‘Jesus!’ said Thomas, his voice smothered by the weather. Penny could barely hear him, and he had to shout. ‘Where did this all come from?’

‘It was so nice this morning!’ Penny yelled back.

‘What are you doing out here?’ came a voice from across the car park, and Thomas and Penny saw Priyesh climbing out of his Land Rover. ‘You’ll get blown away!’ he said, and he was shouting, too.

‘The roof!’ said Penny, pointing to the small outhouse. ‘Wanna help?’

‘Sure!’ said Priyesh, taking off his watch and putting it in his pocket, pulling out a Barbour jacket from the boot of his car and slipping it on.

Inside the pub, Francesco watched all of this unfold. He watched Penny standing in the rain and the wind with Thomas, and Priyesh pull up, and the way Penny was gesticulating to the outhouses. He could see that the tiles seemed unsteady, and it didn’t take much to figure out that she was out there trying to secure them before the storm threatened to blow everything away. He grabbed his raincoat and slipped through the bar and into the kitchen, to take the back way out.

‘Need a hand?’ he yelled, as Thomas and Priyesh were manhandling a huge sheet of tarpaulin against the wind.

‘Yes!’ said Thomas. ‘Take this!’

Francesco used his arm to help manoeuvre the middle part of the sheet, and Penny said, ‘Here!’ and passed him some bricks from the pile by the skip. They worked quickly and in harmony, securing the tiles as best they could. The rain came almost sideways, and Penny had to keep her face turned at an angle because the force it hit her with was almost painful. It was hard to see, but the men worked quickly and as a team, limiting any potential damage.

‘I think that’s enough!’ she shouted into the elements. ‘We did it!’

As they ran back to the pub the villagers crowded under the outdoor heaters cheered.

Inside the porch, the four of them – Penny, Francesco, Priyesh and Thomas – stood dripping in varying states of being soaked.

‘Jesus,’ said Priyesh, shaking his hands of water and peeling off his Barbour jacket.

‘That was crazy!’ said Francesco, his t-shirt stuck to him where his coat had flown open. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever known a storm like it!’

‘Sorry-not-sorry lads, but—’ Thomas said, taking off his sodden t-shirt. ‘I’m wet through. Have you got a towel, Pen?’ he asked, and Penny replied, without her eye wavering to his naked torso, that yes, she did. Thomas stood half naked and smiling, totally unabashed. It was typical Thomas.