‘Still.’ Her mum smiled. ‘Fourteen whole days until you set off again. That means fourteen nights of you next to me in our rickety old brass bed. And there ain’t nowhere on the whole planet I’d rather wake than by your side in our little bedroom with the sloping walls, floor and ceiling. And with Merrin knocked sideways, I’m glad you’re home.’
Her dad sat back in the chair. ‘You know, I hear some of the lads on the bigger boats saying how glad they are to be away from their missus and her nagging, but I never say that and I never think it. I love you as much today, Heather, as I did when I first saw you and on our wedding day, when I put that ring on your finger. It’s important you know it. We can get through anything. And we can help Merrin get through anything.’
Merrin felt the swell of loss in her veins for all she had lost.
Letting the front door bang against the wall to herald her arrival, Merrin walked into the parlour, aware that her cheeks were flushed.
‘Morning, darlin’.’ Her mum sprang up from the floor and ran to her. ‘You been out for a wander?’
‘Yes.’ She kept her eyes on the floor and lied.
‘Let’s get you tea and toast – ain’t nothing that can’t cure.’ She rubbed the top of Merrin’s arms en route to the stove.
There was a loud knock on the door frame and her dad walked briskly to the front of the house.
‘Now then, Mac, what can I do for you?’
‘How’s young Merrin doing?’
‘Not too bad.’ Her dad spoke with as much jollity as he could muster.
‘She’s quite the celebrity!’ Mac, the pub landlord, bellowed. Her mum shot Merrin a look and hesitated to close the door, clearly unsure of the convention.
‘Is that right?’ Ben’s tone now a lot less jolly.
‘She’s the talk of the town, all right!’
His words were like daggers, sharp and wounding. Merrin felt a quake in her stomach.
‘What is it you want exactly, Mac?’ Her dad was now short with the pub landlord and she knew this was for her benefit.
‘You left your wallet on the bar last night. I said to Robin and Jarv, not like he can afford to be throwing money away. I bet it cost you a pretty packet for the wedding and all – I saw your fancy suit and Merrin’s dress! Thought I’d better bring this back to you, can’t have you any more out of pocket!’
Merrin heard the door slam and saw Mac slope off across the cobbles.
‘What the bloody hell is going on? I’m still waiting on a cup of tea!’ Ruby shouted as she hurtled down the stairs.
Merrin collapsed on to the rug in front of the sofa.
‘All I did was fall in love and all I wanted was to take care of a family, be a mum and make a home, and now this; my whole life has fallen apart! I’m a bloody laughing stock!’
‘Ignore them.’ Her mum sank down to the floor with her and held her tight. ‘Ignore them all.’
‘How can I? I wanted to live quietly.’ She looked up towards Reunion Point and wondered how long Digby had sat there, wallowing in self-pity. ‘And now I’m something different. Someone different. How can I live a quiet life in the place I love when I am marked as that girl?’
‘It’ll pass, Merry. It will.’ Her sister looked anguished.
She shook her head. ‘I can’t, I can’t stay here, not with everyone talking about me and about yesterday; I can’t stand the thought of it. I don’t want to see anyone, don’t want to go outside. Staying here with reminders on every corner and people wanting to bring it up would make it hard for me to get over it, hard for me to rebuild myself.’
‘Don’t be daft, my love.’ Her dad’s expression was fearful. ‘You are just very tired and things will seem different in a day or two. You need to be right here among the people who love you. We’ll have no more talk of not staying here. Port Charles is where you belong. It’s where we all belong!’
She tried to sit up, tried to find a way through the waves of distress that had knocked her from her feet, but her sadness was too all-consuming. Merrin didn’t know how to stop crying, didn’t know how to flick the switch that would make her instantly stop loving Digby Mortimer, but the one thing she did know: her dad was wrong, she did not belong here in Port Charles, where being left at the church and how she had been jilted would live on in the mouths and minds of all those present and even those who weren’t. She would not be that girl. She would not give old Ma Mortimer the satisfaction. No.
Heaving herself into a sitting position, she looked at her wonderful parents and sister and knew that she would miss them and all the chaos of this little cottage, because she would leave. She would go away and build a life; not the life she had dreamed of, but a life away from this noise and the stain of her ‘almost’ wedding day. And she would do it alone. Forgetting these had been her thoughts and not rational conversation, she stared at her family through her tears.
‘I’m going to miss you all so much,’ she whimpered.
Her dad sank down into the chair and her mum wrapped her tightly in her arms, as if this could prevent the inevitable. The sound of their tears echoed around the bay, before the wind whipped up the saddest noise and carried it far, far out to sea.
CHAPTER EIGHT
BEN