“So that’s why Tom can’t see me. But I still don’t understand—because Libby could see me. I’m sure of it.”
“Libby? Is she the baby you had?”
“Oh, Jocelyn, she’s beautiful. You should see her. In fact you already have, she’s the baby I based my sculpture on,” added Holly proudly.
Jocelyn smiled. “Then yes, she is beautiful. Holly, I wish I could explain why she could see you but I don’t know everything. Even Charles Hardmonton never understood exactly how it worked.”
“So I was right: he did make the moondial from the Moon Stone.”
Jocelyn nodded. “I know your presence will be stronger when you’re in direct moonlight, but I think sometimes it doesn’t matter how strong the reflection is; people will refuse to see what’s right in front of them. An adult, in particular, can’t accept what shouldn’t be there, but a child just might.”
“Did Paul see you?”
Jocelyn shook her head. “He was older and very, very angry.”
“Because you abandoned him?”
It was Jocelyn’s turn to stifle a sob. “He was right to hate me, still is.”
“Why should he still hate you? You saved him, didn’t you?”
“It’s complicated. There’s so much more you need to know about the moondial and its rules.” The tears were flowing freely down Jocelyn’s face.
In a reversal of roles, it was now Holly who was comforting Jocelyn. She went to the cupboard and fetched her a tissue. “Right,” Holly said. “I’m all ears. Tell me everything. Tell me everything I need to do to change things.”
“There’s just so much. Where to begin?” Jocelyn said, almost to herself. She was staring down at the paper tissue in her hands, which she twisted furiously with trembling fingers. “There’s the journal, of course. It was given to me not long after Harry bought the dial and it explains as much as anyone has ever learned about how it works. I haven’t looked at the journal for nearly thirty years, haven’t wanted to. When I left this house, I never wanted to see the dial again, or anything to do with it.”
It was now Holly’s turn to reach out and steady Jocelyn’s shaking hand. “I need to know. I have a five-year plan to keep, remember? How can I become a mum if I don’t live long enough to even hold my baby?”
Holly’s tone was meant to be lighthearted to ease Jocelyn’s sobs, but it simply intensified them. Jocelyn looked up desperately into Holly’s face and shook her head in despair. “I’m sorry, Holly. I’m so sorry. I should have destroyed the dial or at least the mechanism. We weren’t meant to meddle with our futures. It’s too much of a burden.”
“Please, don’t cry,” soothed Holly, determined not to let the older woman’s fear invade her own thoughts. “We have each other now; we can each share the burden.”
“I want to. Oh, Holly I want to help you, and I will,” Jocelyn promised between heavy sobs.
Holly stood up and hurried to Jocelyn, who was crumbling before her eyes. She put her arms around her, frightened that her friend might be on the verge of collapsing, or even worse.
“It’s all right, Jocelyn. I understand. You don’t have to say any more. By my calculation, I’m due to conceive Libby at the end of December, so I’ve still got a good few months to get my head clear and decide, with your help, what I need to do.”
Holly had spoken with a generosity that she didn’t feel. She wanted all the answers and she wanted them now, but she couldn’t put Jocelyn through any more pain, not today at least. Her words seemed to do the trick. Slowly, Jocelyn’s sobs started to subside and her body relaxed a little.
“I take it you haven’t told Tom?” sniffed Jocelyn.
“I couldn’t tell him before because I didn’t know what was really happening and I didn’t want him to worry. I still don’t think I can tell him, not yet at least, not while he’s traveling so much, not until I know everything I need to know.”
“At least he’ll be home soon,” Jocelyn said. “You just enjoy your time with Tom, and in the meantime I’ll dig out the journal. It’s in one of the storage boxes that I kept at my sister’s house—no room in my flat, you see. Lisa lives there now, so she can help me get to it.”
“And then?”
“And then, I promise we will talk. Only next time I won’t turn to jelly. I’m sorry, Holly. I feel like such a wimp. I’ve let you down. I thought I was made of sterner stuff.”
