Little baby, it’ll all be okay . . . We’ve got you, Merry, we are right here . . . Let’s get you home . . . It will all be okay . . . Are you cold, doll?
Their words sounded to her like they were being spoken underwater, her breathing was loud in her ears and she could hardly remember how to take a step. She kicked off her shoes and left them on the path, barefoot now on the tarmac, just how she preferred it, grounded and able to feel the earth, warm beneath her feet.
Are you? Are you cold, doll?
It was only this repeated question that made her realise her limbs were trembling and her teeth chattering, but no, she wasn’t cold, more . . . in pain. She felt broken. Her chest hurt. Raising her fingertips, she ran them over the front of her dress and up to her throat, just to check that nothing was actually lodged there and no one had noticed; she would have been quite unsurprised to find a dagger, hilt-deep, sitting squarely in her breast.
‘Where’s the ladder?’ her gran called, drawing their attention to the fact that it was quite a step up for an old girl like her.
‘Where’s the ladder?’ Ruby asked the group, even though it was evident no one had thought about the return journey because they didn’t expect there to be one. The plan had been that Guthrie Mortimer’s chauffeur would drive them in his vintage Rolls to Pencleven Court, where they would celebrate with dancing and champagne.
Her dad scanned the floor to see if there was something that might suffice as a step. Merrin felt her legs sway a little.
I just want to go home . . . someone, please take me home . . . I don’t want people to see me dressed up like this . . . like a bride, but not a bride . . . The dress that had earlier filled her with confidence now painted her as a fool. The clingy bodice was constricting and the diamanté waistband sparkled more brightly than ever, catching the sunlight and calling to be admired. She wished it would be quiet. Wanting nothing more than to blend into the surroundings or, better still, disappear altogether.
Her mum leant into her, propping her up. ‘It’s all right, love. Hang on, my darling. We’ll have you home before you know it.’
Merrin felt an arm beneath her shoulder blades and another around the back of her thighs, and suddenly she was being lifted from the ground, grateful to be in Jarvis’s arms. He walked to the cart and she buried her face in his neck. He stood tall and laid her on the pillows, before shrugging his arms from his jacket and laying it over her. Bella and Ruby clambered up, giving each other a leg-up and scrambling on the wood. They were, she noted, still holding their redundant flowers, but were clearly no longer concerned about keeping their floaty lilac frocks pristine.
‘I’ll walk down the hill with your mother, Ben.’ Heather spoke softly. ‘You travel back next to Jarvis and get the big kettle on. We’ll be with you soon enough and I think the fresh air’ll do us both good.’
‘Okay, love. Sure you don’t you want me to come back with the truck?’
‘No, it’s only five minutes. I’ll see you there as soon as. It’ll be nice to have a little walk, won’t it, Ellen?’
‘Wait till I get my hands on that boy! How dare he?’ Mrs Kellow senior raised her cane as if it were a sword. ‘That family is poison! Pure poison! This is what they do!’
Merrin was aware of the conversations taking place around her, and of her girls, who gathered close. Both of them were crying, and she envied them that, as not one tear had left her eyes; she could barely blink.
As the cart moved away, she was lulled and what little remained of her strength left her core. Weakened, she fell further back into the pillows as her girls held her fast. They captured her arms and legs, huddling forward, anchoring her, as they kissed her face. She lay looking up at the gap between their bowed heads as they shielded her from the sight of tourists and those in their wedding finery, who were heading back to their cars and homes.
Merrin stared into the sky, where storm clouds now gathered, not that she minded, wanting to experience the full force of thunder and lightning. She felt as if she were sinking, down and down into a dark place beneath the cart, beneath the earth, and all her hopes and dreams, now cloaked in sorrow and loss, were sinking with her. She knew that she had never felt such deep sadness as she did at that precise moment. Her life, her plans and her dreams had been shredded and she was blank, raw and floundering, gasping for air like a fish in the net. Exposed and to be pitied, an almost bride. It felt like a nightmare and one she wanted to end. She hoped she might wake and find it was the start of the day, when she would once again stand on the cobbles in her bare feet and embrace all that was coming her way, knowing that her beloved Digby was waiting for her.
‘Let it out . . .’ Bella urged.
‘She’s right, let it all out, babby,’ Ruby added.
‘No one can see you, Merry, you can have a good old cry.’ Bella smoothed the hair from her forehead.
But Merrin stayed silent. She couldn’t cry because it didn’t seem real, any of it.
CHAPTER FIVE
JARVIS
Knowing the wedding service would now be in full swing, Jarvis had parked the cart up on the flat and was giving Daisy a drink and a good rub behind the ears when Robin came haring around the corner with some urgency, his suit jacket flying behind him, eyes wide and the smooth soles of his lace-up shoes slipping on the warm pavement.
‘You’re not going to believe it, Jarv!’ He bent over, one arm leaning on the cart, as he caught his breath. ‘He’s only gone and done a runner, left her standing at the altar! He stood her up, he bloody stood her up!’ He was breathless, but agitated too, excited almost, by the turn of events.
‘Is this a wind-up? Are you joking? Because it’s not funny.’
There hadn’t been much amusing about the whole day. It had been painful for Jarvis to be the one who drove Merrin to the church where she was to marry a man who was taller, richer and luckier than him. Luckier because it was Merrin who would walk up the aisle and take his hand, Merrin who he would wake up to the very next day . . . but there it was. Jarvis knew he was the only one able to confidently navigate the lanes with the cart and keep control of old Daisy, who trusted him. It was a favour for Ben and for Merrin: a gift of goodbye.
He had been aware of Ben taking his seat next to him on the leather bench at the helm of the cart and had felt his arm across his back, giving him a brief hug. The contact and kindness had been enough to cause his tears to bloom once again. Sniffing, he had kept his eyes down to hide his distress, keen that no one saw the state of him, and with the girls in position, he had gently clicked his tongue, uttered commands and pulled the soft leather reins, steering Daisy to the left and right along the cobbled streets of Port Charles. With the laughing women on the flower-filled cart, the horse plodded slowly on, as if she, like he, was reluctant to arrive, knowing that after this long-planned-for trip, nothing would ever be quite the same again.
‘You’re doing great, Jarv,’ Ben had encouraged. ‘You’re doing great.’
He had got the impression the man meant more than just his ability to steer Daisy along the path. He hadn’t watched them alight, but had taken his time, wanting to put distance between himself and the bridal party on this fine, sun-filled day.
‘Seriously, Robin, are you winding me up?’ Sweating and with his heart racing, he felt the stir of drama in his veins and knew that if this were true he should act, do something!