Yesterday’s Sun. Amanda Brooke
asked Holly. ‘Did you know someone who lived here before?’
‘I was someone who lived here.’
‘Really?’ gasped Holly. ‘When? What was it like? Why did you move?’ The questions kept tumbling out of Holly’s mouth.
‘Oh, it must be at least twenty-five years now,’ explained Jocelyn. ‘Last time I was in this kitchen it was fitted out in top-of-the-range Formica and the colour scheme was orange and brown.’
‘Seventies at its best,’ observed Holly.
‘You guessed it, although it was the early eighties when I left. My husband wasn’t exactly one for decorating.’
‘So why did you leave? Who had the house after you?’ Holly was eager to know the full history of the house she now called home.
‘That’s a long story,’ sighed Jocelyn. ‘I left because I left my husband. He lived in the house a few more years and then it was sold on.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.’ More questions were queuing up in Holly’s mind, but she had the good grace to curb them.
‘That’s all right. This house holds some really good memories for me and some,’ Jocelyn continued, scrunching her face as she prepared herself for the confession: ‘Well, some not so good. I just hope you find happiness here. In fact, I’m sure you will.’
Jocelyn was more keen on telling Holly all about the village than she was about her life in the gatehouse. She offered to introduce her to village life whenever she was ready, whenever she felt like she needed the company. She told her all about the quiz nights at one of the local pubs, the karaoke night at the other, not to mention all the fundraisers and bingo nights at the village hall.
‘And then of course there’s my teashop, which is opposite the church. Now I will only insist on one thing and that is that you stop by this week so I can treat you to afternoon tea.’
Holly could offer no better response than continuous nodding. Jocelyn was turning out to be the perfect medicine for a lonely heart. ‘I will,’ she promised.
‘Don’t go getting all polite on me. I’m sure you think I’m nothing but a hopeless busybody,’ Jocelyn confessed. ‘But I know from experience how easy it is to become isolated in a small village. You seem to be an independent and determined young lady, but sometimes that can work against you. It worked against me.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Holly, hoping Jocelyn would reveal a little more about her history.
‘You remind me a little of myself. Maybe it’s the connection with the house. I hope that’s all it is. I was born and raised in the village, but I had dreams of carving out a career for myself just like you, making my own way in the world.’
‘So what happened?’
‘I didn’t have any talents to rely on, not like you. I put off marriage as long as I could but, eventually, I conformed to tradition. I didn’t come from a time or a place where it was the done thing for women to have a career of their own, or a life of their own, for that matter.’
‘So you became a housewife? In this house?’
‘Yes. In the beginning it was actually good. My son was born and my husband had a good job. He ran his own carpentry business.’
‘And the outbuilding was his workshop,’ guessed Holly. ‘So what went wrong? Sorry, is that too personal?’
‘It’s a long story. A long, long story and I won’t bore you with it now. I’ve taken up enough of your time,’ replied Jocelyn, draining the last of her tea.
Holly was a little disappointed. Her interest in this woman’s past life had been piqued. She wanted to know the details and she didn’t mind if it took the rest of the day.
Jocelyn stood up, clearing up the plates and cups before putting them on the tray. ‘No, please, I can’t let you do that. You’re my guest,’ reproached Holly.
‘Indulge an old lady,’ Jocelyn said with a half-hidden grin. ‘I like to clean up after myself. Besides, I wanted to have a better look out the window and into the garden.’
‘You can have a full tour of the house if you like,’ laughed Holly.
‘Now that would be cheeky and I really do have to be getting along.’
‘It’s still raining,’ warned Holly. ‘Are you sure you want to go yet?’
‘A little rain won’t do me any harm. Besides, it’s good for the garden.’ Jocelyn turned and peered out of the window. Her body imperceptibly sagged.
‘Tom made a start on it, but I don’t think it’s been touched for quite some time,’ explained Holly, feeling the need to apologize for the ramshackle state of the garden.
‘I see you’ve resurrected the moondial.’ Jocelyn was looking intently at the stone table.
‘Moondial? Do you mean the sundial?’
Before Holly had a chance to quiz Jocelyn further, the phone rang. It was Tom. He had arrived safely at his new digs in Belgium.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ mouthed Jocelyn.
Holly was torn between being a gracious host and speaking to Tom. For the brief time Jocelyn had been there, Holly had forgotten how lonely she had been, but those feelings crashed against her chest once more. Holly put a hand on Jocelyn’s shoulder. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
With a series of determined hand signals, Holly was ordered to stay in the kitchen and Jocelyn saw herself out of the house. ‘I’ve just made a new friend,’ Holly told Tom. ‘She’s almost made today bearable.’
Holly treated herself to a large glass of wine and a deep bubble bath before bedtime, a combination which she hoped would guarantee a peaceful night’s sleep. Although it wasn’t unusual for Tom to spend nights away, their current separation was going to be the longest of their marriage. To ease their shared loneliness, Tom had promised to set time aside each and every morning and evening to speak to Holly on the phone, so with glass in hand, surrounded by soft pillows, Holly let Tom whisper sweet nothings to her as she lay in bed.
When they could put it off no longer, Holly reluctantly said goodnight and put down the phone. She turned off the lights but didn’t manage to switch off her mind so easily. Holly’s best-laid plans of a peaceful night became snagged in a tangle of thoughts. The separation from Tom, the new house, the village, the commission she couldn’t find inspiration for, all of these kept her tossing and turning long past midnight. To her surprise, it wasn’t thoughts of Tom and more particularly Tom’s absence that preoccupied her mind most of all. It was Jocelyn.
Holly had taken an immediate liking to Jocelyn. When the old lady had arrived on her doorstep uninvited, it had been the last thing Holly had wanted. But as it turned out, she had been sorry to see her go. There was still so much she wanted to know about the gatehouse’s previous occupants, and Jocelyn intrigued her. She had the distinct feeling they were going to be good friends. The thought comforted her and in some ways appeased her curiosity.
Try as she might to clear her mind, the effort simply made her concentrate even more on the thoughts she was trying to ignore. The hours slipped by as she tossed and turned until she eventually admitted defeat and stretched her arms wide then opened her eyes. The digital glow of the clock revealed it was 2:07 a.m. Moonlight was seeping through the window blind, filling the room with nature’s very own lunar mood lighting. Holly’s heart skipped a beat as Jocelyn’s words echoed in her mind. ‘I see you’ve resurrected the moondial,’ she’d said, just as Holly had been distracted by Tom’s phone call. Was that what had been playing on her mind? If it was, there was only one way to chase away the demons that had kept sleep firmly out of reach.
Holly tumbled out of bed and opened the blinds. A perfectly formed full moon had risen above a bubbling sea of clouds. The storm that had plagued the day was