‘Hello.’ Loretta’s tone was clipped and her manner that of someone addressing a stranger.
‘Hello.’ Despite the sinking feeling in her stomach, Merrin was not going to look away or blink or cower in front of this woman. Merrin, knowing her husband, old Mr Guthrie Mortimer, had passed away around the same time as Granny Ellen, was wondering how or whether to offer her condolences, when the woman, who looked remarkably together for one who had only a year since been widowed, spoke calmly and steered the conversation.
‘I believe congratulations are in order. Your sister’s getting married, isn’t she?’ Her fingers flexed ever so slightly around her handbag.
‘That’s right.’ Merrin held her ground. Why, Loretta? Why were you so foul? What did I ever do to you? Many was the night she had imagined this meeting and this conversation, picturing how she would stand firm and demand answers from the woman who had so nearly become her motherin-law. But when it came to it, Merrin realised she wasn’t up for the fight, didn’t want to dredge the murky waters of her misery and wanted nothing more than to be as far away from the woman as possible. Loretta Mortimer was toxic and the less she had to do with her, the better chance she had of coming away unscathed. Merrin looked briefly towards the door, her head jerking involuntarily as she calculated whether she might get to it before she was sick.
‘Lovely.’ Her one-word response, but with an expression that suggested she thought it was anything but.
‘Merrin’s got a smashing job; she’s a manager at a fancy castle hotel just outside of Bristol, in’t that right, Merrin? Heather is very proud, and rightly so. We all are.’
Sweet Mrs Everit was all of a dither, her face puce, as she tried to present Merrin’s life as a success to this woman who everyone in Port Charles knew had played a part in her downfall.
‘That’s right, Mrs Everit.’ She smiled at the woman, who was inadvertently giving the other woman information she would rather wasn’t shared. With her hand on the bread rack, she did her best to steady her legs, which now felt rooted to the spot.
‘How charming. Well, shan’t keep you!’ Mrs Mortimer plucked her wicker shopping basket from the countertop and fixed her smile. ‘I do hope the weather holds for your sister. They say there might be a storm coming in.’
‘They say a lotta things,’ Merrin countered, ‘but I don’t pay no attention to none of it.’ It was deliberate, her double negative and her slide into an accent stronger than she was used to. She watched the woman sweep past without so much as a sideways glance, before the little bell tinkled, as if to herald her departure. She turned to face the kindly shopkeeper who was as much a fixture of the place as the brick itself, and let out a long, slow exhale as she blinked, feeling giddy, but also a little proud that she had not buckled, not entirely.
‘Oh, Merrin.’ Mrs Everit took a deep breath. ‘It is lovely to see you. I didn’t know what to say, my love. Sorry you had to encounter her.’
‘It’s okay, Mrs Everit.’ Merrin smiled, placing her hand on her stomach, trying to quell the ache in her gut.
‘You did very well, little lamb. And I think it’s fair to say, that woman is a proper fucking cow!’
Merrin’s intake of breath was sharp and fuelled the burst of laugher that spilled from her. ‘Mrs Everit!’ She grabbed the countertop and hung from it, laughing so hard her sides hurt.
‘Well, I’m sorry, Merrin, but she is!’ She flattened her tabard against her chest. ‘Now, what can I get you, lovey?’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MIGUEL
Ben slept with his head thrown back in the old leather chair and his arms folded across his ample tum. Robin sat next to him in the other, snoring like billy-o and curled like a baby. He and Jarvis sat on the floor nursing cold bottles of beer and looking out of the loft, watching the sun go down.
‘Do you know, I’ve been all around the world, mainly for work, been to some incredible hotels, some insane resorts and I’ve seen some beautiful sunsets, but I don’t think any of them are as incredible as this view right here.’ Miguel, too sloshed to recognise his drunken haze, but loving the moment, made the bold statement.
‘Thank you, my friend, you’ve just saved me a king’s ransom!’ Jarvis chuckled.
‘How come?’
‘Well, I might have spent thousands travelling all over trying to look at a sunset prettier than this, but now I don’t need to if I know I’m not going to get any better. No need to take Rubes on any expensive honeymoon next year when we’ve saved up. I shall instead invest my money in one of them all-singing and all-dancing gas barbecues that she keeps on about for the backyard.’
‘Cheers to that!’ Miguel raised his bottle. ‘So what do you think it’ll be like, Jarvis, being a married man?’
‘Not much different, I don’t think; we already share a home and have a joint loan on the van. I reckon she’ll like being the only married Kellow daughter, though, like it’s an achievement.’ He breathed out. ‘There’s more than a bit of sisterly rivalry there, and Ruby will like the win.’
‘Why is there rivalry?’
‘God knows.’ Jarvis took a swig of his drink. ‘Sisters!’ He shook his head.
‘Where did you propose? Was it the grand gesture, rose petals, champagne on ice? The whole nine yards?’ Miguel tried to picture the big man on one knee.
‘Not quite.’ Jarvis laughed. ‘I asked her in the queue at the chip shop in Mevagissey. We’d stopped off to pick up supper and it was raining hard and I looked at her with her little hood up, the string drawn around her face so she was all squished, and I knew it was the right time and so I said, “Will you marry me, Rubes?” And she said, “Do you want your sausage battered or plain?” I told her, “Plain, obviously, I’m not too fond of batter,” and then she said, “And yes, I’ll marry you, Jarv!” And that was that.’
‘Wow!’ Miguel, encouraged by the beer that swilled in his blood, found his story strangely moving. ‘I’ve got to be honest, Jarv, I get why you want to be a part of this family. They are good people.’
‘They are that.’ Jarvis took a deep breath. ‘My own dad is worse than useless and Ben . . . he’s been good to me.’
‘And now he’s going to be your father-in-law.’
‘I am indeed!’ Ben hollered from the chair. ‘And thank God you was only saying nice things, cos I’d have your innards for fish bait! You’re good lads, both of you,’ he announced, before falling straight back to sleep.
He and Jarvis laughed quietly.
‘My dad’s great, I just, I just don’t really know him.’ Miguel whispered this truth. ‘He was always working when I was a kid and, now I’m an adult, he’s still always working.’
‘No shame in a man grafting to earn an honest living.’
‘No, none at all,’ Miguel agreed. ‘But I think if I ever have kids I’ll do it differently. I want more balance; I want to have a relationship with them.’
‘I can’t wait to be a dad. I’ll make sure I’m always around and give them the best I can.’