Summer Island Page 13

  He got it right almost at once and the boat’s course steadied. ‘What about lobster? There are lobsters here, aren’t there?’

  ‘Yes, especially further south, but it’s strictly regulated. You can only fish for lobsters if you have a licence, and only between October 1st and December 31st, and if the lobsters are smaller than twenty-five centimetres you have to throw them back in.’

  Jack nodded. ‘Sounds reasonable. Am I hitting the pier yet?’

  Ninni looked over his shoulder. ‘Nope. Just keep going, but not so fast or you won’t be able to stop before we hit land.’

  ‘What about cockles?’ Jack suddenly asked.

  ‘Aren’t they a kind of chestnut?’ Ninni had no idea.

  ‘No, that’s conkers. I mean white mussels, the ones you dig out of the sand. That beach looks promising.’

  ‘Oh, those. They are called hjerteskjell or heart shell. I think the children dig them up and then Sigrid sells them to restaurants in town. I don’t think it’s very profitable,’ Ninni said.

  ‘What about winkles?’ he asked.

  ‘Excuse me?’ Ninni raised her eyebrows.

  ‘You know, periwinkles. Those little snails that live on the shore.’

  Ninni smiled. ‘I think you mean beach snails. What about them?’

  ‘You can buy them on beaches in the UK, boiled in seawater. They’re a treat. There must be loads of them here.’

  ‘There are, but I wouldn’t dream of eating them. That sounds awful. We use them for fishing bait,’ she said and laughed.

  ‘You guys could survive for years out here, without ever having to go to town, couldn’t you?’ The idea seemed to excite him.

  Ninni smiled. ‘Yes, we could if we had to, but that would mean no chocolate or wine. Sometimes the islanders still have to go without such luxuries in the winter months when the weather gets too bad for the ferry to run. It can get really nasty here.’

  He looked at her, suddenly serious. ‘Who’s Karl?’

  It came so out of the blue that Ninni had no idea what to say.

  Chapter 12

  Jack slowed down the rowing to make sure he wouldn’t hit the pier. She looked a bit shocked by his question. Which of course was his intention.

  ‘He’s my ex. How do you know about him?’ Ninni frowned.

  ‘I was right behind you and Britt down the pathway to the beach and heard you mention the name. I asked her. She doesn’t like Karl much, does she?’

  Ninni sighed. ‘It’s not polite to eavesdrop, you know.’

  It had to be a recent break, Jack thought. She was flustered and angry. ‘Did he treat you that badly?’

  Ninni narrowed her eyes. ‘You’d better slow down. That pier is getting awfully close.’

  Jack looked over his shoulder and realised she was right. Suddenly the boathouse looked huge. ‘Shit,’ he said.

  Ninni leaned forward and put her hands on the oars next to his again. She pushed the oars towards him without lifting them out of the water and the boat slowed down. It wasn’t long before Ninni could grab the pier.

  She didn’t mention the question about Karl while she fastened the boat line, nor when they carried the bucket between them. He didn’t repeat it. But he was intrigued.

  By now more people had arrived on the beach, making it look like a proper picnic with children and a few more dogs running around. Petter and Tobben sat on a couple of old camping chairs, engrossed in a conversation that included a lot of hand-waving and finger-pointing.

  ‘What are they arguing about?’ Jack said, as Ninni handed the bucket to Jens, who looked excited at the sight of it.

  ‘It’s about the old harrow. Pappa thinks he knows about farm tools and Tobben tries to convince him he doesn’t know a harrow from a ladle. It’s an ongoing thing between them.’

  ‘They look like they’re having fun,’ Jack said.

  A slight tone of longing in his voice made her look at him. He smiled. ‘My dad is the same. Always bickering about things he doesn’t have any idea about. My sister is almost a doctor and he drives her up the wall with what he thinks is medical knowledge.’

  ‘He’d fit right in here,’ Ninni said with a wry smile.

  Jack wondered for a moment if he should ask her about Karl again, but reckoned she would have said something if she wanted to tell him.

  Instead he sat down on the sand and stretched his legs, enjoying the scenery. The children had thin branches in their hands, the old man helping them to stick sausages on them. They held the sausages over the flames, turning them black and sooty. The children had no patience and started munching on sausages black on the outside and pink on the inside.

