Her dad bent low and kissed his wife’s head. ‘I know I couldn’t have walked away from you, no matter what anyone said. I loved you from the very first. Even now, after all these years wed, I can’t get used to being away from you. It will never feel right to me.’

‘I hate it too.’ Her mum laced her fingers with his as he raked her thick, dark curls and let his fingertips graze her cheek. ‘I sleep differently when you’re away at sea, Ben. The absence of you is a physical thing for me; I can’t quite take a full breath or concentrate, not while the man I love is away and in possible danger, it’s like my spirit can’t rest.’ Heather leant up and kissed his face.

Quite trapped, Merrin was loath to make her presence known, feeling it an invasion of the beautiful moment whether she interrupted or stayed quiet.

‘Still.’ Her mum smiled. ‘Fourteen whole days until you set off again. That means fourteen nights of you next to me in our rickety old brass bed. And there ain’t nowhere on the whole planet I’d rather wake than by your side in our little bedroom with the sloping walls, floor and ceiling. And with Merrin knocked sideways, I’m glad you’re home.’

Her dad sat back in the chair. ‘You know, I hear some of the lads on the bigger boats saying how glad they are to be away from their missus and her nagging, but I never say that and I never think it. I love you as much today, Heather, as I did when I first saw you and on our wedding day, when I put that ring on your finger. It’s important you know it. We can get through anything. And we can help Merrin get through anything.’

Merrin felt the swell of loss in her veins for all she had lost.

Letting the front door bang against the wall to herald her arrival, Merrin walked into the parlour, aware that her cheeks were flushed.

‘Morning, darlin’.’ Her mum sprang up from the floor and ran to her. ‘You been out for a wander?’

‘Yes.’ She kept her eyes on the floor and lied.

‘Let’s get you tea and toast – ain’t nothing that can’t cure.’ She rubbed the top of Merrin’s arms en route to the stove.

There was a loud knock on the door frame and her dad walked briskly to the front of the house.

‘Now then, Mac, what can I do for you?’

‘How’s young Merrin doing?’

‘Not too bad.’ Her dad spoke with as much jollity as he could muster.

‘She’s quite the celebrity!’ Mac, the pub landlord, bellowed. Her mum shot Merrin a look and hesitated to close the door, clearly unsure of the convention.

‘Is that right?’ Ben’s tone now a lot less jolly.