Yesterday's Sun (27 page)

“So I’ll never become a mother. Tom will never be a father, not if he stays with me, anyway,” Holly said flatly. “So much for perfect order in the world. Is it too much to ask for there to be a future where the three of us could be together? Me, Tom, and Libby, a proper family.”

“I said there has to be balance, not that it has to be fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair at all, but please don’t take my word for it. It’s only a theory. When the time is right, you need to use the moondial again, if only once more. Just to find out the answer for yourself.”

Holly shook her head. “I don’t want to even think about that. I hate that I have to live my life based on what the moondial shows me. I’m absolutely terrified when I think what might be in store for me once I’ve given up Libby just to save my own wretched life.”

Holly was now losing the feeling in her hand as Jocelyn’s grip didn’t loosen. “Please don’t take any chances,” Jocelyn told her firmly.

Holly felt the tears trickle down her face before she could stop them, each teardrop invariably following the path of the first no matter how much she wiped at her wet cheeks.

Life carried on as normal, or at least as normal as life was for Holly these days. She carried on helping out at the tea shop but spent most of her time in the studio working on Mrs. Bronson’s sculpture. She now had her own experience of being a mother to draw on and it was her beautiful and precious Libby who inspired her work. Although she wouldn’t be allowed to give life to her daughter, she could at least immortalize her in the sculpture.

Holly had started wearing the same fleece she’d had on when she had held Libby in her arms, just so she could feel that connection with her daughter as she worked. She had convinced herself that she could still detect the faintest of baby smells where Libby had rested her head on her shoulder and fallen asleep.

It had taken many sleepless nights to come to terms with the promise she’d made to Jocelyn and to herself. She had to keep reminding herself that she wasn’t just sacrificing her daughter’s life for her own, but for Tom’s, too. Yet the bond that had been created between herself and Libby haunted her and seemed to be growing as the child form in the sculpture took shape. And as the bond grew, so did the guilt. At her lowest moments, in the middle of the night when she felt alone and isolated, Holly would pull no punches and accuse herself of destroying her daughter’s life for the sake of her own. The only escape from those self-destructive thoughts came as sunlight filtered through the bedroom window to chase away the night’s shadows. Holly would recall Tom’s gaunt eyes staring back at her in the reflection of the window and she would strengthen her resolve. She would do what she had to do, but Libby would always be a part of her, no matter what.

“Are you missing me?” Tom asked. “Because I’m missing you.”

“Yes, I’m missing you. Of course I’m missing you, although I think perhaps Billy is missing you more,” teased Holly.

“Has he started on the garden yet?” asked Tom.

“No, of course not. It may be lovely and sunny where you are, but here it’s bitterly cold and the ground is frozen. Billy says he can’t start work until the spring. By which point, you’ll be home and can help him yourself.”

“Hmm, speaking of coming home …” Tom said, and Holly didn’t like the tone of his voice. She knew he was about to impart bad news.

“You’re not going to be home by spring?” she gasped.

Tom laughed. “No, God, it’s not that bad. It’s just that the assignment here might last a little longer than we expected.”

“How long?” demanded Holly. Tom was due home early in December and Holly had already started counting down the days.

“Only a couple of weeks, but I will be home before Christmas. Although you might have to make do with a present from the duty-free shop,” confessed Tom.

Holly wanted to be angry with him but she remembered what her bereaved husband had said about hating the anchorman job he was going to take up in the New Year. She wasn’t about to push Tom to give up so quickly the work he obviously enjoyed.

“It had better be a very big bottle, then,” Holly told him. “And I mean perfume, not alcohol.”

“You’re amazing. Do you know that?”

Holly frowned, knowing she didn’t deserve his praise. “So why the delay? What’s happening?” she asked.

“Some of the guys in the crew are freelancers and they’ve pulled up stakes to follow a breaking news story. There’s been a mining disaster in the south and they’re going to cover the rescue operation. It means more work for the poor fools who’ve been left here, so it’s going to take a bit longer than we planned.”

“Don’t you wish you could have gone with them?” asked Holly. She had wanted to have a long talk with Tom about his career when he came home, but there was no harm planting some ideas now. The moondial might have its rules, but if she couldn’t keep Libby she would be damned if it would stop her helping Tom make some important decisions about his career.

