‘We’ll see. But at the moment I try not to think too far ahead. Anyway, the reason I called was to give you my news.’

‘Yes! What is it?’

‘I got a permanent job, a promotion, kind of. From now on I’ll be on reception.’

‘Oh! Well, that’s . . . that’s wonderful! We are so proud of you.’ Merrin could picture her mum’s face, speaking in that way she did when she coated her words with gloss, trying to disguise the fact they came from a mouth contorted by tears. ‘How I love you, little Merry.’

She nodded and closed her eyes, pushing the phone into her cheek, trying to get as close as possible to her mother across the miles, suddenly remembering again what it had felt like to be guided from the vestry and placed on the cart with Bella and Ruby holding her arms. He’s not coming . . . The Reverend Pimm’s words were as sharp and cutting now as they had been when she first heard them.

‘I love you too, Mum. All of you. Will you tell Dad for me, about my new job?’

‘Yep, ’course.’ Heather Kellow caught her breath. ‘Ruby’s out with Jarvis, they’re collecting firewood on the beach, but she’ll be sad she missed you.’

Merrin wasn’t so sure. Her mum did this too, tried to build bridges between her daughters. She took a beat to consider how to respond. It was no secret that things between her and Ruby had been a little fraught since she had left home. It seemed to have irked her sister that she had chosen to up sticks and leave, as if she took the fact that Merrin didn’t need her help to heal or had rejected the life they lived personally. She had tried again only recently to explain it over the phone.

‘I just can’t be there, Ruby. I can’t be in a place where I might bump into him or his mother on a daily basis.’ She felt her mouth go dry at the prospect. ‘And everyone else who might want to stare at me, whisper about me. It’s more than I can stand to think about . . . and it hurts too much. Every place I look in Port Charles has a memory of Digby and me; I can’t imagine being faced with that, and the thought of seeing him. . .’ She’d shuddered.

‘You’re letting them win then!’

‘I don’t know about that.’ She’d kept her cool. ‘But I know it’s me who has lost a lot.’ My home, daily contact with my mum and dad, walking barefoot on the beach, my beloved Cornwall . . .

Even now, if she closed her eyes, she could smell the smoky fire in the parlour, and her mouth watered for the feel of hot tea sipped on the sofa, sitting with legs coiled beneath her, next to her beloved mum.