Merrin sat up straight. ‘I wonder why it’s called a “big” day? And not a “medium” or a “little” day? I mean, in the scheme of things, compared to what you might go through or achieve in your life, it may turn out to be rather insignificant.’

Her mum gripped the worn arms of the chair and sat up a little. ‘Rather insignificant? It’s your wedding day! And in a few hours, you shall be getting married, and I’m finding it difficult, Merrin Mercy, to keep my patience. Your dad and I have been working for months to give you the day you deserve, the day that we have always dreamt of for you! And I don’t want the likes of Loretta Mortimer and her lot looking down her nose because I’ve got your hair wrong or because your dad’s got his Truro City tie on!’

‘I just don’t see why it all matters!’ She spoke the truth. The sound of her mum catching her breath, a prelude to tears, sent the room silent. Ruby and Merrin exchanged an awkward look, allies rather than competitors at that moment.

‘What have I done now?’

‘It’s what you haven’t done that bothers me, Merrin!’ Her mother dabbed at her eyes with three squares of loo roll that she had folded into a little blotter. ‘I’ve had to make all the decisions with Loretta; she insisted I got involved but I felt like I was at work! It wasn’t fun for me. I’ve helped her choose the centrepieces for the table, picked the font for the invites, I even selected the bloody hymns.’

Merrin knew her mum was upset if she was using the B word. She hated to see her mother so agitated and knew that Digby’s mother could have the same effect on him, remembering the day he had pitched up at the hotel where she was waitressing, his expression downcast as he reached for her and pulled her to him in the car park.

‘You all right, love?’ She had kissed his cheek as he leant against her.

‘I am now. I just needed to be near you.’ He had placed his face on her head and breathed her in.

‘What’s the matter?’ It was rare to see him like this.

‘Do you ever feel like running away?’ He pulled her closer still, as if she were a life force.

She had looked out at the sparkling water and the sun peeking through the light cloud, sending rays down to the sea. Her dad was fixing nets on the harbourside and the door to the cottage was, as ever, propped open.

‘No,’ she admitted. ‘Never.’

‘You’re lucky.’ He had held her eyeline.

‘We’re lucky,’ she corrected.

‘Yes.’ His expression had changed then, as if in relief. ‘We are lucky.’