Summer Island Read online

  Jack did the same. He smiled. ‘So, why did you invite me?’

  She had a determined look on her face when she got closer.

  Ninni figured the best way to approach the evening was to get the whole thing over and done with before dinner. That way, they would quickly find out if it was worth the effort.

  ‘Stand still,’ she said.

  Jack grinned. ‘What are you up to?’

  She put her hands on his waist and slid them under his T-shirt. ‘I’m seducing you. You can say stop, if you want to.’

  Jack had no such ideas.

  ***

  Ninni picked his T-shirt up off the floor and pulled it on. ‘I’m starving,’ she said.

  Jack admired her shape. ‘And what am I supposed to wear?’

  ‘I don’t know. You look good naked, by the way.’ Ninni smiled.

  ‘Ah, so do you.’ He leaned over the couch and picked up his shorts. ‘Do you know that nobody on this island knocks on doors before entering?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose they don’t.’

  Ninni disappeared into the kitchen and Jack followed.

  ‘What’s for supper?’ he asked, looking around the kitchen and not seeing any evidence of food.

  ‘I hope you weren’t expecting too much,’ she said and handed him a bowl of remoulade.

  ‘I’m not sure what to expect, to be honest. I didn’t expect to end up on your couch, for starters,’ Jack said.

  She brought out a huge bowl of pink shrimps, kissed him quickly and pointed at the table. ‘I hope you didn’t mind.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Jack said.

  He followed her to the table and inspected the shrimps. ‘They still have their shells on and their heads,’ he said.

  ‘They’re supposed to. This is a Norwegian summer treat. I got them from a fishing boat this morning. They boil them before they come in to land. Don’t touch them yet. Could you cut up your lovely bread, please?’

  Jack was intrigued. He dutifully cut the bread and put it on the table.

  Ninni handed him a plate with butter. ‘Do you want to stick with the wine? I have a few bottles of Britt’s beer,’ she said.

  Jack couldn’t care less what they were drinking. ‘Beer will do fine.’

  He sat down and watched her bring the beer bottles from the fridge. She spotted him watching her and blushed a little.

  ‘What? You’re not getting the T-shirt back,’ she said, laughing.

  ‘I’ve never eaten shrimps this way,’ he confessed.

  ‘And you call yourself a chef.’ Ninni picked a shrimp out of the bowl and held it up. ‘Twist the head and break it off. Then pull the rest of the shell apart and take out the meat. See?’

  She showed him and Jack snapped the shrimp from her, putting it in his mouth. It was salty and chewy, and tasted like the sea. ‘I like this.’

  Ninni buttered a piece of bread and handed it to him. ‘It’s even better if you put a pile of shrimps on buttered bread and eat it with some of the remoulade.’

  Jack followed her example and heaped shelled shrimps onto the bread, followed by a generous amount of the remoulade. ‘This doesn’t count as actual cooking, you know,’ he said before biting into the bread.

  It was delicious, he had to admit that.

  ‘I’m not a fancy chef,’ Ninni said, unbothered.

  Jack realised he was being watched. Frikk was staring at him with a mournful look. ‘Do dogs eat shrimps?’

  ‘You can give him a few, but not too many,’ Ninni said.

  Jack flipped a shrimp and the dog caught it in the air.

  ‘I think he swallowed it whole.’ Jack flipped him another one. ‘Yes, definitely whole.’

  Ninni laughed. Jack smiled. For the first time since he had met her, she didn’t look haunted or tired.

  ***

  Ninni woke up, feeling slightly off. She looked at Jack, sleeping soundly next to her. He obviously felt comfortable. She enjoyed watching him sleep for a few seconds before realising how creepy it was, and had to stifle a laugh.

  She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and almost passed out. ‘Whoa,’ she said quietly.

  For a second she sat still and waited for the room to stop spinning. Must be the wine and the beer, she thought. I can’t remember the last time I drank. But it was lovely, and worth every minute, both him and the meal. Except that now the idea of food made her queasy.

  ‘Whoa,’ she muttered again.

  She stood up as quietly as she could and tiptoed across the hall to the bathroom. She barely made it to the toilet before throwing up.

