A Very Hygge Holiday

Champagne for breakfast? Weird brew, he thought. But he had had enough of restaurants for a while. ‘No, thank you. I’m fine. I’m sorry to be so blunt, but what are you wearing?’

‘Oh, this is a bunad,’ she said, blushing when she smiled.

‘Is that like a work uniform? Because I didn’t see anyone wearing a costume like that when I arrived last night. And now it’s everywhere,’ Jack said.

She laughed. ‘Today is 17th of May.’ She seemed a bit taken aback that she had to explain the obvious to him.

‘Yes, I know that, but why all the ruckus?’ Jack noticed that there were flags inside the reception as well. Even the flower decorations had flags, and the flowers were red, white and blue.

He was distracted by a group of people entering from the street. They were dressed for a party, all suits and dresses. Almost all of them had red, white and blue ribbons attached to their jackets or coat collars.

‘Constitution Day,’ the receptionist said with a huge smile now.

Jack smiled back. She was cute. ‘I know that too, but I have no idea what it means.’

‘It’s the day we celebrate our constitution. It’s a really big deal in Norway. Everybody dresses up, eats and drinks, has fun, gives congratulations to each other. There are parades of school children all over the country. It’s one of the best days of the year, especially if you’re a kid. You’ll see when you go outside.’

‘Right. So all this is normal?’ he said and pointed to the chaos outside.

‘Only today. Tomorrow we all get back to our boring selves. With massive hangovers for some of us, of course.’ She was laughing at him now. ‘Would you like a ribbon? If you don’t mind me saying so, you look a little underdressed.’

Jack looked at the ribbon she held out to him and shook his head. He didn’t think it would improve much on his jeans and sweater. Probably should have taken the suit, he thought. ‘Thank you, but I don’t think so.’

He gave her his credit card and paid for the room.

‘I’m supposed to take a boat from here to this island.’ Jack pushed a note towards her. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t pronounce it properly.’

‘You can get the boat from Risøy. Walk straight down here, cross Haraldsgaten and Strandgaten, go across the bridge and go right until you come to the jetty. It’s easy to find and should take you about ten minutes to walk.’

Jack thanked her. He pointed to the left. ‘Just go that way, right?’

‘Of course. You can’t miss the bridge even if you try.’

She handed him back his credit card and a receipt. ‘I hope you have a pleasant stay, Mr Greene.’

‘Thank you.’ Jack looked outside. More people. It looked confusing. ‘Just across the two first streets, yes?’

‘Yes, but you’d better hurry. The parade will pass by any minute on Haraldsgaten. When that happens, it may take you some time to cross. Every school in town is there. That’s a lot of children.’

A parade, Jack thought as he made his way outside, pulling the suitcase behind him.

It took him a minute to realise that there was purpose in the chaos he had observed from the hotel room. People walked downhill, lining up on either side of the lower street. A sign on one of the buildings caught his eye. “Haraldsgaten” it said. Okay, so this was the first street.

The marching band music was getting louder. Jack followed the stream of people. He was tall, so he could see banners and flags coming towards them.

He looked at his watch. Not that it mattered what time it was. He had no appointments, no job to go to any more, no stress. He was free to do whatever pleased him. Plenty of time to cross a couple of streets and get into a boat to a godforsaken island.

He threaded between prams and hordes of small children clutching plastic trumpets and small, bright coloured windmills for some reason. Even the little ones wore bunads.

It was massive and it looked like people had fun. He envied them a little, the way everyone seemed to belong. He stopped in front of a barrier, like the ones used at concerts. The only opening was by a stern-looking policeman.

Jack walked over to him. The policeman looked him over.

‘Excuse me, but I’d like to cross. I have a boat to catch on the other side of that bridge,’ Jack said and pointed.

The policeman frowned. ‘Today?’

‘Yes, that would be nice. I’m told the boat leaves on the hour.’ Jack pulled out the envelope again. He held it up, feeling rather foolish.

‘Why are you going to the island today?’ The policeman looked him over with growing suspicion. It made Jack wonder about what kind of island he was going to.

