Merrin rounded her shoulders, as if this might offer some small disguise as she waited by the step of Everit’s for the tourist family to come out with their booty. A standard haul, by the looks of things: an ice cream each for the kids, a large bag of toffee popcorn, no doubt for movie night, a bottle of white, a slab of Cornish Blue cheese, a jar of The Cornish Larder chutney and Popti crackers. She knew that no matter how old she got, this place would always take her back to her childhood, when, with warm pennies gripped tightly in her palm, she and Ruby would scan the sweetie counter and agonise over which to choose. Even right now in her early twenties, the temptation to march in and ask Mrs Everit for a quarter of pineapple cubes or a slack handful of fizzy shrimps was strong. She took a deep breath and walked in.

‘Oh Lord! Oh, Merrin!’

She heard the shock in Mrs Everit’s tone and was a little confused, having expected the woman to rush forward with a deep hug, or at the very least to go into verbal overdrive, telling her how she and Mr Everit had fared since her last visit. But this greeting sounded almost panicked. It was hard not to think about the last time she had seen her, running back from her devastating encounter with Digby, her heart broken and with her pretty wedding make-up streaking her tear-soaked face. It was only when Merrin let her eyes settle on the woman with her back to her in front of the counter that the reason for Mrs Everit’s tone registered.

Merrin felt the breath catch in her throat and knew beyond a doubt that if the shopkeeper hadn’t given her away, she would have quietly taken the three steps backwards and left the shop as discreetly as she had entered. The slender legs in jeans, riding boots and a neat, pale-blue shirt, tucked in, belonged to none other than Digby’s mother.

The woman turned sharply, her eyes narrowed, as if it took a second to place her, though that could have been down to the fact that Merrin was far skinnier now than she had been in those days, and also the loss of her long hair. Merrin felt her legs shake and was convinced her tremble would be apparent to anyone looking. She forced her limbs rigid as if this might hide her nerves. The blood ran from her head, leaving her feeling simultaneously faint and icy cold.

‘Hello.’ Loretta’s tone was clipped and her manner that of someone addressing a stranger.