Jack looked over his shoulder and realised she was right. Suddenly the boathouse looked huge. ‘Shit,’ he said.

Ninni leaned forward and put her hands on the oars next to his again. She pushed the oars towards him without lifting them out of the water and the boat slowed down. It wasn’t long before Ninni could grab the pier.

She didn’t mention the question about Karl while she fastened the boat line, nor when they carried the bucket between them. He didn’t repeat it. But he was intrigued.

By now more people had arrived on the beach, making it look like a proper picnic with children and a few more dogs running around. Petter and Tobben sat on a couple of old camping chairs, engrossed in a conversation that included a lot of hand-waving and finger-pointing.

‘What are they arguing about?’ Jack said, as Ninni handed the bucket to Jens, who looked excited at the sight of it.

‘It’s about the old harrow. Pappa thinks he knows about farm tools and Tobben tries to convince him he doesn’t know a harrow from a ladle. It’s an ongoing thing between them.’

‘They look like they’re having fun,’ Jack said.

A slight tone of longing in his voice made her look at him. He smiled. ‘My dad is the same. Always bickering about things he doesn’t have any idea about. My sister is almost a doctor and he drives her up the wall with what he thinks is medical knowledge.’

‘He’d fit right in here,’ Ninni said with a wry smile.

Jack wondered for a moment if he should ask her about Karl again, but reckoned she would have said something if she wanted to tell him.

Instead he sat down on the sand and stretched his legs, enjoying the scenery. The children had thin branches in their hands, the old man helping them to stick sausages on them. They held the sausages over the flames, turning them black and sooty. The children had no patience and started munching on sausages black on the outside and pink on the inside.

Ninni got a hot dog from Jens and sat down next to Jack. She offered him the snack. When he shook his head she took a big bite, obviously enjoying it.

‘Are you eating those sausages raw?’ To Jack, that looked unsafe.

‘Don’t worry. They’re precooked. You’d be hard pressed finding raw sausages in any shops.’ She nodded towards the firepit. ‘I think Jens wants a word with you.’

Jack turned his head and Jens smiled broadly at him.

‘I might have told him that you have never cooked mussels picked directly from the sea,’ she said.

Jack laughed. ‘I have to see this,’ he said.

By the firepit, Jens had put the bucket on top of a makeshift table.

‘Is it true?’ Jens asked when Jack came over to him. ‘You have never cooked mussels like this?’

‘Nope. Not many firepits in London, I’m afraid.’ Jack felt the heat from the pit against his face. The burning wood smelled sharp and fresh.