Book Club Reads: 3-Book Collection: Yesterday’s Sun, The Sea Sisters, Someone to Watch Over Me
spent for now, there was the sound of a ticking clock echoing across the room. Holly was still holding onto Tom, rocking him gently as if he were the baby that she hadn’t been able to hold. Her chest felt heavy and her body felt drained. Then Tom’s body froze as another sound cut through the air. Libby was crying. She had been woken up by her father’s sobs.
Holly felt her heart tug at the sound of Libby’s cries, but the wrenching in her chest was also the moondial pulling her backwards in time. Her precious baby’s cry echoed in her ears until all that was left was the soft whisper of a summer night’s breeze.
In the days that followed the full moon, Holly surprised herself at how well she managed to function. She was so completely overwhelmed by the raft of emotions that had left her reeling after her latest vision that she was numb with shock. She couldn’t begin to make sense of her implausible and impossible journey into the future, so she didn’t even try. Phone calls with Tom were as sweet and carefree as they had ever been and for once Holly felt no guilt. She was in utter denial and, if she was lying to anyone, it was to herself. She was doing fine and she didn’t need to make sense of what had happened to her, she had her five-year plan and one day she would have the list completed and would look back and laugh at her brush with insanity.
For the most part, Holly was left to her own devices. Billy had already finished the main construction of the conservatory and had moved on to other jobs while the plasterwork dried out. Sam Peterson had been in touch, desperate for Holly to complete the artworks she had promised him for the gallery, and she assured him she could supply him with new stock. In fact, Holly was more than willing to spend time in her studio, concentrating her mind on her work and especially work that didn’t have anything to do with motherhood. Mrs Bronson’s commission was left untouched.
It was only on the Sunday morning after the full moon that Holly’s blessed isolation came to an end. Jocelyn was due for their usual brunch date. Holly didn’t even consider putting her off and instead went out of her way to make the morning picture-perfect. She decided to bake Jocelyn a cake. What could be more normal than baking a cake? she thought to herself with a fixed smile that was starting to make her cheeks ache. Holly suspected she wore the false mask even in her sleep.
Half an hour before Jocelyn was due to call, the cake was in the oven and Holly was making the toffee sauce. She had made this cake before under the watchful eye of Tom’s mum and, if Holly was being honest, Diane had done most of the work. It had looked simple enough, but as soon as Holly took her eyes off the stove, the toffee sauce began bubbling over and after that, all hell broke loose.
By the time Jocelyn arrived, Holly was cowering in a corner of the kitchen, with her knees drawn up to her chest and her head buried. She had spent days retreating from the future and now she couldn’t even deal with the present, so she withdrew even further.
Memories of her childhood came flooding back, taking her to a time when cowering in a corner had been the norm. Sometimes it was to block out the alcohol-fuelled arguments between her parents, but there were other times too. Holly had learnt quickly to hide away once one of her mother’s parties was in full swing, but sometimes the parties lasted days and she would have to leave the safety of her bedroom to sneak downstairs to find something to eat. Mostly she was lucky, but if her mother caught sight of her, the party atmosphere would freeze around them and she would lurch drunkenly towards her daughter. To her guests she would appear the caring parent, taking her daughter to one side to check on her welfare, but the loving hands she placed on Holly’s arms dug deep into flesh and the enquiring look on her face could not hide the scowl. In a barely audible snarl she would hurl abuse at the terrified child while Holly begged to be released. But her mother wouldn’t let go, not until Holly was crying like a baby, only then would she leave her daughter to cower in the nearest corner. Her mother would walk away laughing, telling people around her that her child had developed a fault, proclaiming that it was leaking and asking if she could send it back for a replacement. The room would erupt into laughter and Holly would curl herself tightly into a ball and try to staunch her tears. There she would stay until someone would take pity on her, usually a stranger, never one of her parents, and take her hand, giving her the briefest escape route from the crowd. Holly would scurry upstairs to her room where she would bury her head beneath her pillows in an attempt to block out the noise, especially the laughter.
It wasn’t laughter she heard now but the sound of a familiar, friendly voice as a hand reached out towards her to help her to her feet.
‘Holly? Are you all right? What happened in here?’ Jocelyn asked anxiously.
Holly looked up helplessly and as she met the old lady’s eyes she couldn’t help but feel safe, at least for the moment, and she brought her thoughts back to the present. She even managed a smile as she looked at the proffered hand, knowing that the gesture was more likely to result in Jocelyn being pulled down with her than it was going to help Holly to her feet.
She stood up without assistance and took a deep breath. ‘I burnt the cake,’ she told Jocelyn. Her hands were curled into fists and her fingernails dug deep into her palms. The pain was a good pain in Holly’s mind because it stopped her brain from trying to think too much. Tears sprung to her eyes but she refused to let them fall.
Jocelyn frowned but then gave Holly time to collect her thoughts by turning to the kitchen door and opening it wide to drive away the smell of smoking sugar and incinerated sponge cake.
‘Well, it’s a good job I brought some scones from the teashop with me,’ Jocelyn said once the room had cleared of acrid smoke. She picked up her shopping bag and took out a cake box before turning back to Holly. ‘What happened?’ she said, repeating her question but expecting a proper answer now.
Holly lifted a dishcloth up from the kitchen table to reveal a circular scorch mark.
‘Oh, I see,’ replied Jocelyn cautiously. She knew even this disaster wasn’t enough to justify Holly’s near catatonic state, but she said nothing else. Instead she bided her time and busied herself tidying away some of the mess left in the aftermath of Holly’s culinary disaster. With the ease of an expert homemaker, Jocelyn managed to clear away the chaos and brew up a strong pot of tea in a matter of minutes.
Lifting a trembling china cup to her lips, Holly took a sip of the sweet tea. She looked at Jocelyn over the rim of her teacup and wondered not just where to begin but whether she had the guts to begin at all. How was she going to explain why a scorch mark on the table had filled her with such terror?
‘I need Tom to come home,’ whispered Holly.
‘You’re missing Tom? Oh, sweetheart, he’ll be home soon. He is due home soon, isn’t he? Or has something changed? Is that why you’re upset?’
Holly shook her head. She had so far refused to allow herself to make sense of her visions. Every time something in her present life had created a link with her visions, she had explained it away. The conservatory, Tom’s haircut, the doors changing position, even the pink teddy bear, she had dismissed them all as coincidences and mind games. But the scorch mark was something else. The scorch mark, it would seem, was the final nail in her coffin. Amidst the chaos of the burning toffee sauce and the thoughtless act of transferring the hot pan from the stove to the table, Holly hadn’t changed her future, she had confirmed it.
Still trying to push away her thoughts, there was only one constant. ‘I just need Tom with me right now,’ she told Jocelyn.
‘His travelling won’t last for ever and you’ve said yourself how it will help his career. It’ll be worth it in the end when he’s got a good job based back in London. You’ll have the rest of your lives to make up for lost time then, and you’ll look back and long for the peace and quiet once you’ve got a house full of kids,’ added Jocelyn with a jovial laugh, which was meant to lighten Holly’s mood but sent it spiralling down further into the murky depths of despair.
Holly went to put her teacup back down on the saucer but with her hands trembling so much, the handle slipped from her grasp and the remnants of her tea splashed