Summer Island Read online

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  Ninni ran down the field with Frikk at her heels. The hesjer holding the drying grass were the perfect hiding spot for a dog. Frikk would hide underneath one of them, then jump out and bark at her, being goofy.

  When she came down to the beach she stopped. The doors to Agnar’s boathouse was wide open. She held back Frikk, who was trying to catch the waves coming in. Sounds from someone swearing came from inside.

  Hiding a smile, she walked closer and looked in. What are you doing?’

  It was a legitimate question. Jack was in there, muttering to himself while struggling with the chain. ‘I’m trying to get this stupid boat out in the water,’ he said through clenched teeth.

  Ninni climbed in the boathouse. ‘Do you have the key?’

  Jack looked up at her. His hair was tousled and he had a black mark on his cheek. ‘I have a key and I have used it to unlock the bastard lock, but it’s still not budging.’

  Ninni leaned against the open door. ‘Why are you taking out the boat?’

  He pulled at one of the chains. ‘I learned today that I am the owner of a flock of sheep and that they live on an islet. I would like to go out there and check how they are doing.’

  Ninni folded her arms over her chest. ‘You didn’t know before today about Agnar’s sheep? How is that possible?’

  He straightened his back and looked at her with a mad look in his eyes. ‘You know, I have asked myself the same question. It turns out that the law firm that translated the will didn’t bother with the inventory list and never told me about them. So, no, I had no idea.’

  He was flustered and angry. Ninni was enjoying herself; she couldn’t help it. ‘Do you know where they are?’

  Jack waved his arm towards the water. ‘Out there. I will go there, if I can get this blasted boat out of here.’

  ‘Agnar used this boat when he put out his fishing nets. It’s hard to handle, even if you know what you’re doing. Do you even know how to drive a boat?’

  Jack looked annoyed. ‘How hard can it be?’

  ‘I’ll take you.’ Ninni could hardly believe she’d said the words, but she couldn’t in good conscience let him go out there alone. Most likely he would get lost and drown.

  ‘No, thank you,’ he said, followed by a yelp when he managed to get his finger stuck in one of the chain links. ‘Bloody hell.’

  Ninni walked over to him. ‘Let me see.’

  Jack stuck his finger in his mouth. ‘No,’ he said between his teeth.

  ‘Don’t be a baby. Let me see.’ Ninni held out her hand.

  He showed her. The cut was small and not bleeding very much. ‘You’ll live. Come on, let’s go see how your sheep are doing.’ She turned around.

  He followed her without a word. The boat was ready, but he wasn’t. Ninni popped into their boathouse and picked up the lifejackets. She handed him the largest. It was pretty old and bulky. But it was the only one in his size. ‘Here, put this on.’

  Jack eyed it suspiciously. ‘I’m not putting on that,’ he declared. ‘I know how to swim.’

  Ninni frowned. ‘Then you’re not going in the boat. First rule at sea: always wear a life jacket.’

  She dropped the jacket at his feet, then put on her own and zipped it up, before getting Frikk into his. The dog stood perfectly still while she fastened the Velcro around his belly and neck. Jack hadn’t touched the jacket. Ninni sighed.

  ‘We always use life jackets in the boat when we are going out to sea. The currents here are dangerous and the water cold, and it doesn’t really matter if you’re a strong swimmer or not. If you want to see your sheep, put it on.’

  He did what she said then. ‘I look like a twat,’ he said.

  Ninni smiled sweetly. ‘Yes, you do, but if I push you out of the boat for being annoying, at least you’ll float.’

  Jack looked at Frikk with a wary expression on his face. The dog looked back at him, ears up, tail down.

  ‘Are you sure he’s friendly?’

  ‘Are you scared of dogs?’ Ninni smiled at him.

  Jack kept a watchful eye on Frikk. ‘No, not really. I’m not used to them, that’s all. We never had any pets. My brother is allergic.’

  Ninni turned to Frikk. ‘Say hello to Jack, Frikk.’

  The dog lifted a paw and Jack, after a moment’s hesitation, shook it. ‘That’s pretty good,’ he said and smiled.

  Ninni laughed. ‘He has excellent manners. Better than most people, I think.’

