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.’
Merrin swallowed, thinking of how her day had cost her parents a pretty penny and had come to nothing. Her stomach bunched and she felt the throb of sorrow in her chest.
The church doors were flung open and the breath caught in her throat, but no, there was no sign of the Reverend Pimm with an anxious look and a nervous stutter, no hurried ushering of the bridal party into the vestry. Instead, the dizzy notes of ‘At Last’ floated from the church and Ruby, with an air of calm, confidence and poise, walked on her dad’s arm into the building where her beloved waited for her at the end of the aisle.
It was the first time Merrin had walked up an aisle since her wedding rehearsal. Her limbs felt leaden and her seat so very far away. There were the usual smiles and winks of appreciation for the stunning bride, and nods of congratulation for her dad, but it was obvious by the hushed whispers behind cupped palms and the surreptitious glances and narrow-eyed expressions of pity cast in her direction that the assembled, silently or otherwise, compared the moment to the last time a Kellow girl had donned a wedding dress and trundled up the hill to St Michael’s. Even Reverend Pimm held her with a lingering stare that sent a spread of crimson embarrassment over her neck.
Squeezing into the pew next to Miguel, she arranged her skirt over her knees. The hurt was tangible, as was the sad and humiliating hum that rang in her ears, but there was something else: anger. As her limbs shook, she felt angry that she had been led to that point outside the church only to be so humiliated by Digby’s absence. Who did he think he was that made it okay to treat her like that? Who did his mother think she was, able to offer such calm advice? Trust me, Merrin, go home, dear. Go home to your family . . . How dare they!
Merrin closed her eyes and tried to get a grip. Her dad sidled into position next to his wife, who passed him a pressed handkerchief, with which he immediately dabbed his eyes and blew his nose.
The Reverend Pimm did a fine job, setting the right tone for the ceremony that was amusingly anecdotal and not too solemn.
When he asked: ‘If any person present knows of any lawful impediment to this marriage you should declare it now . . .’ The congregation concentrated on his words before he comically looked skyward and mouthed his thanks at the lack of response. This drew laughter from everyone except Merrin, her dad, who mumbled a response using words that were usually reserved for outside of church, and Ruby, who looked back over her shoulder and fixed her with a look that bordered on fury.