To Love and Be Loved(43)

‘It is.’ She pictured the view from the cobbles out over the cove and her heart danced at the image.

‘What about you?’

‘Kilburn, North London, not quite so beautiful, but it has its charms. People are often very disappointed when they meet me, given the name. I think they expect some charming Latino. I’m third-generation Brit – my grandad’s Spanish. You ever been to Spain?’

‘No,’ she answered sharply, and it was his turn to laugh. A couple walked through, making their way to breakfast. The woman’s hair was wet and they were holding hands.

Merrin stood up straight. ‘Good morning!’

‘Morning.’ They waved, barely noticing her, intently interested in each other. This she noted with a quiver of envy, despite her resolution not to allow love to cloud her judgement or damage her more than it already had.

‘Is Lionel expecting you? Would you like me to let him know you are here?’

‘Yes, please.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘I’m a bit nervous!’

She lifted the phone to call her boss and smiled at Miguel. ‘Don’t be, he’s lovely, and it’s a great place to work.’

‘What do you like to do? When you’re not working?’ he asked, his eyes not leaving hers.

In no particular order, I like fast cars, ice cream and tennis . . .

‘Not much. I like to watch a bit of TV and walk on the grass.’ She pressed the number and Lionel answered. ‘Lionel, I have Miguel Rochas in reception for you.’

‘Ah, splendid! He’s early. I’ll be down in a mo.’

‘He’s on his way.’ She put down the phone.

‘Thanks. Your hobbies are interesting,’ he said in mock seriousness. ‘What’s the best grass you’ve walked on and where?’

‘I didn’t say they were hobbies!’ she corrected. ‘And actually, I do have some favourite grass. It’s on a cliff edge, overlooking some pretty treacherous rocks.’ She felt the swell of emotion in her throat as she remembered her last climb up to Reunion Point.

‘I’m guessing it’s in Cornwall?’

‘You guess right.’ She liked his manner.

‘And great that you’re only two or three hours away. Do you get back there much?’

‘Erm . . .’ As she tried to figure how best to answer she felt the pull of the tide and the lure of the salty breeze as it came off the sea and lifted her hair and her spirits, the feel of the cobbles beneath her bare feet . . . followed immediately by the image of Lizzie Lick. ‘Not as often as I’d like.’

‘The joy of working in the hospitality industry – long hours, little sleep and your time is rarely your own.’

‘Yep.’

‘Ah, Miguel! Welcome to Milbury Court!’ Lionel shook his hand firmly and guided him away from the reception.

Merrin noted the way Miguel looked back over his shoulder at her before disappearing around the corner.





CHAPTER TEN


MERRIN

It was a year now since Merrin had arrived in Thornbury and yet there were still mornings when she woke and it took a second for her to remember where she was. The bed in her room was wide and comfortable, the carpet soft, the view lovely, and yet she would wake with a start, her breath coming quickly and tears trickling from her eyes.

It was almost instinctive, this mourning for the place she had lived her whole life. Especially on days like this when she had dreamt of Port Charles. She had been sitting on the embroidered cushion in the window seat, the sound of gulls filling the air while her dad whistled in the little bathroom at the back of the lean-to and her mum fried eggs on the range. It was revisiting this beloved normality in sleep that made waking hardest to bear. It wasn’t that life here in Thornbury was desperate or that she was sad all the time, far from it, but still, to survive the day she had to shake thoughts of the harbourside from her mind and forge on.

Her telephone buzzed with an incoming call from Bella.

‘Bit early for you?’ she yawned.

‘Bit late, actually, haven’t been to bed yet!’

She could tell by her friend’s excited tone that this fact was a cause for celebration.

‘Hmm, so you’ve either got yourself a job with a nightshift or you met a man; let me guess . . .’ If things were different and she was living happily in Kellow Cottages, then Bella would right about now be knocking on her front door and they would be sharing this news face to face and, more than likely, she would have been present when her best friend had actually met this man and would therefore be part of the story. And that really summed up what it was like to live away: she felt like she was no longer part of the story. Excluded. Written out.

‘Oh, my God, Merry, he’s gorgeous!’

She dug deep to find a smile, not wanting to taint her friend’s lovely news with her own melancholy. ‘Gorgeous-looking or gorgeous person?’

‘Both! He’s Dutch, tall, a yachtie. He crews on fancy boats for people with too much money and too little time, takes them from port to port and then hops off when the owner arrives. Travels all over the world. And right now, luckily for me, he’s hopped off in Port Charles!’ Bella squealed her excitement.

‘Where did you meet him?’ She wanted the detail.