Merrin decided to change tack. ‘We’ve got ages yet, Dad. We don’t have to be at St Michael’s until three.’ Merrin knew loitering around in his uncomfortable borrowed clothes would do nothing to aid his stress levels, or anyone else’s, for that matter. In a small space, moods were infectious. And she understood; her dad was either in his fishing gear or jeans and a holey old sweatshirt with a soft shirt underneath. She had only seen him in a suit once before and that was for Gramps’s funeral.

‘I know that, love, but I have something I need to do first.’ He winked at her.

‘Oh no, not work! I thought Robin and Jarvis were taking care of things today; you’ll get filthy! I don’t want you walking me up the aisle covered in stinking fish guts!’

‘I’ll remind you that it’s stinking fish guts that has paid for the roof over our head and the food we put on the table.’ He pointed at her. ‘But actually, no, I’m not working. But I do need to go out for a bit.’

‘Don’t be late, Ben! Please!’ her mother pleaded.

‘I won’t.’ He made his way to the door before turning to look back at his family. ‘Think I’d better go and put my trousers on first!’

They all howled with laughter and Merrin savoured the moment. Despite her eagerness to go and grab the next chapter of her life, she felt an ache deep in her gut at the fact that her side of the bedroom was packed up and her clothes and bits and bobs had been stuffed into bags, ready to move to the chauffeur’s flat. She wanted to be married to Digby more than anything, but this was her last morning as a single girl in this little house with all its comings and goings, and it felt strange. There was a faint echo of loss edging her thoughts, as the realisation hit that she was going to miss moments like this when she was up at the big house. Silly, inconsequential exchanges, but it was just this silliness, this shared ordinariness, that made up her whole life, as the Kellows wrapped each other tightly with a web of love.

‘I can’t believe that this time tomorrow I’ll wake up and you’ll be sleeping somewhere else, Merry.’ As if reading her thoughts, her mum barely got the words out before the next bout of tears.

‘For the love of God, she’s only going up the road!’ Ruby pointed out.

‘Ruby’s right. I won’t be that far away, Mum.’

‘Up the road or halfway round the world, you still won’t be at my breakfast table.’ Her mum pushed the wad of loo roll up under her nose as her husband appeared from the bathroom, newly trousered.