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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, 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 across the table. ‘Why do I make such a mess of things?’ cried Holly, leaping up to grab the dishcloth before the spillage reached Jocelyn’s side of the table.

As she turned back around, Jocelyn was already standing there beside her. She took the cloth from Holly’s hand, discarded it on the table and then wrapped Holly in her arms.

‘Tell me what’s wrong,’ Jocelyn pleaded.

‘I can’t,’ whispered Holly. ‘I’m so scared, Jocelyn! I’ve never been so scared in all my life.’

Jocelyn squeezed Holly tighter to her as she felt her friend’s body shaking with fear. She started to rub her back. ‘It’s all right, I’m here. Whatever it is, it’s going to be all right, I promise.’

Holly looked up at Jocelyn. How different her life would have been if she’d had a mother like Jocelyn. But at least she was with her now, and Holly didn’t have to deal with her living nightmare on her own, not any more. ‘I’m going crazy, but I know if I say it out loud it’ll just make it real and I don’t want it to be real,’ she explained, fighting the suppressed tears that were burning the back of her throat.

‘Oh, sweetheart, tell me what’s wrong. You can’t keep it all to yourself. I promise you I won’t judge.’

Holding her breath in an effort to bring her shaking body under control, Holly hiccupped back a suppressed sob. She looked into Jocelyn’s eyes and the steeliness in her gaze gave Holly the strength to speak the unspeakable. ‘I’m going to die,’ she whispered. ‘I’m going to die and I don’t want to. I don’t want to leave Tom in such a mess. I don’t want to leave Libby without a mother.’

Finally she took a breath, but as she paused, she noticed that Jocelyn had tensed her body. Jocelyn released her grip and took a step back to look Holly in the eye.

‘How do you know all of this?’ she asked hesitantly.

‘I’ve seen it. I don’t know how,’ Holly hiccupped. ‘I don’t know how it works, but it has something to do with the moondial. It isn’t broken at all. It works and I think it showed me my future. I’m going to die in childbirth on September twenty-ninth next year.’

‘You need a glass of water for those hiccups,’ Jocelyn said as she unravelled Holly from her arms and turned towards the kitchen sink.

‘Did you hear what I said? I’ve either gone completely crazy or the moondial has helped me travel forward in time and it showed me that I’m going to die,’ whispered Holly, horrified that she might have just made a fool of herself. Of course Jocelyn would think she had lost her mind, what else was she supposed to think?

Jocelyn’s hand trembled as she handed Holly a long glass of cold water. Holly was too upset to notice. She took the glass but, rather than sip it, she put it to her forehead to cool her brow. She couldn’t look Jocelyn in the eyes.

‘Would it help if I told you that I died too?’

The glass in Holly’s hand slipped between her fingers but she saved it just in time to prevent the table from being damaged further. She sat down again when she felt her legs about to give way. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said, stumbling over her words but in her heart a spark of hope ignited.

‘I used the dial too, Holly.’ Jocelyn sat down on the chair next to her and grabbed her hands. ‘I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I should have said something when I saw that you’d resurrected the dial, but I hoped you wouldn’t work out how to use it, that you wouldn’t need to use it.’

‘You saw your own death and you changed it?’ Holly squeezed Jocelyn’s hands, holding onto the hope that was now glowing brightly. It was almost enough to know that she wasn’t going mad, that the whole thing wasn’t just her mind unravelling. Yet Jocelyn wasn’t simply telling her that the moondial really did have the power to look into the future, but that the future could be changed.

Jocelyn nodded and Holly felt a sense of control she hadn’t felt for days. ‘Tell me, tell me what happened.’ She bit her lip and waited for Jocelyn to explain.

Jocelyn let go of Holly’s hand and visibly sagged in her chair. She was quiet for the longest time and Holly wasn’t sure if she was going to speak. When she did, it was in a barely audible, trembling whisper.

‘I’ve already told you about Harry, what he was like and why I left. Well, that was only partly true. Harry was bad enough, but it was only through the moondial that I saw how things would get worse, so much worse …’ Jocelyn’s head was bowed down and she sat staring at her hands as she recalled her time in the gatehouse. ‘That was why I left him, you see, to avoid the trouble that would come.’

