She seemed satisfied with the decision, as everybody knew she would be. Ninni scratched her nose. ‘Have you called the lawyers?’

‘No, not yet. I’ve just learned of his preposterous claim. I haven’t had the time, to be honest.’

Tobben looked surprised. ‘Perhaps we should talk to the police on the mainland. They could check him out for us. You know, if it’s a scam.’

Britt waved her phone in the air. ‘Wait, I found him online. He really is a chef. He used to work at this fancy French restaurant in London, but has just quit.’

She scrolled the screen. ‘Wow, they almost have a Michelin star. That’s amazing. That means he’s an excellent chef.’

‘Why would he leave a job like that?’ Ninni wasn’t the only one wondering.

‘Not sure. The owner of the restaurant only says that they had “creative differences”, whatever that means.’ Britt held up her phone again and Ninni leaned forward to look at the screen. There was Jack standing next to a stunning woman. They had their arms around each other, laughing at the camera.

‘She’s the owner?’

‘Says here, her father owns the restaurant but she has taken over as head chef and manager. She must be a good cook too. Although she looks like she hasn’t eaten in years,’ Britt said.

Ninni took an instant dislike to the woman, but stopped herself. It wasn’t her business who Jack had his arm around, was it? If skinny stick women were his type, then that was his problem, wasn’t it?

Tobben looked too. ‘She looks like she’s preserved in plastic,’ he said, making everyone laugh again.

Alma looked at them. ‘Listen, our island is under threat, we have to protect it from greedy developers like Haldorsen before it’s too late. And if this man is not his puppet, he might soon be. It’s obvious that a man like that will want to sell the farm to the highest bidder, and we know that’s not going to be any of us. So what do we do?’

Ninni nibbled on the cake, finding comfort in the tangy taste of the lemon. It was soft and sweet and with just the extra lemony twist from the glaze. Damned if she was going home without an extra piece.

Britt put up her hand. ‘But if this guy sells the farm, would that really be so bad?’

The silence that fell was so thick it could be cut with a knife. Ninni swallowed the last piece of the cake and held her breath.

‘They will tear down Agnar’s farm buildings, build a huge marina for sailing boats and yachts, and whatnot. Turn the island into a playground for people who will look down upon us and the island, and treat us like dimwits. It will be a disaster for us,’ Alma said, clearly not expecting to be contradicted.

Britt wasn’t that easily deterred. ‘Yes, but I mean, it might bring more tourists and holiday people here, and we can sell our goods. Perhaps even open a place to sell them from. Would that really be so bad? We could bring mainlanders out here, and perhaps more of us could make a decent living out here.’