To Love and Be Loved(94)

‘You could always find a man with failing sight, or better still, one that lives in a dark cave and only wears gloves. That way he won’t be able to feel your saggy skin or see it.’

‘You are not making me feel any better, Rubes,’ Bella tutted.

‘Oh, you should have said!’ Ruby laughed. ‘If it’s reassurance you’re after, then, Bells, you absolute goddess, you have the body of a supermodel and skin like peaches! In fact, scrap that, I don’t want you to think I am referring to your top-lip fuzz.’ She touched her finger to her own top lip.

‘Top-lip fuzz?’ Bella squealed, running her finger around her mouth. ‘Do I have top-lip fuzz? Did you know about the top-lip thing?’ she asked Merrin directly, who shook her head, but looked away.

‘For the love of God! Well, that’s that then: dark-cave-dwelling, glove-wearing man it is . . . And you can laugh, Ruby Mae, but in a few short months you too will be pushing a small human from your tuppence and then we’ll see who’s laughing!’

‘I hate you,’ Ruby spat.

‘I know, but you are stuck with me.’ Bella grinned. ‘You both are.’

‘Digby Mortimer turned up at Milbury Court. On the night Dad died.’ Merrin let this drop like it was incidental.

‘You’re actually kidding me right now?’ Ruby stared at her.

‘I’m not.’

‘When?’ her sister practically yelled, ‘Jesus! You didn’t think that was worth sharing?’

‘Believe it or not, I’ve had one or two things on my mind,’ Merrin shot back.

‘What did he want, pitching up after all this time? The prick,’ Ruby added for good measure.

‘He didn’t want anything! He didn’t know I was working there.’ She pictured his lovely wife, smiling and chatting, and then his ashen face when he’d walked in . . .

‘And actually, I think it did you good, don’t you, Merry? It sounds like you laid some old ghosts to rest,’ Bella added.

‘Oh, and of course you knew about this?’ Ruby snapped, but with humour and not spite; it felt good to be able to speak this freely.

‘She answered the phone from the cupboard!’ Bella yelled in her own defence, pointing at Merrin as if whatever was amiss were her fault. They laughed and Merry realised this was just like old times, the three of them chatting the morning away without the shadow of bitterness from one of her and Ruby’s squabbles falling over them. It felt like progress, it felt like love, it felt like home. And if she closed her eyes, she could kid herself that her dad was inside, upstairs with her mum, and that Digby Mortimer hadn’t nearly succeeded in throwing her so wildly off course. This was the truth: he had not succeeded, because here she was, a little adrift and in mourning, but undoubtedly stronger than she had been. Like a house rebuilt after a flood or a tornado – rebuilt stronger than before, able to withstand whatever life threw at her because she had come through the storm.

‘A home.’ She looked out over the boat shed.

‘What did you say?’ Bella cocked her ear to better hear.

‘My home. The Old Boat Shed. It’s mine.’ She beamed, as a plan took shape in her mind.



Miguel met her from the train station, placed her small suitcase on the back seat and drove her out to Thornbury.

‘I’m so glad you’re back.’ He kept glancing at her as he navigated the lanes, as if almost unable to believe she had returned, but also something else – possibly a sixth sense that she carried news he might not want to hear. ‘I had a word with Lionel and you’ve got today and tomorrow to get yourself together and aren’t on the rota until Friday.’

‘Thank you.’ She meant it, as ever, truly grateful for his thoughtfulness.

‘I thought this afternoon you could just nap and I’ll bring you a nice supper and you can settle back in.’

She nodded, not able to deny that a nap sounded tempting, but knowing there were more pressing things to attend to. The castle looked a little gloomy in the winter light and was without a peacock in sight as she kicked off her shoes and lay on the bed. Her heart suddenly filled with longing for her dad. Her grief did this: hit her like a wave that could knock her off her feet with only the smallest of provocations.

‘Hey, don’t cry!’ Miguel dropped down by the side of the bed and knelt on the floor, smoothing her forehead. ‘I am so sad for you, for your whole family. I wish I could make it better.’

She stared at the sweet man and sat up straight, her tears contained. For now.

‘The night you left, I had plans that went horribly wrong. It was one of the worst nights I can remember, but I know it was much, much worse for you, Merrin. First that creep turning up, and then your dad . . .’

‘Miguel, we need to talk,’ she began.

‘I know.’ He gave a half-smile but his eyes spoke of sorrow.

She placed her hand over her mouth and sat very still, while trying to order the words that had been forming in her mind since that very night.

‘Miguel, you are the most wonderful human being. I love you in my own way. I do! But . . .’

‘I don’t want there to be a “but”,’ he whispered.

‘But, I don’t want to marry you and I know that’s what you were thinking of.’ She knew that straight talking would make all the difference when he looked back on it.