Heather Kellow nodded as she held a handkerchief under her nose; it appeared she was a little too overwhelmed for words. She simply stared at her daughter’s face before planting a kiss on her cheek.

‘How long is it you’re staying, little one?’ her dad asked, with such excitement it was almost painful to watch.

‘Give her a minute, Ben, she’s only just arrived and already you’re talking about her leaving!’ Heather found her voice. ‘Hello, my love.’ She turned to him, her tone warm and kindly.

‘Hello, Mrs Kellow.’ He wasn’t sure whether to shake her hand or hug her and so did neither, standing awkwardly with his hands on his hips.

‘Call me Heather.’ She winked at him and he liked her welcome.

‘Just two nights, Dad.’ Merrin spoke with a breathlessness that betrayed her nerves. ‘And then back to work.’

‘Two nights.’ The man whispered the fact with no small echo of disappointment. His smile faltered, which rather took the joy from the moment. ‘We shall make the most of it,’ he rallied. ‘A wedding!’ He clapped his hands. ‘Can you believe that someone wants to marry old Ruby?’ He chuckled. Merrin had told him about this, the good-natured ribbing that flew back and forth.

Ben then turned his attention to Miguel and looked him straight in the eye. ‘Hello there, boy! You must be Miguel.’ He stepped forward and shook Miguel warmly by the hand. ‘Good journey?’

‘Not bad, considering Merrin was driving,’ he whispered.

‘I reckon you’ll be needing a beer, am I right?’

‘Now that sounds like a plan.’

The man nodded his head in approval. ‘Plus, I want to give the girls a chance to catch up; her mother needs time with her littlest.’ Ben’s words were solemn.

‘A beer is always a good idea.’ Miguel had heard enough about Merrin’s father to know that when he offered a beer it was because he wanted one himself and to refuse was not the way to ingratiate himself with him.

‘I’m taking the lad to the pub! He’s had a traumatic journey! Come on out, Jarv!’ he called to the groom, who came lumbering from the cottage with his boots in his hand.

‘Traumatic journey?’ Merrin wiped her face and called over her shoulder as she made her way inside the cottage. ‘He’s eaten snacks and slept most of the way!’

He caught the smile she flashed him, though her eyes were swollen and her face streaked with tears, and felt the swell of longing for her in his veins. A longing that he would have to bury until they were back in Thornbury, where they could share a bed without the tell-tale creak of an old floorboard giving him away.