  Afterwards she flushed the toilet and then washed her face with cold water from the tap. When she looked at her face, she looked ghostly with dark circles under her eyes and paler than a hermit crab’s belly.

  ‘No one should look this bad after a wonderful night,’ she said to her reflection.

  She brushed her teeth before returning to the bedroom. Jack still slept. He was smiling in his sleep, which made her smile too.

  Instead of waking him up, she walked downstairs and put on the coffee machine. Frikk lifted his head and wagged his tail. He slowly got out of bed and came over to her.

  Ninni sat down and took his face between her hands. She checked his eyes. ‘You’re all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, aren’t you? You’re lucky you don’t drink, my boy.’

  Luckily there was a pack of paracetamol in the kitchen drawer. She popped a couple in her mouth and swallowed them with some water from the tap.

  From the kitchen window she could see that it was early morning. No rush then.

  There was nothing left of Jack’s lovely bread. He’d turned out to be a brilliant baker too, she thought, and broke off a piece of the normal wholegrain bread. It took away the bitterness from the paracetamol and settled her stomach.

  She considered making breakfast. What did someone like Jack eat in the morning? There was no way she was cooking him an English breakfast with eggs and beans and whatnot. If that what he wanted, he would have to cook it himself. The idea made her head spin again. Better not, she thought.

  She sighed with relief when the coffee machine gurgled a few times, then stopped. A cup of coffee would make her feel as right as rain.

  It did. That first sip of morning coffee made life seem manageable. She drank one cup, then another, and finished the dry piece of bread. By the time Jack came down she was on her third cup.

  He leaned against the doorpost and folded his arms. He was smiling. Ninni’s stomach did another jolt, but this time of pleasure. ‘Good morning.’

  ‘Good morning to you too. I missed you when I woke up.’ He came into the room and held out his hand. Ninni let him pull her up.

  ‘You will learn soon enough that I’m not a morning person. I need coffee to be cute.’

  Jack brushed her hair away from her face. ‘I think you’d look cute no matter what,’ he said.

  ‘Not with a hangover, I don’t. How much did we drink last night?’

  Jack’s hands did something interesting to her back. Ninni leaned into him.

  ‘I don’t think a few bottles of beer gives much of a hangover. Perhaps it’s because of sleep deprivation.’

  He kissed her and Ninni could feel her knees weaken. Oh, my God, she thought. I’m so done for.

  She wanted it to last forever. Jack smiled. ‘Do you have any coffee left?’

  Ninni sat down again and pulled her feet up on the seat. ‘I have tea if you want it,’ she said.

  ‘Tea is good, but not first thing in the morning. I need something to wake me up.’

  He filled a cup and sat down beside her on the bench. ‘Good coffee.’

  Ninni looked at him. ‘Are we crazy?’

  Jack frowned. ‘You mean to go to bed together? Why do you think that? We’re both free and can do whatever we want, right?’

  ‘Yes, of course. No, it has happened so quickly. I will return to Bergen in the fall, and you’re going home to London at any moment, aren’t you?’
/>
  ‘Sooner or later, yes.’ Jack became serious. ‘I hope you don’t regret it.’

  Ninni shook her head. ‘To say that would be silly. It was rather … enjoyable, wasn’t it?’

  Jack smiled slowly and Ninni felt dizzy again, but this time in a wonderful way. ‘It certainly was,’ he said.

  ‘Then let’s keep it like that. A summer fling, if you like. Just for fun.’ Ninni watched him while she spoke.

  He thought about it. ‘Okay. I can definitely do that. Summer has barely started, so that should give us plenty of time to fling.’

  Ninni laughed. ‘That’s a verb? To fling?’

  ‘English is a rich language.’ Jack rubbed her feet. ‘If our fling is going to be half as energetic as last night, I’m going to need sustenance. What do you normally eat for breakfast?’

  Ninni shrugged her shoulders. ‘Sandwiches, mostly, but I’m not hungry yet.’

  ‘I’m starving. Do we have any of those shrimps left?’

  ‘There’s loads of pålegg in the fridge.’

