A Very Hygge Holiday

Chapter 4

An insistent bird was singing outside. Ninni opened her eyes and looked at the familiar ceiling. This had been her father’s room when he was a boy. Model aeroplanes were hanging from the rafters and boyhood books from the fifties and sixties, even some from before the war, on the shelves mingled with her own collection from her childhood, including handwritten manuscripts from when she thought she’d be a writer.

It was too early to get up, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep any more. She was surprised she had slept at all. All day yesterday she had kept so busy she’d hardly had any time to think of Karl. There had just been fleeting moments, and then she’d found something new to distract her.

The Englishman was one such distraction. Alma hadn’t stopped going on about him. The others had got involved and he’d become the topic for the rest of the night. Nobody knew where he was staying and nobody had seen him since he’d left the harbour.

Ninni had tried to stay out of it. Speculations seldom led to any real answers. It was a waste of time, considering he was only passing through.

When she’d come up to the attic the night before she was overtired and sad. Now she felt more relaxed, more like herself.

The magic of the island, she thought, and sat up so abruptly Frikk almost fell out of bed. He jumped down and went over to the door. He barked a few times, wagged his tail and finally pressed his nose against the door.

‘I’m coming, I’m coming. You’re the nuttiest dog I have ever met. And I’ve met a few.’

Ninni went downstairs and let him out, leaving the door ajar, then had a shower and made coffee.

Frikk came bouncing back after doing his business. Tongue lolling and tail wagging, he flopped down next to her. Ninni filled his water bowl and rubbed his ears.

‘We have to inspect the island today,’ she said. ‘A lot has been going on since we left.’

Frikk lapped the water, making noises and splashing the floor.

Ninni looked at the computer on the kitchen table. Next to it lay the stack of reference books she needed for the next assignment. But today translating contracts for an oil company didn’t tempt her. She needed a day off.

The phone pinged and she looked at it. Karl. She deleted the message at once, then blocked his number.

Ninni filled a thermos with more coffee, putting a spoon of chocolate powder in it and shaking it well.

‘I’m bringing some salami for you and a sandwich for me. Think you can handle that?’

Frikk was looking at her as if he understood every word.

I’m talking to the dog as if he will turn around and quote Ibsen back at me one day, she thought, rolling her eyes.

Before she changed her mind, she grabbed a bright green sweater, put on a pair of jeans and red trainers, and headed out.

She always did the “grand tour” on the first day on the island. Even if it was only a weekend trip or midwinter. The tour always made her feel better.

Ninni looked down towards the sea. Waves were lapping in with the tide. She spotted litter among the pebbles and sighed. Why would people just throw their rubbish overboard? It made no sense.

Downhill from their house, she caught a glimpse of Agnar’s farm. The house was snuggled on the high ground in a cove. He had access to one of the best beaches on the island and yet, at some point, he had put a tall fence around the entire property.

‘It’s to keep the landlubbers out,’ he had said once when she’d asked him. For a long time she had looked out of her window every morning to see if the giants had invaded his garden.

Frikk leaned against her leg. Ninni stroked his soft head.

‘You know, if Haldorsen gets the land he’ll build a huge marina down there. With loads of boats and cabins and building work for who knows how long. We don’t want that, do we?’

Frikk just wagged his tail, not in the least worried.

Ninni sighed. It would ruin the island. She loved everything here, every tree and bush, stone and beach. She didn’t want anything to change, at least not for the worse.

They continued on the path. Ninni noticed that the birds were busy and noisy. Frikk noticed too and made it his mission to scare them all out. Ninni kept walking. Her head felt clearer by the second.

After a half-hour walk, they arrived at the foot of the island’s only mountain.

‘It’s not much of a mountain, is it?’ she said to Frikk. But it had the best view and she always climbed to the top.

Frikk had run halfway up before she caught up with him. Twenty minutes of hiking brought them to the top.

A cairn rose above them. Ninni sat down on the ground, facing the sea. She leaned against the base of the cairn and didn’t mind the stones poking at her back. To sit like this was more than enough right now. There would be bad days ahead, but she would be fine in the end. She hoped.

Frikk put his head on her leg and grinned.

‘You never took to Karl, did you? You’re so much smarter than me. I wish I could have sussed him out the way you did. It would have saved me a lot of misery.’ She scratched him behind the ear. ‘Thank God it’s over. I’ll never see him again. Not ever.’

