Ruby had spoken slowly, tearfully. ‘I told you, I promised you I’d help you, be there for you, me and Bella both did, but we can’t do it while you’re God only knows where!’

She heard the croak to her sister’s voice.

‘I still need you and Bells, of course I do. In fact, I need you more . . .’

Hindsight helped her see that this was when the frost had formed on their conversations, not that being able to identify the moment made it hurt any less.

In some ways, the last six months had flown by, but when she thought of home it felt like years since she had been there. She was often invited to join in with the other live-in staff, who all seemed nice enough, and who socialised together after hours. But quiz nights and karaoke, five-a-side football and ten-pin-bowling leagues were not for her. Merrin was too bruised to join in, wanting to keep herself to herself and figure out how to put what had happened behind her. She was, in fact, uninterested in making new friends, not when she was yearning for the old ones she had in Port Charles. Plus, the idea of having to explain how it was she had come to be here and the circumstances that led to her packing up a bag and jumping in her trusty vehicle without too much of a plan was more than she could stand. If people didn’t know what had happened, then she didn’t have to face the daily shame of them judging or pitying her too.

And now here she was on this fine morning, walking briskly along the corridor towards the main reception, where she was to relieve Fred, the night porter, from his duties. Fred was nowhere to be seen and the main phone line was ringing. Merrin picked it up, raising her index finger and smiling apologetically to the man who walked up at that moment and now stood in front of her, tapping his room key and its overly large fob on the wooden reception desk. If it was an action designed to irritate, it was surely working.

‘Sorry, one sec,’ she mouthed, and smiled again, hoping for his understanding, as she tucked her short, bobbed hair behind her left ear and turned her attention to the phone.

‘I am sorry to have kept you waiting. Thank you for calling Milbury Court. How may I help you?’

‘Yes, hello.’ The man spoke slowly, so slowly it was all she could do not to ask him to hurry. ‘I’m, er . . . I’m, er, thinking of bringing the wife to stay at your establishment for a couple of days and I have a few questions.’