Lana kept arranging and rearranging the cans, making sure that they were all exactly straight, so I could tell she just wanted to keep on touching them too.

‘They’re all past their use-by date,’ said Dr Jones doubtfully. ‘I can try opening them anyway.’

‘Yes,’ Kate said immediately. ‘Yes.’

‘I’ll not open the dented ones. Or the ones that are rusty. Why don’t you start opening the others and smell if they’re off?’ said Dr Jones.

We looked at each other. Well, me and Lana did. Kate pulled apart a packet of biscuits in the cupboard. The biscuits only half filled the packet, so it looked like they had shrivelled a lot, but Kate bit into one anyway.

‘I don’t know what “off” smells like,’ I said. ‘I can’t remember.’

Dr Jones snapped back a ring, and pulled the lid off a tin of sweetcorn. We all watched her closely as she did it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Kate or Lana concentrating so hard on anything before. Lana was frowning, she was thinking so hard.

Outside there was another shout, and Kate peered out of the window. ‘They’ve got five sheep on to the boat now,’ she said. ‘What are these biscuits supposed to taste like? This one’s OK. It’s sticky on your tongue. But it’s nice.’

She passed us all one.

A loud string of curses came from James just outside the window.

‘These are called oatcakes,’ said Kate, examining the packet. ‘Oh, not a biscuit, then.’

‘Yes, still a biscuit, but you put cheese on top of it. This sweetcorn smells fine. Get yourselves a spoon.’

Me and Lana had them already out and in our hands. I’d put one in my pocket, too, for later. I never intended to be parted from a spoon again.

It was glorious, amazing, perfection. The little nuggets of sweetcorn were smooth pockets of joy on my tongue, each one sitting there oozing out a teasing dribble of juicy pleasure that mingled with saliva, before bursting out their mushy sweet centres as I bit into them. I just wanted to chew and chew for ever. But then it was gone. Kate’s eyes were wide with shock.

Dr Jones silently handed us a tin each.