‘Apparently I’ve inherited a farm there,’ Jack said. ‘It sounds absurd, I know. When the first email arrived, I thought it was one of those scams, you know? From Nigeria or Russia, only this was from Norway. So I deleted it. And then I deleted the next one. Then a letter came in the post from a British law firm, and I knew it was real. At least I think so. I’m going to the island today to check it out.’

What am I doing? he thought. Babbling on like a maniac.

Not that it mattered much. The policeman was clearly not listening to him any more. Instead he was staring over his shoulder and grinning from ear to ear.

‘Hang on. See the girl carrying the school standard? That’s my kid.’

He pointed and Jack looked. A girl of about twelve was using both hands to hold onto a school standard that looked far too heavy for her.

Her face lit up when her father waved at her. She had one of those bunads on. Behind her followed lines of children, all dressed to the hilt, waving flags, singing and yelling.

‘Looks great,’ Jack said.

‘You bet she does. Strong too. Those standards are bloody heavy and she has to carry it all the way through town. Okay, stay close to me; I’ll get you across.’

Jack followed him as he held up a hand like a traffic constable. The band stopped walking, creating a bit of a ruckus behind them as some children walked into the ones in front. Jack ran across. He turned to wave at the policeman, but he was already lost in the crowds.

Jack pulled his suitcase behind him. The noise from the parade faded. He thought about what had happened the day before. He’d been on his way from the airport to the lawyer’s office when he’d hit that girl. God, he could have killed her. That would have been something for the papers, he thought. Sacked Chef At One Of London’s Hippest Restaurants Kills Norwegian Woman.

At the lawyer’s office everything had been very clinical. An hour later, he’d stood outside again with a large brown envelope in his hand – the papers that proved he was the rightful owner of Agnar Berget’s farm. He couldn’t bring himself to think of Agnar as his father. It was too odd.

Jack put his hand in his pocket and felt the key. One key for a whole farm. It was … weird.

Perhaps he could call his dad from the boat. He knew the trip would take about thirty minutes.

He stopped on top of the bridge to have a look around. The harbour was filled with all sorts of boats, everything from small motorboats to large ferries, even a few rowing boats. Not one without a flag or two, he noticed.

Along the pier there were restaurants, already filled with people. So not everyone was taking part in the parade, he thought, and started walking again.

Someone pointed out the ferry for him and he found a place outside. The weather was sunny and windy. He was surprised. In Bergen he’d been told that in Haugesund it was always raining.

Not today, he thought, feeling the sweat on his back.

He stayed on deck until it got too windy. There were a few people on board. They looked at him, but no one talked to him.

Jack rang his dad, who answered at once.

‘What’s that noise?’ Paul asked.

‘Boat engines, I think. I don’t really know.’

Paul laughed. ‘How are you liking it so far? Did you meet the lawyer?’

‘Yesterday. He gave me an envelope and a key. One key for a whole farm. I’m guessing it’s filled with rotten outbuildings and a house the wind blew upside down.’

‘Well, yes, but is it an adventure?’

Jack looked out of the window. It had salt water stripes from the seawater constantly showering the glass. ‘It’s okay, I guess. Bergen was a proper town. This town, Haugesund, is a lot smaller. They don’t even have cars on this island, Dad.’

Paul chuckled. ‘The fresh air will do you a world of good. Do some fishing, enjoy the sun and get your head straight. You need to learn to relax, Jack. You need an adventure.’

‘I’m pretty sure I’ll be bored out of my mind after a few days,’ Jack said.

‘Oh, by the way, that Fedra called again. Are you really not taking her calls?’

The last thing Jack wanted was to discuss Fedra. ‘What did you tell her?’

‘I told her the same thing I told her last time she called, that I have no idea where you have gone, how long you will be gone and that she should stop harassing me. She didn’t like that,’ Paul said.

I bet she didn’t, Jack thought. ‘Just block her, Dad. I’ll talk to her in a few days.’

Jack didn’t feel very encouraged when he put the phone back in his pocket. Not even a tiny bit. He knew all too well how persistent Fedra could be. She wouldn’t give up.

Chapter 3

Ninni handed a strawberry ice lolly to a five-year-old boy, who took it with both hands. His eyes were bigger than the lolly.

‘Are you sure you can eat that? I think it’s your third one,’ she said.

