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

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СКАЧАТЬ had been pinned to the walls and others hung on wires from the ceiling, creating small clusters of colour scattered around the outer edges of the room.

      Tom walked around the studio as if stepping through an enchanted forest. ‘It’s amazing,’ he said at last. ‘I never imagined it would be like this.’ He touched a picture frame which seemed to be floating in mid air. It was a photograph of Tom and Holly laughing. A neighbouring photo was one of them on their wedding day, another was of Grandma Edith. ‘She would be so proud of you,’ he told her.

      Tom’s attention was next drawn to Holly’s ongoing projects. Workbenches lined one full side of the room and a few pieces of work in progress were stacked up waiting for completion. The main work area, taking full advantage of the sky lights, was the centre of the studio and here a dust sheet hung over the sculpture Holly was working on. There was an easel next to it with some of Holly’s sketches taped to it.

      ‘So this must be the sculpture for the dreaded Mrs Bronson,’ Tom noted.

      ‘It’s a scaled-down version and I’m still not one hundred per cent happy with it. I’ve got another month to get her to sign off the final design and then up until Christmas to complete it. And then I’ll finally be free of her.’

      ‘Can I take a look?’ Tom asked. He knew very well that Holly hated him looking over her shoulder while she worked and often refused to show him any of her works in progress, not until she was sure in her own mind what the finished article would look like. She didn’t want to risk being swayed by other people’s opinions, as she always seemed to lose her way if she did. Holly decided to take a chance and pulled off the dust sheet to reveal the sculpture. It was about three feet high and was standing on a wooden box to raise it up to eye-level to work on it more easily.

      The bottom section was made from plaster of Paris but painted black to represent the marble which would be part of the final piece. Above the swirling, black figures that formed the base emerged the white figure of the mother, or at least that was what the current mess of twisted chicken wire would eventually become. Holly had made better progress with the figure of the baby held in its mother’s arms. The baby’s face was smooth and white, the Cupid’s bow lips perfectly formed and its plump cheeks perfectly round. Holly had drawn inspiration not from Mrs Bronson’s photographs of her son, which were discarded somewhere on her workbench, but from the baby she had seen in her vision.

      Tom traced its tiny face with a gentle stroke of his finger. ‘She’s beautiful,’ he said.

      Holly smiled but the treacherous wings of guilt fluttered across her heart. She felt awkward as she watched Tom look in wonderment at the beautiful contours of the baby, not least because her own mind had already created a vision of him holding and feeding the very same child.

      ‘I can’t wait to have a baby of our own,’ Tom said, as if reading her mind. He looked at Holly and saw the shadow of doubt in her eyes. ‘Now that I know what’s happening at the studio, we can start on that five-year plan of yours.’

      Holly didn’t want to have this conversation right now. Her resolve to have a baby and prove her vision wrong, to prove Sam wrong, had withered and died when Tom had cast doubt about his job and their future. She stood in front of Tom speechless, unsure what to say.

      ‘You’ve changed your mind, haven’t you?’ he said, almost as an accusation.

      ‘I don’t know. Everything is so unsettled at the moment, maybe we should put off making plans for now.’

      Tom’s body tensed and there was anger in his voice. ‘For God’s sake, Holly, when is the time ever going to be right?’

      Holly wasn’t surprised at Tom’s frustration, but the anger shocked her. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, knowing Tom well enough to know that his reaction was about more than Holly’s usual prevarication over having children.

      Tom sighed and the anger left his body with a low hiss like a deflated balloon. ‘I’m taking the anchorman job because it means I can give you and any children we may have a stable, secure life. If I had the guts, I’d tell them to stuff their job and go freelance, but I haven’t because I want what’s best for us – us as a family.’

      ‘Well, why don’t you go freelance? I’m sure you’d find enough work, we’d manage. My work at the gallery is selling well. Tom, we could do it if you really hate the thought of being a news anchor so much.’

      ‘It’s a good job and I can’t look a gift horse in the mouth. And if it means I can be at home more when we do have a family then I really do want to do it. I just want you to want it too. Yes, it’s going to be unsettled for a year, but after that, we’ll know what’s going to happen and we can plan.’

      Holly laughed but it was tinged with suppressed hysteria. ‘Do we? Do we really know what’s going to happen? What if we can’t have everything we want, Tom? What if everything comes at a price?’ Holly was conscious that she was teetering on the edge of a precipice and, with a little more nudging from Tom, she was ready to tell him about her vision.

      Tom lifted his hands in despair. ‘I love you, Holly. I love you with every beat of my heart, with every breath that I take and 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 СКАЧАТЬ