To Love and Be Loved(9)

Her sister did this, too, joked about petty rivalry and smarted if ever Merrin was shown any advantage. Ruby’s envy was sometimes funny, but just as often it was upsetting and misplaced, and Merrin was unsure from where it had sprung.

‘That’s not true, Rubes,’ her dad placated. ‘I’ve never had fancy for a whole hog; reckon we’d go for a couple of pheasant.’

‘Very funny.’ Her sister huffed. ‘Well, be in no doubt, I’m not sad. I finally get the whole bedroom! It’s a good, good day. I’m opening the gin!’

‘Atta girl!’ Bella clapped.

Her sister rummaged in the cupboard, pulling out four mismatched glasses of varying shapes and sizes, into which she sloshed generous amounts of gin, topped up with slightly flat tonic. ‘Here we go!’ She handed a glass each to her mum, Bella and Merrin, before taking one herself. ‘To the bride!’

‘To the bride!’ they chorused.

Merrin sipped the strong drink and set it to one side. Drinking wasn’t really her thing. It wasn’t that she didn’t like it; she just wasn’t very good at it. Digby ribbed her over the fact that after one small glass of wine she was what he described as tipsy.

‘Don’t I get one?’ Her dad had no such issue – he’d certainly had enough practice. ‘It’s thirsty work putting a shirt and bloody tie on.’

‘No, you’ve got to pace yourself, Dad. We can’t have you turning up at St Michael’s half cut. Can you imagine Ma Mortimer’s face if you started slurring your words or tripped up the aisle, or worse, farted during the vows? She’d never forgive you!’ Ruby pulled a wide-eyed expression at their dad, who nodded at the truth.

‘Don’t think she likes me much as it is, can’t see a fart making that much difference. I recall the great Sunday lunch when we were summoned and old Guthrie was as pickled as a herring at the top of the table, and she was swanning around like it was normal to have her husband snoring in the chair before they’d even served the pud. Nuts, they are. And she had the nerve to tut when I licked my finger, having pushed up the drip on the gravy jug. Bloody woman.’ He mumbled, then left the cottage, whistling.

‘How you feeling, Merry?’ Bella, always able to read her friend’s mood, asked softly.

Merrin found a neutral expression and sat back down, not keen to be reminded of the awkward lunch and how she and Digby had stared at each other, wishing they were anywhere but refereeing at the table while their parents tried to slice through the atmosphere with small talk and Guthrie mumbled in his sleep. Bella eased her wide bum into the chair opposite hers.

‘Calmer than I thought. Excited.’ She raised her shoulders as her mum once again set to work with the curling tongs, pulling her hair this way and that. ‘I can’t wait for it all to begin . . .’

‘Now’ – Bella sipped her gin – ‘there is something we need to talk about.’

‘What’s that then?’ She was curious.

‘When you’re married, which you will be in a few hours’ – she looked at her watch – ‘Digby may . . . and don’t be scared, but he may want to have sexy time with you.’

‘Oh, for the love of God!’ her mum tutted, but her shoulders shook with laughter.

‘Sorry to have to mention it in front of you, Mrs K, but it’s a fact. And someone needs to set this poor, innocent girl straight.’ Bella held up her hands authoritatively.

Ruby threw her head back and howled her joy. This was Bella’s skill; her words and humour provided a glue of neutrality that bound her to her sister. Merrin felt her face colour, glad she was leaning forward with her eyes on her bare feet, which, she could see, needed a good scrub.

Bella continued, undeterred. ‘Sexy time can be a wonderful thing.’ Her voice was solemn and flat, like she was giving a sermon.

‘Well, you should know, you do it often enough,’ Ruby put in.

‘Ruby Mae!’ her mum shouted.

‘What? It’s true. And please don’t interrupt her, Ma, this could be the most important advice our Merrin gets today.’

‘I very much doubt that,’ her mum added.

Bella coughed; she loved an audience. ‘Miss Merrin Mercy Kellow, I’m going to give you the advice my dear, sweet old mother gave me.’

‘Your mum is not dear or sweet and she’d cuss the hide off you if she heard you call her old,’ Heather interjected.

‘I’m ignoring you, Mrs K.’ Bella cleared her throat. ‘Now, I’m going to give you the basics. And it’s all to do with his wiggle and your tuppence.’ Even Bella struggled to contain her laughter.

‘Tuppence!’ Merrin clutched her stomach, as laughter erupted from her. ‘I haven’t called it “tuppence” since we were at primary school!’

‘Well, I don’t know what else to call it.’ Bella seemed to consider her options. ‘I quite like “lady garden”.’

‘Lady garden!’ Ruby shrieked. Merrin was becoming increasingly glad her dad had left the house.

‘My mother prefers the word “privates”,’ Bella added.

‘Privates!’

The girls laughed loudly, and even her mum joined in. This was more like the mirth and joy she had envisaged for her wedding day.