  Ninni got a hot dog from Jens and sat down next to Jack. She offered him the snack. When he shook his head she took a big bite, obviously enjoying it.

  ‘Are you eating those sausages raw?’ To Jack, that looked unsafe.

  ‘Don’t worry. They’re precooked. You’d be hard pressed finding raw sausages in any shops.’ She nodded towards the firepit. ‘I think Jens wants a word with you.’

  Jack turned his head and Jens smiled broadly at him.

  ‘I might have told him that you have never cooked mussels picked directly from the sea,’ she said.

  Jack laughed. ‘I have to see this,’ he said.

  By the firepit, Jens had put the bucket on top of a makeshift table.

  ‘Is it true?’ Jens asked when Jack came over to him. ‘You have never cooked mussels like this?’

  ‘Nope. Not many firepits in London, I’m afraid.’ Jack felt the heat from the pit against his face. The burning wood smelled sharp and fresh.

  ‘Then you are lucky. I have done this since I was a boy. You’ll like this,’ Jens said. He folded a couple of foil sheets and added some herb butter. ‘You’ll like this,’ he said again.

  ‘Where’s the white wine?’ Jack looked for a bottle and didn’t see any.

  Jens’ eyes twinkled. ‘This is Agnar’s recipe. He loved mussels, but not with wine. It has to be good butter with chives and ramson, and a bit of lemon. If you don’t have ramson, you can use a generous amount of garlic. And since I don’t have any of the little green weed, take this.’

  Jens handed a package of garlic to Jack, together with a small knife. ‘I expect you know what to do with those?’

  Jack peeled the garlic and dropped it into the foil. Jens added the mussels, carefully arranging them over the top.

  Jack picked up one of the mussels and squeezed it gently. It gave slightly. Jens grinned. ‘You know your mussels.’

  ‘I’m not completely without knowledge about food, you know,’ Jack said. ‘And anyway, Ninni showed me.’

  Jens added a few slices of lemon, a handful of chives and butter, and then folded the package tightly. He put it carefully on the side of the firepit. ‘If you put them on the open fire, they will burn. They just need a few minutes to be done.’

  Someone had added sausage rolls to the camping table, someone else a pile of golden buns and his pasties. Jack handed the two packages to Jens.

  ‘There’s ten of those in the bigger package. You can put them on the grill. Make sure the smaller ones goes to you. Those two have a special ingredient,’ Jack said to the old man with a wide grin.

  Jens raised his eyebrows. ‘What’s in them?’

  ‘Some of your excellent mutton and potatoes, with some herbs and onions. Nothing fancy. Except in the ones for you. I’m not sure anyone else will like those, to be honest.’

  Jens opened the smaller packet and sniffed one of the pasties. ‘That’s interesting,’ he said and put it on the firepit next to the mussels.

  Olav turned up and handed him a beer. It was nice and cold, and tasted sweet and sharp at the same time. Jack took another sip, enjoying the flavours.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said to Olav.

  ‘You’re welcome. It’s Britt’s special island brew. Don’t ask me what’s in it,’ Olav said.

  Jens and Olav exchanged a few words Jack didn
’t understand. It was annoying, not understanding anything anyone said. Fortunately he wouldn’t need to worry about it for too long. He’d soon be back in London.

  Then his eyes found Ninni and something shifted inside him. She was talking to her father, and Jack watched her. She seemed completely relaxed. He liked that.

  ‘How are you settling in, Jack?’ Olav turned towards him.

  The kids sat on the sand, happily munching their second hot dogs.

  ‘I might stay for a while longer,’ Jack said, keeping an eye on Ninni.

  ‘Good for you,’ Olav said. ‘I’ll talk to you later.’

  He walked off and Jack looked at Jens, who smiled broadly.

  ‘Perhaps the island is growing on you. Agnar would like that,’ Jens said. ‘Now, let’s see how you like this, my friend.’

  Jack watched with interest while Jens carefully lifted the mussel package over to a paper plate and opened it. The steam filled the air, wafting the smell of herbs and lemon towards him. Jens scooped some onto another plate and handed it to him. ‘Enjoy,’ he said.