“You haven’t let me down and you’re the strongest woman I know,” smiled Holly. “And now that I have you, this whole thing doesn’t seem so daunting anymore.”
“I’m glad. But please promise me you won’t do anything to try to change your future until we’ve talked things through.”
“I promise,” beamed Holly. “Well, nothing major anyway. There is just one thing I’d like to sort out.” Holly picked up a carrier bag at the side of the table and pulled out a pink teddy bear. “Can you donate this to the next jumble sale? And make sure it doesn’t go to someone with a child under two. I’d hate it to get into the wrong hands.”
“Do we have to go out?” complained Tom. “I can see just as much of the outside world as I could possibly want from here.”
Tom and Holly were standing in the middle of their new conservatory. The walls were still bare plaster with delicate swirls of pink and cream. Holly pressed her bare toes against the cold, hard concrete and smiled blissfully. Tom’s voice echoed across the room and chased away the distant sound of early morning birdsong. The room smelled deliciously of dust and stale summer air. Holly was ready to savor every detail, paying closest attention to her husband, who was standing behind her, his bare arms wrapped tightly around her waist.
“You smell of sweat,” she told him.
“Well-earned sweat,” Tom replied, kissing the back of her neck.
“Did I say I was complaining?” she whispered. “And yes, we have to go out. You’ve proved perfectly well that you’re over your jet lag.”
“Hmm, perfectly.”
“Yes, it was perfect,” agreed Holly. “But we’ve been in the village almost six months now and you still barely know anyone.”
“As I told you, I can see everything I need to see from here, and I can also see everyone I want to see.”
“I need to call in at the doctor’s surgery to make an appointment,” Holly told him, ignoring his wandering hands, which had reached up beneath the T-shirt she had stolen from him. His fingers traced every curve of her stomach before finding a spine-tingling path up between the curve of her breasts.
“Why, there’s nothing wrong is there?”
“No, I just think we should both have a pre-baby checkup.”
“If you want a thorough checking over, I can always oblige,” Tom offered.
“A proper medical check, if you don’t mind. They must have something like that, don’t you think?”
“Holly, I’m the picture of health and so are you. We don’t need a doctor to tell us that. Besides, I’ve already been having all kinds of medical checks in preparation for my stint in Haiti. I don’t think I could take any more prodding and poking,” he complained sulkily.
“If I’m going to start planning a family, I’d like to plan it properly,” Holly replied sternly.
Since speaking to Jocelyn, she had finally found the strength and the hope to think about her future, and in particular what she needed to do to save herself. In fact, she had thought of little else. The obvious answer would be to avoid getting pregnant in December, which sounded simple enough, but what if the aneurysm she would die of were to happen at another time? And then of course, there was Libby. If she put off conceiving, then she would be erasing Libby from their future. Other children might come along, but they wouldn’t be the daughter she was already falling in love with. Her first plan of attack was to look at reducing the risks of childbirth complications.
“Couldn’t we just phone up for an appointment?” Tom pleaded. “I do believe there’s a phone in the bedroom.”
“Morning
!” Billy bellowed cheerfully from outside the conservatory.
Holly pulled her T-shirt down to a respectable inch below her bottom and Tom went to open the conservatory door to greet Billy. They hugged each other like long-lost brothers.
“Sorry to intrude, but I heard Tom was home and I was just passing,” explained Billy by way of an apology to Holly.
“I swear,” she said. “I think Billy misses you almost as much as I do when you’re away.”
“You know you’re welcome anytime, Billy,” Tom told him. “You’ve done a great job on the conservatory. I love it.”
“Aw, thanks, I knew you’d like it. We’ve only got the walls to paint and the flooring to put down and then it’ll be perfect. Shame about the doors though,” Billy tutted, giving Holly a disapproving look.
“Women,” tutted Tom. Holly took Billy’s disapproving look, upgraded it to menacing, and passed it on to Tom, who smiled sheepishly.
Billy coughed to get Holly’s attention. “I hope you’re not going out dressed like that, Mrs. C.,” he told her.