He carefully released the grip of one hand and held it up, spreading his fingers out. ‘This many. That’s more than anyone else has eaten,’ he said, beaming with pride.

‘Good luck,’ Ninni said.

I wouldn’t like to be your parents later tonight when the belly-ache starts, she thought. But on 17th of May the tradition was unlimited ice lollies and hot dogs for kids, or at least as many as they could eat.

She was manning the ice cream and hot dog stand outside the shop. Alma was inside, handing out soda and coffee to the adults. The island’s small children’s parade was over, and now there was ice lollies and sweets until the dance on the pier later. Even though it was technically a school night, most children would stay up, enjoying the party.

‘Excuse me?’

She looked up and saw a man towering over her. He wasn’t wearing the expensive suit, so it took her a few seconds to recognise him.

‘You!’

He was standing there, like a tourist. How strange was that? It made her wonder if he had followed her after the accident. But why on earth would he follow her and then wait to approach her until the next day? It didn’t make sense. ‘Oh, God, are you stalking me?’

He frowned. ‘Excuse me?’

Ninni raised her eyebrows. ‘Excuse you? I’m not excusing you for anything. You’re obviously a crazy person.’

He lifted his hands in defeat. ‘I’m sorry. I have no idea who you are.’

Ninni was outraged. ‘You ran me down with that stupid driving of yours yesterday. You shouldn’t even be walking into revolving doors. Are you stalking me or something?’

He looked horrified for a moment. ‘No, are you mad? I had no idea you were here. How would I know that? I’m just visiting. I’m sorry, but I didn’t recognise you in your bunad.’

‘Who are you visiting?’ She couldn’t believe it.

‘I’ve always wanted to see a proper Norwegian island,’ he said and then he smiled.

Ninni didn’t like the jolt in her stomach. She glared at him. Dressed in jeans and a grey sweatshirt, he stuck out among all the people in their party clothes. He was pulling a suitcase behind him. Perhaps he really was a tourist. And he was so out of sync with everyone because of the way he dressed it was ridiculous.

‘I’m a bit lost, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘This is a bit overwhelming. I’ve never been to a Constitution Day before.’

She frowned. ‘We don’t bite.’

He smiled back at her. ‘Do you promise?’

Was he flirting with her? She hoped not. That would be too weird. And for some absurd reason it made her feel guilty. For what, she had no idea. As if she was cheating on Karl, and that made her mad.

He really was a complete idiot if he thought flirting would get him into her good graces. What a prat, she thought.

‘Ice cream or hot dog?’ she said quickly, to avoid confusion. Whether for him or for herself, she didn’t care to know.

‘Excuse me?’ He was staring at her with an intense look in his eyes.

‘You look hungry. A hot dog is probably better for you.’ Ninni took a bun from the grill and put a steaming, slightly burned hot dog in it. Then she pointed at the sauces. ‘Ketchup or mustard, mayo or shrimp cocktail, onions or red beets?’

‘That sounds a bit too much, to be honest. I don’t really like frankfurters,’ he said, looking at the hot dog.

‘Then you’re in luck. This is not a frankfurter; it’s a grilled sausage wrapped in bacon. A Norwegian speciality.’

He looked baffled for a moment, then laughed. ‘That doesn’t sound half bad, actually.’

His smile was lovely, she thought. ‘Try it. It’s good, I promise.’

‘I haven’t had any breakfast.’ He took a bite of the hot dog and chewed carefully. ‘Good,’ he said and took a bigger bite.

‘Are you visiting anyone on the island? Perhaps I can find them for you. I know everyone here.’

He shook his head. ‘I’m just passing through. I needed a holiday and Norway sounded interesting.’

‘Okay. Are you camping? I’m asking because you don’t look like an ordinary camper. No backpack or tent, or anything like that.’ He was a strange man, she thought.

He smiled at her. ‘I have accommodation, thank you.’

Ninni frowned. That sounded odd, she thought. ‘So, you are staying at the B&B, then? I didn’t know Britt had opened for the season,’ she said.

Those blue eyes bore down on her. ‘Do you live here on the island?’

‘I live in Bergen, but my family have a house here. I usually stay during the odd weekend and most holidays.’

She held out her hand, determined to get more information about him. ‘I’m Ninni Toft.’

