Yesterday's Sun (29 page)

Holly tried to smile but she only managed to make her lower lip tremble. “We’ll see,” Holly told him.

12

I
know you don’t want to hear this right now, but this might just be a blessing in disguise,” Jocelyn told Holly.

Holly had felt shell-shocked after Tom’s phone call and although she still managed to function on a daily basis, she had stopped working at the tea shop. She had told Jocelyn that she needed to spend more time finishing off the scaled-down sculpture for Mrs. Bronson, but that was only partially true. She knew that Jocelyn would make her face the future head on and Holly wasn’t ready to do that yet. It was only when Jocelyn came over for Sunday brunch, and with less than a week to go before Holly was due to fly out to meet Tom, that she had to stop living in denial.

She had always known that the day would come when she would have to turn from the path that held Libby in the future. Holly recognized what a dangerous game she had been playing by not going back to the doctor for her contraceptive injection and she accepted that she was being stubborn. She wouldn’t be rushed into making the decision that essentially put an end to her daughter’s life before it had even begun. But now it would seem that Tom’s new travel arrangements were doing just that. There were two clear options: to go to Singapore and risk becoming pregnant, or to stay at home and ensure that Libby’s life was erased once and for always. Holly knew which option Jocelyn was suggesting she should take. The old woman had once told her that the choices she had to make would be hers and hers alone, but it was becoming clear that she wouldn’t rest until Holly chose correctly.

“You’re right,” agreed Holly. “I don’t want to hear that right now.” She was sitting at the kitchen table with her fleece wrapped tightly around her. As she glanced out the window, the snow was falling and the garden looked as if it had been covered in a white, sterile blanket. The moondial was unrecognizable, hidden beneath a thick layer of snow that had neutralized any power it might have held over Holly.

“You’re supposed to be flying out on Tuesday,” Jocelyn continued, undeterred by Holly’s reluctance to talk about the future. “You still haven’t been to the doctor, so you and I both know that if you go to Singapore you can bet your life that you’ll get pregnant. And yes, the pun was intended.”

Holly carried on staring out the window, almost as if she hadn’t heard. “Three times. I got to see Libby three times and I only got to hold her once. I can’t believe I spent my entire life never even contemplating having children and now I’d give anything to hold Libby again, just once.”

“Even if you can’t have other children, maybe there’ll be other opportunities,” soothed Jocelyn. “Tom’s witnessed a lot of poverty and misery in his travels. There are so many children out there who need help. Maybe you could adopt?”

Holly shook her head. “I don’t think that’s really an option. Tom wouldn’t be happy with saving only one child; he’d want to save an entire village.”

Holly had already tentatively gauged Tom’s views on adopting and he’d told her as much. Although his view was influenced by the immovable conviction that they would have a child of their own one day, Holly was fairly certain he wouldn’t change his position on that issue.

“Besides,” continued Holly, “that’s not the point. I’m not even thinking about other children. I’m only thinking about Libby. It’s Libby I see every time I close my eyes. It’s Libby my arms are aching to hold. It’s Libby’s smell I try to recollect. I’ve lost her forever and what makes it worse is that Tom didn’t even get to meet her. I know what we’ve sacrificed but he never will, not really. I’m not just betraying Libby. In some ways I’m betraying Tom, too. How will our relationship survive that?”

“You love each other and you’ll survive this,” Jocelyn insisted.

Holly gave Jocelyn a smile that broke her heart and her will. “Yes, I will. For my sins, I will survive this.”

“You’re not going to Singapore? Please, Holly, say it out loud. Tell me you’re not going to Singapore,” pleaded Jocelyn.

“I’m not going to Singapore,” repeated Holly as a pitiful sigh escaped. “Oh, Jocelyn, I’ve lost her forever and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself.” Her chest heaved as she felt the crushing weight of her decision bearing down on her.

Jocelyn squeezed back her own tears. “Then I’m staying in the village for Christmas. You’re not doing this on your own.”

“But what about Paul? He’s expecting you,” Holly asked.

“He’s invited me over on Christmas morning; so far that’s all. I would be spending the rest of my time stuck in a hotel room, waiting and hoping that he’d invite me over again. I didn’t want to tell anyone because I was too ashamed. It’s my punishment, I suppose.”

“Punishment? Paul should be proud to have you as his mum and if I ever meet him I swear to God I’m going to punch him!”

Jocelyn laughed despite herself, but the sadness never left her eyes. “I don’t deserve to be his mum, and not just because of what I did to Harry. I was ready to take my own life and leave him to the whim of a wicked and violent father. The moondial gave me my life but not my son. I wasn’t completely forgiven.”

“You’re a good person, Jocelyn, and I won’t hear another word said about you needing forgiveness. But if he can’t recognize that then his loss is my gain.”

“Well, I’m staying here and that’s final. I’ll phone Paul and cancel. I think he’ll probably be relieved.”

“I suppose I have a phone call to make myself,” sighed Holly. “But I’m not going to tell Tom until the last minute. I couldn’t face days of arguments and intensive persuasion. Christmas has been ruined enough as it is.”

“But at least there will be other Christmases,” Jocelyn reminded her.

Holly smiled bravely at Jocelyn but her face was a mask, a mask she was going to have to learn to live with for a very long time. With practice, Holly would have to close her mind to all her hopes and dreams of motherhood, and in time the maternal instinct would fade away.

Holly worked on Mrs. Bronson’s sculpture with a sense of urgency, but it had nothing to do with the deadline or the imminent relief of finally getting Mrs. Bronson out of her hair. It was Holly’s guilt at failing her daughter that made her eager to finish the project. When the artwork was dispatched the day before Holly was supposed to fly out to Singapore, she closed up the studio. The full-size sculpture was still inside, draped in a dust sheet to hide the faces of the generations of mothers that Holly sensed were watching and judging her.