“I’m tied into my contract, even if it is a temporary reassignment. I can’t go upsetting the studio now, can I?” Tom said submissively. It was clear that he had no idea where Holly was about to lead him.

“I can’t believe they can look at what you’ve been doing these last six months and still think it’s a good idea to stick you in a studio for the rest of your life.”

Tom laughed nervously. “You make it sound like I’m being sent to prison.”

“Isn’t that how you see it? I know you think you’re doing your duty and that it’s the right thing for us, but I can see how much you love what you’re doing now, even when it’s difficult, heartbreaking stuff you have to deal with. And I know you won’t say it, so I’ll say it for you. You were never meant to be an anchorman and I know you’re going to hate it.”

“Whoa, Holly, where did all of that come from?” interrupted Tom. He sounded shocked, but Holly noted that he hadn’t disagreed.

“I know we dismissed the idea of you being a freelancer. You felt obliged to take the anchorman job, but things change. Thanks to Sam at the gallery, I’m struggling to produce enough work to meet the demand: there’s our security. I know being away from home is tough on both of us, but what if you did six months on assignments and six months writing and researching? Doesn’t that sound better than sticking you in a suit and painting a smile on your face in front of the camera every day?”

When Holly finally paused for breath, Tom was silent on the other end of the phone. “I’m sorry,” she added. “It’s just I’ve been thinking about it and I wasn’t going to say anything until you were home, but there you go. I can’t keep my big mouth shut.”

“Or stop making plans,” Tom said quietly.

“Am I interfering?” moaned Holly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry. I love you because you know me inside and out.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” whispered Holly.

“I know you’re right. The new job does feel like it would be trying to fit a square peg in a round hole, but what about our other plans? What about a family?”

Holly had known this question would be coming. “I want you to be happy, Tom,” she said. “If we’re destined to have children, we will have children.” Holly was quite proud of the answer she gave. It was as truthful as she could make it.

“It’s no big deal,” argued Holly.

“No big deal? No big deal?” whispered Jocelyn with a suppressed screech that was just loud enough for one of the tea shop regulars to raise his head from his steaming bowl of soup and give them a curious look.

“The nurse said they’re waiting for more supplies. She’s going to ring me next week when they get more in.” Holly was trying to sound casual about the whole thing but even she had been a bit spooked when the nurse had told her that she couldn’t have her contraceptive injection. Jocelyn’s fears had been well-placed. Holly’s path was still leading her to an early grave; the battle with the moondial wasn’t over yet.

“I can’t believe you’re not taking this seriously. Isn’t there somewhere else you can go?” demanded Jocelyn.

“If it comes to it, I can go to a health center I used to go to in London. I’ll even go private if need be. And worst-case scenario, I simply won’t have sex with Tom,” Holly said chirpily.

Someone coughed and Holly and Jocelyn turned to face the old gent who had been slurping his soup. Holly blushed. So did he. “Sorry to disturb,” he said. “Could I have another bread roll?”

“Here,” Jocelyn told him gruffly, thumping down a bread roll onto the counter. She was in no mood to be pestered by customers.

The old gent returned happily to his seat and Jocelyn returned her attention to Holly. “I told you it wouldn’t be easy. Holly, you need to be so careful.”

“I know, honestly, Jocelyn. I do. I know that it’s one thing living with the guilt of choosing not to have Libby, but if I did accidentally get pregnant I don’t know what I would do. I couldn’t have an abortion, not when I’ve held her in my arms. So where would that leave me? I know how important this is,” Holly assured her.

Jocelyn nodded.

“There is one other problem this mess with my injection has created,” admitted Holly, biting her lip nervously.

Jocelyn looked at Holly and the puzzled look on her face deepened. Then the other shoe dropped, as did her mouth. “It’s the full moon tomorrow and you could still see Libby.”

Holly nodded and she bit down hard on her lip, the pain just enough to ward off tears. “I don’t know what I’ll do,” she said, preempting the question that she knew was on the tip of Jocelyn’s tongue. “I think I need you to persuade me not to visit Libby again. If I see her one more time, I swear I might not be able to go through with any of this.”

