‘Now.’ She sighed deeply, rubbing at the deep furrows etched across her brow, a reminder that she, like them, was still in the first stages of deep grief. ‘I want to go back to my bed.’ Heather stood slowly and walked to the door, then, gripping the frame, she turned to face her daughters. ‘Your dad isn’t the only one who loves you fiercely. I do too. My flesh and blood. My girls. I’m quite sure you’ve both got a lot to talk about.’ Her words were gently spoken, but felt very much like an instruction.

Merrin and Ruby stared at each other a little sheepishly and let go of each other’s hand. Her parents were right: they had to draw a roadmap of how to go forward without the bickering or negativity that had the power to slay the other’s confidence. The fact that it happened at all was as ridiculous as it was damaging.

‘Shall we go sit outside for a bit?’ Merrin asked tentatively, knowing the view and the fine sea air would be lost to her once she jumped on that train – that and it was easier to talk looking straight ahead.

Ruby nodded and they grabbed coats and hats from the rack by the front door and carried the thick blankets to place over their legs. They sat on the wide, low wall with the best view of the bay in the whole of Port Charles. Side by side, just as they had been doing since they were toddlers while their mum cut their hair or their dad stood alongside telling them tales of the big old ocean.

The golden winter sun loomed large in the morning sky, splintering the moody clouds with its rays as the white foam of the waves broke against the rocks along the foreshore. The two girls pulled their coats about their shoulders and Merrin wiggled her toes inside the knitted socks on her feet. The air was still and salty and even the gulls were subdued, as if acknowledging that life would never be the same again.

‘You’re very quiet.’ Her sister nudged her with her elbow.

‘Yeah, for the first time since the day I was supposed to marry I don’t think I want to leave. I don’t feel scared of the place, the gossip, the rumour, like I did.’

‘So don’t then.’

‘I have to, really, Rubes. I have a job, responsibilities, and all my things are in Thornbury. Plus, I need to talk to Miguel. And what would I do here?’

‘I don’t know, build that house?’ They both looked over towards the Old Boat Shed.

‘Can’t believe it’s mine. And the cottage is yours. All that lovely history of Gran and Gramps and now you and Jarv and the babby.’