Summer Island Page 8

  Soon she forgot all about Jack. She stopped outside the little school: a small white house behind the only slightly larger chapel that occasionally was used for the formal part of weddings and christenings.

  Britt’s house stood next to the school. The front wall was covered in small pink rosebuds with some tulips nodding their heads beneath the window. All the windows on the first floor were wide open, bedclothes hanging over the windowsill in preparation for B&B guests.

  Ninni was about to press the doorbell when Britt came around the corner.

  ‘Hi,’ Britt said, her face brightening at once.

  ‘I have come on an important errand,’ Ninni said.

  ‘Okay. What’s so important?’ Britt grinned, then frowned. ‘Frikk, get out of there! Please keep that silly dog of yours out of my flowers.’

  Frikk stepped back from the hole he was digging between the sad-looking tulips. He had a perfectly innocent look on his face.

  Ninni lifted her finger at him. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Say sorry to Britt.’

  The dog sat down and lifted a paw to Britt. He grinned with his tongue hanging out.

  ‘Cheeky bastard,’ Britt said and ruffled his ears. ‘Come on, I’m around the back.’

  Frikk and Ninni followed her. A ladder leaned against the wall.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  Britt wielded a paint scraper with a determined look in her eyes. ‘The windowsills need repainting and I don’t want to spend my summer holiday doing this. Better do it now, before school ends. I have plans for the summer. Hopefully, I can keep my rooms let most of the summer and make extra money that way.’

  ‘Don’t let me keep you. I just came to see if you have any eggs.’

  ‘That’s the important errand?’ Britt smiled.

  ‘Yes, I’m all out. Do you have any?’ Ninni held out the cardboard box and Britt laughed.

  ‘I have about twenty today, if you want that many. The children are feeding the chickens too much and in return they are laying eggs as if it’s an Olympic challenge.’

  Ninni wrinkled her nose. ‘I think ten will be more than enough.’

  ‘Are some of them for your Englishman?’ Britt walked towards the end of the garden where the henhouse stood under the shade of a tall spruce. On the other side of the garden was the brewery building.

  ‘Why do you ask me that?’ Ninni was surprised.

  Britt shrugged. ‘You’re his closest neighbour.’

  ‘Sure, but I don’t run errands for him. Jack can get his own eggs,’ Ninni said.

  ‘Actually, he already has. I went by the farm yesterday to see if he was there, doing my civic duty before Alma lost her cool, and I brought a carton of eggs as a neighbourly gesture. Except he wasn’t there.’

  Ninni smiled. ‘I took him to see the islet. Would you believe nobody told him about Agnar’s sheep?’

  ‘That’s ridiculous. How is that even possible?’ Britt shook her head.

  ‘Someone didn’t translate all the legal papers.’

  ‘You should have done it.’ Britt dried her hands on her shorts.

  Ninni shrugged. ‘I wasn’t asked.’

  Britt put the paint scraper on the ladder. ‘I have coffee, if you want.’

  ‘Do you have any more of that lemon cake?’ Ninni didn’t wait for a reply. She sat down on one of the garden chairs. There was a thermos on the table and a mug.

  ‘No, they gobbled it all up, I’m afraid. You can take the mug; I have the thermos.’ Britt sat down on the other chair, leaning back with a happy sigh. ‘I am so looking forward to June. Barely a month left now and the little monsters are off on their holidays. Then I can focus on my fun.’

  ‘Making beer?’ Ninni smiled.

  Britt laughed. ‘You know, I’m looking at possibly starting producing aquavit at the moment. It’s very popular and really profitable. I think I’ve had enough of being a teacher.’

  ‘You love those kids.’ Ninni knew she was right. Britt doted on all ten of them.

  Britt smiled. ‘Of course I do. I’ll have a new one in the autumn; Sigrid and Olav’s youngest is six. Which is good, because next year two of the big kids have to start going to school in town.’

  Ninni stretched her legs. ‘Why did you bring Jack eggs?’

  ‘He’s a chef. I’m sure he would prefer eggs to flowers, and besides, I can’t take flowers to a man I haven’t said hello to yet. It might be misunderstood.’

