Of late, things were a little improved between her and her sister; they trod carefully, unpicking the fight that had fractured their bonds, both seemingly aware that those bonds were still a little brittle. There remained a thin film of awkwardness, rooted, Merrin was certain, in the fact that Ruby was about to become Mrs Jarvis Cardy – even though Merrin knew that what she and Jarvis had shared had been no more than a childhood fling with a bit of inept kissing thrown in for good measure.

It was Bella who had first told Merrin that her sister’s trips with Jarvis up to Reunion Point to drink cider and their shopping days in St Austell had developed into something more, until there was no question that Ruby was dating the boy. And so, wanting to break the ugly stalemate, Merrin had plucked up the courage to call her sister to get the gossip and help patch up their wounds. Still, she bitterly regretted the words that had left her mouth quite involuntarily. Words that she wished she could swallow back down and erase. Words that instead of putting a lid on the simmering stew of friction only served to put more heat under it.

‘So come on then,’ she had urged with a note of caution, treading carefully, badly wanting to erase the lingering sting of their row. ‘Bella said you’ve been seeing someone? Tell me everything!’

Ruby had giggled. ‘God, is nothing a secret around here?’

‘Nope! So come on, spill.’

‘It’s Jarvis.’

‘My Jarvis? I knew it! I could tell by the way you’ve always defended him that there was something there.’

The silence following her words was deafening. Merrin closed her eyes tightly and pulled a face, wishing she could rewind. When Ruby spoke her tone was cutting and her irritation apparent.

‘First, he isn’t your Jarvis.’

‘I didn’t mean—’

‘And second,’ her sister interrupted her, keen to make her point and clearly in no mood to hear any kind of justification, ‘how many bloody Jarvises do you know, Merrin?’

She tried to smooth the waters. ‘I’m . . . I’m happy for you both, I really am. You are two of my favourite people. I think it’s brilliant. I really do!’

‘You think I need your approval?’

‘No! Of course not, I just . . . I’m trying, clumsily, to say congratulations and that he’s a good catch. A good catch for you, that is, because you are made for each other!’

‘A good catch for me?’ Ruby snarled, her unspoken assumption that he was not, of course, good enough for Merrin. Merrin had rubbed her eyes. She couldn’t win. But Ruby wasn’t done. ‘And what do you mean, a good catch? What is he, Merrin? A bloody cod?’

‘No! I—’