Holly sat mesmerized as she watched Jocelyn lift her eyes towards the kitchen window. It may have been the height of summer, but it seemed a cold, mournful day outside. Jocelyn couldn’t see the moondial from where she was sitting, but she obviously felt its presence bearing down on her.

‘It’s been such a long time and I tried to convince myself it was just a weird and complicated dream,’ offered Jocelyn. ‘It was so much easier than living with the guilt.’ Jocelyn glanced at Holly and gave her a weak smile before returning her gaze to the window.

‘What happened?’ Holly asked.

‘I was horrified when Harry plonked the dial in the middle of the garden, which was just what he wanted. The garden was my escape, the only part of my life that I felt I could control, and he wanted to destroy that too.’

‘Why did you stay with him?’

‘I was an unskilled, unloved housewife and Harry had spent more than enough years eroding my self-confidence. I just didn’t believe I could fend for myself and, more importantly, provide for Paul.’

‘And the moondial showed you that you could?’ Holly asked.

‘No, the moondial showed me what would happen if I didn’t.’ Jocelyn paused, still trembling with fear. ‘To cut a long story short, I saw a future where I hadn’t been able to endure any more of Harry’s mental and physical torture. I took my own life, Holly. It was the ultimate act of selfishness, not least because, without me to deride and humiliate, Paul became Harry’s new target.’

Despite the horror of the story Jocelyn was revealing, a story that had been played out in this very house, Holly felt her heart lighten. ‘So you can change the future that the moondial shows you?’ Holly was aware that she was repeating herself, but she had seen a flicker of hope and she needed to hold onto it.

‘It’s not easy; everything comes at a price.’

Holly shook her head, dismissing Jocelyn’s warning. ‘I’d do anything to change what I saw. In my vision, I walked into this house and had to watch Tom suffering so much, grieving for me. The worst part about it was that I was standing there, right in front of him, and he couldn’t see me. The thought of him looking straight through me still sends a shudder down my spine.’

‘Ah, reflection is the key, remember. That’s how the moondial works. The light from the sun is reflected onto the surface of the moon and it’s this borrowed light that is reflected further into the future through the moondial. But you are a reflection, you’re not really there.’

‘So that’s why Tom can’t see me. But I still don’t understand – because Libby could see me, I’m sure of it.’

‘Libby? Is she the baby you had?’

‘Oh, Jocelyn, she’s beautiful. You should see her. In fact you already have, she’s the baby I based my sculpture on,’ added Holly proudly.

Jocelyn smiled. ‘Then yes, she is beautiful. Holly, I wish I could explain why she could see you but I don’t know everything. Even Charles Hardmonton never understood exactly how it worked.’

‘He was the explorer I read about, wasn’t he? So he did make the moondial from the Moon Stone.’

Jocelyn nodded. ‘I know your presence will be stronger when you’re in direct moonlight, but I think sometimes it doesn’t matter how strong the reflection is, people will refuse to see what’s right in front of them. An adult in particular can’t accept what shouldn’t be there, but a child just might.’

‘Did Paul see you?’

Jocelyn shook her head. ‘He was older and very, very angry.’

‘Because you abandoned him?’

It was Jocelyn’s turn to stifle a sob. ‘He was right to hate me; still is.’

‘Why should he still hate you? You saved him, didn’t you?’

‘It’s complicated. There’s so much more you need to know about the moondial and its rules.’ The tears were flowing freely down Jocelyn’s face.

In a reversal of roles, it was now Holly who was comforting Jocelyn. She went to the cupboard and fetched her a tissue. ‘Right,’ Holly said, ‘I’m all ears. Tell me everything. Tell me everything I need to do to change things.’

‘There’s just so much. Where to begin?’ Jocelyn said, almost to herself. She was staring down at the paper tissue in her hands, which she twisted furiously with trembling fingers. ‘There’s the journal, of course. It was given to me not long after Harry bought the dial and it explains as much as anyone has ever learnt about how it works. I haven’t looked at the journal for nearly thirty years, haven’t wanted to. When I left this house, I never wanted to see the dial again or anything to do with.’

It was now Holly’s turn to reach out and steady Jocelyn’s shaking hand. ‘I need to know. I have a five-year plan to keep, remember? How can I become a mum if I don’t live long enough to even hold my baby?’

