Summer Island Page 10

  Ninni felt uncomfortable and embarrassed and did not like it. She frowned at him. ‘I’m sorry, but I have a deadline.’

  ‘And here I was thinking Norwegians were so hospitable,’ he said, clearly enjoying himself. He made no sign of leaving.

  ‘You’ve read the wrong guidebook, I’m afraid.’ Ninni pulled the computer closer to her. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then,’ she said.

  Jack stood up. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

  He gave Frikk another quick pat on the head, then climbed over the fence and walked away. Ninni tried to look without looking. She slowly let out her breath again. I shouldn’t have asked him, she thought. I really shouldn’t.

  Chapter 9

  There wasn’t a flag left anywhere, not a banner, no bunting or a bunad in sight. Jack remembered the hotel receptionist telling him that they would all go back to normal on the 18th of May. Apparently they had.

  Mats waved at him through the window to his office. Jack waved back. The estate agent looked pleased with himself.

  ‘Jack, great to see you again,’ he said and held the door open for him. ‘I have great news.’

  ‘Here, this is for you.’ Jack handed him all the papers he had been able to find in the house. ‘I hope that’s what you need.’

  ‘Thank you. I’m sure it is. But listen, I already have someone who is interested,’ Mats said.

  ‘I thought you said it would take time.’ Jack felt a surprising sting of disappointment.

  Mats shook his head. ‘So did I, but this person rang me up. It’s not a farmer, I’m afraid. He’s a developer of sorts, although I don’t know what his plans are for the property. But I think you should meet him.’

  ‘That sounds brilliant.’ Jack smiled at the agent’s enthusiasm.

  ‘Wait here, I’ll go and get his number for you.’

  Jack waited in the main office. It looked like any estate agent’s office he had ever been in. Pictures of houses and apartments for sale covered the walls and the windows. He looked at a few and whistled at the prices. Almost worse than London, he thought.

  Mats returned, waving a note. ‘Now, don’t let him know that you are eager to sell. Play hard to get, so we can get a good price for you.’

  ‘Do you want to be there if I make an appointment?’

  Mats smiled. ‘Well, first we’ll see if you like him and what he has to say. Then we’ll get him here. That will give me time to go through your papers and all the rest of it.’

  Jack nodded. ‘That sounds fine to me.’

  The note had a name and a phone number. ‘Erik Haldorsen?’

  Mats nodded. ‘He’s a big businessman in this town. Don’t worry, I’ll look after your interests.’

  Jack laughed. ‘I appreciate that. Let’s see what they say, shall we?’

  He dialled the number and a chirpy secretary put him through. Absolutely not a farmer, he thought.

  It was a brief conversation, ending in an appointment. He smiled at Mats and put the phone in his pocket.

  ‘This should be interesting,’ he said.

  Mats almost rubbed his hands. ‘Let me know how it goes.’

  Jack nodded. ‘Absolutely.’

  On the way back to the ferry Jack discovered a spice shop and walked inside. Oils and spices, and brands he recognised from home. He filled up on necessities like balsamic vinegar and a good olive oil. Agnar’s kitchen had nothing like this. This was perfect. He wanted to try a bit of cooking for the beach party. He didn’t analyse the sudden need to impress.

  On the ferry he called his dad and told him about the news.

  ‘Have you called this developer yet?’ Paul asked.

  ‘Yes, I have an appointment with him. We’ll see how it goes.’

  Paul paused for a second. ‘I see.’

  ‘What?’ Jack frowned.

  ‘Nothing. I just thought you would be more enthusiastic, that’s all.’

  Jack smiled. ‘It’s too early to celebrate, Dad.’

  ‘I see. We’re really fascinated by the goats,’ Paul said, changing the subject.

  Jack stood outside on the ferry deck, enjoying the sun and the wind on his face. ‘They’re not goats, Dad. They’re sheep.’

  ‘Yeah, we’re pretty convinced they’re taking the piss, son. I bet they’re laughing their heads off whenever you call those goats sheep.’

  Jack thought about Ninni’s grin. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised, but I actually Googled them. They are sheep.’