Holly narrowed her eyes at him but otherwise ignored his comment. “So what can we do for you, Billy?”
“Well, now that you have the doors all wrong and no choice but to step out into the undergrowth rather than the patio, I was thinking maybe Tom would like to discuss widening the extent of his renovations.”
“So is someone going to tell me what you’re talking about?” Holly asked.
“Erm …” mumbled Tom. “Don’t you think you might want to go and get dressed? We’ve got to get into the village soon, remember?”
Holly eyed the two men suspiciously. “Men,” she tutted, turning on her heels. “But whatever you’re planning for the garden, do not touch the moondial.”
“Does she always interfere with your plans?” Billy whispered loudly as Holly stepped through the new patio doors and back into the living room.
“I can hear you nodding, Tom Corrigan,” Holly called back as she left the men to their secret plans. After all, she had secret plans of her own. She had more than one reason to visit the village. She was hoping that by now Jocelyn would have found the journal she had spoken of.
Jocelyn’s tea shop was busy and there were a few curious looks as Tom and Holly squeezed through the diners to the last available table. “Morning, Mrs. Johnson,” Holly said as she leaned over a diner to ease herself into the gap between two tables. Mrs. Johnson was rather large and the little space that wasn’t filled by the elderly lady was occupied by all her paraphernalia, including a thick woolen cardigan, an umbrella, and a collection of shopping bags. “How are things at the farm?” groaned Holly as she squeezed through the gap.
“Ooh, the lambs are coming on fine, dear. I couldn’t ask for better after such a hard winter.”
“Don’t forget you promised me that lamb shank recipe,” Holly added as she popped out of the gap and edged closer to the table they were aiming for. Tom was following behind but tripped over a bag and practically threw himself on top of Mrs. Johnson.
“This must be him, then,” Mrs. Johnson said, looking suspiciously at Tom, who was practically nose-to-nose with the woman.
“Pleased to meet you,” grinned Tom sheepishly.
Mrs. Johnson pinched his cheek, shaking his head from side to side as she did so. “Sweet little lamb, he is,” she said to Holly. “Quite a dish himself.”
“Hands off; he’s mine,” laughed Holly, pulling Tom to safety.
After a few more good mornings and introductions, Holly and Tom finally made it to the table. Lisa was busy working behind the counter while a younger girl Holly hadn’t seen before was waitressing. The girl was in her early twenties with dark, short-cropped hair that gave her an elfin look. She had deep-brown eyes that reminded Holly of Jocelyn. Looking from Lisa to the girl, there were other family resemblances and Holly guessed that this must be Patti, Lisa’s daughter, Jocelyn’s great-niece. From what Jocelyn had told her, Patti was at university studying literature. Her gap year had turned into three years traveling around Europe, but she had finally taken the plunge and settled back down to her studies. She was the first in their family to go to university and both Jocelyn and Lisa were very proud of her.
“What can I get you?” the girl asked with a bright, cheery smile.
“Two cream teas, I think,” Holly said, looking at Tom for agreement. He nodded on cue. “Is Jocelyn in today? I was hoping to catch her,” Holly continued with a flutter of anticipation.
“She’s away, visiting her son. She won’t be back for a few weeks. You’re not Holly, are you?” the girl asked, a note of recognition in her voice.
Holly’s heart sank as she nodded politely in agreement. “She didn’t leave anything for me, did she?” she asked hopefully.
“Sorry, but Auntie Joss did leave you a message. She said to say sorry she wouldn’t get a chance to see Tim, but she’ll catch up with you when she gets back.”
“Ah, so you must be Patti,” Holly replied, ignoring the mistake in Tom’s name. “How’s it going at university?”
“Long story, but I’ve kind of thrown in the towel. I’m due back for my final year but I’m not sure it’s the way I want to go. I’m trying to convince my mum I could just work here and take up writing in my spare time, make my way as a writer on my own instead of slaving away to get some piece of paper that won’t guarantee me a job anyway.”
“You shouldn’t give up,” interrupted Tom.
