‘What’s in it?’

‘Taste it. It’s good, I promise,’ he said.

Ninni took a bite and chewed carefully while at the same time trying to see what was inside. ‘Beef,’ she said.

‘With potatoes and onions. No fancy ingredients,’ Jack said.

‘You’re right. It’s good. Here, Pappa. Try this.’ She handed the other half of the pasty to Petter.

He ate it quickly, clearly enjoying it. ‘Agnar would have loved this. He loved to cook.’

Ninni scooped some of the mayo onto the potato. ‘Want to taste this? It’s good too.’

She handed him the plastic spoon filled with sauce and potato. Jack tasted it and frowned. ‘That’s not tartare,’ he said after enjoying the taste of slightly sweet and sour cream. ‘What is it?’

Petter used his spoon. ‘This is Ninni’s speciality. Remoulade made with sour cream and herbs and a dash of fresh cream. Good?’

‘Delicious,’ Jack said and tried to take another spoonful.

Ninni moved the plate out of his reach. ‘Get your own,’ she teased.

Petter patted her shoulder. ‘Wait. They’re playing.’

Jack stretched his neck and spotted Sigrid and Olav sitting close to the water. The music was sweet and filled with longing.

Accordion and flute, for some reason. Jack listened, fascinated by the melody. He leaned over to Ninni. ‘What is it?’

‘Folk music,’ Ninni said. ‘I have no clue as to the name of the melody, I’m afraid.’

‘I like it,’ Jack said.

Ninni just smiled and handed him the rest of her potato.

***

A few hours later people started leaving. Sigrid took the children back to the house. Jens and Alma returned to their boat and Ninni helped Olav put out the fire with buckets of seawater that they poured over the firewood. The wood hissed and created clouds of smoke.

She looked up when Jack approached. ‘Hi. How are you getting on?’

‘I’m heading back, I think. Your dad just left.’

‘Yeah, I know.’ She took the water bucket from Olav and poured it carefully over the pit. It steamed and hissed, and she waited until it died down.

Jack waited until Olav returned to the water to fill the bucket. ‘Would you mind walking me home?’

Ninni smiled. ‘Are you afraid of the dark?’

‘Not so much afraid of the dark as I am of falling into a ditch on the way back.’ He put his hands in his pockets and obviously had no intention of going back alone.

‘Okay. I just have to make sure this is out.’

Olav came up from the water with another bucket. This time he poured.

Ninni took a step back. It wasn’t steaming much any more.

‘One more,’ Olav said.

Jack looked at the pit. ‘Does this mean you have to make a new pit every time there’s a barbecue on the beach?’

‘We use the same place, but yes, it’s to make sure the fire is out. We don’t want embers starting fires further up. There’s no fire brigade on the island, you know.’