‘Your boys look lovely.’ She spoke without malice, hiding her hurt that it was his very betrayal that meant the darling little boys belonged to another woman who in another lifetime might have been her, and that he had clearly wasted no time in creating this new life with his new wife.

‘They are.’ He gave her his first open, proper smile. ‘A handful, but brilliant.’

‘And you decided against Horatio? Noah and Freddie, much better.’

Again that chuckle. ‘Actually, it’s Noah Columbus and Freddie Horatio.’ He widened his eyes and held her stare.

‘Poor little sods.’

‘Lydia drew the line at having them as first names.’

‘She seems like a nice lady.’ Merrin was not surprised that he had settled for a well-spoken Lydia, she was far more in keeping with what Ma Mortimer would expect.

He nodded and again his smile faltered, as if this were straying into territory that was less than comfortable.

‘I want to say . . .’ He paused, and reached out almost, but she folded her arms. ‘I’ve wanted to say for the longest time that I’m sorry, Merry.’

She felt her spine soften and her lungs fill with something close to relief. ‘For what?’

‘What do you mean for what?’ His expression was nonplussed.

‘I mean’ – she looked along the corridor, checking she was still able to talk freely – ‘there’s so much for me to feel . . .’ She bit her lip, Come on, Merrin, you have had years to plan this conversation in your head, what do you want to say? ‘Shitty about.’ For the love of God, is that the best you’ve got?

‘I can imagine.’

‘No.’ She took a small step towards him, emboldened and picturing herself in her wedding dress being helped up on to the cart driven by Jarvis, as thick clouds gathered overhead and she didn’t care if she lived or died. ‘I don’t think you can imagine. It’s not only what you did, Digby. It’s how you did it.’ She let this hang. ‘You had every right to change your mind, defer our wedding, even finish things, those were all possibilities and none of those decisions would have hurt me any less.’ She paused, allowing this admission of pain to permeate. ‘But did you need to humiliate me like that? I’m a Port Charles girl and it’s a small place. Far, far smaller than it looks and feels. And not only did you throw me away like a thing you didn’t want any more, but you changed the way Port Charles sees me. I used to be Merrin Kellow, Ben’s girl, the one with the hair.’ She ran her fingers over her short bob. ‘But since that day, I am the one Digby Mortimer left at the altar, the one in the big dress with the fancy cart, all the trimmings.’

‘Merrin, I—’