Then he realized where they were. Of course. How could he not have thought of it? The more a parent was annoyed by a child’s nagging, the more likely he was to give in to it. Something young Rutger had clearly worked out long ago. And if one thing didn’t work, apparently, another might.

Because there they were, in one of the aisles in the section for useless plastic things, getting a big box containing a plastic guitar off the shelf. He took out his dice, shook it, only for a moment this time, and opened his hand.

Maybe he had just seen it wrong.

Were those really two little diagonal dots and not three?

Maybe he hadn’t shaken it for long enough.

No, it didn’t matter. Or at least, it shouldn’t. But what if he hadn’t given chance a proper chance? On the other hand, he’d been shaking it when the bearded bloke interrupted him, so no matter how badly he wanted one, he had no excuse to start over. The dice had been given all the time it needed, and it had settled on the two little dots. He just had to take it and let those ungrateful pricks continue towards the tills.

Disappointment broke over him like a wave, even though he knew how utterly futile that was. After all, this was exactly the point. Not knowing who, when and where. His own will had nothing to do with it. He was nothing but a passenger who had climbed on to the roller coaster blindfolded, about to take the most amazing ride of his life.

So why didn’t he feel exhilarated or excited? Had the bearded bloke ruined things for him or had it been the two aggravating dots on the dice? He didn’t know. Either way, the mood was far from ideal, and all he wanted to do was to abandon his basket and go home. But he couldn’t. Someone was supposed to lose their life tomorrow and he still didn’t know who.

Maybe he was just hungry. It had been almost three hours since his last meal, and a small break wasn’t against the rules, was it? If only to collect himself and get back in the mood. A rotisserie chicken leg, a tomato and a lemon-flavoured Ramlösa.

He could feel his spirits starting to return on his way over to the meat counter. When he took his queue number and noticed that the two people ahead of him in line were dressed in all grey and all black respectively, he felt his decision to take a break had been validated.

The girl behind the counter, who was dressed in white, called the next number and began to serve the man in black jeans, a black T-shirt and a dark jacket. His clothes were both neat and classy, so in some ways he deserved to live.

‘And how can I help you?’