It was Ruby’s turn to squeeze her fingers. Heather looked lovingly at her daughters, unified in joy and sorrow, then she shook the paper and recommenced reading.
When you’re ready and you’ve done enough adventuring and figuring out, come home, Merrin. Come back to Port Charles, this little place where your spirit lingers even after you’ve driven off in Vera Wilma Brown. Walk the beach barefoot in all weathers, my little wanderin’ maid, and let yourself be. Be open to what is right in front of your very eyes and let yourself be happy.
Merrin smiled through her tears. I will, my daddy, I will . . .
That’s it, my girls. Look after each other. Hold each other close. Drink tea. Sit in the sunshine. Celebrate the good. Don’t dwell on the bad. Know that you girls made me a king. A bloody king! And Rubes, don’t punch anything, ever again.
Your dad. Your husband.
Ben Kellow. X
There was a moment of weighted silence during which Heather smiled in spite of herself, ignoring the tears that pooled in her eyes, just as Merrin and her sister did the same, snuffling and laughing and shaking their heads as if still not quite able to believe what they had been gifted. Their father’s words were like a soft, gentle broom, starting to sweep away the sadness of his loss, starting to help them heal.
‘Poor old Dr Levington!’ Heather tutted, wiping her nose on her handkerchief. ‘Your dad’s right, though: we can miss him, mourn him, but we mustn’t let guilt or bickering be his legacy. Do you understand me?’
Her words were pointed and firm as she looked between her daughters. Merrin nodded and felt Ruby do likewise.
‘Now.’ She sighed deeply, rubbing at the deep furrows etched across her brow, a reminder that she, like them, was still in the first stages of deep grief. ‘I want to go back to my bed.’ Heather stood slowly and walked to the door, then, gripping the frame, she turned to face her daughters. ‘Your dad isn’t the only one who loves you fiercely. I do too. My flesh and blood. My girls. I’m quite sure you’ve both got a lot to talk about.’ Her words were gently spoken, but felt very much like an instruction.
Merrin and Ruby stared at each other a little sheepishly and let go of each other’s hand. Her parents were right: they had to draw a roadmap of how to go forward without the bickering or negativity that had the power to slay the other’s confidence. The fact that it happened at all was as ridiculous as it was damaging.
‘Shall we go sit outside for a bit?’ Merrin asked tentatively, knowing the view and the fine sea air would be lost to her once she jumped on that train – that and it was easier to talk looking straight ahead.
Ruby nodded and they grabbed coats and hats from the rack by the front door and carried the thick blankets to place over their legs. They sat on the wide, low wall with the best view of the bay in the whole of Port Charles. Side by side, just as they had been doing since they were toddlers while their mum cut their hair or their dad stood alongside telling them tales of the big old ocean.
The golden winter sun loomed large in the morning sky, splintering the moody clouds with its rays as the white foam of the waves broke against the rocks along the foreshore. The two girls pulled their coats about their shoulders and Merrin wiggled her toes inside the knitted socks on her feet. The air was still and salty and even the gulls were subdued, as if acknowledging that life would never be the same again.
‘You’re very quiet.’ Her sister nudged her with her elbow.
‘Yeah, for the first time since the day I was supposed to marry I don’t think I want to leave. I don’t feel scared of the place, the gossip, the rumour, like I did.’
‘So don’t then.’
‘I have to, really, Rubes. I have a job, responsibilities, and all my things are in Thornbury. Plus, I need to talk to Miguel. And what would I do here?’
‘I don’t know, build that house?’ They both looked over towards the Old Boat Shed.
‘Can’t believe it’s mine. And the cottage is yours. All that lovely history of Gran and Gramps and now you and Jarv and the babby.’
‘Property owners – us? It’s wonderful, isn’t it?’ Ruby looked over her shoulder at the bricks and mortar that made up her home.
‘It really is.’ The glorious fact was still sinking in.
‘I love the little place.’ Her sister beamed.
‘I know you do.’
‘And Jarv gets the boat – he will be made up; more than made up. Can’t wait to tell him.’ Ruby stared at the little trawler moored against the harbour wall. ‘He loved me, didn’t he?’
‘Dad?’
Ruby straightened and nodded, her expression one of embarrassment, as if she hadn’t intended to say the words out loud.
‘Of course he did. He loved you so much!’ Merrin hoped that this message had finally sunk in and that her sister would go forward without the snarky chip on her shoulder.
Ruby’s smile was wide and softened her pretty face.
‘I guess what I meant when I said I don’t want to leave is that I don’t want to leave you and Mum,’ said Merrin.
‘We’ll be fine. She’s got me and I’ve got Jarv.’
Merrin dug deep and found the confidence to speak. ‘I don’t want you to ever feel jealous about me and Jarvis: it’s nuts and unnecessary and hurtful. I swear to—’
‘I know, Merry.’ Ruby interrupted her and held her gaze. ‘I know. I think it might be my hormones and—’
‘And what?’ She pulled the blanket around her legs and turned to face her sister, wanting to have this conversation, no matter how painful, knowing it was open communication that would take them forward. Her dad had paved the way with his beautiful letter. ‘What is it you were going to say?’
Ruby looked into the middle distance. ‘I don’t want to say it,’ she said slowly.
‘Come on, whatever it is, it’s better out of your mouth than sticking in your throat, where it’ll only go bad until you have no choice but to spit it out!’
Ruby took a deep breath. ‘When you left Port Charles, after Digby—’