‘What’s a fenalår?’ Jack managed to pronounce it almost perfectly.

‘Leg of mutton. It’s a bit like Serrano ham, but darker, and so tasty my father almost cries when he eats it. You’ll most probably find some hanging in stabburet.’

Jack raised his eyebrows. ‘In the what now?’

‘Stabburet. You know, the building that’s not built on the ground?’

His face lit up. ‘I was wondering about that. I haven’t been in there yet. Why is it built on cairns?’

‘It was built that way to keep out mice and rats. Most farms had those in the old days, to keep their grains and food safe during winter. Agnar modernised it at some point and some of the others invested in the business. That’s what they do on the island. They work together.’

Jack smiled suddenly. He looked different when he smiled, Ninni thought. It was … unsettling. She turned the boat away from the sheep.

She kept an eye on him. He had a faraway look on his face, and looked back at the islet. The ram still stood his ground on the narrow beach.

Jack couldn’t get over the sheep. They looked so strange. Like woolly goats with long fleeces and spindly legs. Ninni was having him on. He was pretty sure she was laughing her head off now.

The idea that Agnar kept them for the meat intrigued him. He was curious to taste it.

‘Can you drop me off at the smokehouse?’ he asked.

‘Of course. No extra for the trip,’ Ninni said.

She was joking. It dawned on him she had been joking earlier. Did that mean she didn’t hate him any more? He hoped so.

The boat jumped and dipped and skipped on the waves. The dog barked like a maniac.

Jack held onto the gunwales and didn’t mind the trip so much any more. The air was so crisp, so clear it made him smile just to sit there. Even if he was getting sprayed with water every time the boat jumped. He took a deep breath and felt the tension melting from his shoulders.

The shoreline suddenly burst into sight. He tried to hide a sigh of relief, but Ninni caught it and smiled from ear to ear.

‘You’ll get used to it,’ she yelled over the engine.

‘Don’t bet on it,’ Jack replied.

Hopefully, Olav could keep looking after the sheep. He wasn’t sure he was up to the task of taking care of the poor animals.

Ninni slowed down the speed and followed the shore past her boathouse, then his, and finally had the boat glide along a small pier. He could see the top of a building half hidden in between the bushes.

‘That’s it?’ It didn’t look like much.

‘Yes, that’s the smokehouse. Agnar always stacked firewood in the back, mostly juniper and birch. It always smelled so good.’ She looked at him. ‘Do you want me to show you, or are you fine on your own?’

Jack hesitated. He wouldn’t mind her company, but it was probably not a good idea. He reminded himself that he would only be there for a short period of time.