She sipped coffee from the thermos and shared a sandwich with Frikk. Perhaps she would survive this after all.

‘There’s more to life than a broken heart, Frikk,’ she said, feeding him the last piece of salami. ‘It’s hardly the end of the world.’

Frikk snorted and shook his head. Ninni laughed.

A moment later, she jumped to her feet. ‘Let’s take the boat out.’

The dog was happy to do whatever she wanted and followed her down the path that snaked past Agnar’s house. It looked lost, with dark windows. She shivered and hurried by. There was something unsettling about the empty house.

Their boathouse was on one side of the path, Agnar’s boathouse on the other side. It was rundown and the wood was silvery from the rain and the wind. But it was solid. Her grandfather had built it with his own hands. There was a small living space in the loft, as in most of the boathouses on the island.

The boathouse had a pier with a homemade diving board jutting out into the water. In the summer they would jump from the board and climb up the ladder on the side. Her mother hated staying on the island. She was convinced there were eels hiding in the flowing seaweed, waiting to attack her, and refused to swim. At most, she would sit on the beach and let the waves lap over her feet. Mostly she complained about the bad weather and how boring it was.

Ninni grinned at the memories. Her mother now lived the beach life in Spain. No seaweed, no eels, not even crabs, she had said before moving there for good. Just plenty of people living the good life and playing lots of bridge.

And she was right. The beaches in Spain were wonderful, but this was better.

Ninni bent down at the corner of the boathouse and pulled out the key from under the stone where they always hid it.

Inside the boathouse the familiar smell of old tar and dried seaweed wafted out. She inhaled it all. Over her head, her grandmother’s old fishing nets still hung over the rafters.

Her boat was a small plastic one with an outboard engine. The family boat was larger and made of wood by her grandfather and her father. As always, she stroked her hand over the wood. It felt like silk. There were so many memories connected to that boat. She smiled at the thought of them. First time she caught a fish by herself; at four in the morning when the ocean surface was quiet like glass; first time she fell out of a boat and her grandmother laughed so hard she fell after her; first time she got bitten by a crab. And the picnics on the smaller beaches, with all of them going, filling the boat with fishing gear and blankets and enough food to outlive Robinson Crusoe.

‘But you’re too heavy for me to drag you out today. Also, I’m not in the mood for rowing you, you big old beast,’ she said.

She loosened the ties for the little boat, threw in one of the otter boards and started pushing it.

Frikk watched from the outside as she pushed her boat down the little slope next to the pier. The old outboard engine was heavy, but not so heavy that she couldn’t carry it.

The water lapped over her trainers when she made the final push to get the boat on the water. She wasn’t sure just how cold the water was, but she didn’t mind. She climbed up to the pier again and secured the rope after pulling the boat alongside it. Frikk barked twice. She looked at him. The dog was standing on the edge of the pier, knowing full well what was about to happen.

She pulled off her clothes, down to her underwear. There was no one around now anyway. Then she ran onto the diving board and jumped, screaming as the cold water hit her. She was grinning when she swam up to the surface and discovered Frikk was still standing on the pier, wagging his tail.

‘Get in here, you chicken.’

The dog jumped and splashed around her while she swam towards the pier again.

This was the way to rid herself of Karl and all that had happened.

***

A piercing scream followed by a big splash woke Jack up. He looked around, wondering what the hell was going on and where he was. A dog was barking and then there was another splash.

Shocked, he stood up from the deckchair he had slept in when he couldn’t get himself to sleep inside the house. He was stiff and cold, and felt like the biggest idiot on the planet. No one could ever know that he had been too spooked to sleep inside.

He pulled the blanket over his shoulders and peered over the fence. It took him a second to realise the noise came from one of the boathouses on the beach.

Jack shaded his eyes. He recognised the dog and knew it was Ninni splashing around in the water. What was she doing? Was she in trouble?

He walked towards the gate in the fence, not very keen to jump into the water after her, but if she really was in trouble then he had no choice.

Before he managed to open the gate she came up from the water, calling the dog to follow her. She was wearing nothing but a bra and a flimsy pair of knickers, obviously not expecting anyone to see her. Jack couldn’t look away. Especially when she stretched her arms in the air and he was sure his heart stopped.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She jumped out into the water again, splashing about with the dog swimming around her like a barking seal. Finally she pulled herself up into a yellow plastic boat and dragged the dog after her.

She pulled on a sweater, then started the engine of the boat.

