He carries on down the dark village road to the Spar, with its glowing fir-tree sign. The wind picks up, pushing against his face, wakening him. The shop is too dear, but he uses it when he has to. They are building another supermarket, an Aldi, on the outskirts of the small town on a patch of empty land by the forest. People in the town have been talking about this for months.

He walks through an aisle of ‘Scottish produce’: oatcakes, shortbread and the chilled cheese counter with its faintly sour smell. The light is too dim for a shop and there is a low hum of white noise that he barely perceives. His reflection wobbles over the glass of the deli counter.

The primary colours of the cereal aisle stand bright against the grey-tiled ceiling and floor. The cartoon characters – Snap, Crackle and Pop and Tony the Tiger – have changed since he last bought a packet years ago, but he doesn’t notice this either. His sense of time has floated away. He passes Highland Spring and Schweppes, his footsteps heavy, and picks up two glass bottles with red labels. He snaps out of his empty daydream and notices someone else in the aisle.

‘Hi, Niall.’

Christine’s voice.

He turns, cradling the vodka in his arms. Someone is standing with her back to him in the drinks aisle. He is not sure now that she has spoken. She is slight, short, with a black beanie pulled down to the collar of her ice-blue anorak. Her head is lowered, examining a row of Lambrini.

He looks down at the waspy yellow sign for a special offer, running his hand over his chin, feeling the greying stubble scrape his palm. He managed to shave this morning but didn’t shower. He puts the bottles back on the shelf and takes two other, discounted brands, with a clink.

The small person turns around, startled.

‘Ann-Marie.’ His voice is croaky with booze.

‘Hi, Niall.’ Her eyes dart about, never quite meeting his.

‘You old enough to be buying here?’

She takes her hand away from the shelf, but then reaches out for a bottle of Gordon’s gin.

‘My dad’s outside. He asked me to nip in and pick up a few things.’

The arm furthest from his is down by her side, holding a large white bottle. He remembers she is on a school holiday.

‘Your dad’s on the Bacardi these days?’

She puts the rum back on the shelf and looks down at the vodka in his arms.

‘Be careful,’ Niall says as she disappears around the corner.

When Niall takes the vodka and a pack of Tennent’s to the counter, he sees her again, standing in the cereal aisle, staring at the Special K, her beanie tugged down low. He can see she’s nervous about something.