  ‘What’s pålegg?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s a word for everything you can put on a sandwich. There’s all sorts of stuff in the fridge. Pappa is always worried I’ll starve when I’m here alone. Help yourself. I’m just going to sit here and watch you.’

  And he was a delight to watch.

  He opened the fridge and started pulling out things, holding them up for her to see. ‘What is this?’

  He held up a flat yellow can with a picture of a fish on the front.

  ‘It’s mackerel in tomato sauce. You would put it on a piece of bread. Please don’t open it now; I’m not in the mood for boiled fish,’ Ninni said.

  ‘Me neither. And this?’ He showed her a red square.

  ‘It’s called Brown Cheese. It’s a sweet cheese made with some goats’ milk. It’s a staple food for Norwegians.’ Ninni hid a smile behind her cup when he opened the package and sniffed suspiciously.

  ‘There’s a cheese slicer in the drawer if you want to taste it,’ she said.

  Jack found the slicer and inspected it carefully before cutting a thin slice. ‘To sum up, you have Old Cheese and Brown Cheese and Jarlsberg.’

  ‘Yes, but Jarlsberg is actually a white cheese. White cheese is also called yellow cheese and, of course, there’s Christmas Cheese. That’s an Edam with red wax wrapping, in case you’re wondering.’ Ninni laughed at his expression.

  ‘You’re messing with me now, right?’ He didn’t wait for an answer, but put the slice of cheese in his mouth. ‘It sticks to the roof of my mouth, it’s too sweet and it has a weird texture.’

  ‘It’s no worse than your Marmite or mint sauce.’ Ninni felt a need to defend her favourite cheese.

  Jack grinned. ‘Touché. Is it only used for sandwiches?’

  ‘No, some people actually use it in venison sauce, or in ice cream or on waffles. But mostly we eat it as it is.’

  Jack tasted another slice. ‘It’s … interesting.’

  Ninni giggled. ‘You don’t have to eat it. There’s salami and quite a selection of jam to choose from. We finished off your bread last night, so I only have brown bread, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Yes, I noticed the lack of white bread everywhere. It’s edible, you know.’ He sliced two pieces of bread and stuffed them in the toaster.

  ‘Yeah, but it doesn’t taste of anything, not like the one you made. Bread should have proper flavour.’

  He smiled then. ‘What about eggs? You want some eggs?’

  Ninni stomach churned at the thought. ‘No, thank you, but I’d love a piece of toast.’

  ‘With cheese?’

  ‘No, just the bread.’ She sipped more coffee, savouring the sharp, bitter taste.

  He put a plate with her toast on in front of her and filled up her cup. Then he put a selection of all the pålegg he’d found in the fridge on the table and sat down.

  Ninni chewed on the toast, finally feeling better. ‘Are you a waiter as well?’

  ‘Chefs are not born chefs; we work at it, starting at the bottom of the food chain, and if chef Roland needed help with service, I did it. I would have done anything to stay in that kitchen.’

  He buttered the toast, then opened the lid of one of the jars in front of him and read the label. ‘What is stikkelsbær?’

  He made a complete mess of the word, and grinned at her.

  Ninni laughed. ‘Good effort. It’s gooseberries. Alma makes it every autumn. It’s good.’

  ‘I love jam,’ Jack said, heaping the sticky golden jam on the toast and taking a big bite. ‘That’s really good. Not too sweet, a bit tart and chewy too.’

  Ninni watched him. He was a funny one. She had noticed that he ate all his food this way, with all of his attention on the flavours in his mouth. She sipped her coffee and enjoyed the feeling of her feet against his thigh.

  ‘It must be strange for you to come here from London. Nothing happens here on the island,’ Ninni said. ‘Do you miss your job?’

  ‘This has been the longest I have gone without working in years. I’ve always worked six, sometimes seven days a week. I arrive at the restaurant early to check deliveries, start prepping, put people to work and go home and sleep a few hours, then come back for service. It’s what I do. What I love.’

  Ninni smiled. ‘It sounds exhausting. No holidays?’

  ‘Only if this trip counts as one.’ Jack took another bite of the sandwich. ‘Does Alma buy these berries somewhere?’

  ‘They grow in her garden. You should taste her gooseberry trifle. It’s to die for.’