Holly’s tone was meant to be light-hearted to ease Jocelyn’s sobs, but it simply intensified them. Jocelyn looked up desperately into Holly’s face and shook her head in despair. ‘I’m sorry, Holly, I’m so sorry. I should have destroyed the dial or at least the mechanism. We weren’t meant to meddle with our futures, it’s too much of a burden.’

‘Please, don’t cry,’ soothed Holly, determined not to let the old lady’s fear invade her own thoughts. ‘We have each other now, we can each share the burden.’

‘I want to. Oh, Holly I want to help you, and I will,’ Jocelyn promised between heavy sobs.

Holly stood up and hurried to Jocelyn, who was crumbling before her eyes. She put her arms around her, frightened that her friend might be on the verge of collapsing, or even worse.

‘It’s all right, Jocelyn. I understand, you don’t have to say any more. By my calculation, I’m due to conceive Libby at the end of December, so I’ve still got a good few months to get my head clear and decide, with your help, what I need to do.’

Holly had spoken with a generosity that she didn’t feel. She wanted all the answers and she wanted them now, but she couldn’t put Jocelyn through any more pain, not today at least. Her words seemed to do the trick. Slowly, Jocelyn’s sobs started to subside and her body relaxed a little.

‘I take it you haven’t told Tom?’ sniffed Jocelyn.

‘I couldn’t tell him before because I didn’t know what was really happening and I didn’t want him to worry. I still don’t think I can tell him, not yet at least, not while he’s travelling so much, not until I know everything I need to know.’

‘At least he’ll be home soon,’ Jocelyn said. ‘You just enjoy your time with Tom, and in the meantime I’ll dig out the journal. It’s in one of the storage boxes that I kept at my sister’s house – no room in my flat, you see. Lisa lives there now, so she can help me get to it.’

‘And then?’

‘And then, I promise we will talk. Only next time I won’t turn to jelly. I’m sorry, Holly, I feel like such a wimp, I’ve let you down. I thought I was made of sterner stuff.’

‘You haven’t let me down and you’re the strongest woman I know,’ smiled Holly. ‘And now I have you, this whole thing doesn’t seem so daunting any more.’

‘I’m glad. But please promise me you won’t do anything to try to change your future until we’ve talked things through.’

‘I promise,’ beamed Holly. ‘Well, nothing major anyway. There is just one thing I’d like to sort out.’ Holly picked up a carrier bag at the side of the table and pulled out a pink teddy bear. ‘Can you donate this to the next jumble sale? And make sure it doesn’t go to someone with a child under two. I’d hate it to get into the wrong hands.’

‘Do we have to go out?’ complained Tom. ‘I can see just as much of the outside world as I could possibly want from here.’

Tom and Holly were standing in the middle of their new conservatory. The walls were still bare plaster with delicate swirls of pink and cream. Holly dug her bare toes in the cold, hard concrete and she smiled blissfully. Tom’s voice echoed across the room and chased away the distant sound of early morning birdsong. The room smelled deliciously of dust and stale summer air. Holly was ready to savour every detail, paying closest attention to her husband, who was standing behind her, his bare arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

‘You smell of sweat,’ she told him.

‘Well-earned sweat,’ Tom replied, kissing the back of her neck.

‘Did I say I was complaining?’ she whispered. ‘And yes, we have to go out. You’ve proved perfectly well that you’re over your jet lag.’

‘Hmm, perfectly.’

‘Yes, it was perfect,’ agreed Holly. ‘But we’ve been in the village almost six months now and you still barely know anyone.’

‘As I told you, I can see everything I need to see from here, and I can also see everyone I want to see.’

‘I need to call in at the doctor’s surgery to make an appointment,’ Holly told him, ignoring his wandering hands, which had reached up beneath the T-shirt she had stolen from him. His fingers traced every curve of her stomach before finding a spine-tingling path up between the curve of her breasts.

‘Why, there’s nothing wrong is there?’

‘No, I just think we should both have a pre-baby check-up.’

‘If you want a thorough checking-over, I can always oblige,’ Tom offered.

‘A proper medical check, if you don’t mind. They must have something like that, don’t you think?’

‘Holly, I’m the picture of health and so are you, we don’t need a doctor to tell us that. Besides, I’ve already been having all kinds of medical checks in preparation for my stint in Haiti. I don’t think I could take any more prodding and poking,’ he complained sulkily.