  She climbed into the boat, keeping it steady by standing with her legs apart. ‘Come on, Frikk, jump in.’

  The dog looked at Jack, seemed to grin at him, and then jumped. Ninni grabbed him and lifted him to the front. She looked up at Jack. ‘Come on.’

  Jack hesitated. ‘Are you sure that thing is safe?’

  ‘My word, you are a scaredy-cat. Don’t worry, if you fall while getting into the boat you can’t drown. That’s what the life jacket is for.’

  She held out a hand, but Jack ignored it. Copying her, he carefully stepped into the boat, then sat down. He stretched out his hands and grabbed hold of the gunwale on both sides.

  Ninni didn’t say anything. It wasn’t nice to make fun of someone sitting in a boat for the first time, no matter how hilarious he looked. He seemed so sure of himself on land and now he sat there, staring at the water as if it was going to attack him.

  She sat down in the aft and pulled the cord to the engine a couple of times. It spluttered and then started.

  The wind was coming from the south and the water was a bit choppy. The bow jumped on the waves and Frikk had a grand time barking at them.

  Jack turned pale.

  Ninni leaned forward. ‘Are you seasick?’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head, then turned a shade greener.

  ‘I’ll slow down. It’s not far, just about ten to fifteen minutes south of here,’ she said.

  He looked slightly better at the thought. Ninni slowed down. Best let him get used to the rhythm, she thought. He needed a distraction.

  Ninni pointed at her left. ‘Do you like birds?’

  Jack looked confused. ‘What?’

  ‘If you follow the shoreline to the other side, you’ll come to a small cliff wall with nesting birds. You’re not allowed to get too close because the birds might freak out, but it’s nice to see.’

  ‘Unless I can eat them, I’m not into birds,’ Jack said.

  ‘Really? I thought that was a British thing. Lying in fields, gawking at birds through binoculars and writing it down in a little book.’

  Jack looked at her. ‘Sorry?’

  Ninni was surprised. Apparently they had got the only Englishman with no sense of humour. How sad, she thought.

  Frikk barked again and Ninni stretched her neck. ‘Here we are.’

  The islet was mostly a huge cliff with patches of grass and shrubs.

  Jack turned around. ‘I thought it was a small island,’ he said.

  ‘It’s just an islet, but more than big enough for your sheep, as you can see.’

  Jack shook his head. ‘I can’t believe I have sheep,’ he said.

  Ninni turned off the engine and let the boat float freely.

  ‘We can’t go on land, I’m afraid. Frikk is not allowed at all, and also the sheep don’t know us and they might panic. If they panic and start to run, they might actually fall over the edge of the islet,’ she explained. ‘Can you see them?’

  She watched him, to see his reaction to them. Jack spotted the animals quickly and stared at them for a long time without saying a word.

  The ram stood at the edge of the water, keeping a watchful eye on them. He was big, with curly horns and small beady eyes. Behind him a larger flock of ewes were also watching them. Ninni smiled at the lambs, jumping around, chasing each other.

  ‘Are you sure we’re in the right place?’ Jack didn’t take his eyes off the animals. ‘Those are goats. I do know the difference, you know.’

  ‘No, they really are sheep.
It’s a breed called Old Norwegian Sheep. Probably Olav has looked after them since Agnar died.’

  ‘How do they survive out here on their own?’ Jack waved his hand at the islet. ‘It’s hardly more than a rock.’

  ‘They eat whatever grows out here, get plenty of hay supplied in the winter, and they probably fish when the urge takes them.’

  Jack looked at her with raised eyebrows. ‘I know sheep don’t eat fish.’

  ‘I was just testing to see if you have a funny bone.’

  ‘Very amusing. Agnar kept them for the meat?’

  He stared at the sheep again, this time taking photos with his phone.

  Ninni kept the boat steady for him. ‘You can taste for yourself. Agnar smoked the meat in his smokehouse. He produced cured meat for sale, together with Tobben and Britt.’

  ‘There’s a smokehouse?’ Jack looked interested.

  ‘It’s down by the water, on the far side of the house. Agnar would salt the ribs, smoke them and then let them hang to mature. Mutton ribs is a big deal here for Christmas. It’s really delicious. And then, of course, there’s the fenalår.’