  ‘And eggs will not be?’ Ninni laughed at her, and Britt looked mortified before laughing so loudly that Frikk sat up and looked at them.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t think of that! Do you think he might take offence?’ Britt couldn’t hide her delight.

  ‘Not really. It’s the perfect welcome gift for a chef and, besides, I don’t think Jack gets offended so easily.’

  ‘What’s he like? Olav said he looked okay, but what does that even mean?’

  ‘He’s tall, with blond hair and blue eyes, if you can believe it. He looks more Norwegian than I do.’ Ninni pulled at her dark curls. ‘He’s tense, if you know what I mean.’

  Britt was amused. ‘No. Explain. In detail, please.’

  ‘Like he’s angry about something. Also he’s jumpy and he has obviously never been on an island in his life. He has no idea how to get into a boat, for God’s sake. Who doesn’t know that?’

  Britt brushed it aside. ‘Anyone from a huge city, I guess. There are loads of people in Norway who don’t know their way around a boat. What I want to know is, is he good-looking? Is he sexy?’

  Ninni thought about Jack. Her stomach tingled. ‘I suppose so,’ she admitted.

  ‘I’ll absolutely have to go see him for myself now. Sexy men are few and far between, especially here.’

  ‘What about Tobben? I saw how he looked at you at the meeting, and I saw that smile you gave him,’ Ninni teased.

  Britt pulled a face. ‘Tobben is a nice man, but not very exciting. All he talks about is the price of meat, and whether or not I think he should plant broccoli this year.’

  ‘Perhaps he has hidden depths,’ Ninni said.

  ‘If he does, I haven’t found them and I wouldn’t be bothered to look either.’ Britt looked at her. ‘What about you? Is Karl coming later?’

  Ninni had expected the question, but it still stung. ‘No, he’s not. It’s over between us.’

  Britt’s jaw dropped. ‘I’m so sorry. I really thought you’d make it. You seemed to have it so together, you know. You both seemed so happy whenever you came here. What happened?’

  Ninni couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud. The truth was too raw, and even more embarrassing.

  ‘It just didn’t work for me any more. You know, with his flying schedule and being away all the time. It was too demanding, and he doesn’t want to give up being a pilot. I wouldn’t want him to either,’ she said.

  Britt nodded. ‘I get that. You know I had the same thing with my ex. Geir was travelling all the time and when he was here he was always complaining about how much he hated working on the oil platforms, and I was alone with all the responsibilities. I got fed up with the whole thing.’ She leaned forward and put her hand on Ninni’s. ‘So that’s why you seem so under the weather. I’m so sorry, sweetie. It must hurt terribly. If there’s anything I can do, anything, you let me know.’

  Ninni nodded, afraid to speak in case she started crying. It was the sympathy thing, she thought. It was deadly. She took a deep breath and smiled.

  ‘I’m fine, truly, I am. The island is the perfect place to stay right now. In a few days, a few weeks, I’ll be even better.’

  Britt frowned. ‘That sounds awful. But I understand. You’re not ready to talk about it. But don’t wait too long or you’ll end up old, miserable and dead, surrounded by fifteen dogs and a house filled with empty cake cartons.’

  Ninni grinned. ‘Oh, thank you. That’s a future to look forward to.’

  ‘Tell you what, I’m going to town tomorrow. I’ll stock up on wine, and you and I
’ll get sloshed. We haven’t done that in ages, have we?’

  ‘Excellent idea. I could do with a massive hangover.’

  ‘If that’s what you want, we should stay here and drink my beer.’

  Britt looked at her, and Ninni couldn’t help laughing.

  ***

  The mayonnaise didn’t turn out as expected. Jack frowned. Something wasn’t right with the flavour. Was it the eggs, perhaps? Or the oil wasn’t good. He sniffed it and put it down. No, not that. The sauce on the fish burger Ninni had made for him on the first day was different. He wasn’t quite sure why and that annoyed him.

  His thoughts drifted to Ninni. For some reason he kept thinking about her. She had edges, he thought. He liked that. And he liked her curls. She had a funny way about her. Charming, even. And she looked amazing in her underwear.