  The mussels were steaming hot. They had all opened, and Jack picked one, broke open the shell to fish out the mussel and popped it in his mouth. He tasted the garlic and the herbs, but the butter made all the difference.

  ‘Oh, that’s fantastic.’

  Jens nodded, pleased with himself. ‘Oh, yes. Simple is always best, in my opinion. Now, let’s see what you cooked up.’

  Jack popped another mussel in his mouth. Amazing, he thought.

  Jens bit into the pasty and chewed carefully. He frowned and chewed some more. ‘Old Cheese?’ he said.

  ‘Yes. I experimented a little.’ Jack wasn’t sure if he liked it himself. ‘You don’t have to eat it, you know. It’s not a wager.’

  Jens ate the whole thing, then started on the second one. ‘This is marvellous,’ he said.

  Jack laughed and shook his head. He felt ridiculously pleased by the praise.

  ‘I think someone is summoning you,’ Jens said and nodded towards a group of people on the grass.

  Ninni smiled when he caught her eye. ‘Yes, I’ll think I’ll eat this over there,’ he said.

  Jack walked over to her. She was quite the sight with dark curls falling in her face and a huge smile to everyone who stopped by to exchange a few words. She looked tired, he thought. The dark shadows under her eyes revealed she wasn’t sleeping well. Was it because of Karl and whatever it was he had done to her?

  Jack balanced another portion of mussels and the beer, and sat down beside her.

  Petter leaned over. ‘Are you enjoying yourself, Jack?’

  ‘Very much so. Are there always this many people?’

  ‘It’s most of the island’s population, plus a few visitors like me.’

  Jack put down the bottle to be able to eat the mussels.

  Ninni frowned. ‘How can you eat that?’

  ‘This is the best meal I have eaten in a long time,’ Jack assured her.

  Petter laughed. ‘You can’t convince my girl of that. She hates mussels.’

  Ninni’s expression lit up at Jens, who brought over a plate for her. ‘I’ve given you a bit of everything. Enjoy,’ he said, before returning to the fire.

  Ninni showed Jack her plate. One of his pasties sat next to a pork chop, a baked potato and what looked like a dollop of tartare sauce. ‘See? This is proper food.’

  ‘I made that one,’ Jack said, and pointed at the pasty. ‘It’s completely mussel-free, so you’re in no danger.’

  ‘What’s in it?’

  ‘Taste it. It’s good, I promise,’ he said.

  Ninni took a bite and chewed carefully while at the same time trying to see what was inside. ‘Beef,’ she said.

  ‘With potatoes and onions. No fancy ingredients,’ Jack said.

  ‘You’re right. It’s good. Here, Pappa. Try this.’ She handed the other half of the pasty to Petter.

  He ate it quickly, clearly enjoying it. ‘Agnar would have loved this. He loved to cook.’

  Ninni scooped some of the mayo onto the potato. ‘Want to taste this? It’s good too.’

  She handed him the plastic spoon filled with sauce and potato. Jack tasted it and frowned. ‘That’s not tartare,’ he said after enjoying the taste of slightly sweet and sour cream. ‘What is it?’

  Petter used his spoon. ‘This is Ninni’s speciality. Remoulade made with sour cream and herbs and a dash of fresh cream. Good?’

  ‘Delicious,’ Jack said and tried to take another spoonful.

  Ninni moved the plate out of his reach. ‘Get your own,’ she teased.

  Petter patted her shoulder. ‘Wait. They’re playing.’

  Jack stretched his neck and spotted Sigrid and Olav sitting close to the water. The music was sweet and filled with longing.

  Accordion and flute, for some reason. Jack listened, fascinated by the melody. He leaned over to Ninni. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Folk music,’ Ninni said. ‘I have no clue as to the name of the melody, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I like it,’ Jack said.

  Ninni just smiled and handed him the rest of her potato.

  ***

  A few hours later people started leaving. Sigrid took the children back to the house. Jens and Alma returned to their boat and Ninni helped Olav put out the fire with buckets of seawater that they poured over the firewood. The wood hissed and created clouds of smoke.

  She looked up when Jack approached. ‘Hi. How are you getting on?’

  ‘I’m heading back, I think. Your dad just left.’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’ She took the water bucket from Olav and poured it carefully over the pit. It steamed and hissed, and she waited until it died down.

