Yesterday's Sun (32 page)

13

C
hristmas was perfect and Holly couldn’t have asked for more. She spent the festive season surrounded by family—Tom, his parents, Jocelyn, and Jocelyn’s extended family, including Lisa and her daughter, Patti, who was home from university and relished the opportunity to pick Tom’s brain.

Jocelyn put on a brave face, but Holly knew her heart was breaking. Holly made sure they had plenty of time together and insisted on walking Jocelyn home after Christmas dinner and accepted her invitation to come in for a quick cup of tea.

Holly had never actually been in Jocelyn’s flat before and it surprised her how small and crowded it was. There were two armchairs pinched around a portable television, but Jocelyn and Holly chose to sit at the small bistro table that was obviously a castoff from the tea shop. The table was in front of the one and only window, and a host of winter pansies trembled outside in the breeze. Beyond the window box there was a view of the church, and Jocelyn’s face matched the grayness of its stone facade. It was the first opportunity they had had to speak about the future and for Holly to give Jocelyn an extra Christmas present. It was the journal and the wooden box containing the glass orb and deconstructed brass mechanism.

“I can’t use it again,” explained Holly. “I can’t take any risks, not while I’m pregnant. Besides, I don’t need to visit Libby. I have her with me every day.” Holly patted her perfectly flat stomach. “I need you to look after these now because I don’t want the moondial to fall into the wrong hands. Tom must never know about the dial and what it can do. It’s cast its shadow for long enough.”

“If I’d known what you would end up doing, I’d have taken the box off you sooner.”

“I know this is hard for you, but I need you now more than ever,” Holly insisted. “For the last eight months, my emotions have been in utter chaos and it wasn’t just affecting me. It was affecting my relationship with Tom, too. Everything was becoming so fraught. There was so much distance growing between us and I don’t mean just the miles. Right now I feel so at peace with myself, with Tom, and it feels wonderful. The only pain I feel now is my heart bursting with all this love for my husband and my baby.” Holly’s voice was cracking with emotion and she was desperate for Jocelyn to find her own peace.

Jocelyn’s cup was trembling in her hand and she took a sip of tea before she could bring herself to speak. “What’s done is done. I’ll look after these and I’ll do whatever I can to help you and Tom, and when the time comes, Libby, too. I let you down, but I promise I won’t let her down.”

“You didn’t let me down; don’t ever think that. You let me make my own decisions and choose my own path. That’s a decision for my conscience, not yours, and it was the right decision. You won’t ever convince me otherwise.” It was Holly’s turn to start trembling and her voice shook.

Jocelyn would only nod politely and Holly sensed she would never agree, at least not until she saw Libby.

“I’m going to have everything planned out and ready for Libby’s arrival and for Tom’s future without me, but I’ll need you to keep reminding Tom of my plans when I’m gone.” Holly was surprised at how easy the words fell off her tongue. She wasn’t ready to die yet, but nine months was time enough to get everything prepared. “Tom’s job is the only fly in the ointment so far. He’s still determined to take up the anchorman post and when he finds out I’m pregnant, it’s going to make it even more difficult to persuade him to rethink his options. The studio is livid with him for bailing out in Singapore and they’ll make his life miserable, as if it weren’t going to be bad enough already. I’m determined to convince him to go freelance. He’s made some good contacts in the last year and he can use that to his advantage. I think his globetrotting days are over, but he is about to be a dad so that’s not necessarily a bad thing. There’s a better career for him out there. All I have to do is point him in the right direction.”

Jocelyn reached out and cupped Holly’s face in her hands. “Take a breath, Holly. Like you said, there’s enough time to plan.”

Holly smiled and a tear rolled down her cheek. “I know. And I know I’m going to hurt people. I just want to soften the blow.”

“You can’t, but I’ll do what I can,” Jocelyn said, smiling weakly.

Holly frowned, unsure where her next thoughts were leading. “Patti is a lovely girl and very sensible for her age. Do you think she could help? She would have finished her degree by the time Libby’s born. Maybe she could help Tom, be his researcher, or even look after Libby?”