“Sorry, this is my husband Tim. I mean Tom,” grinned Holly. Tom gave her a warning glare and Patti’s cheeks flushed pink.
“I’m a journalist and it’s a tough world out there. A degree might just get you in the door, even if it doesn’t guarantee the job. You’ll regret it if you give up now, especially when you’re so close to finishing. I promise, if you get that piece of paper and you’re looking for a job, I can help out with some contacts.” Patti was almost awestruck by Tom’s credentials and she hung on every word with enthusiasm. When she returned to the counter to get their order, Holly watched her out of the corner of her eye. Mother and daughter were deep in conversation. “Aren’t you the helpful one?” Holly said to Tom.
“I like to help along fledgling careers where I can,” Tom said proudly.
“I hope you don’t go around offering your services to all the pretty girls you see on your travels.”
“I only have eyes for you,” Tom said, and his intent stare sought solace from Holly.
“I know. I’m only teasing. I trust you with my heart and my soul, no matter how far away they send you.” She reached over and pulled at a tiny lock of hair at the base of his neck. “And no matter how polished and appealing they try to make you.”
Tom took hold of Holly’s outstretched hand in his. “Does it sound too wimpy to say I miss my curls?”
“I miss your curls, too,” soothed Holly. “But you have to get the viewing public swooning over you if you’re going to become an anchorman.” She paused, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I did mean the female viewing public, by the way.”
Tom tried to smile but his lips couldn’t quite complete the maneuver. “I was happy in my comfort zone. I am happy in my comfort zone,” he tried to explain. “This new persona the studio is trying to create just feels …” He seemed to be lost for words for once.
“Uncomfortable?” offered Holly.
“God, it’s like squeezing into a suit that doesn’t quite fit.”
“Too tight around the shoulders?”
“Too tight in the crotch,” replied Tom, just as Patti returned with their cream teas. If she heard his last comment, she didn’t let on.
“These are on the house,” she told them. “Mum insists.”
“You’re going back to university?” Holly asked excitedly, knowing how pleased Jocelyn and Lisa would be by the news.
“Hmm, I’m not quite ready to decide just yet, but I have agreed to sit down and talk it through properly with Mum. And if I do give it another try, I’ll be b
ack looking for those contacts,” she told Tom.
“My word is my bond,” he agreed.
As Patti left, Tom sighed. “Oh, to be that young and hopeful.”
“So, back to you. When do I get to see your new image in action?” Holly asked. Tom’s reports on the Canadian oil sands were currently being edited and hadn’t been aired yet.
“Next week, the day before I leave, as a matter of fact.”
“I’d better spread the word. Your mum and dad are dying to see you, too. Now eat up. We’ve still got to call in at the surgery, remember.”
“Yes, Mum,” Tom replied, before stuffing half a cream scone in his mouth.
It didn’t seem to Holly that she had to wait long to see Tom’s reports as the days slipped by at an alarming rate. On the night that Tom’s first report was being aired, they cuddled up on the sofa, ready to watch the broadcast with a bottle of wine and popcorn. Holly was relieved that Tom was still home. The summer nights were drawing in as August moved closer to September. While Holly sat in the relative safety of her living room she knew the full moon was casting its borrowed light across the surface of the moondial. Tonight its lure was no match for the safety of Tom’s arms, her Tom, the man whose heart hadn’t been broken by the loss of his wife.
It was a strange experience, sitting on the sofa, watching the new, improved Tom in professional reporting mode on-screen while her real-life Tom gave a commentary on what had been happening behind the scenes. It was stranger still because the image on-screen didn’t match the man sitting next to her, who, despite his lack of hair, was still the old disheveled Tom she knew and loved. She wasn’t sure she liked the polished, pristine, on-screen version. He was too slick for her liking. He was interviewing an oil company spokesperson and he sounded different, harsher.
“So what do you think?” Tom asked tentatively as soon as the program had finished.
“You looked …” Holly started, but then couldn’t think of the right words. “You looked very professional.”
Yesterday's Sun Page 13
