To Love and Be Loved(97)

‘And you can’t know when it will come knocking at your door and pull you into its web.’

‘If it comes knocking at all,’ Merrin asserted.

There was a loud knock at the door, so loud that even Merrin heard it down the line, and they both laughed.

‘Does it make you broody? Spending time with your little niece?’

‘Nah, too busy to be broody.’

‘Is that right?’ Bella tutted, before her tone suddenly changed. ‘Oh, shit! Oh, my God!’

‘You all right, Bells?’ She stood still, suddenly alert and wondering what she could do from this distance, should there be an incident at Bella’s mum’s house.

‘Yeah, it’s . . . he’s on the path, by the front door! I just looked out. It looks like . . . Oh, my . . . oh, my God . . .’ Bella gasped.

‘Bella! You’re scaring me. What’s going on? Are you okay? Do you want me to come up? I can be there in minutes?’

‘He’s . . . he’s at the window. He’s . . . he’s here . . .’

‘Who is, love? Who? Bella, talk to me. Shall I call Jarvis, or the police? Where’s your mum?’ She wished they had figured out that code once mentioned, the one to use in an emergency.

‘Oh, my God, Merry! It’s the Flying Dutchman! Luuk’s here! I gotta go.’ Bella, almost breathless, spoke with such excitement it was electrifying.

‘Letmeknowwhathappens!’ she managed to squeeze in before the phone went dead. ‘Oh, my God!’ Merrin placed her hand on her beating heart. ‘Please don’t mess her around . . . she deserves better. She deserves to be loved by someone as much as we love her.’ She threw her thoughts out into the ether and hoped the universe was listening.

An hour passed and Merrin stood back to admire the old-white colour she had chosen for much of the interior, a lovely contrast to the exposed brickwork and worn timbers it sat against.

‘Hello?’

She heard the woman’s call from the bottom of the open staircase, but with the radio on couldn’t quite work out who it was, wondering if it was her mum with food, Ruby with wine or, better still, Bella with news!

The head that popped up and into the space was a surprise, to say the least.

‘Loretta!’ Merrin stood still, holding the paintbrush, letting the shock settle before turning off the radio and plopping the brush into an old jar of water to soak.

‘Come in!’ She felt a sense of pride in welcoming the woman into her home; the terrible anxiety that used to bookend any interaction was now no more than a mere flutter of nerves.

‘Heather said the place was really coming along and so I thought I’d bring you these.’ With a slightly shaky hand, she held out a bunch of wildflowers, whose subtle colours and delicate green fronds were beautiful.

‘Oh! The first flowers in my new house. Thank you.’ Merrin, genuinely touched, took them from her and laid them gently on the floor in the shade, planning to find a bucket to put them in when Loretta had gone. ‘Would you . . . would you like to sit down?’ She indicated the two beaten old leather chairs that had been there for as long as she could remember, now facing out over the wide balcony and the view of the cove beyond.

‘I don’t want to keep you.’

Merrin noted the creep of age over the woman’s once well-oiled vowels.

‘Not at all. The light’s fading and I was just about to make a cuppa.’

‘Well, if you’re making.’ Loretta sat in one of the chairs and was quiet, taking in the view. Merrin gripped the mugs of tea in her palms, made on the floor with the kettle plugged into an extension lead. ‘I can’t wait to have a proper kitchen.’

‘I think if you have to wait for something you tend to appreciate it all the more, don’t you?’

Merrin nodded and wondered if she, too, were thinking of love . . . She handed Loretta a hot mug of tea and took the seat next to her.

‘This really is some spot.’ Loretta seemed a little transfixed by the view. ‘I brought you something else too, something I’ve wanted to give to you for a while, but I wasn’t sure.’ She hesitated, displaying uncharacteristic nerves as she pulled an envelope from her pocket. Merrin was curious and wary in equal measure.

‘What is it?’ She took the envelope from her.

‘Open it,’ Loretta urged, keeping her eyes on her face.

Peeling open the gummy flap, Merrin pulled out a black-and-white photograph.

‘Oh, my goodness! Will you look at that!’ She felt tears gather as, holding it close, she examined the beaming faces of Bella, Ruby and her mum, her beloved gran, Jarvis with a face like thunder and her dad, laughing so hard with his head tipped back and looking like a proper gent in his morning suit. The cart on which they all sat was abundant with flowers. Her gran had her stick in the air and Bella was brandishing a big, fat bacon sandwich. The sun shone overhead and Merrin herself looked full of joy. In the background, boats were dotted on the blue sea and it was in truth the most beautiful picture she had ever seen. ‘Look at my dad! And my gran!’ She sniffed, making no attempt to hide the tears that fell. ‘This is . . .’ Emotion robbed her of eloquence. ‘This is fantastic, thank you!’

‘The photographer sent me all the pictures. I got rid of them. It didn’t feel right somehow to keep them, but that one, I couldn’t throw away.’