‘Absolutely.’ Her mum walked to the stove. ‘It’s exactly how it should be. I’ve made a Bakewell tart and some walnut-and-apple cakes. Or there’s fresh bread if you want some with jam?’
‘Ooh, I’ll have a cup of tea and a bit of Bakewell tart, please.’ Her mouth watered and again her tears fell at this most simple gesture that she had missed.
‘Coming up!’ Her mum’s face broke into a look of sheer delight. ‘And don’t you cry, my darling. You’re home!’
‘I can’t help it, Mum.’ She sniffed. ‘It’s so good to be here in this room, the way it smells . . . the furniture . . . everything . . .’ It was a little overwhelming.
Her mum nodded and wiped at her own tears.
‘You and Miguel still going strong?’ Bella called from the sofa, doing what she did best, lightening the mood, steering the conversation. ‘He seemed happy to run off to the pub with your dad – that’ll earn him plus points with Ben!’
‘Yup.’ She looked towards the window and hoped he was having a nice time. She swallowed the uncomfortable thought that it was pointless for her family to get too involved with him, but this was not the time or place to say that.
‘He’s a gorgeous-looking lad.’ Bella jostled baby Glynn into a comfier position. ‘I bet you just stare at him all day.’
‘I do, Bells. I don’t actually do any work, I just follow him around, staring at his face.’
‘It’s not only his face I’d stare at,’ Ruby joined in. ‘From what I saw of him walking up the slipway with Jarv, he’s got a peachy little bum ’n’ all.’
‘Ruby Mae! And there’s you about to be a married woman!’ her mum called from the stove.
‘I can still look! ’Tain’t nothing in vows about lookin’！’
The women laughed and the sound filled the room, wrapping them in a cocoon of love, the warmth of which Merrin had quite forgotten. She bottled the moment and buried it deep inside.
With a mug of tea now nestling in her palm, she sat back on the sofa. Her mum’s smile was so wide she thought it could only make her cheeks ache. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to arrive somewhere and be so welcomed.
‘I still can’t believe you’re here.’ Heather Kellow bit her lip and continued to stare at her. ‘I’ve cooked a proper tea.’
‘I’ve only just had some tart!’ She took a sip of tea. ‘But what have you cooked, out of interest?’ Merrin’s mouth watered at the thought of her mum’s home cooking.
‘I’ve made a big steak-and-ale pie with butter-mashed potatoes and peppered greens, followed by apple crumble with home-made vanilla custard.’
‘Sweet Jesus, Mum, that’s a feast!’
‘You know your dad likes a good supper after being at the pub and I wanted to make a good impression with Miguel.’
‘You’ll do that right enough, he’s a gannet.’ She laughed.
‘We’ve missed you so much.’ Her mum fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. ‘I can’t even tell you.’
‘And me you.’ Merrin admitted, taking another sip of tea to avoid having to voice her loneliness or her guilt.
‘I wish Gran was here.’ Ruby looked towards the shelf, where a photo of Ellen and Arthur on their wedding day lived.
‘Me too,’ Merrin mused. She and her sister exchanged a look and Merrin knew the row that had flared about her not returning for Granny Ellen’s funeral was likely fresh in Ruby’s mind too.
‘Well, I reckon what she’d want is for us to enjoy the weekend. I mean, I’m not married yet. There’s still time for me to get out there and have some fun!’ Ruby grabbed a mug of tea from the range and took a sip.
‘What are you talking about? Me and Bells are planning on having lots of fun! It’s only you that’s going to be an old married woman.’
‘I’m not old!’ This, apparently, was where Ruby’s objection lay.
‘I’ve got to be honest, Merry, I’m not having that much fun.’ Bella pulled a face. ‘I mean, I love being Glynn’s mamma, of course I do, but the chances of me finding a man who’s looking for a skint single mum with sore nipples and a baby who’s yet to understand that night time means sleepy time . . . I think it’s fair to say that type of bloke is in quite short supply. But you know what? It’s his loss. Whoever he is!’
‘What’s the latest from Luuk?’ Merrin liked to be up to speed with the state of affairs with the ‘Flying Dutchman’， as they had nicknamed him, because, despite finding out that Bella was pregnant, he had flown.
‘He says he’s still coming to terms with the situation.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Says he’s in shock, the poor love, and thinking about what he wants to do with his future. I told him that having an actual human the size of a large melon pop out of your tuppence was also quite shocking, but . . .’
Ruby spat out her tea. Merrin shouted her laughter and she remembered what was so wonderful about being in this little house with the women she loved and who loved her in return. The familiar ache at living so far away rolled in her stomach.
‘Tuppence!’ Ruby howled.
‘Honestly, you girls!’ Her mum delivered the tea and cake to the table. ‘Right, come on, Ruby. Sit down, my love, the curling tongs are hot. This is our last rehearsal; we’ll be doing it for real tomorrow.’
There was a moment of awkward silence as the women all shared uncomfortable glances, until Merrin decided to take the lead.
‘A rehearsal, now that’s smart.’ She ran her fingers through her own fringe. ‘Don’t want any burnt-hair disasters on the day!’ She felt the weight of tension leave the room.
Ruby sat down and put her head forward. ‘Like we practised, Mum: demi-wave curls, a sharp part to the left and then the big hair comb put in nice and tight – pulling the one side back up off my face. Okay?’
‘Okay, lovely.’ Her mum grimaced over her head. ‘Don’t know who she thinks I am, but I’m not a professional hairdresser, I can only do my best.’
‘You’ll do fine, Heather!’ Bella called out her encouragement. ‘This must be a bit weird for you, Merry? Remind you of Digby the shit?’
Merry gave a snort of laughter at this nickname and was thankful in a way that Bella had mentioned him, glad of the opportunity to let off some of the tension that bound her insides tight.
‘I suppose I’ve thought about it a bit more than I usually do.’ She played it down. ‘But it’s not like I’m traumatised at having to relive the whole thing or anything like that. I still feel embarrassed if I think about it, though.’ She stared at her lap, her quick blinking and the redness that crept over her neck and face suggesting it was not quite the breeze she suggested.
‘You have nothing to feel embarrassed about. His loss.’ Bella used this for the second time in as many minutes.
‘It’s not even about him.’ She preferred not to say his name. ‘It’s how daft it made me feel. I was so sure, so confident, that I could rely on him. I still think about the surprise of it, his face and the way he looked at me differently . . .’