The emotional wall that Holly had built was enough to get her through the day, but the night before her flight Holly couldn’t sleep. She wandered the empty house wrapped in a blanket, trying to find a corner where she could curl up in a ball and hope that time would never find her. Every time she thought about the phone call she would have to make to Tom, her stomach lurched. First thing in the morning she would tell him that she wasn’t leaving as planned.

With dawn still a long way off, Holly wandered into the spare room that would never become Libby’s. It was cold and bare and empty. She squeezed herself into a gap between a pile of boxes and a suitcase, the suitcase that she should have packed for her trip. She brought her knees up to her chest and gripped them tightly, giving herself something to stop her arms feeling so painfully empty.

The suitcase felt cold as she rested her head against it. It was made of dark-brown leather but it triggered a memory of a bright tartan suitcase from Holly’s childhood, the one her mum had hidden behind the sofa on the day she left. She had watched in horror as her mum stood waiting at the front door for her husband to come home. She had barred his entry at first, telling him she wanted a divorce, yelling at him that she would take him for everything, screaming at him to say good-bye to their daughter and to get out of their lives. Holly had been terrified at the thought of being left alone with her mum so she had a spark of hope when her dad started to argue back. He pushed his way into the house and told his wife that he wasn’t going anywhere: if she wanted a divorce, she would be the one to leave. Holly hadn’t thought for a minute that they were fighting over her; it was the house he was refusing to give up. Holly had held her breath as the two stood facing each other in seething silence, neither parent moving—until a smile started to creep across her mum’s face. With a beaming smile, her mum had shrugged her shoulders and left her husband standing openmouthed as she retrieved the suitcase from behind the couch and then headed for the door. She didn’t look at Holly as she walked past her. There was no apology, no guilt to be wrestled with as she left the house. She didn’t even say good-bye. Her parting words were to Holly’s dad. “At last I get my life back,” she had snarled at him.

Pushing away the memory, another one immediately took its place. Holly pictured herself standing in the room she was in now, holding Libby. She had told her daughter that she loved her; she had told her that she was sorry. But did that really make her a better mother? Rather than answer the question, she tightened her grip on her knees until she could barely breathe. She looked beyond the space where she had stood and toward the window where the blind was open wide. She recalled Tom’s gaunt reflection looking back at her; she remembered how he’d said he couldn’t cope anymore. It was this thought that Holly held on to, the only thought that stopped her picking up the suitcase and packing it up for a trip to Singapore and Tom. It was Tom’s face that Holly held in her mind as she found something she had thought was beyond her grasp: sleep.

It was only the insistent chirping of the phone that raised Holly from her slumber. She unraveled herself from her blanket and her body screamed out in pain as she forced her tensed limbs to straighten up so that she could reach the phone in her bedroom.

“Hello?” she asked. Her voice was raspy and her throat felt constricted.

“Holly? Is that you?” It was Tom.

Holly’s stomach churned and a wave of nausea washed over her as she thought of the decision she was about to make.

“Yes, it’s me,” she croaked. She glanced at the clock. It was half past six and Holly was expected to leave for the airport in less than an hour.

“Are you OK? You sound awful. Are you ill? Are you going to be able to make the flight?” There was a growing panic in Tom’s voice.

This was it, thought Holly. This was the moment she had to say good-bye to Libby. “Tom!” Her voice was a sob now. “I can’t do this.”

“Christ, Holly, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”

Holly struggled to pull herself up straight. She took a deep breath. She had to remind herself that she was doing this for Tom.

“I can’t come,” she told him. Her voice was still raspy but it was emotionless.

Holly had intended to tell Tom that it was the weather keeping her home. The country had been brought to a virtual standstill by the latest big freeze, and Tom wouldn’t take too much convincing that it made traveling for Holly impossible even if a thaw was already under way. But as soon as she answered the phone, Tom had assumed she was ill, so Holly just went along with the idea. The guilt of the lie barely registered with Holly; there were far greater burdens on her conscience. She could almost hear the scratching of a distant pen on paper as the future was being rewritten.

Tom knew nothing of her betrayal and was only concerned about Holly’s health. He hid his disappointment well and made her promise to stay in bed and to get help from Jocelyn if she needed anything. There would be other Christmases together, he told her, and Holly couldn’t help but wonder about those future Christmases she had secured for herself. Would they still be together?

The decision that had plagued her for months had at last been made. She had expected some sense of relief when she put down the phone, but she felt none.

It had been a little more difficult to convince Jocelyn that she was all right. They both knew it was the full moon that night and Jocelyn took a lot of persuading that she didn’t need to keep watch over her. Holly insisted the deed was done; her life was taking a new route and Jocelyn could relax. Jocelyn was more resigned than relaxed, but she did eventually agree to leave Holly alone to find her feet on her new path.

And Holly knew exactly where her new path was leading her, at least that night. With the full moon rising above her, she headed straight for the moondial. She needed to put some final ghosts to rest. And if she witnessed a future that realized her worst fears then that was surely her punishment for the decision she had just made.

The night was cold and blustery. The scattering of bulbous clouds that glowed in front of the moon scurried across the sky to reveal stars that twinkled with a sense of inferiority; it was the bold brightness of the moon that would dominate the night. Holly’s heart was hammering in her chest as she stood in front of the stone plinth. She asked herself what she was doing, playing with her future again, and it was her heartbeat that reminded her that she owed her life to the moondial. Now she needed to know what kind of life it was granting her. Was the sacrifice ever going to be worth it?