There hadn’t been much amusing about the whole day. It had been painful for Jarvis to be the one who drove Merrin to the church where she was to marry a man who was taller, richer and luckier than him. Luckier because it was Merrin who would walk up the aisle and take his hand, Merrin who he would wake up to the very next day . . . but there it was. Jarvis knew he was the only one able to confidently navigate the lanes with the cart and keep control of old Daisy, who trusted him. It was a favour for Ben and for Merrin: a gift of goodbye.

He had been aware of Ben taking his seat next to him on the leather bench at the helm of the cart and had felt his arm across his back, giving him a brief hug. The contact and kindness had been enough to cause his tears to bloom once again. Sniffing, he had kept his eyes down to hide his distress, keen that no one saw the state of him, and with the girls in position, he had gently clicked his tongue, uttered commands and pulled the soft leather reins, steering Daisy to the left and right along the cobbled streets of Port Charles. With the laughing women on the flower-filled cart, the horse plodded slowly on, as if she, like he, was reluctant to arrive, knowing that after this long-planned-for trip, nothing would ever be quite the same again.

‘You’re doing great, Jarv,’ Ben had encouraged. ‘You’re doing great.’

He had got the impression the man meant more than just his ability to steer Daisy along the path. He hadn’t watched them alight, but had taken his time, wanting to put distance between himself and the bridal party on this fine, sun-filled day.

‘Seriously, Robin, are you winding me up?’ Sweating and with his heart racing, he felt the stir of drama in his veins and knew that if this were true he should act, do something!

‘I’m not! I swear on my life!’ The man put his hand on his heart. ‘He never showed. Everyone’s going home or going nuts! I can’t believe it!’

‘Me neither,’ Jarvis concurred, trying to take it in. ‘Why? Why would he do that?’

‘Who knows?’ Robin caught his breath. ‘Christ, Jarv, what do you think Ben’ll do when he gets hold of him? I almost fear for the lad.’