In the chocolate aisle of the Supermarket, there was the sound of an employee's announcement, notifying customers of the Bargain Bucket in the Bakery section, and then there was high-pitch wailing. I stopped scanning the 79 flavours of Lindt and turned to the source of the piercing noise, a child who was now squirming on the linoleum floor. The father's cheeks turned red. Then he looked around, as if he was trying to hide something and wanted to make sure he was going undetected. But he was quite conspicuous. Everybody was watching.

"Jack," the father hissed. "Stop it."

The child screamed louder. The father bowed down his head, closed his eyes and massaged his forehead, as if to say, "Just shoot me."

The child let out his loudest howl. Other shoppers from other isles peered around to watch.

"Sh-hh," the father hissed again before grabbing the child's arm, lifting him up. He, the father, bowled down, so his eyes were almost in line with his son's and said, "Okay, okay. Will you stop crying if I get you the Mars Bar?"

The child quietened.

"This is our little secret, okay," the father said.

The child wiped away his tears and nodded.

"Promise?"

The child nodded.

The father grabbed the Mars Bar and placed it in the shopping trolley. He then lifted the child into the cart too. Walking out of the aisle, he kept his head down. His fingers gripped the trolley bar hard. He didn't have a wedding ring on.