Jocelyn raised an eyebrow. “You’re not looking for a replacement for you, are you?”

Holly laughed nervously. “Good grief, no. I want Tom to be happy, but right now he’s mine and I don’t want to even contemplate him having another woman in his life, but …” Holly couldn’t finish her sentence, she let the word hover in the air.

“But?” pushed Jocelyn.

Holly looked out of the window and her frown deepened. “When the time’s right, tell him I want him to be happy. Tell him to let go.” She turned to face Jocelyn with a wicked smile. “Just make sure that whoever she is, she’s good, but not better than me.”

“I don’t think that’s possible. You’re pretty unique, Holly Corrigan.”

New Year’s Eve was a bittersweet moment for Holly, but there was no time to brood on how unfair life was. She had enough and she was happy—happy because she had finally accepted the gift the moondial had given her. It had given her the chance to be a mother and to meet her daughter before she died. Without the moondial she would never have been given the chance to hold her daughter.

“Would now be a good time to tell you I think I’m pregnant?” Holly said, almost in a whisper.

They had chosen to stay at home and were in the kitchen as the countdown to the New Year approached. Tom was in the middle of opening a bottle of champagne but his fingers froze as the news sank in.

“Really? Would you know so soon?” he asked cautiously.

Holly nodded. “Believe me. I’m sure,” she beamed.

Tom still didn’t move; he just stood in the middle of the kitchen and blinked. A huge grin began to appear on his face. He dropped the bottle of champagne onto the kitchen table and rushed toward Holly as one year moved seamlessly into the next. The cork popped and champagne started gushing out but Tom was oblivious.

“Really?” he repeated.

“Happy New Year,” Holly told him, her smile a mirror image of his.

“Happy, yes, very happy,” he agreed. “How could I ever have doubted it? It’s in the plan after all.”

Holly’s smile didn’t exactly falter but it took a little extra effort as she pushed back more unpleasant thoughts about the future. “Yes, this plan of ours, I think we need to work on it.”

A frown of suspicion creased Tom’s brow but only for a moment. His smile reappeared, twice as wide as it had been and Holly knew he would happily agree to almost anything. He obediently cleared up the spilled champagne while she took out her notepad from a kitchen drawer and placed it purposefully on the table, leafing through until she found their current five-year plan set out in black and white. Holly sat down and Tom joined her, both of them staring at the open page.

“Do you mind if we have a supplementary plan?” she asked.

“One especially for me by any chance?”

Now it was Holly’s turn to look suspicious.

“One that sets out my career in a little more detail?” he continued. “Don’t look so surprised. Do you think I haven’t noticed your less than subtle hints about me not taking the anchorman job?”

“I know I’m interfering. It’s just that …” Holly began.

“Enough already,” laughed Tom. “I know what you think. I think the exact same thing. It’s not the job for me, but you’re about to have our baby and I want to do the best for you both.”

“But there’s nothing to say you can’t still provide for your family without taking on a job you’re going to hate—and you will hate it, Tom, you …”

Tom placed his finger gently on Holly’s lips. “I’ll take the job for six months, and meanwhile I’ll set the ball rolling to go freelance. By the time the baby’s born, I’ll have a new career all carved out. I might even have started writing my first book. Now, would you like to write all of that down, or shall I?”

Holly pulled his finger away from her mouth and kissed it innocently. “It’s your plan,” she told him sweetly. “I’m glad you think so. I was starting to have my doubts.” The accusing look he gave Holly transformed to one of awe.

“A baby. We’re going to have a baby,” he whispered.

When Holly wasn’t meddling with Tom’s plans, there were plenty of other things to keep her busy. Sam Peterson made sure of that. Fortunately, Mrs. Bronson hadn’t caused too much of a fuss over the sculpture debacle. She had a piece of genuine Holly Corrigan artwork and she didn’t want to devalue it by undermining the artist, especially when she’d acquired the work for free. But despite her reputation remaining intact, Holly refused point-blank to take on any more commissions. She still worked on small pieces for the gallery, but not with the intensity she had previously put into her work. She wanted to spend as much time as she could enjoying life with Tom.

