‘What do you mean, you suggested the South of France? What’s going on?’ Merrin could only repeat. ‘We are getting married today! Right now! We are getting married! I’m here in my dress and there’s a church full of people!’ Her voice rose.

‘Well, that won’t be happening.’ Merrin let the woman’s words sink in. ‘And as I said, in time, you will come to see that it really is for the very best. I think he may have had a change of heart.’

‘A change of . . . I don’t . . .’ She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how she should feel or what she should do. The whole thing felt surreal, dream-like. Once or twice she looked towards the door, expecting Digby to burst in and point at her. ‘Got you! Come on, Merry, let’s get hitched!’ But he didn’t, of course. Her head swam and her thoughts were foggy. Her legs shook so badly she thought she might tumble. She was aware of her dad and the vicar staring at her.

‘Trust me. Go home, dear. Go home to your family. And one day you will be able to look at this day without pain. Let yourself live, Merrin. Grab life and run with it, because it’s short.’

The woman’s advice landed in her ear like salt in a wound. She put the phone down sharply.

‘Merrin, love? What did she say?’ Her dad stared at her, his arms wide, as if he, too, were at a loss as to what came next.

She looked up and spoke calmly, belying the desire that was building inside her to scream the place down or smash something, possibly both. Her heart hurt, like it was speared, and each beat caused the tip of the spear to pierce her skin.

‘Go and talk to everyone, please, Vicar. Tell them . . . tell them thank you for coming, but that there won’t be any wedding today.’

Her dad swallowed and the vicar nodded, his cassock swishing as he walked through a back door into the church. Merrin could hear the faint strains of music, the music she should be walking down the aisle to. It came to an abrupt halt. And next she heard the sharp collective burble of surprise and the odd shout and cry. Sinking back down into the chair, she decided to wait until the place had emptied before making her exit, wanting to see as few people as possible. A girdle of shame made breathing difficult.

Only a minute later, the vestry door smashed open against the wall. It was her mum and her gran.

‘Ben!’ Her mum searched her husband’s face, the man who fixed everything for his family, as if he might have the answers. ‘What in the name of Judas?’ She put her hand to her throat.

‘He’s not coming.’ Her dad shook his head and breathed through his nose.