Book Reviews · Extract

#BlogTour #Extract The Creak On The Stairs By Eva Björg Ægisdóttir #RandomThingsTours #TheCreakontheStairs #IcelandicNoir

Hello, Book Dragons! Today I would like to welcome you all on my stop of the Blog Tour for The Creak On The Stairs By Eva Björg Ægisdóttir and I would like to share an extract from the book, with all of you. Thank you very much to Anne from Random Things Tours for the invitation. Please do show some love to all the wonderful book bloggers on this blog tour by following and sharing their work. 🙂

FINAL Creak on Stairs BT Poster

Creak on the Stairs CoverPublisher: Orenda Books
ISBN13: 978-1913193041
Genre: Mystery
Release date: 14 03 2020
Price*: Kindle £2.34 (GBP)/  Paperback £7.91 (GBP)
Kindle $6.15 (USD)/ Paperback $12.12 (USD)
Pages: ~ 276
You can get this book here:
Amazon UK
Book Depository

Description of the book: When a woman’s body is discovered at a lighthouse in the Icelandic town of Akranes, investigators discover shocking secrets in her past. First in a disturbing, chillingly atmospheric new series.

When a body of a woman is discovered at a lighthouse in the Icelandic town of Akranes, it soon becomes clear that she’s no stranger to the area.

Chief Investigating Officer Elma, who has returned to Akranes following a failed relationship, and her colleagues Sævar and Hörður, commence an uneasy investigation, which uncovers a shocking secret in the dead woman’s past that continues to reverberate in the present day …

But as Elma and her team make a series of discoveries, they bring to light a host of long-hidden crimes that shake the entire community. Sifting through the rubble of the townspeople’s shattered memories, they have to dodge increasingly serious threats, and find justice … before it’s too late.

Extract: Saturday, 25 November 2017

The only sounds in the house were the ticking of the sitting room clock and the regular clicking of her knitting needles as they turned out the smooth, pale loops. The little jumper was almost finished. Once Ása had cast off and woven in the loose ends, she laid the jumper on the sofa and smoothed it out. The yarn, a mix of alpaca and silk, was as soft and light as thistledown. She tried out several different kinds of buttons against the jumper before opting for some white mother-of-pearl ones that went well with the light-coloured wool. She would sew them on later, once she had washed it. After putting the little garment in the washing machine, she switched on the kettle, scooped up some tea leaves in the strainer, poured the boiling water over them and added sugar and a dash of milk. Then she sat down at the kitchen table. The weekend paper lay there unopened, but instead of leafing through it, she cradled the hot cup in both hands and stared unseeingly out of the window.

Her hands always got so cold when she was knitting. She wound the yarn so tightly round her index finger that it was bloodless and numb by the time she put down her needles. But knitting was her hobby, and numb fingers were a small price to pay for the pleasure she derived from seeing the yarn transformed into a succession of pretty garments. Pretty garments to add to the pile in the wardrobe. Hendrik was always grumbling about her extravagance. The yarn didn’t come cheap, especially the finest-quality soft wool, spun with silk. But she carried on regardless, ignoring Hendrik’s nagging. It wasn’t as if they couldn’t afford it. All her life she had been thrifty and watched every penny. It was how she had been brought up. But these days they had plenty of money; so much more than they needed, in fact, that she didn’t know what to do with it all. So she bought wool. She wondered at times if she should sell the clothes or give them away so others could make use of them, but something always held her back.

She gazed out at the garden, where the blackbirds were hopping among the shrubs, attracted by the apples she had hung out for them. Time seemed to stand still. Ever since she had given up work, the days had become so long and drawn out that it was as if they would never end.

Ása heard the front door open and close, then Hendrik walked into the kitchen without a word of greeting. He was still going into the office every day, and Ása doubted he would ever give up work entirely, though he was intending to cut down now that Bjarni was taking over. When not at work, he spent most of his time on the golf course, but golf had always bored her rigid.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ Hendrik sat down at the table and picked up the paper, not looking at her as he spoke.

Ása didn’t answer but went on staring out of the window. The blackbirds were noisy now, singing shrill warning notes from the bushes. Ever louder and more insistent.

Hendrik shook his head and snorted, as if to say that it didn’t matter how she was feeling or what she was thinking.

Without a word, she slammed down her cup so violently that the tea splashed onto the table. Then she stood up and walked quickly into the bedroom, pretending not to notice Hendrik’s astonished expression. Sitting down on the bed, she concentrated on getting her breathing under control. She wasn’t accustomed to losing her temper like that. She had always been so docile, so self-effacing, first as a little girl growing up in the countryside out east and later as a woman working in the fish factory in Akranes. She had moved young to Reykjavík and, like so many country girls, attended the Home Economics School. While boarding there she had soon discovered that life in the city offered all kinds of attractions that the countryside didn’t, like new people, work and a variety of entertainment. Shops, schools and streets that hardly ever emptied. Lights that lit up the night and a harbour full of ships. It was meeting Hendrik that had brought her to Akranes. He had been working on a fishing boat that put into Reykjavík harbour one August night. The crew had gone out on the town where Ása was partying with her friends from the Home Economics School. She had met him as he walked in through the door of the nightclub.

Eva Bjorg AEgisdottir Author PicAbout the author: Born in Akranes in 1988, Eva moved to Trondheim, Norway to study my Msc in Globalisation when she was 25. After moving back home having completed her MSc, she knew it was time to start working on her novel. Eva has wanted to write books since she was 15 years old, having won a short story contest in Iceland. Eva worked as a stewardess to make ends meet while she wrote her first novel. The book went on to win the Blackbird Award and became an Icelandic bestseller. Eva now lives with her husband and three children in Reykjavík, staying at home with her youngest until she begins Kindergarten.

Twitter: @evaaegisdottir

*-the price was taken from and on the current date. The price might change at the time of your purchase. The links used in this post for book purchases are affiliates.

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