She handed him back his credit card and a receipt. ‘I hope you have a pleasant stay, Mr Greene.’

‘Thank you.’ Jack looked outside. More people. It looked confusing. ‘Just across the two first streets, yes?’

‘Yes, but you’d better hurry. The parade will pass by any minute on Haraldsgaten. When that happens, it may take you some time to cross. Every school in town is there. That’s a lot of children.’

A parade, Jack thought as he made his way outside, pulling the suitcase behind him.

It took him a minute to realise that there was purpose in the chaos he had observed from the hotel room. People walked downhill, lining up on either side of the lower street. A sign on one of the buildings caught his eye. “Haraldsgaten” it said. Okay, so this was the first street.

The marching band music was getting louder. Jack followed the stream of people. He was tall, so he could see banners and flags coming towards them.

He looked at his watch. Not that it mattered what time it was. He had no appointments, no job to go to any more, no stress. He was free to do whatever pleased him. Plenty of time to cross a couple of streets and get into a boat to a godforsaken island.

He threaded between prams and hordes of small children clutching plastic trumpets and small, bright coloured windmills for some reason. Even the little ones wore bunads.

It was massive and it looked like people had fun. He envied them a little, the way everyone seemed to belong. He stopped in front of a barrier, like the ones used at concerts. The only opening was by a stern-looking policeman.

Jack walked over to him. The policeman looked him over.

‘Excuse me, but I’d like to cross. I have a boat to catch on the other side of that bridge,’ Jack said and pointed.

The policeman frowned. ‘Today?’

‘Yes, that would be nice. I’m told the boat leaves on the hour.’ Jack pulled out the envelope again. He held it up, feeling rather foolish.

‘Why are you going to the island today?’ The policeman looked him over with growing suspicion. It made Jack wonder about what kind of island he was going to.

‘Apparently I’ve inherited a farm there,’ Jack said. ‘It sounds absurd, I know. When the first email arrived, I thought it was one of those scams, you know? From Nigeria or Russia, only this was from Norway. So I deleted it. And then I deleted the next one. Then a letter came in the post from a British law firm, and I knew it was real. At least I think so. I’m going to the island today to check it out.’

What am I doing? he thought. Babbling on like a maniac.

Not that it mattered much. The policeman was clearly not listening to him any more. Instead he was staring over his shoulder and grinning from ear to ear.

‘Hang on. See the girl carrying the school standard? That’s my kid.’