Book Club Reads: 3-Book Collection: Yesterday’s Sun, The Sea Sisters, Someone to Watch Over Me
with every bone in my body. I couldn’t love you any more and I will never, never love you any less. But you drive me mad sometimes. You drive me mad because I can’t seem to convince you that you’re not going to repeat your mother’s mistakes. What could be so frightening about creating a baby? Look at the sculpture you’re working on. If that’s what you can make from a load of chicken wire and paste, imagine what you can make from love. What do we have to lose?’
Holly knew exactly what she could lose, but she really did need to hold onto reality. The Tom standing in front of her was real and the baby they could make together would be real too. ‘She is beautiful, isn’t she?’ Holly told him. She looked intently at the sculpted image of the baby and the orange embers of maternal feelings that she had all but extinguished burst into flames. ‘I think I’m ready to put that five-year plan down in writing. Five years for me, you and whoever comes along.’
Tom stepped towards Holly and leaned down to kiss her forehead, then her nose. Hovering over her lips, he waited for her to come to him.
‘Don’t tell me, more practice?’ she asked in a whisper. She needed Tom to hold her more than ever and she leaned up to kiss him. They tumbled onto the dust sheet which was lying abandoned on the floor and their gentle caresses transformed into an urgent, passionate rhythm that chased away Holly’s fears for the future and replaced them with hope and anticipation.
Jocelyn was ready to forego her usual Sunday brunch with Holly while Tom was home but Holly insisted. It might have been only days before Tom would be jetting off for Canada, but Holly was looking forward to introducing her to Tom. It felt just like she was introducing a new boyfriend to her parents, not that she had ever experienced that before, or even contemplated it, for that matter.
‘What time will she be here?’ Tom asked nervously as he came out onto the patio, which was bathed in sweet summer sunshine.
Holly was laying out napkins and cutlery on the garden table. ‘Oh, she usually gets here about eleven. It depends how long it takes her to loosen up her joints and get walking.’
‘You should have said, I’ll go get the car and pick her up,’ Tom said, turning on his heels to head back into the house.
Grabbing Tom by the arm, Holly pulled him back. ‘Oh no, you don’t. Jocelyn would be livid if you started treating her like an invalid. She’s a firm believer in mind over matter and she won’t even think about slowing down yet. Believe me, I’ve tried already.’
‘Good grief, I’m going to have another iron lady to deal with. If I’d known, I would have invited Billy over to even out the numbers.’
‘You’ve been meeting up with Billy quite enough as it is,’ Holly accused him.
‘Well, you’ll be seeing a little bit more of him while I’m away,’ Tom replied. He looked ready to slope back into the house, but Holly still had hold of his sleeve.
‘Tell,’ commanded Holly. She ignored the flow of adrenalin surging through her veins. She knew what was coming but she had a new talisman to ward off any doubts about the vision of the future. She and Tom had committed their five-year plan to paper just as she had promised. She had written it down with Tom sitting beside her at the kitchen table, in full view of the full moon and fully aware that the moondial was vying for her attention. The plan recorded that the rest of the current year would be set aside for Tom’s travels, in the following year they would plan for baby number one, by year three Tom was supposed to start writing the book he’d been putting off forever, and then by year five, maybe, just maybe, baby number two. Five years, all planned out, and Holly was there in the future with Tom. It was written down in black and white and nowhere did it mention dying in childbirth. It simply wasn’t in the plan.
‘Well, see this patio table,’ Tom explained as he guided Holly further away from the house so they could visualize his plans. ‘Say, from over there, just before the kitchen door, right across the back of the house in front of the living room and then out, say this much.’ Tom was now pointing excitedly to an imaginary line that reached past the current patio area and across the garden. ‘Imagine, if you will, a beautiful structure of glass and steel, perfectly placed to catch the warmth of the sun with the right amount of shade at the end of the day to take the occasional evening aperitif in our brand-new …’
‘Conservatory,’ Holly said blankly, finishing his sentence. She didn’t need to visualize the conservatory, she had already seen it first-hand.
‘So what do you think?’
Holly wanted to tell Tom to rip up his plans, but she looked at his puppy-dog expression and couldn’t say no. That didn’t mean, however, that the vision she had seen would come to pass and Holly was about to make sure it didn’t. ‘I think that’s a lovely idea, but there is one suggestion I’d like to make before you finish off your designs.’
‘Suggest away, you are the artiste of the family, after all,’ conceded Tom.
‘I don’t know where you were planning on putting the door, but I’d really like French doors coming from the front of the conservatory. Just in case you were thinking of putting them on the side next to the kitchen …’ Holly held her breath. Not only was it where she had seen the doors in her vision, it was also the logical place to put them. But Holly was willing to sacrifice practicalities to prove that the future she had seen had been and always would be restricted to her imagination. If her mind could play games, so could she.
‘But that way, you’d have to walk back around to the patio, which would be in front of the kitchen,’ argued Tom.
‘You’ve just said I’m the creative one. Trust me, it’ll work better. It creates a continuous flow from the living room, through the conservatory and then out to the garden beyond.’
The explanation sounded so good, Holly almost believed it herself and Tom didn’t have a chance to question her because at that precise moment the doorbell rang. Jocelyn had arrived.
‘I can’t imagine another family living here,’ Tom mused. He had used his journalistic skills to extract almost as much information from Jocelyn as Holly had and Tom had known her for less than an hour.
‘I can barely imagine you living here, Tom,’ Holly added pointedly, unable to resist the urge to tease him.
With the sun in his eyes, he squinted at Holly with what was possibly meant to be a hurt look. ‘Distance makes the heart grow fonder.’
‘Well, your travelling seems to be taking you so far around the world you’re practically coming back on yourself. How far do you need to go to prove to your wife that you love her, anyway?’ countered Holly.
‘Oh, all the way,’ smiled Tom, before realizing Jocelyn was sitting quietly watching them. He coughed with embarrassment.
‘Don’t mind me,’ Jocelyn encouraged, ‘it’s been a while since I saw such love in this house.’
‘So what happened to your cruel excuse for a husband anyway?’ Tom asked her. Holly’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t believe how forward he was being, but before she could scold him, to her surprise, Jocelyn replied.
‘He killed himself,’ she answered candidly.
The silence that passed between them left a chill in the air despite the sunshine. ‘I’m sorry, Jocelyn,’ Tom said to fill the space that had opened up an unwanted connection to the past.
Jocelyn looked at Holly and seemed to read her mind. ‘No, it wasn’t in this house,’ she assured them. ‘When I left with Paul, Harry had nothing left to live for. If you want the honest answer, it was always going to be him or me. For Paul’s sake, I’m glad I left, but I carry the guilt with me too.’
‘Guilt? What on earth do you have to feel guilty about? You’ve told me enough to know what a horrible man he was. He made his choices, you made yours. Don’t ever feel guilty,’ Holly told her firmly.
‘You have a good wife there,’ Jocelyn told Tom. ‘Don’t you ever let her go.’
‘I