Mrs. Lloyd walked down Station Road and then ventured onto the rough, uneven cobbles of the town square. Although the weather forecasters were predicting the coldest, snowiest winter in Britain in more than twenty years, she, like most townsfolk, was not well prepared. In her mind, practical, rubber-soled galoshes folks used to wear belonged in the past; like everyone else she had gotten through the recent mild winters in ordinary walking shoes.

After paying for a few groceries, she emerged from the small supermarket, toting her shopping in the reusable carrier bag from a major department store chain she had brought with her. Having lived through the days when British housewives carried all their shopping home in string bags, she was delighted to see the end of the era of disposable plastic bags and the return to sensible shopping bags.

As she shifted her handbag higher up on her arm, her foot caught on a shard of ice that had formed between the cobbles and went out from under her. She instinctively dropped the shopping bag and stretched out her arm to try to balance herself. As her other arm came up as a counterbalance, she felt a strong pair of hands under it, steadying her. A moment later, her centre of gravity restored, she felt in control again and looked to see who had come to her rescue.

A handsome man whom she judged to be in his late fifties smiled at her, his hand still resting lightly under her forearm.

“Steady on, my dear,” he said. “Are you all right now?”

Mrs. Lloyd nodded and clutched at her collar with her other hand.

“I don’t know what happened; I think I must have slipped,” she said. “It all happened so fast, but I think I would have gone right down if you hadn’t been there. Thank you.”