She was right about that. They’d had a short affair, it had burned hot for a few weeks and then it was over. They’d parted as friends. Or so he’d thought.

‘There are many ways to cheat on someone, Fedra. Roland made sure he and I never had a contract, and that means the book is all mine. You can go to hell and take bloody Pierre and your father with you.’

‘Jack, be reasonable. I don’t deserve this. You threatened Daddy and he doesn’t deserve that,’ Fedra pleaded now, and he knew how she hated to ask for anything.

Jack closed his eyes for a second. Fedra’s father had been his mentor, the man he’d trusted almost as much as his own father, and to be so snubbed by him had been such a blow.

‘Roland did deserve it, all of it. He made a promise to me, repeatedly if you recall, and then he changed his mind. He then used the lack of contract to fire me on the spot. And now he sends you to make nice because it has backfired on him.’

Jack paused to calm down. Fedra tried to say something, but he cut her off.

‘Listen carefully, Fedra. I don’t owe either of you anything. Now, if you ever dare to call my dad again or anyone else, I’ll report you to the police for harassment.’

He ended the call and put the phone in his pocket. ‘Chew on that for a while.’

He leafed through a few more pages of the exercise book. It was all completely incomprehensible, apart from the occasional word. Egg, he understood that, and “melk” had to be milk, and “sukker” probably meant sugar. So not too far off. Jack grinned. I’m practically fluent, he thought.

Whoever wrote these books had been talented. Somehow he didn’t think it was Agnar. It looked like a diary, although there seemed to be no continuity in how often entries were made. He looked for a name, some clue as to who had written it, but there was nothing. Most likely most of the recipes were about mutton and pork, and loads of cakes, judging by how often sugar was mentioned.

‘Why are you here?’ a commanding voice said right behind him.

Jack almost dropped the book he was holding. He turned around and looked at the woman standing in the doorway while his heart raced. She had a deep frown on her face.

‘Where the hell did you come from? You scared me half to death.’

She pointed behind her. ‘The door is open and you didn’t answer when I called.’

‘Right. And who are you?’

‘Alma Mikkelsen, Jens’ wife. I’m the mayor.’

‘Of course you are. I … can I help you?’ Jack knew who she was now. The bossy one, the lawyer had said.

Alma eyed him with suspicion. ‘I would like to know why you are here on the island and why you are in this house for starters. Who are you?’