‘Jack Greene,’ Jack said.

‘I know your name. What I don’t know is why you told Olav you own this farm. Are you a fraud? If you have somehow managed to fool Agnar’s lawyers or bribed them, for all I know, you should be aware that we will fight you. Haldorsen will not find it so easy to deal with us as he thinks.’

Jack listened carefully. Alma quivered with anger. He didn’t reply at first, just took the file with Agnar’s will from the kitchen table and handed it to her.

‘This is why,’ he said.

She took it with an expression of deep mistrust.

‘Please read it. It will answer your questions.’

He watched her as she read through the papers. She first became pale, then flushed. Then she looked at him. ‘You can’t be,’ she said.

‘And yet I am.’ Jack smiled at her. ‘Sit down, please.’

Alma’s hands were shaking. ‘I refuse to believe this. I have known Agnar since he was a little boy. He would have told me if he had a son.’

‘Wait here,’ Jack said.

He went into the TV lounge and found the pictures he wanted to show her.

She was still reading through the will, as if she needed to understand every word. But at least she was sitting down.

‘I also have it in Norwegian if that helps,’ he said as he sat down opposite her.

‘Yes, I would like to compare the text. If this is a fraud, it’s done well.’ She looked up at him.

Jack put the photographs in front of her, one by one. ‘This is my mother and me, this is me on my first day at school, and this is Agnar and my mother together. I don’t know how much Agnar knew about me, or even if he wanted to know anything, but she sent him these pictures. My mother died when I was twelve, and I guess nobody sent Agnar any pictures after that.’

Alma touched the photographs. Her face was a mixture of emotions. ‘I never saw these,’ she whispered.

‘They were on the table in the lounge across the hall. I’m guessing Agnar used that as a bedroom.’

‘Yes, he did. He never let anyone in there.’ Alma took a deep breath. ‘The lawyers had a professional company close up the house after Agnar passed. He had a heart attack while shovelling snow from the road. Jens found him. We took Agnar to the hospital and we all stayed with him. He never regained consciousness.’

‘That must have been hard for you,’ Jack said.

‘Yes, it was. He was a dear friend. How old are you?’ Alma looked at him.

‘I’m thirty-five. I was born in 1985.’

She pushed the papers over the table towards him. ‘I see. Well, I got what I came for. Thank you for being so frank.’

Jack smiled. All the bluster had left her. ‘Would you like some tea?’ he asked.

‘Tea? If I have to.’ Alma folded her hands on the table. ‘Agnar wasn’t here much in the eighties. His mother was still alive then and took care of the farm, and he went to sea for a few years.’