The dice had said yellow, and as far as he could see the old lady didn’t have a speck of yellow anywhere, which meant she would live to eat her mango, provided she actually managed to pick one eventually.

A man who looked to be around forty was standing by the mountain of strawberries, rooting around and swapping out berries in a quest for the perfect punnet. He wore a purple polo shirt and white shorts. Unfortunately, his boat shoes were brown. But the sweater whose sleeves were tied around his neck had red and white stripes, which at least gave the dice two colours to play with. A one and a six. Compared to the mango lady his odds were, in other words, halved.

Maybe that was why he so abruptly wrapped up his strawberry selection and hurried off into the meat section. As if that would save him.

He went over to the herring fridge from where he had a good view of the man, who was evidently having a barbecue tonight. Once again, he shook his dice and felt that palpable, familiar shudder of pleasure when he opened his hand.

A five.

In some ways, it was a relief. This was actually a lot more fun than he had expected. It became even more fun when a boy of about ten walked up to the marina bloke and slipped a gaming magazine in a plastic sleeve into his basket.

‘Dad, there’s a mobile phone shop in the mall. Can we please go after we’re done here?’

‘No, I’ve already told you you’re not getting a new phone.’

‘Why not? How am I supposed to—’

‘Because it’s the third one you’ve lost in two months.’

‘But please… I promise I’ll be more careful.’

‘Rutger, what have I told you about nagging?’

‘I can pay for it myself, if you could just lend me—’

Rutger. The name alone was gold.

‘If you don’t stop pestering me, you’ll have to go and wait in the car.’

Oh Dad, there’s no need to get worked up. If the odds are anything to go by, that nagging will soon be a faint memory.

Rutger clearly liked colours. In addition to a green baseball cap, he wore a red raincoat with a blue hood and blue piping around the pockets. His grey trousers broke the pattern a little, but it was made up for by his gold-studded purple belt. Maybe the belt matched the shirt under his jacket, or maybe Rutger was just a little bit rebelliously queer and had topped his outfit off with a pink glitter top? Or maybe not even queer – after all, the upper classes had always had a soft spot for pink, which made about as much sense as their second favourite colour, mint green.