‘You’re in shock.’ He grabbed the duvet from the bed, scattering petals as he did so and blowing out the rest of the candles. ‘I’m right here. And I’ll get you home safely. You can sleep in the car on the way down.’

His kindness left her tearful.

‘Thank you, Miguel.’ She reached out and gripped his forearm.

He nodded and placed his hand over hers. ‘I love you. I wish I could make all the hurt go away.’

And if her brain hadn’t been full of the loss of her dad and the way Ruby had sounded on the phone – utterly, utterly broken – she would have explained that there was so much hurt inside her she was worried that if you removed it all there might be nothing left. Energy and coherence were for her in short supply. Her body and mind were numb, as if suspended and waiting, waiting to get back to Port Charles, where her heart resided. She shook violently, as if freezing cold.

Guided now by his hand on the small of her back, and wrapped in the double duvet that did little to stop her shaking, he steered her towards the car park.

‘Good evening, sir.’

She turned to look at the person Miguel addressed and saw Digby leaning on a car, smoking. Her stomach bunched and it felt unreal; she had temporarily forgotten that he was here.

‘Good evening,’ he replied to Miguel.

She locked eyes with him.

‘All okay?’ He put the cigarette on the floor and crushed it with the heel of his brogue, staring at her wrapped up in the car park at this ungodly hour.

‘I’m . . . I’m going home,’ she managed, wanting to tell Digby, who knew her dad and who was part of her life, her history.

‘Has something happened?’ He stepped out of the shadows.

‘My dad . . . my dad died.’ She felt her gut fold with the punch of her words as realisation dawned that this is what had happened. Her dad had died . . .

‘Oh God, no! Not Ben! Oh, your poor mum. Is Ruby with her? Is there anything I can do?’

Miguel seemed to stagger back a step or two as if sideswiped.

‘What the fuck is going on here?’

Merrin stared at him and then looked back at Digby, as her tears trickled down her cheeks.

‘This is . . . this is the guy, the one who . . . who, you know, from home. I told you once about having something perfect and that it got broken – well, this is him, the person who broke it.’ She cried now, great, breath-stealing sobs that left her spent.

‘Get out of my fucking way!’ Miguel spat, and she watched as Digby stumbled back into the shadows.