  ‘Then I have to taste that. Did you always want to be a translator?’

  ‘I studied literature and languages at university, and sort of fell into it. It pays well and I can decide my own hours. That’s more important to me than anything else. But it’s not as if I knew from the time I was five that I wanted to translate legal documents. It’s not a lifelong dream,’ she said with a small laugh.

  Jack turned to look at her. ‘What is your dream?’

  The question took her by surprise. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You must have a dream. Everybody does.’

  ‘I want a family and I want to live here.’ Ninni avoided looking at him. ‘There should be laughter and … and children, and books and dogs, you know.’

  ‘And good food,’ Jack said.

  ‘Yes, that too. And there should be a sense of peace, I think. You should be able to enjoy your own company and the company of someone else. I don’t think that’s too much to ask for.’

  Jack smiled then. ‘No,’ he said softly. ‘I don’t think so at all.’

  ‘Are you laughing at me?’ Ninni shoved her foot gently towards him.

  ‘Not even a little bit,’ he promised.

  He leaned over and kissed her, tasting of bread and berries and coffee. ‘I wonder what we can do today,’ he said, grinning.

  Ninni smiled. ‘I thought we’d have an outing today. You haven’t really seen the island yet, have you? Not properly, anyway.’

  Jack pulled away. ‘Go outside, you mean?’

  ‘We could take lunch. And a blanket. I know all the best places,’ she said.

  ‘Or we could go upstairs again. Get some rest.’

  Ninni considered it and shook her head. ‘No, outside it is.’ She smiled when she saw how disappointed he looked. ‘But not right now.’

  Jack took her hand, then stopped. ‘I would love nothing more than to ramble around the island with you today, but I have to go to town. To Agnar’s bank, actually.’

  ‘Then we’ll go when you come back.’ Ninni smiled. ‘I’ll teach you how to fish.’

  Jack raised his eyebrows. ‘Yes, well, there are still better things to do, I think.’

  He pulled her up the stairs, a man on a mission.

  Chapter 16

  Jack looked at the fancy office and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window. He was wearing his power suit and felt a bit awkward. He straightened his
tie. At least he was dressed for the occasion. They wanted something from him, not the other way around. Bugger them, he thought.

  He pushed open the door and went inside. It was clearly an office designed to impress. The reception desk took up half the length of the room. Leather sofas in a designated waiting area. Oak panels on the walls.

  Jack smiled at the receptionist. She gave him a haughty look that would have been right at home in London.

  ‘I have an appointment to see Erik Haldorsen,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, yes, you’re the Englishman from the island. I’ll go and check to see if Erik is available.’ She stood up and walked over to a glass door. Two seconds later she returned and almost smiled. ‘You can wait there. Erik will be with you soon.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Instead of sitting down, he went for a stroll around the room. The receptionist kept an eye on him and smiled whenever he met her eyes.

  The view from the windows faced Haraldsgaten. It didn’t look very busy, even though it was midday. Perhaps it was a slow day, he thought. He hoped it wouldn’t take too long. He was eager to return to Ninni.

  ‘Mr Greene?’

  Jack turned around to see a man in the first suit he had seen in the town since he’d arrived. The man looked more like an estate agent than Mats did.

  ‘And you are Mr Haldorsen, I presume?’ Jack couldn’t help himself.

  Haldorsen smiled so the caps on his teeth reflected in the fluorescent light. ‘Indeed I am. I am so thrilled that you have come.’ He shook Jack’s hand. ‘But please call me Erik. Follow me.’

  Jack restrained himself from pulling a face at the receptionist. She ignored him.

  Haldorsen let him pass first into an impossibly huge office. ‘Make yourself at home. I understand that you’re a chef?’

  Jack nodded. ‘You’ve checked up on me.’

  ‘Of course I have. You were a chef at a Michelin-star level restaurant. That’s pretty impressive for someone so young, I think. I’m guessing you’re eager to return to London, get rid of the old homestead,’ Haldorsen said, grinning like a wolf.

  Homestead, Jack thought. Okay.

  ‘For the right price, of course,’ Haldorsen continued.

  Jack smiled. ‘That’s why I’m here. I understand you have an offer for me.’