They had forged their relationship slowly, kissing gently and walking in the fields on their days off. He had wielded his humour like a sword to cut away her reservations and over the last twelve months they had ended up here: a couple. She was in no doubt that they worked because she was away from the tittle-tattle of Port Charles, had shaken off her old skin and was free to exist in Thornbury without leaving a trail of gossip and speculation in her wake.

That, and they shared an understanding. Their relationship was fun, frivolous and sometimes he spoke casually of a love she could not return, jesting in wine-filled moments: ‘I could fall hard for you, Merry.’

‘Don’t you dare do that!’ she’d answer with directness. ‘Save your love and all about you that is fabulous – save it for someone who is not broken and disillusioned, Miguel. Don’t waste it on a lost cause like me.’

His expression was crestfallen but, reaching for her hand, he rallied. ‘I’ll save it because I think you might change your mind. Who knows what’s around the corner? Or how you might feel in six weeks? Six months?’

‘None of us, I guess.’

Not that she ever gave him reason to think they should plan too far ahead. How would that even be possible when she lived her life one day at a time?

This weekend she was venturing home for the first time since leaving. Home. The thought of it was enough to make her stomach flip and her muscles clench. All at once she felt excited, nervous, happy and scared. How she longed to plant her feet on Cornish soil, but at the same time she felt the rise of sick nerves at what it might be like to return to the place of her humiliation. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t wary of seeing Ruby, who was the reason for returning, as this was the weekend when her sister would waltz up the aisle to marry Jarvis Cardy.

Merrin was pleased that her sister had found happiness and delighted that it was with Jarvis who, as close to her parents as he had become, was already practically part of the family. It made sense to her. His kind and patient manner was the perfect complement to Ruby’s fiery nature. Concentrating on her sister’s marriage to such a smashing man kept her from submitting to the threat of nausea at the prospect of returning to St Michael’s Church.

Miguel’s arm was lying across her neck, clamping her to the mattress. She lay still, not wanting to disturb him, knowing he had come to bed late, his body heavy and his sigh weary. She understood the bone-aching fatigue that a busy day left you with, but at the same time she felt the pressing need to use the bathroom.

Her alarm sounded.