  ‘What’s a fenalår?’ Jack managed to pronounce it almost perfectly.

  ‘Leg of mutton. It’s a bit like Serrano ham, but darker, and so tasty my father almost cries when he eats it. You’ll most probably find some hanging in stabburet.’

  Jack raised his eyebrows. ‘In the what now?’

  ‘Stabburet. You know, the building that’s not built on the ground?’

  His face lit up. ‘I was wondering about that. I haven’t been in there yet. Why is it built on cairns?’

  ‘It was built that way to keep out mice and rats. Most farms had those in the old days, to keep their grains and food safe during winter. Agnar modernised it at some point and some of the others invested in the business. That’s what they do on the island. They work together.’

  Jack smiled suddenly. He looked different when he smiled, Ninni thought. It was … unsettling. She turned the boat away from the sheep.

  She kept an eye on him. He had a faraway look on his face, and looked back at the islet. The ram still stood his ground on the narrow beach.

  Jack couldn’t get over the sheep. They looked so strange. Like woolly goats with long fleeces and spindly legs. Ninni was having him on. He was pretty sure she was laughing her head off now.

  The idea that Agnar kept them for the meat intrigued him. He was curious to taste it.

  ‘Can you drop me off at the smokehouse?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course. No extra for the trip,’ Ninni said.

  She was joking. It dawned on him she had been joking earlier. Did that mean she didn’t hate him any more? He hoped so.

  The boat jumped and dipped and skipped on the waves. The dog barked like a maniac.

  Jack held onto the gunwales and didn’t mind the trip so much any more. The air was so crisp, so clear it made him smile just to sit there. Even if he was getting sprayed with water every time the boat jumped. He took a deep breath and felt the tension melting from his shoulders.

  The shoreline suddenly burst into sight. He tried to hide a sigh of relief, but Ninni caught it and smiled from ear to ear.

  ‘You’ll get used to it,’ she yelled over the engine.

  ‘Don’t bet on it,’ Jack replied.

  Hopefully, Olav could keep looking after the sheep. He wasn’t sure he was up to the task of taking care of the poor animals.

  Ninni slowed down the speed and followed the shore past her boathouse, then his, and finally had the boat glide along a small pier. He could see the top of a building half hidden in between the bushes.

  ‘That’s it?’ It didn’t look like much.

  ‘Yes, that’s the smokehouse. Agnar always stacked firewood in the back, mostly juniper and birch. It always smelled so good.’ She looked at him. ‘Do you want me to show you, or are you fine on your own?’

  Jack hesitated. He wouldn’t mind her company, but it was probably not a good idea. He reminded himself that he would only be there for a short period of time.

  ‘It’s on land. I’m sure I’ll be fine.’

  He watched her as she manoeuvred the boat closer to the small pier. She grabbed hold of one of the pier posts to keep the boat steady. ‘Can you get up?’

  Jack discovered a makeshift stepladder on the side. It didn’t look trustworthy.

  It was clearly a challenge. Jack stood, carefully so as not to lose balance, and grabbed hold of the pier. The wood was dry and crumbly underneath his fingers. The boat wobbled underneath his feet. He managed to get one foot on the ladder, hoisting himself up on the pier. He couldn’t help feeling pleased and smiled at her.

  ‘Can I have my life jacket back, please?’ Ninni stood up in the boat too, holding out her hand. Her balance was perfect.

  Jack pulled it off and handed it to her. ‘Thank you for taking me out there. I needed to see for myself that the animals were okay. And real,’ he said.

  Ninni laughed. ‘Any time. You know where to find me. I mean, if you want to see the sheep again.’

  She pushed off and the boat floated away. Then she started the engine. She waved at him and then turned the boat around. The sound from the engine overpowered the dog’s barking.

  Jack stood up, relieved to be on solid ground again, even if it was a half rotten old pier. He walked over to the smokehouse, surprised to find it unlocked and curious as to what he would find. Hopefully not a slaughterhouse of some sort.