“Then you have two choices. Either you give the glass orb to me or you let me stay over with you. Or both.”

Holly suddenly realized that she couldn’t hand over the moondial box. She was so overwhelmed by a sense of possessiveness that it surprised her. “Technically that was three choices,” Holly argued.

Jocelyn raised an eyebrow in response but said nothing.

“I haven’t got a guest bed.”

“We can share your bed,” Jocelyn told her. Her steely resolve wasn’t going to be broken.

From behind them, the old gent coughed again. Holly blushed again.

“What do you want this time?” Jocelyn barked.

“I just wanted to pay the bill,” he replied meekly, handing Jocelyn the right money.

She looked down at the coins. “What, no tip?”

Jocelyn was in no mood to be argued with. She got her tip and she got her invitation to stay over with Holly on the night of the full moon.

It was late November and the night was bitterly cold, the sky crystal clear. There wasn’t a single cloud to offer any relief from the moon’s gaze and Holly felt its brooding eye bearing down on her even though she had every curtain and every blind in the house closed tightly and the lights blazing in every room to push away the moonbeams. Nevertheless, Holly sensed the moon reaching out to her, its light seeping through every crack and crevice in her self-made fortress.

Jocelyn had come prepared for their moondial vigil with shopping bags brimming with girls’ night essentials. They spent a pleasant enough evening munching through popcorn and chocolates and watching a DVD. Jocelyn had picked a comedy rather than a tearjerker. Laughter was the best medicine, she told Holly.

It was past midnight by the time they decided to call it a night and head upstairs to bed. It felt strange having Jocelyn stay over and Holly was a little self-conscious as she got into bed next to her. She had been alone for most of her life, and with Tom away she had adapted easily to sleeping on her own again. She couldn’t help feeling like Jocelyn was her prison guard even though she herself had been the one to request that she be kept under house arrest.

“Do you mind if I keep the light on?” Holly asked. She was looking toward the picture window and imagined the tendrils of moonlight reaching through the glass, through the folds of the curtain, stretching out toward her.

“Of course not. Do you think you’re ready for sleep?” Jocelyn asked.

Holly shrugged her shoulders. “I’ll give it a try, but I can already feel the moondial pulling me,” confessed Holly. “My legs are all jittery so I apologize now if I kick you in the night.”

“I’ve told you before, I’ve got the skin of a rhino. I doubt I’d feel a thing with one of your scrawny legs,” Jocelyn told her. She leaned over and tucked the duvet around Holly’s shoulders. “It’ll be morning before you know it.”

“I hope you’re right. I so want all of this to be over, but I’m scared it never will,” sighed Holly. The two women were now lying side by side, both staring up at the ceiling. “How am I going to live with the guilt?”

“You just do,” replied Jocelyn. She turned to look at Holly. “But don’t compare what you’re doing to what I did. Yes, I feel guilty, because I deserve to. I may not have held the gun to Harry’s head and pulled the trigger but I did load the bullets. I set out to make him suffer to the point that he couldn’t take any more.”

“But you were only turning the tables on him. If it had been the other way around, would Harry have felt guilty?”

“He was what he was, but he never consciously set out to end my life. I, on the other hand, knew what I was doing and where it was leading. But it’s different for you. You can’t torture yourself by believing you’re taking Libby’s life. You’re taking the potential of life, yes, but not life. It’s not the same,” insisted Jocelyn.

“It feels the same. Having seen Libby, having held her. It feels the same.”

The two women were quiet for a while and Holly began to think Jocelyn was drifting off to sleep but the old lady seemed determined to keep Holly’s mind occupied.

“Paul’s invited me over for Christmas,” Jocelyn chirped. “I’ll leave a few days before Christmas day and stay for about a week. It’s still early, but I think we’ve turned a corner.”

“You’re staying over at his house? That’s a big step.”

Jocelyn smiled sadly. “I’ll be staying in a nearby hotel. Like I said, it’s early.”

Holly felt anger welling up inside her but she held her tongue. She knew very little about Paul and in some ways he had been a victim of the moondial, too, but then she looked at Jocelyn. If only he knew what he had been missing all these years by shutting her out of his life.