“You should get more help in here,” Holly told her.
“If that’s an offer, then I accept,” Jocelyn said with an air of triumph.
Holly opened her mouth to speak but looked like a fish on a line gulping for air, as she tried her best to get herself out of the trap Jocelyn had set. “If I didn’t know better, Jocelyn, I’d say I’d just been set up.”
“If you didn’t know better, you’d say no and go home to wallow in your misery.”
Holly’s eyes narrowed as she thought about the offer and tried her best to ignore Jocelyn’s exaggerated moans and groans as she shuffled along the table.
“I still need to keep my mornings free to work in the studio. And do you have any idea what a complete novice I am in the kitchen?” warned Holly.
“All the more reason to start putting in some practice,” retorted Jocelyn.
“Would you like me to start right now?” offered Holly.
“No, tomorrow afternoon will be soon enough.”
Holly was reluctant to move. She glanced at the young family who had settled at one of the tables and were scrutinizing the menu. “I just have the full moon to survive tonight then,” she said.
Jocelyn sat herself back down with a thump. “How stupid am I? Sorry, Holly, I didn’t realize it was that close. Are you going to use it?”
“No, absolutely not. I’ve seen enough of my future for one lifetime.” Though she managed a brave smile, Holly’s heart felt heavy and her stomach leaden. “I’ve already wrapped up the dial in a dust sheet just to keep it out of sight. It can stay under wraps for the foreseeable future.”
They both chuckled at Holly’s feeble pun.
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Jocelyn asked.
Holly stood up. “Of course I will. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Jocelyn rose from the table for a second time and gave Holly a bear hug. “You’ll be fine. You’re a strong woman. Stronger than I ever was.”
“I doubt that. I’d be happy to have half your strength,” Holly said. “You’re a very special lady.”
“Don’t be daft,” replied Jocelyn, wafting her out of the shop with a flutter of embarrassment. “And don’t think buttering up the boss means I’ll be taking it easy on you. I want you here at one o’clock sharp!”
As Holly left the tea shop she was surprised to find she had a spring in her step. She practically sauntered back to the gatehouse with a sense of control she hadn’t felt in a long time. She had been strong once and she could be again. She wouldn’t drop her guard and she would get through this for her sake and for Tom’s.
That evening, Holly won her first battle with the moondial and ignored the persistent pull from beneath its makeshift shroud.
Holly clattered pots and pans as she raced around the kitchen trying to juggle overboiled vegetables and burning roast potatoes. She had insisted on inviting Tom’s parents and Jocelyn around for Sunday lunch to welcome Tom home, but she was now seriously regretting the decision. It probably hadn’t been a good idea, either, to open a bottle of wine to give her courage.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like some help?” Diane asked, peering around the kitchen door and doing her best not to show any visible signs of horror at the mess that Holly was creating.
“No, I’ll be fine,” insisted Holly as she dropped a tea towel over the scorch mark she’d made on the kitchen table. She had already confessed her mishap to Diane, who had taken it well.
Diane looked at the tea towel and was about to say something but thought better of it. Holly was in no mood to be soothed. “If you’re sure?” she said, more as a question than a statement.
“I’m sure,” replied Holly through gritted teeth and with only the slightest hint of hysteria. “You get back in there with Tom. I’m sure there’s still plenty of catching up to do.”
“All right then,” Diane told her with an unconvincing smile. She still didn’t look like she was going anywhere but then the doorbell rang.
“That’ll be Jocelyn,” Holly gasped, looking around in panic and wondering how long she could leave the oven unattended before the whole kitchen imploded. Jocelyn hadn’t met Tom’s parents and she barely knew Tom. Holly would be a poor hostess if she didn’t do the introductions. She did a little jig in the middle of the kitchen as she went to go one way and then the other.
“Are you all right? I can take over if you like while you get the door,” Diane suggested with enthusiasm.
For a split second, Holly really was tempted to escape the kitchen with her opened bottle of wine and leave the cooking in more capable hands. There must be something Diane could salvage from the chaos, but she was going to have a hard job recreating sprouts from the green mush bubbling in a pan hidden at the back of the stove. “No, I’m the one who made this mess and I’m the one who has to cook my way out of it. Could you see to Jocelyn for me?”
