Jack thought about it. ‘You can’t control development. Not once it’s started.’

‘I know that, but the fact is we are losing people to the mainland every year. There are no jobs out here, of course. Most people work in the oil industry and if you work in town, commuting is a nightmare in the winter. Geir worked offshore and he got fed up with helicopter trips in midwinter. Now he lives the good life in Oslo, doing God knows what. I couldn’t blame him. It’s bloody dangerous.’

‘Are you here because you want me to sell to Haldorsen or to warn me about him?’ Jack pulled the skillet away from the hob.

Britt smiled. ‘It’s not my business who you choose to sell your farm to, Jack. If it was mine, I’d sell it to the highest bidder in the blink of an eye and move to Hawaii.’

‘You really like islands,’ Jack said.

Britt laughed. ‘Yes, I do. I love the ocean.’

Jack finished the beer. ‘Listen, I don’t know when I’m selling the farm. I’ve contacted an estate agent and left it up to him. What happens after that is not really my problem, is it?’

‘I like your attitude. Perhaps something will change at last.’

Jack looked at the beer bottle. ‘Why don’t you have a proper restaurant here, on the island?’

‘There’s not enough people for it and most Norwegians can’t afford to eat out anyway,’ Britt said with a shrug.

‘It would have to be a restaurant people would be willing to travel here for,’ Jack said slowly.

‘In that case, the food would have to be bloody sensational,’ Britt said.

‘No Old Cheese, you mean?’ Jack looked at the skillet.

That made her laugh out loud. ‘Yes, no Old Cheese.’

Jack leaned over the table. ‘But that’s where you’re wrong. If you have the right ingredients and the right chef, you can make people travel. You don’t have to be smack down in the middle of London.’

Britt grinned. ‘Are you talking about yourself? Would you consider that here?’

‘God, no. My whole life is in London. I don’t belong on an island in the middle of nowhere. My family is there, my work.’

‘You don’t have a job. I checked you out online. There was an article about you. We all read it,’ Britt said, undaunted.

‘Right. Of course you did.’ Even Ninni, he thought.

‘It’s what you do these days, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, I suppose it is.’ He wondered what Ninni thought about it.

‘To be honest, there wasn’t that much about you, except that you left your job right before you secured a Michelin star for the restaurant. Did you do that because of the inheritance?’

Jack laughed. ‘No, not at all. I didn’t know about the farm when that happened. The restaurant owner and I had a difference of opinion. It’s not uncommon in my line of work. Chefs can be temperamental, like all creative people.’

‘We saw the photo with the stunning blonde. Is she your girlfriend?’ Britt wasn’t giving up on the questions.