Merrin felt an unwelcome pang of envy that this had once been her . . . her day . . . her future. She swallowed the bitter reminder of how it had ended.
The rain, thankfully, held off and it was now a big, bright, summer-blue day. One where the sky and ocean were of a similar hue and to look out over the vast expanse made the world beyond the harbour wall and all its glorious possibilities seem infinite. She and Miguel stood with the throng on the apron in front of the cottages; the atmosphere was electric and everyone was laughing.
She and Bella wore tea dresses in a delicate shade of rose pink, with pin-tuck fronts, sheer blouson sleeves and three-quarter-length pleated skirts. They had tortoiseshell combs in their hair, and ivory T-bar shoes that were perfect for dancing in later.
‘You look gorgeous,’ Miguel whispered in her ear, his words enough to partly fill the gaps of doubt inside her with the dust of confidence. Her heart felt like it rattled in her ribs as she fought to suppress the image of walking out of the cottage with her dad and her first sight of the cart in all its floral glory. It had been . . . perfect. And her girls waiting to escort her to the church, the photographer clicking away and her gran about as proud as she could be . . .
She hated that tears now gathered at the back of her throat; it was way too early in the day to give in to tears. This was the first taster of her sister’s wedding day and Merrin knew she was going to have to fight hard to keep her high emotions tamped down. Her plan was to think only about the moment, nothing further ahead, and to remember that this time yesterday felt only a blink away, as it would this time tomorrow . . . She was grateful that her trembling hand sat inside Miguel’s.
Her dad and Robin were in smart, navy pinstripe suits with large pink carnations on their lapels. She thought they looked like Port Charles’s answer to Al Capone, but kept this to herself. Jarvis’s dad stood awkwardly on the periphery, smoking, as if not quite sure of his place. Merrin watched him taking in the view and wondered if he mourned it as much as she did. For this alone she felt a pang of empathy for the man. Nancy Cardy looked so happy, beaming in her finery, her arms linked with her sister’s. It was lovely for the Kellows and the Cardys, as the two were officially becoming family. She couldn’t help but think briefly of Digby’s mother, who had kept her and her loved ones at such a distance, which hadn’t made any sense to her, until it did.
Encountering the woman in the village shop had unnerved her. How Merrin wished she’d had the guts to stand up to her directly, to question her meanness and the calculated way she had gone about destroying a young couple. She cursed the naivety with which she had waltzed into the whole affair. It sat like a thorn in her shoe, a noise in her brain, the legacy of which she still hadn’t fully processed, even after all this time.
Her thoughts were interrupted when, without fanfare, Ruby appeared at the doorway of the cottage with her mum fussing over her short veil.
‘Oh, my goodness! Look at her. She’s absolutely stunning!’ Merrin felt a tightening in her throat and wished her gran and gramps could see their oldest granddaughter today of all days. How proud they would be! Her sister had opted for a sleeveless ivory gown that was gathered in at the waist and sat in a slinky knot on her hip. Her frock was set off with a champagne-coloured faux fur stole draped around her shoulders and the wide gold-and-pearl brooch that held it together sparkled where the sun caught it. Her make-up was thankfully minimal, save for the pillar-box-red lipstick that highlighted her full lips. The wedding theme was very vintage/wartime and her sister had nailed it.
‘Wowsers!’ She heard Miguel gasp and smiled for her sister.
‘Ruby Mae!’ Her dad stepped forward and her sister slipped her arm through his. ‘You look beautiful.’ He beamed and Ruby looked out over them all with an uncharacteristic softness to her expression that only added to her beauty.
Merrin’s bottom lip trembled; the way her dad looked at his oldest daughter took her back to the moment she had descended the stairs.
‘Thought you might have rigged up the old cart!’ Ruby looked around, although it was unclear whether her expression was one of disappointment or relief.
Merrin followed her eyes, hoping this was not the case; anything that might have mirrored her disastrous day was not a thought she relished. She painted on a smile, aware that this statement had encouraged people to turn and look at her as if seeking out her response. Keeping her eyes fixed on her sister and gripping Miguel as if her life depended on it, she beamed.
‘Better than that, Rubes!’ He turned towards the slipway and called out, ‘All right, lads, when you’re ready!’ And on cue music floated up over the wall.
‘What the . . . ?’ Ruby craned her neck, as they all did, turning towards the unmistakable sound of a jazz band, who walked in perfect formation from the slipway and around to the front of the cottages. They were playing an upbeat, catchy tune more likely to be heard in New Orleans than Port Charles and the effect was electrifying. Everyone, as if rehearsed, either broke into a little jig, moved their shoulders, waved their hands or shuffled their feet. It was genius; a band to lead the procession up to the church, meaning the party started the moment the first note was played.
Merrin ran forward and gripped her sister in a hug, whipped up like the rest of the revellers into a state of pure excitement that made her feel like anything was possible. ‘Isn’t this wonderful?’
‘It is!’ Her sister was breathless and uncharacteristically short of words, clearly swept up in the moment.
‘Have the best day, darling!’ Merrin looked steadily into her eyes, willing her sister to see only love. ‘You look out of this world! Enjoy every second!’
‘I will. I love you, sis. Always have, always will.’
Ruby held her gaze as the band got closer and the music got louder. Merrin took the words and sewed them beneath her heart. They were forgiveness for that terrible row that lived in her memory and the conversation that had threatened to damage them. No matter how far away Merrin might stray, she was bound to this woman and this place: a Kellow.
Finding her way back to Miguel, she slipped her hand inside his again. It might have been her imagination, but Merrin felt sure that as the noisy, dancing troupe made their way past the slipway, along Fore Street and up towards the church, all eyes were on her sister before they sought her out, as if she were a separate spectacle entirely. Miguel’s hand was where she found comfort, holding it tightly as they meandered slowly, waving to tourists and the friends and residents of Port Charles who were not already inside the church.
Don’t be stupid, Merrin, no one cares. No one is thinking about that day . . . She swallowed to try and relieve her dry mouth, watching as Miguel moved ahead in the churchyard, turning to wave at her as he and the rest of the group disappeared inside St Michael’s. She felt the absence of him and smiled at Bella.
‘You okay, doll?’ her friend asked.
‘Yep.’ Her voice was steady; her legs, however, shook.
The jazz band played their encore and peeled off to a waiting van, revelling in their triumph. She, Bella, Ruby and her dad hung back and formed a neat square on the patch of tarmac outside of the main church door.
‘Nearly off!’ Her dad raised Ruby’s fingers and kissed them. ‘You look smashing, and God knows I’m fond of Jarvis. This is a wonderful day for an old dad to see.’