  To distract himself, he rummaged through the cupboards and discovered a row of old exercise books in the back. He pulled one out and was about to open it when the phone rang. Jack picked it up and looked at the screen. Fedra again. She wasn’t taking no for an answer, of course she wasn’t, but he didn’t want her to start bothering Danny and Holly, or his dad.

  This time he answered. ‘What do you want?’

  Fedra was silent for a second, unusual for her, but Jack didn’t take the bait.

  ‘Why haven’t you responded to my calls?’ she finally said in her usual demanding voice, the one he used to think was sexy. Now it was annoying.

  ‘Because I don’t have anything to say to you,’ Jack said.

  ‘That’s so insensitive and so typical of you. You are so selfish, Jack. The moment something doesn’t go your way, you quit. I do hope that your little travel adventure has made you think about your behaviour.’

  Jack wondered, and not for the first time, if she was able to hear herself. ‘Get to the point, Fedra. I’m busy.’

  While he spoke, he pulled out one of the exercise books and put it on the counter. The pages were yellow at the edges. When he opened it, the pages were filled with spiky writing, clearly recognisable as recipes of some sort, and done mostly with pencil. Some of the pages had simple drawings. There were a few landscape sketches, quite a few of meat cuts and also of sheep, and a few of a young boy.

  ‘I want it back, you bastard,’ Fedra hissed in his ear.

  Jack had almost forgotten she was on the phone. ‘Want what back?’ He knew perfectly well what she was talking about.

  ‘The book, of course. The recipe book. I know you took it. It belongs to the restaurant.’

  ‘Every recipe in that book I developed. I created them. It’s my book.’

  ‘Yes, but it was done while working for us, in this restaurant, so it belongs to us. And I want those recipes back.’

  Jack remembered the humiliation they had put him through, and snorted. ‘How is Pierre doing? Is he getting you one of those pesky Michelin stars you’re so hungry for?’

  ‘Pierre is doing fine, thank you. He’s doing his best, but he’s not you, Jack. Nor am I.’

  And there it was, Jack thought. There was a certain amount of satisfaction in hearing her admission.

  ‘Are you sure? He took over pretty quickly – both you and the restaurant, as I recall.’

  Fedra narrowed her eyes. Oh, you’re such a bastard. I didn’t cheat on you, and you know that. So don’t play hurt, if you don’t mind.’

  She was right about that. They’d had a short affair, it had burned hot for a few weeks and then it was over. They’d parted as friends. Or so he’d thought.

  ‘There are many ways to cheat on someone, Fedra. Roland made sure he and I never had a contract, and that means the book is all mine. You can go to hell and take bloody Pierre and your father with you.’

  ‘Jack, be reasonable. I don’t deserve this. You threatened Daddy and he doesn’t deserve that,’ Fedra pleaded now, and he knew how she hated to ask for anything.

  Jack closed his eyes for a second. Fedra’s father had been his mentor, the man he’d trusted almost as much as his own father, and to be so snubbed by him had been such a blow.

  ‘Roland did deserve it, all of it. He made a promise to me, repeatedly if you recall, and then he changed his mind. He then used the lack of contract to fire me on the spot. And now he sends you to make nice because it has backfired on him.’

  Jack paused to calm down. Fedra tried to say something, but he cut her off.

  ‘Listen carefully, Fedra. I don’t owe either of you anything. Now, if you ever dare to call my dad again or anyone else, I’ll report you to the police for harassment.’

  He ended the call and put the phone in his pocket. ‘Chew on that for a while.’

  He leafed through a few more pages of the exercise book. It was all completely incomprehensible, apart from the occasional word. Egg, he understood that, and “melk” had to be milk, and “sukker” probably meant sugar. So not too far off. Jack grinned. I’m practically fluent, he thought.

  Whoever wrote these books had been talented. Somehow he didn’t think it was Agnar. It looked like a diary, although there seemed to be no continuity in how often entries were made. He looked for a name, some clue as to who had written it, but there was nothing. Most likely most of the recipes were about mutton and pork, and loads of cakes, judging by how often sugar was mentioned.

  ‘Why are you here?’ a commanding voice said right behind him.

  Jack almost dropped the book he was holding. He turned around and looked at the woman standing in the doorway while his heart raced. She had a deep frown on her face.

  ‘Where the hell did you come from? You scared me half to death.’