  It was dark and cold inside, and he left the door open behind him. The smell of burnt wood was sharp, but not unpleasant. Across from the door he spotted an oven of sorts, built into the wall. There were pipes going from the oven through the wall. From the ceiling an assortment of hooks made him feel a bit uneasy.

  Jack fumbled at the wall next to the door and found the light switch. He turned it on and a single bulb lit up the room. Agnar wasn’t much for lighting, he thought.

  He walked over to the oven and inspected it. It was built with slabs of grey stone, carefully put on top of each other, making it look like a dome with two doors in it. He was curious and opened it. Inside, it was black with soot. He touched it and his fingertips turned black.

  ‘Brilliant,’ he said.

  He wondered how it worked. Olav or any of the others would know. Maybe Ninni. She seemed to know everything about everything on the island, yet she didn’t really live there. He wondered about her story. She seemed happy enough, but there was something guarded in her eyes.

  On the way to stabburet, he stopped at the house to pick up the keys. He almost stepped on a box of eggs, placed on top of the steps.

  Jack looked around. There wasn’t anyone there, nor was there any sign of where they’d come from. He picked up the box and brought it into the kitchen. The eggs seemed fresh. A welcoming gift? He hoped so. He left the box on the counter and went outside again.

  Stabburet towered over him. He climbed up the narrow steps and unlocked the door. The smell of meat was strong when he stepped inside and he almost hit his head on something hanging from the ceiling. Stifling a scream, he searched frantically for the light switch and for once there was more than one single lightbulb.

  He looked up. Bundles hung from the ceiling, wrapped in some kind of gauze. Jack reached up and touched one of them, surprised at the weight.

  Cured mutton, he thought and grinned. I have a room full of cured mutton. He discovered that each bundle was labelled with a date, presumably when they were hung up there. Each one was also marked with names. The owners, he guessed. He reached up again and unhooked one of the bundles bearing Agnar’s name. It was surprisingly heavy. The date was last September. He put it to his nose. ‘Oh, my God, this is wonderful,’ he muttered.

  Back in the kitchen, he took one of Agnar’s knives and cut the gauze open. He cut a small sliver of the dark meat and put it in his mouth.

  ‘Oh, my word,’ he said while he chewed. Sweet and salty, and chewy enough to be interesting. It need
ed some cheese, he decided. Unfortunately, the cheese desk at Jens and Alma’s shop wasn’t much to brag about. There was the Jarlsberg, of course, which the Norwegians seemed to treat like any regular cheese, not the slightest piece of a decent cheddar, not to mention the absolute absence of Stilton or any French cheese to speak of.

  He remembered the Viking cheese Jens had given him, and pulled the box out of the refrigerator. It was worth a try. He opened the package and smelled it. That one could give any French smelly cheese a run for its money, he thought. Then he cut a piece of cheese and another piece of the meat.

  ‘Good,’ he muttered.

  But it needed more. Something sweet, something sharp to complement the saltiness. Figs, maybe, if it was possible to get any, and fresh mayo and herbs from the garden, he decided.

  There were possibilities here, he thought. Chewing on another piece of cheese and meat, he went into the garden and started rummaging around in the weeds to see what would taste good in a mayo.

  Chapter 7

  Ninni held the box carefully and headed up the small pathway to the hill. She walked slowly. Her stomach was not in a good mood and she hoped the fresh air would take care of it.

  Frikk took his time, sniffing at every bush and stone on his way. She knew he would follow. On top of the hill, she looked down at Agnar’s farm, or perhaps it was time to start calling it Jack’s farm? How was he doing after his ordeal at sea? Hopefully she hadn’t been too rough on him.

  ‘I couldn’t help it,’ she said aloud. ‘He’s so damned smug.’

  Frikk caught up with her and cocked his head as if he was listening. A movement in the garden made her stretch her neck. What was Jack doing?

  Jack was on his knees in the flower beds, digging at the plants. Sometimes he put something to his nose, then tossed it aside. Other times he sniffed something again, then put it on the ground next to him.

  Not only smug but a bit insane, Ninni thought. At least he wasn’t harmed after the boat trip. She turned her back and walked along, avoiding the pits and holes in the ground. It was a grey day, clouds floated over the island and there was a promise of rain in the air later.