  Jack waited until Olav returned to the water to fill the bucket. ‘Would you mind walking me home?’

  Ninni smiled. ‘Are you afraid of the dark?’

  ‘Not so much afraid of the dark as I am of falling into a ditch on the way back.’ He put his hands in his pockets and obviously had no intention of going back alone.

  ‘Okay. I just have to make sure this is out.’

  Olav came up from the water with another bucket. This time he poured.

  Ninni took a step back. It wasn’t steaming much any more.

  ‘One more,’ Olav said.

  Jack looked at the pit. ‘Does this mean you have to make a new pit every time there’s a barbecue on the beach?’

  ‘We use the same place, but yes, it’s to make sure the fire is out. We don’t want embers starting fires further up. There’s no fire brigade on the island, you know.’

  Jack waited until Olav said it was fine. They were the last ones to leave.

  ‘Where’s Frikk?’ Jack said.

  ‘Oh, he followed Pappa. He’ll come back for me.’

  Jack smiled. ‘He comes back for you?’

  ‘Always. Buhunds are excellent herders and Frikk likes to keep his flock together. It’s a strong instinct.’

  ‘Is that what he is – a buhund?’

  ‘Yes. It’s an old Norwegian breed. A Viking dog, if you like,’ she said.

  Jack raised his eyebrows. ‘Shouldn’t the breed be called Old Norwegian Dog then?’

  ‘A joke! Finally!’ Ninni laughed even more when he looked overly pleased with himself.

  Ninni remembered Britt’s observation and couldn’t help checking out Jack’s bottom. Oh, my God, she thought. I’m insane.

  At the top of the road, Ninni closed the gate behind them.

  ‘Are there any animals loose now?’ Jack looked over the fence.

  ‘No, but it’s important to keep up the good habits,’ Ninni said.

  He smiled. ‘Right, I see.’

  They walked slowly away from the farm. Ninni put her hands in her pockets and had no idea what to say to him. She only hoped that he wouldn’t ask about Karl again.

  ‘It’s not very dark, is it?’ he said after a while.

  ‘Never is this time of year. Not too long now be
fore there will only be a few hours of night, even here.’

  ‘And the further north you get, the lighter it gets, right?’

  Ninni nodded. ‘Yes, because the further north you go, the shorter the night.’

  ‘Do you get the Northern Lights down here during the winter?’

  Ninni hid a smile. ‘I’ve never seen them. It’s either too cloudy or we are not far enough north.’

  Jack nodded, looking very serious. ‘What about the midnight sun? Will it be twenty-four hours’ sunshine here on the island?’

  ‘You obviously haven’t been to Scotland, have you? We’re roughly on the same latitude as Shetland. No midnight sun. Again, we’re not far enough north and even if we did get Northern Lights or the sun, it’s raining here more or less constantly.’

  ‘I’ve been here for some time now, and it hasn’t rained yet.’

  Ninni looked up. She realised she hadn’t thought about it much, but he was right. ‘I hadn’t noticed,’ she said.

  ‘Because of Karl?’ he said.

  Ninni scowled at him. ‘It’s not really your concern, is it?’

  ‘No, but I’d like to know. Out here, on the island, I’m guessing weather conditions are seriously important. If you haven’t noticed a lack of rain because of him, he must be a right bastard,’ he said.

  Ninni hunched her shoulders. ‘Well, yes, he is.’

  There, it was said. It was the first time she had said it out loud. It felt strangely easy.

  ‘What did he do to you?’ Jack sounded kind and Ninni fought hard not to show how she felt.

  ‘He broke my heart,’ she said in a light tone. ‘There’s nothing particularly original about it, I’m afraid.’

  ‘There’s nothing mundane about getting your heart broken. If someone treats you like shit, that’s hard. Did you love him?’

  Ninni burrowed her hands deeper into the jacket. ‘I thought I did. How do you know if you love someone?’

  ‘Good question. I thought I loved my girlfriend, turned out I loved all the things that came with her. And that turned dull faster than I thought possible.’

  Ninni looked at him properly. He smiled and the smile reached his eyes.

  ‘Did she break your heart?’

  ‘No, she didn’t and I didn’t break hers. I was furious for a short time, but only because I had made such an idiot of myself.’