Book Club Reads: 3-Book Collection: Yesterday’s Sun, The Sea Sisters, Someone to Watch Over Me

Jocelyn told Holly that she would leave her to it, but she hovered by the door of the studio, reluctant to say goodbye.

‘Is there something else?’ asked Holly, aware that her friend still had something on her mind.

‘It’s a full moon tonight,’ Jocelyn replied with an anxious smile.

‘I know, and don’t worry, it’s still under wraps.’

‘You won’t use it again?’

‘Not yet, at least. Perhaps one day, I don’t know. I’m scared what the future now holds for me,’ confessed Holly.

‘It holds you and Tom,’ Jocelyn assured her. ‘You’re doing the right thing.’

Jocelyn eventually left, believing, as did Holly, that her resolve was strong enough to resist the pull of the moondial and that she didn’t need Jocelyn’s help.

Left to her own devices, Holly threw herself back into her work. But if she had hoped that the new surge of creativity would help distract her, she couldn’t have been more wrong. She had sketches of Libby’s face scattered all over the studio and they all looked out to her, calling for her attention. She knew there was still a chance that the future hadn’t been rewritten yet. She hadn’t actually acted upon her decision not to conceive Libby. Her next appointment for the contraceptive injection wasn’t until the following month. That would surely trigger the changes that would erase Libby from the future, but right now, as the full moon crept ever closer, Holly sensed that she was still travelling the same path.

She looked around her, her eyes moving from one image of her daughter to another. Then she looked at the new sketches she had drawn of the mother holding up her child. Her body tingled with excitement as she remembered what Jocelyn had said about her reflection being stronger in the moonlight. Tonight might just be the one and only chance she would have to hold Libby.

Holly was almost buzzing with anticipation and for the first time since the moondial had entered her life she was actually looking forward to seeing the moon’s perfectly formed and hopefully benevolent face.

* * *

The cloudless sky had warmed the day with weak autumn sunshine but the moon that replaced it held no warmth of its own and a halo around its edges promised an early frost. The trees in the orchard rattled in the desolate wind, shedding leaves in grief for the lost summer, and the white dustsheet fluttered like a ghost as Holly uncovered the moondial.

The dial practically glowed in the moonlight and the brass claws of the dial reached out beseechingly, ready to grasp the glass orb that Holly held in her trembling hand. As she dropped the orb into place and waited for the shower of moonbeams to consume her, Holly focused on the orchard. It had been three months since she had last used the dial when it had taken her to a cold January night. If the dial continued to open a window eighteen months into the future, then the autumn landscape would be transformed into spring and the orchard would be the first sign of hope that the future she had seen still remained intact and that her seven-month-old daughter would be there waiting for her. If the orchard showed her something else, Holly knew she was opening a window to a world she wasn’t prepared to see yet.

‘Please don’t take her from me, not yet. You can’t be that cruel,’ she whispered as she was forced to close her eyes against the shards of moonlight that spun across the surface of the dial and the world beyond.

As the dancing light faded, Holly blinked her eyes, desperate for that first glimpse of her new surroundings. The rambling chaos of her garden had been replaced by clean, manicured landscaping, but Holly held her breath as she looked beyond the garden towards the orchard. The apple blossom was only just starting to peek through the darkness but it was enough to give her hope.

Holly opened the back door with ease, her determination to see her daughter giving her the strength of presence she had struggled with in her earlier visits. The house was in complete darkness as Holly crept stealthily through the kitchen and into the hall, eager to reach Libby. It was only when she realized the house was completely still that she forced herself to stop and catch her breath and her thoughts. The occupants were either in bed or not there at all and a knot of fear caught Holly by surprise. She couldn’t face going upstairs until she was sure Libby hadn’t already been written out of her future. She took a breath, building up the courage to go into the living room, where she would find enough evidence to confirm whether or not her meddling had already taken her daughter from her.

In the eerie darkness of the room, Holly picked out some familiar silhouettes, the sofas, the TV stand, the fireplace and even the outline of the China cat on the shelf. She knew it was smiling at her smugly even though she couldn’t see its face. Holly wondered how the cat could still be there when she had already smashed it, but she wasn’t about to be distracted from her desperate search for confirmation that Libby was safe. Stepping deeper into the darkness, Holly accidently kicked something that rattled and rolled across the floor. She picked it up and smiled at the baby rattle in her hand. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

Before she left to search out Libby, Holly’s curiosity got the better of her and she crept over to the shelf to peer at the China cat sitting proudly in front of her. In the dim light it looked in pristine condition but as she let her finger follow the curve of its body, she felt a telltale ridge at its neck. The shattered pieces of the cat which she had left to gather dust behind the sofa had at some point been retrieved and glued back together.

Holly took the stairs two at a time. She might now know that Libby still existed but she wasn’t yet sure whether or not she was at home. Tom could be away somewhere with Libby, staying over with his parents perhaps. The gatehouse had only two bedrooms and Holly ignored the first door to the master bedroom with only a faint tug at her heart to see Tom. Holly knew if he was there she couldn’t give him comfort, and she didn’t think she could bear to see any more of his pain. Besides, she didn’t need to, she told herself. She was going to make sure that Tom would never suffer her loss.

