MERRIN
Merrin concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Ignoring the physical pain in her chest, her narrowed throat and her eyes now bitterly sore from sobbing, she gripped her trainers in her fingers and stumbled her way along the harbour wall, counting the steps and the moments until she could fall through the front door of the little cottage and into her mother’s arms.
‘I want to disappear . . .’ she whispered.
‘Ah, there she is!’ came the shout.
She looked up in time to see Mr and Mrs Everit walking briskly towards her, still in their Sunday best and clearly making the most of the effort they had gone to, parading around the harbour. Her heart sank, wanting nothing less than this interaction in her current state of distress.
‘Merrin, you poor little lamb,’ the woman called, and waved as she drew close. ‘What can we say?’ Mrs Everit reached out and pulled her into an awkward hug. ‘If I’ve said it once today, I’ve said it a thousand times, you were the prettiest bride I ever did see.’
Her stomach bunched with something close to shame to hear the words of falsehood, because she might have looked pretty, but she was no bride. Shrugging herself free, she took a step backwards, hopefully out of reach, whilst trying to acknowledge, as best as she was able, the misplaced compliment.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered, rubbing her thumb on the underside of her finger, where she used to feel the bump of a gold band; just another thing that had been taken away from her today and that she would have to get used to.
‘Not that it makes what happened any easier for you, I’m sure.’ The woman tutted and shook her head with a look of abject pity. ‘Now will you look at the state of your face, what a thing! Of course, I can’t imagine what you are going through. Mr Everit was as keen as a puppy offered sausage on our wedding day, couldn’t get me up the aisle quick enough.’
Merrin glanced at Mr Everit, who gave a salient nod in confirmation.
‘But you listen to me, girl, I’ll tell you what I’ve told everyone I’ve seen: you are only young and there’s plenty of time to find someone who will take you on. Didn’t I say that, Walt?’ She nudged her husband, who again nodded his confirmation. ‘People will stop talking about it in time.’
People are talking? Of course they are! They all are! Merrin felt her face colour at the confirmation of her worst nightmare.
‘And then you can get back on the horse!’ Mrs Everit exclaimed. ‘Don’t you worry, Merrin, someone will want you!’
‘I . . .’ Words of goodbye failed her.
‘Merrin! Merrin!’ She heard the voice calling behind her and turned to see the Reverend Pimm, who, in his jeans and shirt, took a second longer for her to place than was comfortable. He signalled from the pavement in front of the pub and beckoned to her.
‘We’ll no doubt see you very soon, dear,’ Mrs Everit said with her head cocked to one side and a half-smile of pity on her mouth. It made Merrin feel worthless, like a thing to be comforted, and she hated it.
The vicar jogged up over the stones and along the slipway. Pulling the sleeves of her t-shirt over her shaky hands, she walked down to meet him.
‘Sit! Before you fall; you’re very pale.’ He patted the wide, low wall and she did as he instructed. ‘I thought you looked like you might need rescuing.’ He pulled a comic face and she raised the smallest hint of a smile.
‘Mrs Everit means well.’ She had known the woman with her unfiltered observations and warm heart all of her life.
‘No doubt.’ He took the spot next to her and rested his foot on an old lobster pot. ‘Stupid question, I know, but how are you feeling?’
She coughed to clear her throat, but even so her voice was still little more than a rasp. ‘I don’t know really. Like I’m falling . . .’
‘I bet.’ He took his time. ‘It might feel like the end of the world, but it isn’t. I see people all the time who are torn with grief and they can’t imagine a day when they’ll be glad to see the dawn, but that day comes. It’s a surprise to them, always, but not to me because I see it often. It’ll be the same for you, Merry. I’m sure of it.’
‘I hope so. I don’t know what to do now. I don’t know what happens . . .’ She stared at the water and tried to sort through her jumble of thoughts. ‘I feel . . .’ Again the right words were not readily forthcoming. ‘Like I’ve run into a wall and I am in pieces and I don’t know how I’ll get put back together.’
‘You’ll put yourself back together and that’ll be your job for a while; take time to do it, let it be your preoccupation. It’s necessary. Hindsight will show you that this is a great opportunity. You’ll be like a house flattened by a flood or a tornado – rebuilt stronger than before, able to withstand whatever life throws at you, because you will have come through the storm.’
His words offered little comfort, and she wiped her nose and spoke with her eyes lowered. ‘Did you ever get the feeling, Vicar, you know, when we were having our classes and stuff, did you ever think, “Oh, this won’t last”, or that he might not have loved me or anything?’ Her question was draped with a tone of desperation; she wanted to understand, to see if there was something she’d missed.
He shook his head. ‘I’ve been thinking about those sessions, and no.’ He sighed. ‘I often get an inkling when people are going through the motions or when one half of the couple appears to be under duress, and I tailor my advice accordingly. Trust me, I’ve seen it all.’ He paused and looked up. ‘But with you and Digby? I was happy to give you my blessing. Excited for your future.’
‘Me too.’ Her tears clouded her vision.