To Love and Be Loved(79)

‘Oh, my goodness! That feels so lovely. Thank you.’ It took a while for her to take it all in. In addition to the many candles that were on the floor, the bookshelf and the TV unit, there was a generous spread of rose petals on the bed cover and the room was scented with lavender oil. A fancy silver ice bucket, purloined no doubt from the restaurant, sat brimming with ice and the foil-wrapped neck of a bottle of bubbly poked from the top.

‘Miguel! This is all very posh!’ She felt a little overwhelmed, knowing how hard his shift would have been today and still he had found the time for this. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’ He placed her feet on the floor still wrapped in the warm towel and reached for a large, flat, red box, tied with a red ribbon.

‘Chocolates! Well, now you’re talking. Forget the petals – give me the candy! Do I have to share them?’ She laughed, trying to lighten the atmosphere, to make it funny, to hide the painful recollection of having seen Digby and the barrage of uncomfortable memories that he had awoken.

Again he sank down on to the floor and held the box in his hands; the candlelight lit up his handsome face.

‘It’s not chocolates,’ he began. His fingers pulled on the red bow and she silently hoped it wasn’t lingerie, knowing that tonight she was running on empty, tired from running around all day, and the encounter with Digby had been more than a little draining. Their exchange and the shock of it all had taken its toll. All she longed for was sleep. The thought of having to slip into something slinky when what she really wanted was the feel of her fleecy pj’s against her skin and to put her head on her pillow . . .

‘I love you, Merrin.’

He held her eyeline and spoke slowly, earnestly, and she felt the flicker of recognition at what was to come and with it came a sinking feeling in her stomach, reminded by her encounter with Digby of just how differently she felt about Miguel. She adored him, of that there was no doubt, but love – big, real, grown-up, happily-ever-after love – no, no, that was not how she felt. And if he proposed, she knew she would have to refuse him. It was almost more than she could stand, to look at his beautiful face lit by candlelight knowing she was going to hurt him.

‘Thank you.’ Her voice was small as she sat forward in the chair. ‘Miguel, I—’

‘Merrin Mercy Kellow,’ he began, ignoring her, his voice steady, as if the words he was about to say were well practised and he needed to get them out. ‘I think you are the most amazing person I’ve ever met. I remember the day I arrived here and I was happy enough to be starting the job, but then I saw you and—’ He broke into a big smile, as if the thought of that day was enough to make him happy. He removed a smaller red box from the larger one – ring-sized.

Sweet, sweet, beautiful Miguel . . .

‘You were so warm and kind and funny and beautiful, and then when I plucked up the courage to ask you for a drink and you threw up in the drain . . .’

‘Miguel, please, I need to say—’

‘No, you don’t get to interrupt this time, this is my moment, and yours comes in a minute.’ He gripped her hand. ‘I love you. And I know I will love you for the rest of my life. And it’s a life that would be poorer if you weren’t by my side.’ He jostled the little red box and was about to open it when her phone rang in her pocket.

‘Ignore it,’ he implored. ‘Please.’

She looked at the screen, a little relieved that a call had come in for her at that moment. She could stall, think!

‘I can’t. It’s Ruby. She never calls, and never this late.’

‘Ruby?’ She held the phone to her ear and struggled to make out any words between the unmistakable sound of her sister crying and trying to catch her breath. ‘Ruby, what’s the matter? Ruby!’ She sat forward, calling with some urgency, as her heart thudded in her throat and her chest filled with a rising sense of panic. Had something happened to the baby? To Jarvis?

‘Come . . . come home, Merry. You need . . . you need to come home!’

‘What’s happened?’ she pressed, wanting and not wanting to hear whatever it was that had reduced her sister to this. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Dad—’ she began, and Merrin felt the first bite of shock.

‘Is he okay? Ruby, please, take a breath and tell me what’s happened!’

Miguel came closer, his expression alarmed and the red box nowhere in sight.

‘He’s dead, Merry! Oh, my God!’ her sister wailed. ‘He died! My dad died!’

Merrin felt the air leave her lungs and her throat almost close. She didn’t remember ending the call or explaining to Miguel what had happened, but was aware that he had crouched down in front of her and had taken her hands into his own.

‘Don’t worry, Merrin. Don’t worry. You are in shock, love. I’ll drive you home. I’ll drive you to the front door. It’s all going to be okay.’ She remembered offering her sister a similar lie when Gramps had died. ‘We’ll go in my car. Take your time, it’s all going to be okay,’ he repeated. ‘I’m taking you home, my love. I’ll take you home.’ He kissed her forehead as one might a child’s and she sat back in the chair. His words echoed around her, surreal and almost comical in their absurdity. Her dad . . . not her dad! She felt swamped by exhaustion but at the same time wired, on high alert, trying to make sense of what Ruby had told her. It didn’t feel true.