  ‘Bugger, Holly’s probably done the same. She tricked me.’

  Jack laughed out loud. ‘How much do you owe her?’

  ‘A fiver. Well, it’s not the first time she’s outfoxed me.’

  ‘You should have learned by now. She’s smarter than the rest of us put together,’ Jack said.

  Paul laughed. ‘So, how are you doing? Are you settling in?’

  ‘I’m not here on holiday, Dad.’

  ‘There’s no harm in enjoying yourself, son. How long can you stay until you need to get a new job? Please don’t tell me you’re relying on credit cards.’ Paul sounded stern.

  Jack smiled. ‘Of course not. I have my savings, but there’s also quite a bit of money in the estate. I could probably live on this island for a decade on that money alone.’

  ‘Really? Without working? You’ll be bored out of your mind,’ Paul said, but he couldn’t hide that he was impressed. ‘Sounds like a bloody dream to me.’

  ‘It’s more than a bit mad, actually,’ Jack said.

  He looked up at a pair of seagulls chasing each other across the sky, screaming like banshees. On the deck, a group of kids chased each other too, making almost as much noise as the birds. Nobody seemed to worry about them falling overboard. The parents were leaning against the railing, drinking coffee and watching the scenery.

  ‘Are you bored yet?’ Paul asked.

  ‘Not really. Not yet, anyway.’ It made Jack smile.

  ‘Well, tell me then. How are you spending your days? Are the islanders nice to you?’

  Jack sat down on the deck. ‘Yes, Dad, they are. I’ve been invited to a potato-planting party tomorrow.’

  ‘A potato-planting party? Is this what these people do for fun?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Ninni said there would be some sort of beach party afterwards. Everybody is bringing food and there’s home-brewed beer.’

  ‘Scandinavian beer is good. I’ve tasted the Carlsberg. Pilsner, it’s called.’

  ‘I have no idea what type of beer they’re making, Dad. It could be dreadful.’

  ‘Bring a bottle when you come home, but only if it’s good.’

  ‘I’ll have to taste it first.’

  ‘So, who is Ninni? Some elderly neighbour who feels sorry for you?’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t call her elderly,’ Jack said.

  ‘Oh? Who is she?’

  ‘She’s the closest neighbour to the farm. She lives in Bergen, has a dog and she’s the one who took me to see the sheep.’

  ‘And how old is she?’

  ‘She’s about my age, and I’m not Danny, so lay off,’ Jack said, laughing.

  Paul snorted. ‘You kids are so secretive all the time. I bet she’s gorgeous.’

  He wasn’t wrong, Jack thought. But he had no intention of discussing her with him. ‘How are Danny and Holly?’

  ‘Ah, the good old diversion ploy. Okay. Danny is in love, and I’ve had to sit him down to explain the birds and the bees again.’

  ‘Dad, no. He hates it when you do that. You’ve been doing it since he was ten years old.’

  ‘Yes, and does he have any children? No, he does not. I knew girls would fall over themselves with him, and that he would be careless and stupid. He’s still both those things, but he’s not a father and that’s a win to me.’

  ‘God, I remember when you did that to me,’ Jack said.

  ‘And I only had to tell you once. You already knew what it meant to have kids. You took care of Danny and Holly a lot more than you shoul
d have.’ It was an old story, and Jack didn’t really want to talk about it.

  ‘I think Danny knows that there are no birds and bees involved by now, you know.’

  ‘Yes, but I love the way he squirms when I force him to listen to me. It’s one of the perks of being a father.’

  Jack laughed. ‘You’re evil. What about Holly?’

  ‘She’s working far too much. You know how she is. Perhaps I should send her to you for a while.’

  ‘I don’t think she’d come. You know what final year medic students are like. The pressure is horrendous.’

  ‘Well, I’m going to try before she works herself sick. At least she used to go down to your restaurant for a meal once in a while. Now she lives off crisps and coffee. It’s not healthy. Which is ironic for a doctor.’

  Jack talked a few minutes more, then the ferry docked at the island.

  ***

  His phone pinged as soon as he entered the house. Jack dropped the shopping on the table before he looked at the message. Fedra. Again. This time she threatened legal repercussions. He smiled. As if he hadn’t checked that before he’d held the book back. The restaurant could go to hell before he returned the recipes.