‘If I’m going to start planning a family, I’d like to plan it properly,’ Holly replied sternly.

Since speaking to Jocelyn, she had finally found the strength and the hope to think about her future, and in particular what she needed to do to save herself. In fact, she had thought of little else. The obvious answer would be to avoid getting pregnant in December, which sounded simple enough, but what if the aneurysm she would die of were to happen at another time? And then of course, there was Libby. If she put off conceiving, then she would be erasing Libby from their future. Other children might come along, but they wouldn’t be the daughter she was already falling in love with. Her first plan of attack was to look at reducing the risks of childbirth complications.

‘Couldn’t we just phone up for an appointment?’ Tom pleaded. ‘I do believe there’s a phone in the bedroom.’

‘Morning!’ Billy bellowed cheerfully from outside the conservatory.

Holly pulled her T-shirt down to a respectable inch below her bottom and Tom went to open the conservatory door to greet Billy. They hugged each other like long-lost brothers.

‘Sorry to intrude, but I heard Tom was home and I was just passing,’ explained Billy by way of an apology to Holly.

‘I swear,’ she said, ‘I think Billy misses you almost as much I do when you’re away.’

‘You know you’re welcome any time, Billy,’ Tom told him. ‘You’ve done a great job on the conservatory, I love it.’

‘Aw, thanks, I knew you’d like it. We’ve only got the walls to paint and the flooring to put down and then it’ll be perfect. Shame about the doors though,’ Billy tutted, giving Holly a disapproving look.

‘Women,’ tutted Tom. Holly took Billy’s disapproving look, upgraded it to menacing and passed it on to Tom, who smiled sheepishly.

Billy coughed to get Holly’s attention. ‘I hope you’re not going out dressed like that, Mrs C,’ he told her.

Holly narrowed her eyes at him but otherwise ignored his comment. ‘So what can we do for you, Billy?’

‘Well, now you have the doors all wrong and no choice but to step out into the undergrowth rather than the patio, I was thinking maybe Tom would like to discuss widening the extent of his renovations.’

‘So is someone going to tell me what you’re talking about?’ Holly asked.

‘Erm,’ replied Tom. ‘Don’t you think you might want to go and get dressed? We’ve got to get into the village soon, remember?’

Holly eyed the two men suspiciously. ‘Men,’ she tutted, turning on her heels. ‘But whatever you’re planning for the garden, do not touch the moondial.’

‘Does she always interfere with your plans?’ Billy whispered loudly as Holly stepped through the new patio doors and back into the living room.

‘I can hear you nodding, Tom Corrigan,’ Holly called back as she left the men to their secret plans. After all, she had secret plans of her own. She had more than one reason to visit the village. She was hoping that by now Jocelyn would have found the journal she had spoken of.

Jocelyn’s teashop was busy and there were a few curious looks as Tom and Holly squeezed through the diners to the last available table. ‘Morning, Mrs Johnson,’ Holly said as she leaned over a diner to ease herself into the gap between two tables. Mrs Johnson was rather large and the little space that wasn’t filled by the elderly lady was occupied by all her paraphernalia, including a thick woollen cardigan, an umbrella and a collection of shopping bags. ‘How are things at the farm?’ groaned Holly as she squeezed through the gap.

‘Ooh, the lambs are coming on fine, dear. I couldn’t ask for better after such a hard winter.’

‘Don’t forget you promised me that lamb shank recipe,’ Holly added as she popped out of the gap and edged closer to the table they were aiming for. Tom was following behind but tripped over a bag and practically threw himself on top of Mrs Johnson.

‘This must be him, then,’ Mrs Johnson said, looking suspiciously at Tom, who was practically nose to nose with the woman.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ grinned Tom sheepishly.

Mrs Johnson pinched his cheek, shaking his head from side to side as she did so. ‘Sweet little lamb, he is,’ she said to Holly. ‘Quite a dish himself.’

‘Hands off, he’s mine,’ laughed Holly, pulling Tom to safety.

