In these moments, it was as if he had a sixth sense. He would come close to her and reassuringly hold her hand, run his fingers over her back or just look her in the eye. The hours they had spent up at Reunion Point, revealing their inner selves, confessing to their fears and sharing their dreams, meant they were in tune and could gauge when what might be an innocuous remark to anyone else was actually cutting the other quite deep. He seemed to know just what she needed and when. She had said as much to Ruby, who had lifted her top lip. ‘Wow, what a catch! He sounds wonderful!’ Her tone had been mocking and Merrin had resolved not to share such insights with her again. It saddened her that she needed to censor what she revealed to her sister, but there was precious little she could do about that. Bella reasoned it was because Ruby craved the stable relationship Merrin boasted of, but this understanding didn’t do much to make her barbs more palatable.

Over the last few weeks, before sleep, she had imagined walking up the aisle on her dad’s arm, picturing the moment her fiancé turned his face towards her and his expression as he first glimpsed her in this wedding dress. The thought of it had been almost as exciting as the reality of this moment. Taking a step closer, she scrutinised the frock. It was beautiful, breathtakingly gorgeous, and it was hers. The slim-waisted, full-skirted affair did indeed fit her like a glove, just as Mrs Mort— Lor— Digby’s mother had said.

They had gone dress shopping in Truro. She and her mum had been towed along as Digby’s mother had either shaken her head or beamed her approval at each fabric suggestion, accessory tried on and every one of the thousands of dresses that had been lowered over her head by willing staff keen for the big sale. It had felt weirdly exciting yet at the same time mildly unpleasant to be trying on a frock that cost more than Vera Wilma Brown.

Her future mother-in-law had told her to enjoy it, but her own mum had remained a little subdued, adopting the same quiet manner as she did when cleaning up at the Mortimers’ house. This, she was in no doubt, was due to the fact that Loretta was paying and made the fact known at every opportunity. It had taken the gloss off what should have been an extraordinary day.