He placed the crate on my table, the one that I’d made out of the old Scots pine that fell in the storms, and started unloading the contents. I can’t tell you what it all was, there were tins and fruit and milk, long-life milk and some other things. ‘Plenty more to come,’ he said. ‘But don’t worry, I’ll carry them in for you, aye?’ I felt unable to stop the scene unfolding before me. He disappeared out the door, but was back a moment later, the next three crates piled high in his arms. When he’d finished he looked around and said: ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ Then he pulled out a chair and sat in it. Smiling. The empty crates were stacked up against the kitchen door like unstable scaffolding.

‘It’s my wife’s fiftieth today,’ he said. ‘You’re my last delivery, I’ll be heading into town now to collect her cake …’ He laughed, a big natural laugh as he dug around for something in his pocket and eventually pulled out his wallet. ‘This is us. Handsome couple, eh? Taken a few years ago, mind.’

I looked at the photo, then at him. What did he want from me?

‘And this is our husky,’ he continued with the family slideshow.

Was I supposed to admire his dog now?

‘She’s pregnant again.’

‘Your wife?’

He laughed his belly laugh at that.

‘No, Snowdrop. The dog.’

‘The dog?’

‘Aye. We’re thinking of keeping one of the puppies this time, too. I don’t suppose you’d be interested in taking one … No?’

What a horrifying thought.

‘Not to worry. We’ll find plenty good homes for them I’m sure. But to answer your question—’

Good grief, had I asked him a question?

‘—We don’t have any kids. Bea and I, we’re happy with life as it is, see? Plenty of time for gardening. Always time for each other.’

I swallowed.

‘Speaking of which, I could help you set up a polytunnel if you like? Out the back there. It’s a great way to extend your growing season.’

The door was open, wide open. All he had to do was walk through it.

‘Well …’ he said, standing again now.

I thought he was about to go at last, but instead, casually, like he wasn’t even thinking about it, he picked up my one pint of fresh milk, and walked to the fridge. I couldn’t have it – a complete stranger opening my fridge, looking through my cupboards. I moved as quickly as I could from round the counter and grabbed the milk from his hand, holding the fridge shut by leaning against it with my other shoulder.

‘There are boundaries,’ I said.