After a few more good mornings and introductions, Holly and Tom finally made it to the table. Lisa was busy working behind the counter while a younger girl Holly hadn’t seen before was waitressing. The girl was in her early twenties with dark, short-cropped hair that gave her an elfin look. She had deep brown eyes that reminded Holly of Jocelyn. Looking from Lisa to the girl, there were other family resemblances and Holly guessed that this must be Patti, Lisa’s daughter, Jocelyn’s great niece. From what Jocelyn had told her, Patti was at university studying literature. Her gap year had turned into three years travelling around Europe, but she had finally taken the plunge and settled back down to her studies. She was the first in their family to go to university and both Jocelyn and Lisa were very proud of her.

‘What can I get you?’ the girl asked with a bright cheery smile.

‘Two cream teas, I think,’ Holly said, looking at Tom for agreement. He nodded on cue. ‘Is Jocelyn in today? I was hoping to catch her,’ Holly continued with a flutter of anticipation.

‘She’s away, visiting her son. She won’t be back for a few weeks. You’re not Holly, are you?’ the girl asked,

a note of recognition in her voice.

Holly’s heart sank as she nodded politely in agreement. ‘She didn’t leave anything for me, did she?’ she asked hopefully.

‘Sorry, but Auntie Joss did leave you a message. She said to say sorry she wouldn’t get a chance to see Tim, but she’ll catch up with you when she gets back.’

‘Ah, so you must be Patti,’ Holly replied, ignoring the mistake in Tom’s name. ‘How’s it going at university?’

‘Long story, but I’ve kind of thrown in the towel. I’m due back for my final year but I’m not sure it’s the way I want to go. I’m trying to convince my mum I could just work here and take up writing in my spare time, make my way as a writer on my own instead of slaving away to get some piece of paper that won’t guarantee me a job anyway.’

‘You shouldn’t give up,’ interrupted Tom.

‘Sorry, this is my husband Tim, I mean Tom,’ grinned Holly. Tom gave her a warning glare and Patti’s cheeks flushed pink.

‘I’m a journalist and it’s a tough world out there. A degree might just get you in the door, even if it doesn’t guarantee the job. You’ll regret it if you give up now, especially when you’re so close to finishing. I promise, if you get that piece of paper and you’re looking for a job, I can help out with some contacts.’

Patti was almost awestruck by Tom’s credentials and she hung on every word with enthusiasm. When she returned to the counter to get their order, Holly watched her out of the corner of her eye. Mother and daughter were deep in conversation. ‘Aren’t you the helpful one?’ Holly said to Tom.

‘I like to help along fledgling careers where I can,’ Tom said proudly.

‘I hope you don’t go around offering your services to all the pretty girls you see on your travels.’

‘I only have eyes for you,’ Tom said, and his intent stare sought solace from Holly.

‘I know, I’m only teasing. I trust you with my heart and my soul, no matter how far away they send you.’ She reached over and pulled at a tiny lock of hair at the base of his neck. ‘And no matter how polished and appealing they try to make you.’

Tom took hold of Holly’s outstretched hand in his. ‘Does it sound too wimpy to say I miss my curls?’

‘I miss your curls too,’ soothed Holly. ‘But you have to get the viewing public swooning over you if you’re going to become an anchorman.’ She paused, a mischievous glint in her eye. ‘I did mean the female viewing public, by the way.’

Tom tried to smile but his lips couldn’t quite complete the manoeuvre. ‘I was happy in my comfort zone, I am happy in my comfort zone,’ he tried to explain. ‘This new persona the studio is trying to create just feels …’ He seemed to be lost for words for once.

‘Uncomfortable?’ offered Holly.

‘God, it’s like squeezing into a suit that doesn’t quite fit.’

‘Too tight around the shoulders?’

‘Too tight in the crotch,’ replied Tom, just as Patti returned with their cream teas. If she heard his last comment, she didn’t let on.

‘These are on the house,’ she told them. ‘Mum insists.’

‘You’re going back to university?’ Holly asked excitedly, knowing how pleased Jocelyn and Lisa would be by the news.

‘Hmm, I’m not quite ready to decide just yet, but I have agreed to sit down and talk it through properly with Mum. And if I do give it another try, I’ll be back looking for those contacts,’ she told Tom.

‘My word is my bond,’ he agreed.

As Patti left, Tom sighed. ‘Oh, to be that young and hopeful.’

‘So, back to you. When do I get to see your new image in action?’ Holly asked. Tom’s reports on the Canadian oil sands were currently being edited and hadn’t been aired yet.

