Yesterday’s Sun. Amanda Brooke
opened his eyes and Holly shuddered as once again his gaze passed right through her, cutting her like a knife. Holly recoiled from Tom for the very first time in their lives together.
‘It hurts, Holly, it hurts so much. Every time I wake up, I remember I’m never going to see you again and my stomach lurches. I can’t believe it. I won’t believe it. You were fine. You were fit and you were healthy; pregnant, yes, but healthy. You were there one minute and then you just weren’t. Every bone in my body aches for you and it hurts so much.’
Tom paused, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. ‘Mum keeps saying I should let go, let myself cry, but I can’t. I’m so scared, Holly, because I swear if I did cry, I don’t think I’d be able to stop.’ Tom kept gulping for air, drowning himself in unshed tears.
Libby started to wriggle in his arms so Tom pulled the half-finished bottle from her mouth. His face softened slightly as he looked at his daughter and he smiled at her before lifting her onto his shoulder and patting her back. The painted smile disappeared and a look of pain returned to his eyes. ‘I’m not ready for you to leave me, Hol. I’m not ready to accept that you’re never going to walk back into the room. All your things are exactly as you left them, everything is there, ready for you to come home. Come home, Holly, please just come home.’
A sob escaped and Tom bit his lip to hold himself together. ‘I don’t want to feel like this any more, it hurts too much. If it wasn’t for Libby, I don’t think I could go on without you,’ he said. Libby gave a huge burp in reply, and Tom forced a smile. He cradled her again in his arms and started feeding her once more.
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, Libby,’ he whispered, and the love for his daughter warmed Holly’s heart and thawed the numbness that had engulfed her. ‘I love you so much and your mummy loves you and she’s watching over you.’
Holly couldn’t resist stroking the top of Libby’s head and as she leaned forward she could feel Tom’s warm breath on her face. Her whole body tingled and she knew that this was more real than any dream she had ever had.
‘Promise me you’ll never leave me,’ Tom whispered.
‘I promise,’ Holly answered, willing Tom to hear her, but he made no response.
Holly rested her head on Tom’s lap in submission and closed her eyes. ‘This isn’t real, Tom, this isn’t happening. It’s going to be all right.’
Silence filled the room and time ticked by. Holly stayed where she was until the baby finished her bottle and then she reluctantly withdrew as Tom made a move to stand up. She stood up too, facing him as he perched Libby on his shoulder and then picked up the bassinet.
‘Bedtime for us, I think,’ Tom said with false bravado.
As he turned and headed for the door, Holly put her hand on his shoulder, not wanting him to leave. ‘Stay with me,’ she pleaded as the sense of panic returned.
Tom paused. ‘Stay with me,’ he whispered, but then he left the room.
Holly felt close to breaking point and she was paralysed by fear. Her breathing was getting faster and deeper and she started to feel woozy. She was on the verge of hyperventilating. She heard Tom’s footsteps going up the stairs and then the creaking of floorboards overhead. For the second time that night, the sound of the baby crying sent her whole body into spasm.
The combination of the need for fresh air and the overwhelming desire to run away was enough to give Holly the strength to leave the house. She stumbled through to the kitchen, fumbled with the door handle before eventually letting herself out of the house and across the garden. It was still cold, much too cold for late April, and the wind whipped around her.
Holly’s eyes darted from one side of the garden to the other, wondering what demons lurked in the shadows to strip away the last shreds of her sanity. In answer to her challenge, Holly’s attention was drawn towards the orchard. The trees that should have been on the verge of blossom were now forlornly hanging onto withered leaves, fragments of a summer long gone. Holly stumbled on until she reached the moondial.
‘I’m not dead, I’m not dead!’ she cried out. She sank to her knees and curled herself up into a ball. ‘I’m here, Tom. Why can’t you see me?’ she pleaded.
Holly wasn’t sure how long she remained curled up in a ball beneath the moondial. Exhausted and cold, terrified and confused, she didn’t know what to do next. It was only when the kitchen light was switched off and the garden was etched in grey once more that Holly lifted her head and looked towards the house.
A few seconds later, a light appeared from her bedroom window. It was the soft glow of a bedside lamp. The bedroom blind was open. Holly tried to remember if she had left the blind open or closed. She sighed deeply. What did it matter? Everything had changed and Holly felt trapped in a world she no longer belonged in. But Tom was in there. If she didn’t belong with him, then where did she belong?
Holly rose to her feet and, beneath the watchful gaze of the full moon, felt an urge to go back into the house and run to Tom. She was about to take a step forward when the unmistakeable silhouette of her husband appeared at the bedroom window. He was rocking from side to side and although Holly was raging against the impossibility of it all, she knew he had the baby in his arms. The slow rocking motion of his body suddenly froze. Holly couldn’t see his eyes but she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was looking at her.
It felt as if the world was closing in around her when she fell under Tom’s gaze. There was a crushing weight pushing against her chest as the rhythmic sound of a ticking clock grew closer and then stopped with a thud. Whether it was the wind that whipped around her or just sheer exhaustion, Holly stumbled and reached out to the moondial to steady herself. The moment she touched the dial, a host of dancing moonbeams scampered around her. The garden became a blur and the air became heavier and a few degrees warmer.
Holly needed both hands on the dial to keep herself steady. She closed her eyes in an effort to stem the waves of dizziness that ebbed and flowed through her. One of her hands touched something on the dial. Holly blinked to chase away the shadows of light left by the moonbeams. It took a while before she could safely pick up what she had touched. She held it in her hands and a sense of relief washed away the terror. It was the wooden box. The dial mechanism and the orb had all reappeared too. The orb trembled benignly in the loosened grasp of the brass claws. Everything was as it should be.
The wind had eased and as Holly looked towards the orchard, the telltale white buds of spring sparkled against the night. Below her feet, the long grass was just as overgrown as it ever had been. Holly’s head snapped towards the house. Her bedroom window was in darkness, as was the whole house, minus one conservatory. The bedroom blind was rolled up but no figure looked down upon her.
Holly snatched the orb from the dial and threw it urgently into the box as if holding it would burn her fingers. Taking the box with her, she ran through the grass, not stopping until she was back in the kitchen where she quickly turned the light on. A quick check confirmed that there was no baby equipment, no notepad on the table.
The tentacles of Holly’s living nightmare were slowly releasing their grip on her heart and her mind. Stepping more tentatively into the hallway, Holly checked both reception rooms before heading upstairs. Her bedroom was empty, her bed a writhing mess of bed linen just as she’d left it. The digital display on the clock read 3:21 a.m.
Holly stripped out of her clothes, her jog pants still sodden from the wet grass. She crawled into the comfort of her bed and wrapped herself in her duvet. Unable to even begin to make sense of the last hour, Holly closed her eyes and closed down her mind. The sleep that had previously evaded her came swiftly and mercifully.
The ominous glow of the full moon had surrendered to the harsh spring sunlight by the time Holly was shocked into consciousness by someone banging on the front door. Jumping from her bed, she ignored the discarded clothes on the floor and grabbed her dressing gown. Her body ached