“If you’re sure,” Diane conceded reluctantly. She backed out of the kitchen as if she were too scared to turn her back on the bubbling bedlam.
Two minutes later, Jocelyn popped her head around the door.
“Diane said you’re determined to do this on your own, but …” Jocelyn cast a wary look over the kitchen. “Are you sure you don’t want some help?”
“I’m fine,” Holly replied, with a fixed grin that was starting to make her cheeks ache. It was difficult enough keeping track of the countless miniature disasters that were appearing by the minute without the constant battle of keeping out the good Samaritans. “I’m just sorry I can’t come out to do some proper introductions.”
“Oh, don’t worry about us. Diane and Jack are lovely and I’m getting reacquainted with your gorgeous husband. You really shouldn’t leave me alone with him.”
“I’ll trust you,” smiled Holly. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got a dinner to bring back to life.”
“You know where I am if you need me,” Jocelyn told her as she, too, backed out of the kitchen. “And you might want to check the oven. I think I can smell something burning,” she shouted before disappearing from view.
Holly opened the oven door and a cloud of smoke hit her between the eyes. She was busily wafting the smoke out through the kitchen door when Tom appeared. “How’s it going?” he asked.
Holly was just about to scream at him to get out of the kitchen but he had picked up the wine and was refilling her glass.
“You look like you could do with a drink,” he told her.
“I really shouldn’t,” she said. “But one more glass couldn’t do any harm. I think all the damage that could be done, has been done.”
“It smells delicious,” Tom said brightly. He was deliberately avoiding making eye contact with Holly or looking toward the billowing smoke coming from the oven.
“You’re a big fat liar, but I love you for saying it. Is everyone all right in there?”
“Yes, they’re getting on like a house on fire. Sorry, no pun intended.” Holly hit him with a tea towel before letting him continue. “Jocelyn and my mum are chatting away like old friends.”
Holly knocked back her glass of wine and lifted up the empty glass for a refill.
Tom lifted up the bottle to show Holly that it, too, was now empty.
“There’s plenty more where that came from,” she replied, tipping her head toward the fridge.
“How long will dinner be?” Tom asked tentatively. He was probably calculating whether she could serve dinner before she was totally trashed.
“By my guess, it was ready half an hour ago. It’s now overcooked and burnt.”
“At least we don’t have to clear space in here and can eat in the conservatory,” Tom commented. He braved a look at the kitchen table, which didn’t have an inch of spare space.
Holly took a deep breath to clear her head. “Oh, I give up,” she said. “Give me a hand serving this up. Do you think I should stick a pizza in the oven just in case?”
“It’ll be fine,” Tom assured her.
The smell of fresh paint in the conservatory was quickly beaten into submission by the aroma of stewed vegetable with the faintest hint of burning. It was early afternoon but the day was already fading fast. At least the subdued lighting made the food look almost edible, thought Holly. They had borrowed a long table and chairs from the tea shop to seat them all.
“It’s lovely,” smiled Jocelyn, taking her first mouthful of Holly’s roast dinner. Holly heard a distinct crunch as Jocelyn bit down on a roast potato.
“Delicious,” confirmed Diane sweetly.
“It reminds me of Diane’s cooking,” Jack offered. Diane raised an eyebrow at her husband. “In the early days, I mean,” he clarified.
“You mean to say Mum couldn’t cook either when you first got married?” Tom was laughing but one look at Holly silenced him.
“It’s awful, isn’t it?” Holly admitted. She took a long swig of wine to wash away the bitter taste of disappointment.
There was a chorus of denials and compliments and everyone made a concerted effort to fill their mouths with food.
“It’s nice to have a home-cooked meal. You don’t know how much I’ve missed being home,” Tom told them all.
“And we’ve missed you,” Holly replied. She was staring intently at Tom but from the corner of her eye, she could see beyond him and into the garden. She could see the pale form of the moondial in its dust sheet, glowing in the twilight like an ever-present ghost.