‘Next week; the day before I leave, as a matter of fact.’

‘I’d better spread the word. Your mum and dad are dying to see you too. Now eat up, we’ve still got to call in at the surgery, remember.’

‘Yes, Mum,’ Tom replied, before stuffing half a cream scone in his mouth.

It didn’t seem to Holly that she had to wait long to see Tom’s reports as the days slipped by at an alarming rate. On the night that Tom’s first report was being aired, they cuddled up on the sofa, ready to watch the broadcast with a bottle of wine and popcorn. Holly was relieved that Tom was still home. The summer nights were drawing in as August moved closer to September and whilst Holly sat in the relative safety of her living room she knew the full moon was casting its borrowed light across the surface of the moondial. Tonight its lure was no match for the safety of Tom’s arms, her Tom, the man whose heart hadn’t been broken by the loss of his wife.

It was a strange experience, sitting on the sofa, watching the new improved Tom in professional reporting mode on screen while her real-life Tom gave a commentary on what had been happening behind the scenes. Stranger still because the image on screen didn’t match the man sitting next to her, who, despite his lack of hair, was still the old, dishevelled Tom she knew and loved. She wasn’t sure she liked the polished, pristine version on screen. He was too slick for her liking. He was interviewing an oil company spokesperson and he sounded different, harsher.

‘So what do you think?’ Tom asked tentatively as soon as the programme had finished.

‘You looked …’ Holly started, but then couldn’t think of the right words. ‘You looked very professional.’

‘You didn’t like it, did you?’ Tom asked. There was a note of disappointment in his voice that made Holly’s heart ache.

‘It’s different,’ she tried to explain. ‘It’s just not quite you.’

Tom sighed. ‘I know, you’re right. I’m trying my hardest to adapt. Everyone in the studio has been singing my praises, but it still doesn’t quite feel right. It’s strange how people react differently to you just because you’re wearing a suit and you have that slick look. The career politicians and the experienced press officers I’ve been interviewing still look down their noses at me, but some of the people on the sidelines, I think I kind of intimidated them.’

‘So is that what the studio really want from you? For you to go around intimidating people?’ asked Holly. She kept her tone light, but she really didn’t like the idea that Tom was being forced to move away from the approachable reporter he used to be.

‘I’m not in the anchorman job yet. Maybe when I am, I can relax the style a little. At least they’re not insisting I wear a suit when I’m in Haiti.’

‘I’m going to miss you,’ moaned Holly.

‘I haven’t gone yet and I will be back. All this pain will be worth it when we think about what it will mean for us next year. Next year I could have a little baby who’ll love me no matter what kind of silly suit I have to wear. And now we’ve been given a clean bill of health from the doctor, there’s nothing to stop us.’

‘I know,’ Holly answered, trying hard to hide her disappointment. She had mentioned her bump on the head, expecting that the doctor would send her off for an MRI, hoping that the aneurism might be an existing condition that could be treated and that she could then go on to have Libby, free from any risk. But he had given her only the basic health checks and so the risk remained. It seemed that the only thing Holly could do to avoid dying in childbirth was to avoid conceiving Libby. ‘Just as long as we get to spend the rest of our lives together.’

‘You don’t get rid of me that easy,’ Tom said, kissing the top of her head.

‘And you don’t get rid of me that easily either. Just don’t go getting all celebrity on me and running off with the first airhead you meet.’

‘You know I won’t do that,’ Tom assured her.

‘Yes, I know you won’t,’ Holly answered. The moondial had at least provided her with that certainty.

‘Anyway, I’ve got a long journey tomorrow,’ Tom said, raising his arms and yawning loudly. ‘Fancy an early night?’

‘Can I bring my popcorn?’ teased Holly.

‘As long as your crunching doesn’t keep me awake,’ Tom warned, still yawning enthusiastically.

‘Oh, it won’t be my crunching keeping you awake,’ countered Holly. She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at Tom, a trick she had learnt from Billy.

‘Mrs Corrigan, I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Then let me explain further,’ promised Holly, climbing onto Tom’s knee. ‘I don’t think we need to go to bed to have an early night.’

By the time Holly and Tom made it to their bedroom, the moonlight that had shone through the open window had faded and failed. Holly’s path lay firmly in the present.