The day passed in a flash, as those worked hard often do, and before she knew it, Friday had dawned and she and Miguel were on the road. The car had been packed slowly and with trepidation as she considered the wisdom of returning at all. She paused often, looking at the little rust bucket that was to transport them, and at one point hoped it might break down and make travelling impossible. She even wondered how easy it would be to catch Vanya’s nasty tummy upset, which would mean confinement to bed – anything that might give her a reason to legitimately bow out.
In the run-up to today, she had barely slept, tossing and turning as dreams wrenched her from rest, all with images of her in her wedding dress, the diamanté waistband glittering in the sunlight as she traipsed up the aisle after her sister, much to the amusement of the great and good of Port Charles. She figured the best way to get through it might be with the aid of Dutch courage. An image of a strong glass of gin being put in her hand formed in her head and how very, very happy she had been on her ‘almost’ wedding day . . . well, the first half of it anyway.
Not that she would be mentioning anything Dutch upon her return. It was not long after Granny Ellen’s death that Bella had found herself single and pregnant. Abandoned by Luuk, her handsome Dutchman with whom she had enjoyed a short-lived but all-consuming fling. He was, it turned out, big on promises, but a little short on delivery. Merrin was proud of how her friend was coping as a single mum and couldn’t wait to see her. It had been hard and isolating, offering advice and following her pregnancy remotely.
‘I wish I could be with you . . .’
‘Me too . . .’
And now she watched Miguel grip the passenger seat – this before they had even hit the motorway.
‘You need to relax – you being a nervous passenger makes me a nervous driver.’
‘Oh, great, that’s all I need to know. As if it wasn’t bad enough that I have to travel in this noisy old bone-shaker of a car!’
Merrin gasped and ran her hand over the dashboard. ‘Don’t listen to him, Vera Wilma Brown!’
‘You are the only person I know whose car has a first, middle and last name.’
‘Maybe you know the wrong kind of people,’ she teased to cover her nerves, which she feared were obvious.
‘Maybe I do.’
‘I promise to deliver you safely if you apologise for calling her a bone-shaker. I can tell she’s offended.’ She pumped the accelerator to make the car jump a little.
‘I really don’t want to.’ He folded his arms, his phone in his hand.
‘Well, that’s your choice, but it costs nothing to be nice, Miguel!’
‘Jesus! I’m sorry,’ he mumbled.
‘Sorry, Vera Wilma Brown,’ she enunciated, throwing him a hard look.
‘Sorry, Vera Wilma Brown!’ he yelled.
It made Merrin laugh. ‘See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? And now we’re all happy!’ She beamed.
‘Are we all happy?’ he asked gently.
She nodded. ‘I’m painting on my happy face and hoping my guts catch up. I’ve got to do this. I should do this.’ She was wary of letting on just how petrified she was. It was a big deal. She and Ruby needed to reknit their closeness and Merrin figured there was no better way to do so than with her sister’s nuptials as their backdrop. Going home for the first time was nerve-wracking enough, but to attend a wedding? She shivered. On top of this she was taking home a boy, knowing that her parents would interpret this as a serious statement, whereas it was in fact anything but. Miguel was simply her handsome beau, on whom she could lean during this trying trip. She hoped that her family, or Miguel himself for that matter, would not get the wrong message, and was anxious about how she might manage that.
‘Okay.’ He squeezed her leg. ‘Did we get journey snacks?’ He sounded endearingly like a child.
‘Journey snacks? You had a monstrous breakfast not an hour ago and we have only been going for minutes! You can’t possibly need snacks!’
‘Well, I don’t right now, but I like to plan what I’m going to eat on the journey.’
‘I have snacks,’ she reassured. ‘But if I didn’t, I know Mum will have baked for us; wedding or not, she won’t miss the opportunity to have you fawn over her chocolate brownies.’ She felt a surge of excitement at the thought of seeing her mum. It had been too long.
Heather Kellow might only have been three hours away, but with work commitments, the fact that she didn’t drive and was loath to leave Port Charles, where she had been in turn looking after Granny Ellen, supporting Ben after the death of his mother and then planning for Ruby’s wedding, it had been hard to make a plan to travel to Thornbury. And that was before the cost of such an excursion was taken into consideration. Plus, with Merrin regularly promising to make the trip, no one, Merrin included, could have envisaged a whole two years passing before she jumped in Vera Wilma Brown and headed home.
‘It’s one of the only reasons I agreed to come. I love home cooking.’
‘Charming! You mean you’re not looking forward to seeing my sister get wed?’
‘It’s not that, it’s more the sleeping arrangements I object to.’ He sucked air through his teeth at the horror of it.
Merrin chuckled, having explained to him they would have to sleep in the tiny single beds on opposite sides of her childhood bedroom, where soft toys and boxes of Lego sat on the shelves and her parents slept on the other side of the wall. Her sister had moved into Granny Ellen’s cottage next door not long after she had died and Jarvis had joined her almost immediately. Miguel had been informed in no uncertain terms that he was forbidden from crossing the gap between the two beds, as the slightest creak on the floorboard could almost guarantee her dad coming through the door with an axe. Okay, so she had made the axe bit up, but she hoped it served the purpose, encouraging him to stay put until daybreak.
‘Two nights, Miguel,’ she reminded him. ‘Just two nights out of three hundred and sixty-five. I’m sure you’ll manage.’
Both fell silent as the car trundled on to the motorway. Merrin felt a roll of nausea as she remembered where they were headed. The quiet was no good for her nervous musings.