‘Yep. He’s already been asked if the Boat Shed’s for sale twice this morning by a couple of blokes with good shoes, empty heads and full wallets.’ Robin shook his head and ran his callused palm over his face. ‘Mind you, the thought of getting up at the crack of dawn to go out fishing in the dead of winter.’ He sucked air through his teeth. ‘A big fat wallet of cash from a townie might be a lot more attractive, eh, Ben?’

‘You can’t sell it!’ Jarvis’s heart beat a little too fast at the prospect. His interest was selfish: this loft was his haven, his social life and the place he felt closest to his dad, who used to sit on this very chair and while away the hours with Ben. He ran his fingers over the cracked leather arm of the chair, as if feeling the warmth of his useless dad’s lingering touch.

‘Ignore Robin.’ Ben shook his head at the man. ‘I’d never sell it. It’s a little piece of heaven right here in Port Charles. The memories I have line the walls and fill all the gaps. Courting my missus, mucking about with your dad’ – he nodded at Jarvis – ‘even sitting here on days like this with you two hooligans.’ He grinned. ‘This loft is my place and it ain’t for sale, not now, not never!’

Jarvis took a deep breath and felt his pulse settle. It was one less thing to worry about and small fry compared to the hollowed-out sensation in his gut and the way his heart felt like it had dropped down into his boots. It was in fact quite similar to the way he had felt when his dad left. He was empty and yet full of loss.

He pictured Merrin’s eyes as he had handed her the card. She looked happy, excited, and he was certain it was the first time he had seen her look that way. He picked up the can of beer. No harm in finishing it, he thought, chugging it down, relishing the cold bubbles as they hit his throat.

CHAPTER FOUR MERRIN

CHAPTER FOUR

MERRIN