‘Going at you how?’ She wasn’t sympathetic, but she was certainly interested. She had always felt his mother might in some way view her as a little inadequate, not quite the type of girl he usually dated. An image of Phoebe came to her mind, the girl who had placed her hand on Merrin’s arm. ‘Sorry, Merry, are we being a little rude?’

‘She kept telling me how this might be the biggest mistake I would ever make, how she thought at first it was a summer fling that would run its course and how she’s had reservations since that first night we told them we wanted to get married.’

‘She never thought I was good enough for you. I knew it. Her niceness is a thin veneer. But I never thought she’d have this much influence.’ She let this hang. To hear confirmation that Mrs Mortimer did not think she was good enough for her son chipped away at the fragile veil of confidence in which Merrin was wrapped. It felt horrible. ‘But so what if your mother doesn’t like me? It wouldn’t be the first marriage where that was the case!’ She hated how much it sounded like she was pleading, shovelling away the hurt, still shamefully trying to find a way in which she might be wed to this boy she so loved.

‘Apparently, she’s tried hard to put her worries to bed because all she wants is for me to be happy.’ He spoke the words her parents, too, held as their mantra. ‘But all her words have fallen on deaf ears, because I didn’t want to hear it, Merrin. I wanted to marry you!’

She heard the emotion in his voice and felt the first sting of the tears she had managed to keep at bay all day. Mainly in response to the tense he had chosen: wanted to marry you . . . Without him saying another word, she knew this was no longer the case. They were words that cut her loose, dissolved their bonds and left her wondering how she was going to go on. Her mouth twisted and her eyes crinkled in an ugly cry that gave no credence to aesthetics – her hurt went far, far deeper than that. It was no real surprise to hear how much his mother disapproved, but no less upsetting for that. She pictured the woman making her try on one wedding dress and then another and another . . . a ridiculous and cruel pantomime while she poured words of doubt into her son’s ear. It was the most horrible thought. And one that was impossible for Merrin to understand: how, how could a woman do that to another?