‘Yep, sleeping it off. I’ll give him a few more minutes and then I’ll take him up a cuppa. Where are you going?’

‘Just outside.’

Opening the cottage door, Merrin stood barefoot on the uneven cobbles, liking the way they fitted inside the high arch of her instep as she curled her toes around them. It was still her favourite place to stand, and how she had missed it, this little ritual that anchored her to the ground she so loved. She breathed out long and slow and closed her eyes briefly, feeling instantly better, calmed. This was the perfect spot with the widest view. Looking out over the purple bruise of sky where clouds hung low over the ocean, she offered up a silent prayer: Please don’t rain! Not on my sister’s wedding day . . .

She inhaled the salt-tinged breeze and closed her eyes. How she loved this little corner of the wild Cornish coast, where her roots still ran deep, despite her absence.

‘So what will you do, Merrin? Visit often? Stay away?’ she asked herself, and she was just pondering the response when a voice called from above.

‘Oi! Merry, you dozy mare – do I have to fetch my own tea today of all days? You’re my bridesmaid, you’re supposed to be waiting on me – catering to my every whim!’

She turned and looked up at Ruby, who was smiling and hanging out of the little upstairs window. It was what she needed, this jovial, loving familiarity that meant she and Ruby were at peace and Merrin would get through the day.

‘Is that right? Good morning, bride! How you feeling?’

‘Bloody parched!’

Merrin laughed. ‘Does Jarvis want one?’ She figured, as she was making.

‘Jarvis? Don’t be ridiculous. He in’t here! It’s bad luck to see the bride the night before the wedding; you should know that!’

Merrin swept the cobbles with her toes; good luck or bad hadn’t come into it with someone like Ma Mortimer pulling strings in the background.

‘I made him sleep at Nancy’s.’ Ruby yawned. ‘I thought she could deal with his hangover. Anyway, I’ll be down in five!’

‘Is that Ruby?’ her mum called from the parlour.

‘Yep, she wants tea!’

‘On it! But tell her not to dawdle; I’ve got the curling tongs on!’

Merrin felt an unwelcome pang of envy that this had once been her . . . her day . . . her future. She swallowed the bitter reminder of how it had ended.

The rain, thankfully, held off and it was now a big, bright, summer-blue day. One where the sky and ocean were of a similar hue and to look out over the vast expanse made the world beyond the harbour wall and all its glorious possibilities seem infinite. She and Miguel stood with the throng on the apron in front of the cottages; the atmosphere was electric and everyone was laughing.