Chris and I are at a checkout in our local Sainbury’s store. It is my first visit to the store this year because, as you may know, I have just returned from my sojourn in Australia. I don’t know the member of staff at the counter – he must be new. All the same, Chris recognises him.

“How are you?” asks the man at the checkout.

“Good thanks, all the better for having my lovely wife home,” replies Chris.

Chris turns to me and explains:

“This man paid me my payout on the lottery while you were away.” (It was a win of five pounds so no begging letters please!)

“Ooh yes,” the man seems thrilled to be remembered by my husband, “I remember serving you… several times, but I don’t remember you…” He looks at me searchingly and and wiggles his pointed finger in my direction. I can see that he is trying to place me.

“You wouldn’t remember me because I haven’t been here,” I answer. I study his face and notice that he has permed hair and girlish mannerisms.

“Ooh, where have you been?” he asks.

“Australia.”

He pops the bag of bananas on the scales and pauses a moment while he thinks.

“Do you live on Exeter Road by any chance?” he smiles triumphantly in anticipation of my answer.

“Yes and no,” I say, surprised, “San Remo Terrace – which is kind of on Exeter Road”.

I am about to ask how he knows where I live when he gets in first and answers the unposed question:

“Julian and Andre. Do you know them?”

I shrug my shoulders.

“Well they live nearly opposite you on the Exeter Road – they have the old red vintage car outside on the drive,” he informs me.

I look to Chris.

“We know the car…” says Chris, nodding.

“But not the people,” I finish his sentence.

“Well they know you,” our checkout man with the permed hair gloats. “That will be thirty-one pounds sixty,” he adds.

Out in the store car park I ask Chris:

“How on earth did he know me? I’ve never even seen him before – who is he? And who are Julian and Andre? Do you know them?”

“He paid me my lottery winnings, that’s as much as I know,” Chris says, “and by the way, who are you?”

“I don’t know – you’d better ask Julian and Andre who live at the house with the rusty old red Riley on the driveway….”