She missed her family and friends with a depth that mirrored her pain; thinking of them before she fell asleep, sending silent apologies out into the night sky and hoping her words might fall into their ears as they slept. Trying and failing to bury the guilt of what she had put them through, the money they had needlessly spent and their hurt that she had all but abandoned them. But abandon them she must if she had any hope of recovering the pieces of her heart and her dignity.

In these quieter moments before sleep, she was reminded that her world had been cleaved open and her dream of building a life in Port Charles with her very own family, hand in hand with the man she loved, was no more than just that: a dream. Unbidden, she replayed the day of her ‘almost’ wedding over and over, knowing that if things had been different, she would right now be a newly-wed, making food for her husband, learning the lie of her new home, sitting in front of a fire with him of an evening. Nipping back to Kellow Cottages each day to catch up on the gossip with the women who had shaped her and happy, so happy, to know that each night she got to sleep in the arms of Digby. She missed him with a physical ache. This new life at Milbury Court felt very much like starting from scratch.

But, oh, how her bones mourned for home! Equally, she missed the crisp Cornish air, the view out over the cove, sitting on the harbour wall with her bare legs dangling in the sun, the rickety wooden stairs of Kellow Cottages, a cup of tea in front of the range and bickering with Ruby. She missed all of it – not that she would ever confess as much to her parents, knowing this information would only make them fret.

‘Hey, Mum.’ Merrin lay back on her bed and held her phone to her ear. Closing her eyes, she pictured falling into one of her mother’s enveloping hugs and felt the chill of loneliness shiver through her.

‘Hello, my darlin’! How lovely to hear your voice!’

‘And yours. I’ve got some news,’ she began.

‘You’re coming home?’ her mum interjected with such excitement it was enough to fold Merrin’s gut with longing and guilt.

‘No, Mum, I can’t.’

‘I know.’ There was a drawn-out pause. ‘It feels a shame that you let the likes of the Mortimers or some petty gossip keep you away.’