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.