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

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СКАЧАТЬ towards her hand and his body relaxed.

      He closed his eyes. ‘I still won’t cry,’ he told her, gulping back his words, and then a faint smile trembled on his lips. ‘You know how that feels, don’t you, Hol?’ The smile was fleeting and the despair quickly returned to his features. ‘I won’t let go. I can’t let go.’ He leaned forward, almost as if he was trying to curl himself up into a ball. His head rested against the glass in his hand and he rolled it across his forehead as if trying to soothe his thoughts. ‘No,’ he whispered through clenched teeth. ‘No!’ he repeated, his words coming out as angry sobs. ‘I won’t cry.’

      Holly wrapped her arms around Tom tighter and tighter, holding on to him, willing him to feel her next to him. His whole body shuddered and the first tears that fell, fell softly, silently marking the breach in the dam that he had built against his grief. Then the heaving torrent of tears came, tears that even Tom couldn’t hold back.

      His body was wracked with pain and the untouched drink in his hand slopped around him, spilling onto the floor. ‘I can’t even drink myself into oblivion!’ he cried, discarding the glass on the floor next to the bottle.

      ‘You’re going to be all right, Tom,’ Holly told him, rocking him in her arms as she too, felt a huge wrenching in her chest. She felt the pressure of a lifetime of tears building inside her and each of Tom’s sobs felt like a hammer blow against her own emotional walls. ‘Let out the pain, don’t hold on to it. Let it go,’ she said, giving Tom advice that she had refused to take herself.

      ‘I love you, Holly,’ Tom stammered. ‘I never told you enough how much I love you. I wish I could go back and tell you how much I love you just one more time, just once. I still love you, Holly. I always will.’

      As the sobs slowly subsided, Tom’s grief 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.

       Chapter 6

      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, СКАЧАТЬ