‘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.’