He took her hand in a warm, firm grip. ‘Jack Greene,’ he said and let go of her hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’

Direct approach usually worked best, in her experience. ‘Why have you really come to our island, Jack?’

‘For a short holiday,’ he said, serious now.

She looked over her shoulder to see if Alma could come, but there was a long queue of customers inside and outside the shop. ‘There’s a dance here on the pier later. Lots of food. You are welcome to join us, of course. I’m sure Britt will bring you.’

He looked at her properly, then. His eyes shifted colours suddenly, more like the sea in the morning, and he looked oddly familiar. ‘Maybe I will,’ he said with a smile. ‘Can I have more of that food, to take with me?’

She thought it an odd request, but still. He was English.

‘You know, in case I don’t make it to the pier dance? I would go to the shop, but it looks closed.’

‘It opens again at ten tomorrow morning.’ Ninni pointed at the grill with burgers and more bacon sausages. ‘The fish burgers are highly recommended. The fish was caught this morning.’

He looked interested. ‘Two, please.’

Ninni found a Styrofoam container and made up a couple of fish burgers for him, adding the relish and remoulade without asking, then she put it all carefully into a carrier bag.

When he held out his hand to take it from her, she shook her head. ‘Money in the tin first,’ she said, nodding at a tin on the desk, filled with banknotes and coins.

Jack smiled. ‘Of course. How much do I owe you?’

‘Twenty kroner per burger, and ten for the hot dog.’

He handed her a hundred kroner note and got the burgers.

‘Thank you. Want something to drink with the food? I only have Solo and still water left, I’m afraid.’

‘What’s Solo?’

Ninni showed him the bottle of bright orange fizzy drink.

‘You don’t have any wine?’ He looked at the bottle with a frown.

‘No, this is a hot dog stand, not a restaurant, I’m afraid. Do you want it?’

‘Sure. Thank you.’ Jack put it in the bag.

Ninni counted the change and handed it to him. ‘Here you go.’

‘Thank you. Perhaps I will see you later,’ he said.

A group of children ran towards her, screaming for ice lollies, and Ninni was distracted. When she looked up again, he was gone.

Alma will want to know, she thought. An Englishman who didn’t want to say why he was on the island and seemed confused.

We’ll see if he comes to the dance; I’ll introduce him to Alma. She can use her mind-reading abilities on him, she thought, before concentrating on the children.

‘Line up, little monsters. There’s plenty of goodies for all of you.’

***

It took a fair bit longer than ten minutes to get to the farm. The road Jack followed wasn’t much of a road. No wonder he missed the fork and had to walk back. The lawyer’s map wasn’t much help.

But here he was, standing in the farmyard, eyeing his new property.

Jack looked around. It wasn’t like any farm he had ever seen. Not that he knew much about farms. Born and raised in London, most of his farming knowledge came from TV shows. And this was far from anything he could have imagined. Everything was built with timber, for one thing.

The house itself wasn’t much to look at – a two-storey building with a narrow entrance door, built on a stone or brick foundation, he had no idea. The house was painted white, although the paint had peeled in some places.

On the other side of the farmyard was a small barn or stable.

‘God, I hope there are no dead cows in there,’ he said out loud to himself.

The farmyard also had other buildings, mostly sheds of some sort. The barn was red and sagging a bit, and for some reason it had a lawn on the roof. A bit behind stood a house built on four cairns. How odd, he thought. Why would anyone want a house built on cairns?

The phone pinged and he read the message. Holly, of course.

Dad says you’re in shock. Is it a huge farm? Will you make millions from growing strange Norwegian vegetables and become too good for the rest of us?

Jack grinned. He put the bag with food on top of the suitcase before answering.

I’m already too good for you lot. You should know that by now.

He sent the text and hoped she’d be satisfied. Knowing his little sister, he would get a barrage of texts if she was bored. But the text brightened his mood.

Jack walked around the side of the main house. ‘Wow,’ he said.

The views were stunning. A huge fence surrounded the house, and on the other side was a large field with rows of what he assumed were constructions of dry hay. A small path through a fence led down a garden to a snug beach with what looked like a couple of boathouses, jutting out over the water. After that, open sea as far as the eye could see.

‘Wow,’ he said again.