Holly sipped her wine, listening intently as Tom described his time in Haiti. The experience had left its mark and it was going to take a long time before he’d be able to put it all behind him, if he ever could. Holly was more certain than ever that putting off telling Tom about the moondial was the right thing to do.
“It’s just so frightening to see lives and communities wiped out in one single event,” he was telling Jocelyn.
“None of us can take life for granted,” agreed Holly sadly.
Jocelyn gave Holly a guarded look but said nothing.
“I’m sure this chicken didn’t see it coming,” Jack said, laughing at his own joke until his wife prodded him.
“It’s a lovely conservatory,” Diane said, trying to move the conversation to safer ground.
“Yes, Billy’s done a lovely job,” agreed Jocelyn.
“We came up with the design together,” Tom said proudly. “Mostly Billy, I have to admit. And then of course there was my dear wife’s interference. The doors were supposed to be at the side, but Holly changed the plans at the last minute.”
“Yes,” added Holly. “You can always change plans, or they can be changed for you. Makes me wonder why we bother with them in the first place.”
Her head was becoming a fuzzy mess, a mixture of too much wine and the growing realization that she really had so little control over her future. Tears were welling in her eyes and she became aware that the others had fallen silent and were all looking at her with growing concern. She hadn’t cried since the fateful trip to Hardmonton Hall and she had hoped she could contain her tears once more, but they never seemed to be too far from the surface. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I need a glass of water,” she said, jumping up and quickly heading out to the kitchen.
She took a long drink of water as she tried to clear the fog in her head.
“Hol, what’s wrong?” Tom had followed her out, and he walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head on her shoulder.
“I just don’t think I like plans anymore. You can’t always assume that you can have everything you want in life. Life doesn’t work like that.”
“Is this about our five-year plan? Have you changed your mind?” asked Tom. He kept his tone light but his body had tensed.
Holly didn’t answer him. She needed to be sober to have that particular conversation, and preferably when they weren’t in the middle of entertaining guests.
“Please tell me you still want a baby,” Tom persisted. He was used to Holly’s reluctance but he had obviously assumed that all her doubts had been put to rest now that their plans for the future had been committed to paper.
Holly turned to face him, a swell of anger in her throat as she sensed herself being forced into a corner. “I want to be a mother, yes. I want that with all my heart. But why do we always have to want more? Why can’t we just appreciate what we have now?” she hissed, trying to keep her voice low.
“Do you think I don’t know that? After what I’ve seen?” Tom countered.
“Then you should know that you can’t count on the people you love being around tomorrow.”
They stood glaring at each other for the longest time. It was Holly who broke the silence first. “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “Can we not do this now?”
Tom sighed and gently kissed Holly on her forehead. “You lead the way,” he said with a flourish of his hand, pointing the way back to their guests.
There was gentle laughter rippling around the dining table but Tom and Holly brought their awkward silence into the room with them.
“Are you all right, Holly?” Diane asked.
“A little bit too much cooking wine, I think,” Holly admitted. She lifted up her glass of water and tried to let go of her anger and fear, but once again the ghostly shroud in the garden caught her attention. If only the moondial would loosen its grip.
“I expect it’s taking a while getting used to this lean and keen stranger who just appeared on your doorstep,” replied Diane.
“Hey, I’m no stranger,” challenged Tom.
“No stranger than usual,” Holly added. Their eyes met for the first time since returning to their guests. A wordless apology passed between them and as everyone laughed at her joke, Holly sensed the tension leave the room.
Diane was next to have a go at Tom’s looks. “You have lost a fair bit of weight on this trip, but at least your hair’s starting to grow back. I never thought I’d say this, but after years of nagging you about the knots and tats in your hair, I think I actually miss the long-haired Tom.”
“Me too,” smiled Holly. “But any version of Tom is better than none.”
“Hear, hear,” Jocelyn said, raising her glass. “He looks pretty tasty to me.”
“Tastier than this dinner anyway,” muttered Holly. “But you’ll be pleased to know that Jocelyn has provided the dessert. Anyone hungry?”
The afternoon ebbed away with no more cross words. Tom and Holly said their good-byes to their guests as the final rays of sunlight gave up the ghost for the night.