Jack stood there until the boat disappeared around a headland. He let his breath out slowly.

I’m now reduced to a Peeping Tom, he thought, grinning at the image. But she was worth it. Mad woman, though. The water was probably freezing this far north. He shook his head. Who in their right mind would go swimming this early? He thought about Vikings and trolls, and all the other things about Norway he had no idea about. Perhaps the women were all mad from the cold weather? Or perhaps they all went mad as soon as the sun warmed their brains? Hopefully she would do this every morning. It would be worth getting up early for.

Jack looked at his watch. It was far too early to call an estate agent who could take a look at the property and tell him what it was worth. The lawyer had given him loads of paperwork, and the name of someone who’d shown interest in buying, but he wasn’t going to be stupid. He would get a second opinion, to be sure.

Jack yawned and stretched his back. He couldn’t sleep another night in the chair without doing some serious damage. Sooner or later he would have to sleep inside. Or perhaps he could get a tent and sleep in the garden.

He chuckled. The first thing he had to do was go shopping. Ninni had said the shop opened at ten. In the meantime, he could have another look around the house, take a look upstairs to see if there was a decent bedroom he could use. In case the garden tent didn’t work out.

There were bushes along the fence – some sort of berry bushes, he wasn’t sure what kind. And something else caught his eye.

Jack bent down and pushed aside something that looked like weeds. ‘Chives,’ he muttered.

He pulled a small leaf of something else and rubbed it between his fingers. Basil. Did Agnar cook? It seemed he had a kitchen garden of sorts.

That was interesting. A cook. But not for a living, he thought. Agnar had been a farmer and a fisherman. He was nothing like him. Lots of people liked to cook. It didn’t mean anything.

Jack picked up the blanket from the chair and walked inside the house. He ignored Agnar’s TV lounge and went into the kitchen. All of a sudden he saw signs of someone with more than just a casual interest in cooking.

The knife rack on the side was top-notch. Inside the cupboards he found spices, all sorts of dried herbs and lots of garlic. Everything had been put in small glass jars and carefully labelled with a felt pen.

Jack took down a jar and looked at it. Estragon, the label said. He opened it and the sharp smell of anise filled the air.

‘Not too bad,’ he said aloud, enjoying the smell of tarragon.

He opened the fridge and took out the leftover fish burger Ninni had sold him. The bun was a bit soggy, so he peeled it off. The sauce on the burger was interesting. Not mayo, he thought. It was tart and sweet, with a definite hint of dill. His stomach reminded him it was breakfast time and he wolfed down the food.

‘This is so good,’ he said to himself, making a mental note to ask Ninni how they were made.

He put on the kettle and sipped the cold drink while he waited for the water to boil. It was orangey and fresh, and a bit sweet. Better than nothing, he thought.

Without hesitating any more, he went upstairs to see what was up there.

He almost hit his head on the ceiling beams. Apparently Agnar’s people were shorter in the olden days, he thought. On the landing there were only two rooms, the doors wide open. Inside the first room he found an old-looking double bed with white covers. Someone had put sheets and furniture covers on almost everything.

Jack pulled the covers off the bed. The mattress didn’t look too bad. He pushed at it with one hand. Firm. Perhaps this was a better place to crash than in a rickety old deckchair.

From the window he could see the whole bay. Far out he spotted Ninni’s boat. She seemed to be just sitting there. Mad woman, he thought.

He took a quick look into the second room. It had two single beds and a tallboy in a corner. The whole room had last century written all over it. Or the century before the last. There were thick layers of dust everywhere. Dust and dead flies.

Jack walked back to the larger bedroom, opened the windows and lay down on the bed. He closed his eyes. It was after all barely six o’clock and the shop wouldn’t open for another four hours.

He fell asleep in seconds, the thin curtains wafting in the wind, bringing in the sweet smell of spring.

***

Ninni looked down into the water. It was so clear she could see all the way to the bottom where the line from the otter board was visible only because of the colourful fishhooks.

‘No fish today, Frikk. Have we scared them away?’

The dog peered down into the water, just like her. He barked a couple of times.

‘That’s not helping,’ Ninni said.

She pulled up the line and started the engine. ‘I think we’ll try further out.’

The boat dipped and jumped on the water and the seawater hit her face. Ninni laughed. It felt so good.

Frikk stood in the front of the boat. His tail wagged like mad.

