and not miss the show outside.

All around, fingers of angels touched harp strings, shimmering curtains and luminous voiles drifted to earth in silent dances. Hannah found herself thinking of carpets of river weed, rich with the seductive motion of idle water, of slow motion dancers or childhood kaleidoscopes. Her eyes were not big enough to see it all, she made herself giddy turning in the biscuit crunch of snow to gaze in wonder. She wished she could share her joy, but she was alone.

It was too cold to linger in only fleece pjs and down jacket. After not nearly enough time and feeling her ribs tightening with cold, she made one last rotation at the sky and shivered back to her room and bed.

* * * * *

Noah turned to run but his frozen legs buckled under him on the ice. The bear was on him, taking a mouthful of jacket and shaking the man like a terrier with a rat.

Hannah held the rifle in her hands but her bulky blue mittens imprisoned her fingers and she could not move the safety catch. Noah tumbled to one side, so she took the barrel and hit the rear quarters of the bear.

It ignored her or did not notice or did not care. She was an irrelevance. Hannah's weakness made her sick with guilt and angered by her impotence. She couldn't even distract the bear as Noah's legs kicked frantically.

The bear reared up on its hind legs, towering in the space between them, then crashed down onto Noah's body.

Hannah woke in fright. The room dark and unfamiliar. A green digital display of a clock glowed 2.37. She batted her hand blindly, knocking something onto the floor, then found the light.

She was in Nuuk. The guest house in Nuuk, not the hut in Atammik. She had saved Noah, saved them both. She'd fired the gun. The bear had fled. No one was hurt, but her dream had made her re-live the horror of a different ending.

The bear's black tongue. She remembered that so well.

"I should think happy thoughts. What really happened afterwards, Hannah?" She counselled herself aloud, as though hearing the words would help. She pulled her body up from the covers to sit. "We ended up in the hut, didn't we? Noah stripped off his wet clothes, I made him a hot drink and he was fine. Then we sat and laughed together and he told me I was a crazy English woman."

Hannah hung her head as she sat in the bed, her hands open, palm up as a million other thoughts crowded in on her. She toyed with her fingers, bending them each in turn to make fists. Simple actions. Little fists that scared a bear away.

"Oh fuckanory," Hannah sighed loudly, frustrated that the dream had woken her. "Fucking brain. Shut up and let me sleep."

She slipped back under the bedclothes and reached to switch off the light. She lay for a while with click-blinking eyes in the dark. It was safe to sleep again. Her brain would not wake her again that night.

* * * * *

Her flight to Reykjavik in the 50-seat aircraft was shaken by turbulence that caused a man seated behind her to cry out in fear. She sympathised but her logic kept her own emotions in check. It was simple: generally pilots don't want to die; aircraft are well maintained; wings don't fall off. A family friend who flew for British Airways had passed this on and she had no reason to doubt him.

Besides, having an embarrassed and fearful man behind her was infinity preferable to a small child with bored feet. The only concerns were for hard-centred clouds and there were none of those today. The sky was clear and below them shone a filigree of jewelled inlets and emerald fjords. She was irritated by a smudge on the outside of her window and used the cuff of her fleece to wipe away her breath as she pressed close for a better view. She could never tire of seeing the world from this perspective.

The bumpiness did mean the in-flight meal was cancelled but she'd had a good breakfast and she found pressurised cabins did strange things to taste buds. Taste buds are bad fliers and would rather be at home comforted by jam. Instead they were offered bottles of mineral water and shrink-wrapped biscuits.

The nice thing she'd found about small planes was the arrivals area, which was invariably quite chummy. Passengers smiled at each other with collective bonhomie and relief. The frightened man was now an embarrassed man and kept his eyes averted on his phone.

Hannah's baggage arrived and the customs agents barely looked up as she made her way to a taxi that took her to the Icelandir Hotel. She asked for the same room as before. One less uncertainty. Hannah found rituals and routines a comfort.

* * * * *

Her Manchester flight was without incident. Her seat was economy, but on the advice of a well-travelled friend, she made eye contact and small talk with the flight attendants. Being personable offered the best of chance of an upgrade and a young professional woman travelling alone would be first on the list. So far it had not happened to Hannah but she regarded it as much a challenge as walking through a metal detector without triggering the alarm. In that she had a faultless record.

* * * * *

Planes, trains and taxis brought her home, cold and tired. While the flat warmed up, she spilled the contents of her bags onto her bed. Clothes were sorted into items that would machine wash and outdoor gear that wouldn't.

Holding up her salopettes stirred recent memories from her trip that now felt alien in the familiarity of her home. Fish scales and grit from the Arctic in her flat. These salopettes had been soaked in frozen sea, chased a polar bear and splashed with her own pee in an outdoor latrine. Expeditions were as rich in personal memories as they were with scientific discoveries. Life in the Arctic was certainly not dull.

She took an extra day's leave from work to restock her fridge and catch up on sleep. It would be a couple of days before any results came through from Greenland and she had no lectures to give for a week.

With the washing machine loaded, a fresh tea in her favourite mug, she plonked herself down at her computer to check on emails. As she watched them arrive she thought again about Karolina.

Hannah was disappointed they never had a chance to catch up. It had been so long since they last spoke, she guessed Kay had found love and was busy with her degree. It was silly for her to think otherwise and she dismissed a wistful notion from her mind to focus on more pressing matters.

* * * * *

In the next few days Hannah settled back into the routine of her university work. There were undergraduate papers to appraise and the postgraduates in her department were always keen for her guidance. At the end of one seminar, she made her way back to her office and tapped the mouse of her computer to wake it up.

Sender: admin@nature.gl

Subject: Ice core samples results: Atammik Qeqqata municipality

The email immediately caught her attention and she studied the text before downloading the attachment.

"Hang on," Hannah wondered aloud. "Where did all this come from?"

She flicked down the pages of data, noting the locations around Atammik where she had been based. There was an extra tranche of data that had been appended to her field samples. They looked consistent results but this new range of samples lent extra credibility to her findings.

"Noah! You complete darling!" she exclaimed with a broadening grin.

She checked for his personal email and sent him a long and heart felt thank you, enquiring too about his life and referring to him as her 'passionate ogre'.

She busied herself transferring the data into her modelling program and watched with satisfaction the software flesh out the graphics. Finally she could write up her results and send them off for peer-review. A favourable outcome would mean more funding for her next expedition.

Her phone rang and she saw it was Noah calling.

"English woman! How are you my girl?" Noah's voice boomed happy and clear.

"Noah! You are a complete legend. Thank you so much for this data. I've just had it through from the NRI." Hannah's voice was bouncing with excitement.