  Good luck with that, he texted back.

  After Roland’s betrayal, he had decided to keep the book. It was, after all, his creation.

  Jack put the mobile on the table, ignoring the angry beeping from another one of Fedra’s messages.

  Instead he went down to the beach. He changed to his new swimming trunks inside the boathouse and carefully lowered himself into the water.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered.

  It was freezing. He managed to hold back a yelp as he ducked under and took a few strokes. The sensation of cold quickly disappeared. The water was surprisingly clear and he could see the bottom was covered with seaweed and rocks.

  He laughed when he spotted a few crabs scatter away from him. Somehow all the tension in his shoulders and back melted into oblivion.

  Before he knew it, he had swum to the other side of the beach. He turned around, remembering Ninni’s warning about strong currents, and kept close to the shore.

  I could get used to this, he thought.

  ***

  Ninni watched Jack from the path. She was on her way to the beach, and then spotted him going into the water. So now she didn’t want to go down there.

  Also, she didn’t want him to see her. What if he thought she had come down to see him in his trunks? Not that he wasn’t worth watching. He looked good.

  Her gaze followed him as he swam across, and when he turned to swim back she threw herself behind the nearest hesjer. The grass was still green under the upper layer of hay and smelled strongly of Timothy and red clover.

  This was beyond stupid, she thought, cursing herself. If she got up now, he would know what she’d done and she would feel like an even bigger idiot.

  Frikk came bouncing over to her, delighted with the new game. He crawled under the hesjer and she followed, scraping her bottom on the lowest wire.

  ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid,’ she muttered.

  Frikk ran off, barking in the process, and she closed her eyes. Even Jack would know that wherever Frikk was, she wouldn’t be far behind. There was really only one thing to do – stand up and pretend that was what she had intended all the time. Someone has to inspect the hay, she thought.

  She stood up, only to discover that Jack was gone.

  Oh, thank God, she thought and hurried up the field. Frikk zigzagged through the rows of hesjer and ran in front of her up to the house.

  Ninni sank down in the garden and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. It took her a minute to realise her phone was buzzing.

  ‘Hi, Dad. No, I’m fine. I was just … running with Frikk,’ she said, trying to catch her breath.

  ‘I got your message,’ he said. ‘Is everything okay?’

  Ninni pictured him in the small bookshop on Tyskebryggen, the German Dock in Bergen. Most likely, he would be sitting in a corner, reading a book and ignoring customers as best he could.

  ‘Yes, only I have quite some news for you. Agnar had a son and he’s here.’

  Petter didn’t say anything. Ninni checked the screen to see if she had accidentally turned it off. ‘Pappa?’

  ‘I’m here. Are you sure? I mean, that’s … Agnar never mentioned anything like that.’

  ‘Alma thought he was an imposter at first, but she has seen the paperwork and he looks like Agnar. I thought perhaps you’d want to meet him.’

  ‘Of course I do. I’d decided to come to the island after closing hour tomorrow anyway.’

  ‘Do you want me to come and get you? I have taken the boat out.’

  ‘No, I don’t want you on the water by yourself; it’s not that far, anyway. I’m perfectly happy on the ferry.’

  Ninni smiled. He always said that. ‘Okay. Everybody will be at Olav and Sigrid’s for the day. Planting potatoes.’

  ‘Whatever for? They are perfectly capable of planting their own potatoes. That field of theirs is minuscule.’

  ‘Yes, but that’s just an excuse. It’s Alma’s clever plan to get to know Jack better and give him a taste of island life, I think. Food and drinks aplenty, Pappa.’

  ‘I’ll be there, but I refuse to plant anything. Is Britt coming?’

  ‘Of course, and she’s bringing beer. Don’t worry.’

  ‘Sounds good then. Now you can tell me more about this man. Is he nice? Does he look like Agnar?’

  Ninni smiled. ‘Yes, he looks like Agnar and he’s nice. You will have to make up your own mind when you meet him.’

  ‘I will. Do you have enough books?’ Petter was a firm believer that nobody ever had enough books.

