Infuriatingly, Bella took her time. ‘He said something like . . . “Sometimes you don’t have an easy choice,” or some such bollocks, I can’t remember exactly. I might have had some cider. Quite a lot of cider, thinking about it.’

‘So what did you say when he said that?’ Merrin did her best to disguise her extreme interest. Not that she wanted him back or even hoped for reconciliation, not at all, but still she wanted to know, as if the exchange might finally throw some light into the corners of her mind that were very much in the dark when it came to understanding what had happened. She hoped Bella had said something that left him in no doubt that she was not bitter or hurt and was in fact thriving in his absence. It felt important that he think it, even if it wasn’t strictly true.

‘I didn’t say anything, but Ruby told him that he was a prick and that if he ever spoke to any of us again she’d smash his face in.’

‘Of course she did.’ Merrin slumped down under the duvet and closed her eyes, hating the level of emotion that still hovered near the surface. And angry at herself that it was all based on no more than a fake emotion like unconditional love – how stupid must she have been to fall for the dream he peddled?

‘Are you crying?’ Bella asked across the divide as Merrin turned on her side and closed her eyes. ‘It sounds like you are.’

‘No.’

‘Yeah, you are, darling, and I don’t want you to cry.’

‘I can’t help it.’

‘Well, you need to help it. You need to stop letting anything he did or said ruin things for you. You’ve already banished yourself to a castle and I bet you’re letting it stop you finding a prince.’

‘I don’t want a bloody prince!’

‘Oh, come on, you must have met someone in the last year who you thought was nice? Good-looking? Funny?’

Unbidden, the image of Miguel Rochas filled her mind and she opened her eyes. He was undoubtedly all three, but whether he was the kind of person she would take a risk on, as her mum suggested, was another question altogether.

‘Maybe . . . but I doubt he’d be interested in an old misery guts like me.’

‘You’re not a misery guts. You’ve just been sad and you’ve needed time. And now you’ve had some time. Now what you need is a good kick up the arse. And to decide to let yourself live! So what if life isn’t what you thought it would be. Is it ever? And what does it matter if you’ve taken a wrong turn? You’ve got to get on with it, Merry! Get out there! This ain’t a rehearsal.’