When she did venture into her studio, Holly found herself spending more time staring at her mother-and-child sculpture than she did working on other pieces. A pregnancy test had given Tom the confirmation he thought they both needed, and there were small changes to Holly’s body that gave teasing hints of the life growing inside her. But it was still the baby she had molded from clay that made Libby real. Holly felt comforted by its presence but she knew the sculpture deserved a more prominent and permanent home. She decided to follow Sam’s suggestion and donate it to the village. She chose May Day, the festival of fertility, as the perfect day to unveil the sculpture in the village hall, and Sam received an invitation he couldn’t refuse. It was going to be a very emotional evening, and Holly knew it was just one of the legacies she would be leaving behind.

Tom and Holly were getting ready for the great unveiling of her sculpture, and as usual Tom had taken all of ten minutes to shower and change and then spent the rest of the time sitting on the bed watching Holly. She was running around like a lunatic. She tried on countless combinations of outfits but she was now four months pregnant and blooming, right out of her clothes.

“Nothing fits,” she complained, trying to pull one of her favorite dresses over her bump. It was a vintage sixties minidress in a loud orange-and-black print, but it stretched so much over her stomach that it was indecently short, even for sixties fashion.

“Complaining?” asked Tom. He had worn a permanent grin from the moment he knew she was pregnant.

Holly pulled off her dress and slipped onto the bed next to him. “No, I most certainly am not.” She kissed him softly and started unbuttoning his shirt.

The gentleness of her kiss hit him like a steam train and he groaned in delight. “Let’s not go. Let’s stay here,” he pleaded.

“Not a chance,” she told him with a reluctant smile. “Our guests will be waiting and besides, your mum and dad are downstairs. They might complain about the noise.”

Holly whisked Tom’s shirt off and then scuttled off the bed. She slipped it on and matched it with a pair of black leggings and a belt while Tom scrambled around for another shirt.

Eventually, with the help of his parents, she dragged a reluctant Tom out of the house, although she was the one who was feeling apprehensive about the evening. Unlike Tom, she wasn’t used to being in the limelight and so she had used her pregnancy to persuade Tom to do the ceremonial speech. Even so, she knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid being the center of attention.

The village hall was comfortably full with villagers and a few select outsiders. Jocelyn had helped Tom with the arrangements for raffles and auctions to raise money for the village community fund, and if that weren’t enough, she and Lisa had also prepared enough food to feed the five thousand.

“You really shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble,” exclaimed Tom when he spotted the buffet spread out along one side of the hall.

“It was no trouble, no trouble at all,” lied Jocelyn. Lisa pulled a face behind her to let everyone know she was lying. “OK, I will admit I’ll be glad to put my feet up tonight. My legs are aching like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Well, you sit yourself down right now,” commanded Tom, taking Jocelyn by the arm and finding her a seat. “I don’t want to see you lift another finger all night. If you want something, you just ask me.”

Jocelyn’s eyes twinkled with delight. It was obvious that she enjoyed being cosseted by a handsome young man. “I could do with a drink, if it’s not too much trouble,” she cooed.

“Excuse me, don’t go escaping your duties,” interrupted Holly with a smirk. “Let’s get the unveiling out of the way first and then we can party all night. Jocelyn will just have to fend for herself a little longer.”

“Can I be of service?” Sam had slipped into the hall without Holly noticing.

“Perfect timing,” Holly replied slyly. “Everybody, this is Sam Peterson, gallery owner and expert negotiator. Sam, meet the family,” Holly chirped, quickly going through the introductions, leaving Jocelyn until last. “She’s a very special lady,” Holly explained. “And I want you to look after her. I think she could do with some liquid refreshment, if you’d be so kind.”