The door to the second room was slightly ajar and there was the faint glow of a nightlight coming from the room. Holly knew in her heart that Libby was in there and she had to take a moment to compose herself before entering the room. Her body shook with raw emotion and anticipation, her heart hammering in her chest. She had used the dial with a single purpose in mind but as she paused at the doorway, her courage failed her and she fought the urge to turn and run. Holly had to face her daughter and she wasn’t about to make it easy on herself. She had to tell Libby that she was sorry for what she was being forced to do, to choose who should live and who would never be born.

The room she entered was no longer a spare room full of junk. It was a beautiful nursery and Holly felt as if she was walking into a wonderland. It was decorated precisely as she would have liked it, in soft pastel tones but with a modern twist. The walls were painted in a delicate pale yellow but the accessories picked up deeper, contrasting colours and there was a beautiful fairytale tapestry hanging from one wall.

An ornate white cot was positioned against the far wall and a colourful mobile dangled above Libby, who was snoring softly beneath it. Holly leaned over and just breathed in her baby smell. Her racing heart slowed and warmth radiated through her chest and then spread across her entire body, relieving some of the tension in her muscles. She took in every detail of her baby’s features, features she had tried so hard to burn into her memory since her last visit. The baby’s face was heart-shaped with those perfectly chubby cheeks Holly remembered. Her rosebud lips were ruby red against her iridescent skin and her hair was a halo of soft, blonde curls.

As she reached out to stroke the sleeping baby’s cheek with a trembling finger, Libby’s eyes fluttered open and Holly gasped. ‘Hello, sweetheart, did I wake you?’ she soothed.

Joy was replaced by pure panic as Libby’s lips trembled and Holly thought she was about to wail. She hadn’t considered the possibility that the baby might actually be frightened of her. Holly’s maternal instincts were fragile and she didn’t think she could comfort a crying baby, not even Libby.

Fortunately Holly wasn’t put to the test as the anxiety in Libby’s face softened and the look of fear was replaced by a smile. Libby rolled onto her tummy and started pulling herself up towards Holly. ‘Wow, you’ve grown,’ gasped Holly in amazement, although her confidence was still dented and she wasn’t at all sure what to do next.

Libby was by this time kneeling up against the bars of the cot, but then she leaned back to pick up a ragdoll that had been lying next to her. She looked up expectantly at Holly, waiting to be picked up. ‘Mmm, nnn,’ she babbled loudly and excitedly.

Still in a panic and now worried that Libby might wake Tom, Holly turned to the window and tugged desperately at the blinds. As moonlight seeped through the yawning window, the task became easier until at last, the bright face of the moon was revealed, surrounded by a million twinkling stars. Libby was still babbling impatiently behind her. ‘Well, the plan’s going well so far,’ Holly whispered, her voice trembling. She was relieved to see the moonbeams lighting up the nursery and desperately hoped that the reflection of light from the moon would give her the strength of presence to do what she had failed to do in her previous visits.

She turned back to Libby and took a long, deep breath. The anticipation growing inside her was almost too much to bear. She had longed to hold Libby, to the point of obsession, and this could be the moment that dream came true, to feel Libby in her arms for the first and the last time.

When Holly reached out towards Libby, the baby lifted her arms towards her mother, her hands clasping and unclasping in excitement. Holly felt the softness of Libby’s pyjamas, felt the warmth of her body as she carefully placed her hands beneath her baby’s arms. Holly paused, preparing herself for the joy of lifting her up or the frustration of lifting nothing but despair. Libby looked up expectantly into Holly’s eyes and the fragile connection that had formed between them took on a new strength that Holly believed could never be broken, should never be broken. As Holly’s heart lifted, so did Libby, straight into her mother’s arms.

‘Oh my sweet, sweet, Libby,’ cried Holly, holding her against her thundering heart. She kissed the top of Libby’s head, her cheeks, her nose, her neck. Libby wriggled with excitement and grabbed at Holly’s hair. ‘Mmmm, mmm,’ she said, hitting Holly in the face with her ragdoll.

‘What is that?’ asked Holly, trying to pull the soft toy from Libby’s grasp but Libby held on tight and grumbled disapprovingly at her mother.

‘OK, you keep hold of it,’ apologized Holly. She could feel the full moon looking over her shoulder and she sensed it smiling down at her. In this moment at least, Holly was thankful that the moondial had given her this gift. She wished it could last forever.

Holly was only barely aware that she had been rocking Libby from side to side and as Libby yawned, she rested her head softly on Holly’s shoulder. Slowly and gently, Libby was falling back to sleep and her eyes started to flicker whilst her fingers played rhythmically with the folds of her ragdoll. It was a strange toy, thought Holly. It had a soft ball head with a floppy hat and a square piece of soft cloth hanging down from its neck to form the doll’s body. It had probably once been cream but now looked a worn shade of grey.

Holly continued rocking Libby long after she had fallen asleep. This was going to be the last time she held her daughter and, although she had thought about what she had to say to her, when the moment came, Holly struggled to find the words. There really was only one thing that she wanted to say.