  It made her laugh. ‘The house is filled with books. It might fall down the slope if you bring any more.’

  ‘Then I’ll only bring some for me,’ Petter said.

  Ninni was still laughing when she turned off the phone.

  ***

  Jack cut the pieces of fenalår into small bits. He roasted them slowly in the pan, just to see how they turned out. A crumble, he thought. Now what could he use that for? Still thinking, he opened the box with Jens’ Old Cheese and sniffed it.

  ‘Nice,’ he said and smiled. This should be interesting.

  He cut off a slice and chopped it into small pieces, then threw them in with the fenalår, drizzled on some oil and stirred a few times.

  ‘Onions,’ he muttered to himself.

  Half the fun of his job was the experimentation. To taste things, to smell ingredients and put them together. Just to see what happened.

  He shook the pan a few times. On the bench he had a bowl filled with chopped herbs and plants from the garden. He hummed while crushing some garlic from the shop.

  The knocking startled him. ‘Shit,’ he said, and turned around.

  A woman in her forties leaned against the doorway and smiled broadly at him. ‘Hei,’ she said.

  ‘There’s a doorbell, you know,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, but I don’t think it’s ever been used. I’m Britt.’

  Ah, yes, the B&B owner, school teacher, beer brewer and also part owner of the meat business.

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ Jack said, but he wasn’t happy. Perhaps he should get a padlock on the inside of the door. This was worse than Oxford Street.

  She held out a bag. ‘I bring gifts. Someone told me you are a chef. What are you cooking?’

  Jack shook the pan again. ‘Not quite sure yet. It’s an experiment.’

  Britt walked up to the oven and sniffed. ‘That smells … interesting. What have you put in there?’

  ‘Mutton and Old Cheese, some herbs and garlic,’ Jack said, watching with fascination how she took a step back.

  She looked horrified. ‘That’s disgusting. Do you have any idea of how exclusive that meat is? What it has cost us in time and labour to perfect it? Why would you ruin good meat like that?’

  Jack took a spoon
and waved it at her. ‘It’s good. Please, taste it.’

  ‘Not on your life. English people are weird,’ Britt said.

  ‘How do you eat the cheese?’ Jack stirred the pan again.

  ‘I would rather eat anything else than that cheese, thank you.’

  She held up the bag again. ‘Here, try this. Perhaps it will take the taste away.’

  Jack smiled when he saw the bottles. ‘Is this the famous island beer?’

  ‘Yes, it’s a house-warming present.’ Britt sat down by the kitchen table. ‘Is it true that you’re selling the farm?’

  ‘Yes.’ Jack opened one of the beer bottles and handed it to her.

  She shook her head. ‘Too early for me. Please, I’d like to know your opinion.’

  Jack sniffed the bottle and enjoyed the faint smell of yeast and something slightly sweet. ‘Is it honey?’

  ‘God, no, that would be mjød’—she waved her hand—‘I mean mead. No, I use yeast and hops, so it’s plain pilsner, or lager, made with loving hands right here in my shed on the island.’

  Jack tasted it and smiled. ‘It’s good. I mean, this is really good. Why are you making beer?’

  ‘I started a micro-brewery with my ex, to see if we could make some money and get him off his job on the oil platforms. Mostly I sell to a restaurant in town.’

  Jack took another sip. ‘Only to one? Can you make a profit from it?’

  Britt smiled. ‘Not really. I like your style. I would love to make a living from it, but at the moment it’s more of a hobby. We’ve been experimenting for a few years. That is, I have, since my ex decided island life wasn’t for him. I pay my bills being a teacher, but there are very few kids now; it’s just a matter of time before the school closes down for good.’

  Jack shook the pan. ‘Why have you come here? Apart from inspecting me.’

  ‘I wanted to talk to you before the potato planting,’ Britt said.

  ‘Okay. Why?’ Jack tossed the garlic into the pan.

  ‘Most of the islanders don’t want you to sell this place. They are worried about the big bad wolf coming and devouring everyone. Changing the way the island has been run since the Stone Age, I guess.’

  ‘And you’re not worried?’