Ninni turned the boat into the next cove and slowed down, finally stopping a few lengths from land.

She dropped the line again. Once in a while she pulled at the otter board, hoping to get a fish to bite. She couldn’t help it, she started to think about Jack Greene. Alma was right. There was something about him.

What was he doing here? It was so utterly weird that a stranger should just show up out of the blue like that, without explaining anything. As if he had fallen from the sky. Britt had been adamant that he wasn’t staying with them. So where was he? Sleeping in someone’s barn? In one of the boathouses?

She pulled at the line again and this time something nibbled at the hooks. Frikk barked.

‘Okay, okay. I can hear you. Don’t scare the fish, please.’ Ninni wound up the line and looked into the water at the same time.

‘There’s two of them. A pair of fine cods for dinner.’ She managed to get the fish into the boat and discovered there were a couple more at the end. Ninni took them off the line and dropped them in the bucket. ‘Alma will love these.’

She sat back down in the boat and opened the thermos. The coffee was delicious. ‘Later this week we’ll put out some crab pots. That would be tasty.’

Ninni sighed. ‘Karl loved crabs. The more, the better. He ate the whole thing. But mussels are his favourite.’

She looked at the dog. Frikk lifted his ears as if he understood every word.

The sun was heating up. She leaned back and closed her eyes. It was hard to remember a May that was this warm. It would rain again soon, of course, but that only meant this fine day had to be enjoyed to the fullest.

Another swim, she thought. Then more coffee and perhaps breakfast was a good idea.

She turned the boat towards land and headed back. The best place to swim was in the bay.

***

Jack stepped out in the yard with a mug in his hand. He sipped the tea and pulled a face. The tea was probably as old as the house. All he had found in the house was a sad box of Lipton Yellow that didn’t smell of anything. There was no milk or sugar, of course.

He poured the tea out onto a patch of grass, then left the mug on the step. Time to shop for food.

Jack walked along the path back to the pier. He felt better after a few hours of proper sleep, a short shower and the knowledge that the house didn’t spook him any more. And he was famished.

The shop was open when he arrived. He looked at the sign above the door. Joker, it said. Funny name for a store, he thought. He hadn’t noticed much the night before.

He went inside and looked around. The shop looked like a mix between a grocery store and a haberdashery. There was a post office desk at the back and an ATM in the corner. There was also a rack filled with magazines and books, another with colourful yarns, and even one with all sorts of DIY tools. The rest was food. He couldn’t see anyone in there, but figured they would show up.

Jack grabbed a wire basket by the door and started roaming. Everything was labelled in Norwegian so he had to use his imagination and some wild guesswork. Yoghurt was easy, while butter was more of a challenge. He couldn’t find any cheddar, and pulled a face when he saw the price of Jarlsberg.

He was pleased to see that none of the vegetables and fruit were wrapped in plastic. He could squeeze the produce, sniff it even, and the prices weren’t half bad. Although the selection wasn’t impressive.

‘Trenger du hjelp?’

Jack discovered an elderly man talking to him. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t speak Norwegian.’

The man’s face lit up in a huge grin and he pointed at him. ‘You’re the Englishman,’ he said. The thought seemed to thrill him.

‘I guess I am,’ Jack said, taking an instant liking to him.

‘I’m Jens Mikkelsen. Pleased to meet you.’

Jens held out his hand and Jack shook it. ‘Jack Greene.’

‘Nobody knows where you disappeared to after talking to Ninni last night. My wife was quite upset about it. She does not approve of things happening before she knows everything about it. Is it true? You didn’t have a place to stay last night?’

‘No, not really. I have a place to stay. Is your wife Alma Mikkelsen, by any chance?’ Jack remembered the lawyer mentioning Alma. She ran the island, he had said with a sneer. She was the one to ask if he wanted to know anything.

Jens chuckled. ‘That she is. She is also the shop manager and the mayor, and usually the one most on top of things. There’s no use trying to stop her. She’ll just waltz right over you.’

‘I have no sense of rhythm, I’m afraid.’

Jens looked in his basket. ‘But you do have taste for food. Are you a foodie, by any chance?’

‘Something like that. Do you have any coriander or avocados?’

‘I’m not sure what coriander is, so probably not. Avocado I do know, but we don’t have any at the moment, I’m afraid. You can order whatever you want and we’ll get it from the mainland for you, free of transport charge.’

Jack took out a green pepper from his basket. ‘So this is about it?’