  She pointed behind her. ‘The door is open and you didn’t answer when I called.’

  ‘Right. And who are you?’

  ‘Alma Mikkelsen, Jens’ wife. I’m the mayor.’

  ‘Of course you are. I … can I help you?’ Jack knew who she was now. The bossy one, the lawyer had said.

  Alma eyed him with suspicion. ‘I would like to know why you are here on the island and why you are in this house for starters. Who are you?’

  ‘Jack Greene,’ Jack said.

  ‘I know your name. What I don’t know is why you told Olav you own this farm. Are you a fraud? If you have somehow managed to fool Agnar’s lawyers or bribed them, for all I know, you should be aware that we will fight you. Haldorsen will not find it so easy to deal with us as he thinks.’

  Jack listened carefully. Alma quivered with anger. He didn’t reply at first, just took the file with Agnar’s will from the kitchen table and handed it to her.

  ‘This is why,’ he said.

  She took it with an expression of deep mistrust.

  ‘Please read it. It will answer your questions.’

  He watched her as she read through the papers. She first became pale, then flushed. Then she looked at him. ‘You can’t be,’ she said.

  ‘And yet I am.’ Jack smiled at her. ‘Sit down, please.’

  Alma’s hands were shaking. ‘I refuse to believe this. I have known Agnar since he was a little boy. He would have told me if he had a son.’

  ‘Wait here,’ Jack said.

  He went into the TV lounge and found the pictures he wanted to show her.

  She was still reading through the will, as if she needed to understand every word. But at least she was sitting down.

  ‘I also have it in Norwegian if that helps,’ he said as he sat down opposite her.

  ‘Yes, I would like to compare the text. If this is a fraud, it’s done well.’ She looked up at him.

  Jack put the photographs in front of her, one by one. ‘This is my mother and me, this is me on my first day at school, and this is Agnar and my mother together. I don’t know how much Agnar knew about me, or even if he wanted to know anything, but she sent him these pictures. My mother died when I was twelve, and I guess nobody sent Agnar any pictures after that.’

  Alma touched the photographs. Her face was a mixture of emotions. ‘I never saw these,’ she
whispered.

  ‘They were on the table in the lounge across the hall. I’m guessing Agnar used that as a bedroom.’

  ‘Yes, he did. He never let anyone in there.’ Alma took a deep breath. ‘The lawyers had a professional company close up the house after Agnar passed. He had a heart attack while shovelling snow from the road. Jens found him. We took Agnar to the hospital and we all stayed with him. He never regained consciousness.’

  ‘That must have been hard for you,’ Jack said.

  ‘Yes, it was. He was a dear friend. How old are you?’ Alma looked at him.

  ‘I’m thirty-five. I was born in 1985.’

  She pushed the papers over the table towards him. ‘I see. Well, I got what I came for. Thank you for being so frank.’

  Jack smiled. All the bluster had left her. ‘Would you like some tea?’ he asked.

  ‘Tea? If I have to.’ Alma folded her hands on the table. ‘Agnar wasn’t here much in the eighties. His mother was still alive then and took care of the farm, and he went to sea for a few years.’

  ‘What did he do? When he returned home, I mean.’

  ‘Like most farmers in this country, he dabbled in bits of everything. The traditional fisheries weren’t that lucrative back then. The shipping was in decline. He worked in the North Sea for a while, on the oil fields, and also sailed with some of the oil tankers. Jens would probably know more about that, or Petter, Ninni’s father. What do you know about him?’

  ‘All I know is that my mother met him in 1984 in London. They had a short affair, and some weeks later my mother realised she was pregnant. By then Agnar had returned home and my mother didn’t want to follow him. She wanted to stay in London.’

  ‘You can’t blame her. Boys here, on this coast, have always gone to sea, but they always come home again. Especially boys like Agnar who had a farm. He was an only child and I remember his mother being so worried for him. Magni would have loved a grandson.’ Alma smiled a little.

  Jack rose and put on the kettle. He needed something to distract himself. ‘Did you know Agnar well?’

  ‘As well as anyone. I certainly knew him the longest. Petter, Ninni’s father, was a good friend to Agnar, so he will have other memories if you’re interested.’