‘Ooh, I can just imagine it,’ sighed Holly, mirroring Billy’s enthusiasm with an added sprinkle of sarcasm that only she could appreciate.
‘Well, imagining is all you can do. I agreed the plans with Tom but I’m not to show you. You’ve done enough meddling by messing about with the position of the doors. Tom wants the finished product to be a surprise.’
‘That might be more difficult than you think,’ Holly replied.
‘I suppose there’s no chance that you could stay out of the garden for the next couple of weeks?’
‘No chance,’ confirmed Holly. ‘I tell you what,’ she added when she saw Billy’s shoulders sag in disappointment, ‘I’ll avert my eyes whenever I go past and promise not to go snooping.’
‘It’s a deal. We’ll start work after the weekend.’
‘Great, I’ll see you next week,’ replied Holly.
Billy looked over towards the sculpture and was obviously about to give Holly his expert opinion.
‘See you Monday, Billy,’ Holly told him before he had a chance to speak.
‘Could it do with …’ he began.
‘Go away, Billy,’ Holly said a little more forcefully, but with a suppressed laugh tickling the back of her throat.
With Billy out of the way, Holly picked up the phone and called Mrs Bronson. If she could arrange for her client to visit the studio next week then she would be ahead of schedule and able to spend some time working on the other pieces she had promised Sam for the gallery. That was, of course, assuming Mrs Bronson was happy with the scaled version. Holly stared at the sculpture as she made the necessary arrangements with Mrs Bronson over the phone. The frown returned.
She just hoped it was her own self-doubt and insecurities that made her look at the piece differently. The mother-and-child theme was always going to be a challenge, but even Holly couldn’t have suspected how challenging.
Holly sighed, chasing away the ghosts of the future. Hopefully Mrs Bronson would have an uncomplicated view and see the sculpture as Holly had intended: a simple and idealistic portrayal of the bond between mother and child.
Holly’s separation from Tom had grown and not just in terms of distance. The emotional effects were wider than the Atlantic Ocean that now lay between them. She had been prepared for the impracticalities of their long-distance relationship caused by the time zone differences, but what she hadn’t factored in was the chaos Tom had left her to face on her own, thanks to the moondial.
She realized it had been naive to think that she could handle the bizarre situation which she found herself in on her own. She had been cast adrift by her loveless parents, but when Tom came along, he had become her anchor. Her original five-year plan had set the course for her adult life, but it was Tom and only Tom who had given her the stability that she had craved for so long. The next five years were supposed to be plain sailing and, for Tom, having a baby and a wife was fundamental to that plan.
With the full moon only days away, Holly needed him more than ever. She wondered how he would react if she were to tell him about her hallucination and how she was even vaguely willing to accept that she had seen a vision of the future. He would probably book the next flight home. He would be supportive, of course, but he would never understand her fears. He wasn’t the one who had walked into a house where the air was leaden with grief. He hadn’t felt his heart break at the sight of the one he loved falling apart, and he hadn’t see the vision of Libby, with the most perfect, beautiful green eyes staring back at him, and then been unable to hold her, not then and perhaps not ever, if the vision was as portentous as Holly was starting to believe it was. So when Holly picked up the phone and made her usual international call to Tom, she let the sound of his voice ease her fears and gave away no clue to her growing anxieties.
‘So how’s Billy getting on with my project?’ Tom asked eagerly.
It was mid afternoon in Fincross and the sun was high, breaking record temperatures for the year. It would have been a beautiful day for sitting out in the garden if Holly had been allowed outside in what had now become a construction site. The patio, where Holly, Tom and Jocelyn had enjoyed their Sunday brunch, had been ripped up and the foundations had been laid for the conservatory.
‘I’m under strict instructions from Billy not to look out of any of the windows or go into the garden, so how would I know how it’s going?’ complained Holly.
‘But everything’s going to plan?’
‘Billy’s still complaining about the position of the conservatory doors and won’t stop bending my ear. I’ve had to recruit Jocelyn to use her influence over him just to stop him changing the design behind my back.’
‘Well, he has a point. I’m still not convinced it’s the right place for the doors.’
‘I told you, I’m the creative one. I know what’s best,’ Holly assured him.
‘So, speaking of creativity, have you seen the dreaded Mrs Bronson yet?’
‘She’s not long ago left,’ Holly told Tom as she sat at the kitchen table picking at a sandwich.
‘And?’ he demanded.
‘And she loved it, thank God.’ Holly leaned back in her chair and let the sense of relief wash over her. She couldn’t stop grinning.
‘I’m not surprised. It looked amazing even when I saw it only half-finished. Can you send me a photo now, please?’
Holly had refused to show him the completed article until Mrs Bronson was ready to sign it off. She knew Tom would love it but Mrs Bronson was the client and she was the one that needed to be pleased.
‘I will,’ she promised.
‘So she didn’t want any changes, then?’
‘Well, I didn’t get off completely scot-free. She was keen to point out that her dearest child has a longer face and a dimple on his chin. I had half a mind to tell her she should be grateful I’ve based it on a far prettier baby, but the client is always right.’
‘So of course the final sculpture will look more like her son,’ added Tom.
‘Of course,’ Holly said with a wicked grin.
‘Really?’
‘How could you doubt me? If she wants her baby’s ugly features immortalized, why would I do anything else?’
‘Because it’s your work being immortalized maybe?’
‘Now I never thought of it that way. I might need to have a rethink.’
‘Like you haven’t already,’ laughed Tom. ‘Well, I hope you won’t abandon our babies if they’re ugly.’
Holly’s smile faltered and she was just glad that Tom was on the end of the phone and not in front of her.
‘Our babies will be beautiful,’ she said before the pause became too noticeable. She closed her eyes and a familiar face came to mind.
‘They will be if they take after you.’
‘As long as they have your eyes,’ she told him. A vision of Libby looking up at Holly hovered behind her closed lids and she had to squeeze her eyes tightly to chase away the ghost of her image.
‘My eyes, but your nose. And your mouth. And your hair. Beautiful babies who will grow up to be just as gorgeous as their mum,’ Tom went on with absolute certainty. ‘Well, the girls will. I’m not so sure about having sons with long blond hair though, call me old fashioned.’
Holly giggled and the sound chased away the tension that had been building up inside her. This was why she needed Tom in her life, to make everything normal and safe and simple. ‘You’ve got it all planned out, haven’t you? You’ve probably even picked the names,’ Holly