The little village shop at Upper Benstead was doing a roaring trade.
'Rob Tucker says that they've had a light dusting over at Rennersten already,' Milly Owen said as she rang up Scott Merton's purchases on the cash register.
'Yeah, well, if the last couple of warnings are anything to go by, that'll be all we get,' Scott Merton assured her.
But Milly Owen didn't seem convinced. 'Oh ... I don't know. I think this one may be the real thing,' she said. 'You can feel it in the air.'
'I hope not,' Ric Brown chimed in. 'My sister and her husband are supposed to be coming up for the weekend.'
'You might need another bottle of wine then,' Milly suggested. 'The Rioja's on special. And it's quite drinkable. Dave and I tried one last night. Very nice. It certainly brightened up the beans on toast.'
'It's just the forecasting guys crying wolf,' Scott Merton said, steering the conversation back to the weather. 'Just looking to create a few headlines. We don't really get snow in Norfolk anymore. We haven't had serious snow in these parts since Adam was a cowboy.'
'Oh?' Milly said. 'And what about 2001?'
'Even that wasn't real snow,' Scott said. 'By the time that the council got the snow ploughs and gritters out, it was all over. The kids didn't even get a day off school.'
Ric was halfway back to the cottage when his phone rang. It was his sister. He pulled off the road and swiped the green button. 'Ciao, Bella.'
Mia said that she was just calling to see what the weather was doing. 'On the radio they're saying that it's pretty bad up there.'
'Well, the sky's a bit dark,' Ric said. 'But no sign of any snow yet. I've just been in to Upper Benstead and most of the locals seem to think that it's just another false alarm. We've already had a couple of severe weather warnings this winter, and neither has come to anything.'
'Andrew is over in Bristol. He says the snow there is really heavy. He's thinking of staying there for the weekend. Save him driving back over on Monday.'
'Well you could still come up,' Ric said. 'Catch the train. I'll come and pick you up from the station.'
'Umm ...' Mia didn't sound sure. 'Umm ...,' she said again. And then she said: 'OK. Yeah. Why not? If I get myself organised, I can probably get the 3:35 from King's Cross. Do you need anything?'
'No. Just you,' her brother said. 'I'll be waiting for you at the station.'
When Ric got back to the cottage, it felt a little chillier than usual. It was probably just his imagination. But he turned the heating up a notch anyway. He also checked the oil gauge. It was nearly on empty. Still, the tanker was due to make a delivery within the next couple of hours. Just as well he had got the order in when he did.
Ric went back outside and scanned the sky again. It was definitely getting darker. But there was still no sign of snow. If the snow did come, it would come from the west, from across forty acre field.
Ric went and tidied up the barn. His neighbours, Helen and Mike, were off skiing in the French alps and Ric was looking after their three horses. If the weather did pack in, he might have to put the horses into the barn for the night.
Mia's train arrived late.
'We were almost a quarter of an hour late leaving,' she said. 'It was snowing quite heavily as we came through North London.'
Ric scanned the sky again. 'Well, hard to say, but I think that this lot might have gone right around us. That sometimes happens. Another false alarm perhaps.'
'Oh well ... let's hope so,' Mia said.
They were just going past the turnoff to Parklands when Ric's phone rang. It wasn't a number that he recognised.
'Do you want me to answer that for you?' Mia asked.
'Umm ... yeah. Thanks.'
Mia had a brief conversation and pressed End. 'The oil people,' she said. 'They say that you're down for a delivery. But, with this weather, the tanker might not get to you until the morning.'
'Bugger,' Ric said. 'The tank is getting pretty low. And I'm never quite sure how accurate the gauge is.'
Back at the cottage, Ric turned the heating down a couple of notches - just in case - and put another couple of logs in the wood-burner. 'Right,' he said. 'A cup of tea? Or are you ready for a glass of vino?'
'Well ... it is Friday,' Mia said.
Ric poured a couple of glasses of pinot grigio, and then decided that perhaps he had better go and get in some more firewood while there was still some light. When he returned, his jacket was speckled with damp blotches. 'I think that I should probably get the horses in,' he said. 'The breeze seems to have gone around to the northwest.'
'And snow I assume,' Mia said, nodding in the direction of his jacket.
'Just a few flakes in the wind. Nothing serious. Well ... not at this stage anyway.'
'Do you need a hand? With the horses?'
'No, I'll be fine, thanks. The boys are probably waiting at the gate already. They don't like the nor'wester. There's not really any shelter from that quarter.'
When Ric returned, he was in the early stages of turning into a snowman.
His sister nodded. 'Did the horses appreciate their change of accommodation?'
'They did. I gave them a bit of haylage, too,' Ric said. 'I suspect that the forecasters may have got it right this time.'
Ric was just drying his hair when an ominous knocking sound came from the corner of the kitchen. 'Oh-oh. Sounds as if the oil was even lower than I thought. I think I'd better turn the heating off. It'll be sucking air. Damn.' Ric looked at his watch. 'I don't suppose we'll see the tanker now.'
'Well ... at least we have the fire,' Mia said.
'Yeah. And the hob should be fine,' Ric said. 'I changed the LPG cylinder just yesterday. So supper's safe.'
Mia went and peered out of the kitchen window. 'It looks as if that snow is starting to get serious,' she said. 'Just as well I didn't try for a later train.'
Ric nodded. 'I thought we'd have Cacciucco for supper,' he said. 'They had fresh monkfish at the market over in Norsand yesterday. And prawns. I've already made a broth from the prawn heads and shells.'
His sister smiled. 'I thought that I could smell something good,' she said.
Ric looked at his watch. 'It'll only take a few minutes to put it all together. Why don't we go and sit in front of the fire for a moment or two?'
In a funny sort of a way, it was good that Mia had come on her own. Mia was a couple of years older than Ric. The brother and sister got on really well. They always had. But Ric found Andrew - Mia's husband - a bit heavy going. 'What's Andrew up to over in Bristol?' Ric asked.
'Probably fucking his assistant,' Mia said.
Ric did a double take. 'Oh? Really?'
Mia laughed. 'Oh, I don't know,' she said. 'But he does seem to spend an awful lot of time with her.'
'Well ... I suppose if she's his ... you know ... assistant ...'
'Yeah. I suppose so,' Mia said. 'Anyway, how's the book coming along?'
'Umm ... yes. It seems to be going quite well,' Ric said. 'I was a bit worried about Charlie for a while there.'
'Charlie? Who's Charlie? One of your characters?'
'My editor. I was worried that he didn't seem to understand what I was trying to do.'
'But?'
Ric smiled. 'But all is now fine. It just took us a moment or two to work out that I'm a morning person and Charlie's an evening person. Now that we have that sorted out ... I know not to call him before midday, and he knows not to call me after about four in the afternoon.'
'Makes sense,' Mia said.
They chatted on for 20 minutes or so, sipping their wine, and enjoying the warmth from the fire, when suddenly the lights went out.