***

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.’