‘Kids. . .’ Loretta had repeated, in a manner that made Merrin feel like she had inadvertently failed a test. Mrs Mortimer was also a lot chattier to her when Digby was around, and fell quiet when they were alone. Merrin wasn’t used to the silence, not living in this house.

‘Morning, all!’ Her ebullient best friend came in via the open back door, still in her pyjamas but with her hair neat in curlers.

‘Bella!’ Merrin jumped up and ran to greet her second bridesmaid, who dumped her holdall, handbag and what looked like her wedding shoes in a pile on the floor. It was typical of Bella, who put very little store in possessions; they were all fairly certain that today would be the first time she would wear a dress, as generally she preferred jeans and old t-shirts.

‘How’s our little bride doing? Running for the hills or running into his arms?’

Into his arms. . .

‘Neither. I’m stuck here while Mum is burning off my hair!’

‘She’s been moaning all morning!’ Ruby called out. Merrin pulled a wide-eyed expression of exasperation at her friend, who winked, well schooled in keeping the peace between the two sisters, who were both her best friends.

‘One little tiny bit of hair, that’s all! Honestly, no one’ll notice a crispy end or two.’ Her mum sounded defensive.

‘Oh, I don’t know, Mrs K, I reckon Loretta might; she has an eye for such detail. “Don’t you simply love the early golden glow of summer, rising up from the sea. . .”’ Bella had the impression nailed.

Ruby and Bella laughed, but Merrin kept her face straight. It used to be funny, Bella’s ability to mimic anyone, but Loretta was Digby’s mother and she felt the least she could do was not encourage her.

The house was starting to buzz with activity. Not that the last few days had been calm: her dad had cleaned all the windows of the cottage, as instructed, and had jet-washed the cobbles. Presents had arrived, which her mother had piled up into an elaborate display in the corner, and Merrin had watched surreptitiously from behind her teacup as her sister shook the packages, holding them at arm’s length, gauging their weight to guess at their value. She even rattled envelopes against her ear, trying to detect the tell-tale shift of a cheque or a banknote. It had made Merrin laugh. She couldn’t give a fig about gifts and suchlike, all she wanted was to be married to Digby. It felt like days since she’d last seen him as, in keeping with tradition, they had agreed not to see each other the night before the big day. So the previous afternoon they had kissed like it might be their last time, and in truth she loved the promise in their passion.