He took pictures with his phone, of both the view and the buildings, and sent them to his dad.

Finally he ran out of things to do. He had to go inside.

He brought the suitcase and the bag with him to the front door, pulled the key from his pocket and unlocked the door. He hesitated with his hand on the door handle. For a moment he remembered every horror movie he had ever seen.

‘This is stupid,’ he said and stepped into the empty hallway.

He walked inside, leaving the door open behind him and the suitcase nearby, just in case. Inside he turned on the light. A single light bulb dangled from the ceiling. Agnar wasn’t much of an interior decorator, Jack thought.

Along the wall were pegs, loaded with clothes – jackets of all sorts, some older than him, Jack reckoned. On the floor were wellingtons and clogs, slippers and sailing shoes. All worn out, all in a heap. Not a tidy man either, he thought.

The rug on the floor was worn thin and faded. Jack frowned. The house smelled of dust and something else he couldn’t identify. He sincerely hoped they had buried the body and hadn’t just left the poor man in the house. He did not want to meet his biological father like that.

He walked further in. The hallway had three doors, all closed. The first was to a drawing room filled with heavy, dark furniture that reminded him of old black-and-white movies. It looked like no one had been in there for ages. The dust was thick on every surface. And on the floor were stacks of newspapers and magazines.

One of the walls was covered in old photographs. Jack looked at them, one by one. Family photos, some so old they were black and white. His biological family, all of them, and he had no idea who any of them were. It was unsettling to see his own features on some of them. He had always been the odd one out with his blue eyes and blond hair in a family dominated by brown hair and brown eyes. But here, in these photographs, people looked like him. It gave him the creeps, so he backed out of there and decided to explore the rest of the house.

The second door led to the kitchen, a wobbly Formica table by the window and two metal chairs with spindly legs. The kitchen was clean, apart from the dust here too, but there was still cutlery on the counter by the sink.

The fridge was empty. Someone had cleaned out whatever food had been there. He wouldn’t survive on a couple of fish burgers for long. Perhaps he could ask the brown-haired girl, Ninni, where he could buy proper food. And, if he was honest, he wouldn’t mind seeing her again.

He put the food and the bottle of fizzy drink in the fridge and went to see the rest of the house.

The third door led to a combined bedroom/TV room. The TV was old and small, with something he guessed was an aerial protruding from the back of it. Probably black and white as well. He wasn’t optimistic about a Wi-Fi connection out here. More stacks of newspapers and magazines, alongside wobbly stacks of paperback books.

He looked at the sofa bed. ‘I hope he didn’t die on that.’

On one of the old side tables there were more photographs. He picked up one and almost dropped it.

It was his mother with a man he assumed was Agnar. He could see the likeness to himself. Same colouring, same nose and jaw line.

He put it down again.

‘I can’t stay here,’ he said aloud, as if someone could hear him.

Jack turned around and walked outside, closing the door behind him.

For a moment he just stood there, trying to breathe and not run. There was nowhere to run to, even if he tried.

He thrust his hands in his pockets and walked round to the garden. There was a wooden bench under a small tree. He sat down and closed his eyes.

This was all wrong. He shouldn’t be here. What was he doing, inheriting a farm from a man who’d been nothing more than a sperm donor? He had no connection to this past, this house or this island at all, and especially not to the stranger who had died and left him this white elephant.

You could have told me something about him, Mum, he thought. Something that I could have connected to. Perhaps she’d meant to, when he got older. ‘Too late, Mum. Too late.’

Jack groaned. He should be in London right now, working in the restaurant, prepping food and doing what he loved. Instead he was sitting like an idiot on a bench under a tree, talking to his dead mother.

He looked up at the leafy branches. He didn’t even know the name of the tree.

All of a sudden the absurdity of the situation caught up with him and he burst out laughing.

***

Ninni flipped over another burger. Around her, music filled the night air. Alma’s husband, Jens, had brought his accordion and Olav and Sigrid played flutes. It had been a hot day, and the heat still lingered in the air.

She sighed with contentment, feeling her shoulders sinking. All the fuss earlier in the day, all the speeches about the constitution, the wreath at the memorial for the fallen soldiers, the children’s parade and all the rest were over. It was time to simply enjoy the evening.