The library was vast and Holly would have felt lost if she hadn’t already spent countless hours if not days searching through its obsessively stacked and indexed treasures. She wasted no time in tracking down the reference books she needed to decide upon the stone and even less time on deciding which type of stone to use. Holly closed the last book she had been leafing through and stacked it up with the rest on the reading desk she was occupying. She tapped her fingers distractedly on the stack of books. She hadn’t fooled herself. She had already known she would choose black marble for the base of her sculpture, it was the obvious choice, and the upper section would be formed from clay.
A man at the next table cleared his throat and stared meaningfully at Holly. Holly’s hand froze mid tap. She hadn’t realized she had been tapping so loudly. ‘Sorry,’ she mouthed.
Holly returned her books and asked a library assistant for help looking up any records of Hardmonton Hall. It wasn’t the Hall that interested her as much as it was the origins of the moondial. Her desire to find out more about the dial had nothing to do with her hallucination, she told herself, she was simply doing research on what was a very interesting, if not mysterious, centrepiece in her garden. It took Holly quite a while, with the occasional direction from one very patient and helpful assistant, to gather all of two books on the subject. Sitting back at her reading desk, Holly opened the first book. It was a collected history of English architecture, specializing in Tudor manor houses, and Hardmonton Hall was listed in its index. Holly flicked through until she came to the relevant section. There were only a handful of pages devoted to the Hall, most of which were illustrations and plans of the buildings and grounds. It was in a plan of the ornate gardens that flowed from the back of the Hall that Holly eventually found evidence of the moondial. It was, or had been, located in what appeared to be a large stone circle. The circle was divided into four segments with an inner circle where the moondial would have been sited. From this centrepiece, four wide stone paths led outwards, separated by flower beds of some sort.
The second book was a wild card and Holly held out little hope that it would uncover any more of the dial’s history. It was a book on great archaeological expeditions in the nineteenth century and although there was no reference to the Hall itself, there was a reference to one of the previous Lord Hardmontons. Leafing through the book, Holly found the chapter she was looking for. She frowned as she skimmed through page after page of text. Charles Hardmonton had been a renowned explorer involved in expeditions all over the world and, as interesting as this local history was to Holly, she could feel a growing frustration building inside her.
Her impatience grew as she tracked Lord Hardmonton’s adventures from one side of the globe to the other and she prepared herself for disappointment as she turned each page. In a fit of pique, she skipped through to the last paragraph. Lord Hardmonton’s career as an explorer had come to an abrupt end when he fell out of favour with his sponsors during his last recorded expedition to central Mexico in search the Temple of Coyolxauhqui, the Aztec moon goddess.
Holly’s eyes narrowed in concentration as she read the name again. Could this be the connection to the moondial? Retracing her steps, Holly leafed backwards through the book, checking through the text again to see if there were any other references, but her efforts went unrewarded.
Never one to accept defeat easily, Holly knew she had reached a dead end. She closed the book with such force that the contents of the entire table rattled and then she stood up quickly and her chair scraped against the tiled floor.
‘Shush!’ hissed the man at the next reading table. It was the same man who had coughed at her earlier. Holly glowered at him.
‘Shush yourself,’ hissed Holly as she stomped past his desk. ‘I’d have been better off at home searching on Google, at least the company would have been better.’
Holly stopped in her tracks as her words echoed across the room and then she did an about turn. Ignoring the snooty glare from her fellow reader, she returned to her desk and reopened the book, found the reference to the name of the Aztec goddess and scribbled it down. Googling for information wasn’t such a bad idea.
It was only in the bright May sunshine that Holly started to relax again and her thoughts returned to the day’s successes. She had plenty of work to keep her out of trouble and she was keen to return to the village. As Holly entered the train station, she spotted a gift-shop window crammed with teddy bears and she was reminded of Sam’s cutting remarks about her lack of maternal feelings. Sam had inadvertently given her the push she needed and, without a moment’s hesitation, she strode into the shop and bought her unborn daughter the brightest, pinkest teddy bear she could find.
Holly hadn’t eaten since breakfast and her stomach was rumbling by the time she returned to Fincross late that afternoon. It made the decision to take a detour and pay a visit to Jocelyn’s teashop an easy one. She would be fulfilling her promise to the old lady and, besides, she wanted to celebrate her day’s achievements and she couldn’t do that on her own.
The teashop was picture-postcard perfect with gingham curtains, lace tablecloths and the smell of freshly baked pastries and brewing tea and coffee to entice customers. It was busier than Holly had expected, but she managed to grab a table just as a young couple were leaving.
‘What a lovely surprise!’ gushed Jocelyn, scurrying from behind the counter to give Holly a bear hug. ‘Are you hungry? What can I get you?’
‘I’m starving,’ Holly confessed. ‘What do you recommend?’
‘Oh, you’ll have to have a cream tea. I’ve just taken a fresh batch of scones out of the oven so they’re lovely and warm. Or, if you’re really hungry, you could try an open sandwich, there’s plenty to choose from. Or you could have both? You look like you could do with some pampering,’ she said, looking purposely at Holly’s bruised cheek.
Holly self-consciously put her hand to her face. ‘Minor accident,’ she explained dismissively before convincing Jocelyn that a cream tea would be more than enough. When it arrived it was clear that she had been treated to extra helpings. Jocelyn took the seat opposite her.
‘I’ll just rest my legs for five minutes. Lisa can cope on her own for a while.’
‘It’s a lovely teashop. You’ve done well here.’
‘It wasn’t all down to me. My sister Beatrice ran the shop originally. When I left Harry, she was good enough to give me a job, not to mention the flat upstairs. Eventually we became partners and when she died six years ago, God rest her soul, her daughter Lisa took over her share. I love this place, it gave me my life back and I want to carry on working here till my dying day.’
‘Is your son involved in the family business?’
‘Paul? Oh no,’ laughed Jocelyn, the thought obviously tickling her. ‘He’s in the army. I don’t think he’d quite suit a pinny.’
‘You must be very proud of him.’
‘Oh, I am, I am. He’s done so well for himself and things could have been so different.’ Jocelyn’s eyes seemed to dim, as if a shadow from the past had been cast over her.
‘Different in what way?’
Jocelyn waved a hand dismissively as if wafting the shadow away. ‘Oh, nothing. He didn’t have it easy, that’s all. His father was a fervent disciplinarian. Taking Paul away from his influence was the best thing I could have done for him.’
‘I’m sorry you didn’t have a better life in our house.’
‘Well, don’t you worry about me, it was a long time ago. Your lives will be happier there, I’m sure of it.’
‘Do you think so?’ Holly asked, still unsettled by her vision of the future.
‘I know so,’ confirmed Jocelyn, with a smile that made Holly feel safe and her future secure. ‘So how’s Billy getting on with your studio?’