Read Online Yesterday's Sun by Amanda Brooke - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amanda Brooke
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Honest.”
“Holly.”
“Yes?”
“You’re rambling.”
Holly sighed. “Sorry.”
“So you didn’t have a good night?”
“Now that’s an understatement.” Holly paused, not sure about how much she could tell Tom without worrying him. “Now don’t go freaking out, but I had a bit of an accident. And no, I don’t mean I wet the bed.” She hoped the levity in her voice sounded genuine.
“What kind of accident? Are you OK?” Tom’s voice was laced with anxiety.
Holly did a quick editing exercise in her mind. Tom was level-headed about most things, but he’d be sending her off for a brain scan if she mentioned hallucinations. “I was in the garden and slipped. It’s just a graze on the cheek, nothing major.”
“You banged your head? Did you knock yourself out? Did you lose consciousness?”
“I watch the medical dramas, too, you know. No, I didn’t lose consciousness. No concussion, doctor, honest,” Holly said with an air of confidence she didn’t feel. “Although I may have dented the moondial with my head.”
“What do you mean, the moondial? Don’t you mean the sundial? Are you sure that knock to the head didn’t affect your senses?”
“I’m fine,” repeated Holly, a little too curtly. Tom was closer to the truth than he realized. “It was Jocelyn who called it a moondial and she should know. She lived here first.”
Holly had already told Tom all about her unexpected visitor and mentioning Jocelyn again was a good way to change the subject. Holly hadn’t exactly lied to Tom about her fall, but she hadn’t told him the whole truth either. “She wasn’t very impressed with the rest of the garden, though, and I was actually embarrassed. So when are you going to spend time at home long enough to get it sorted?” she asked.
It was Tom’s turn to be cagey, which eased Holly’s conscience. He told her there was still lots of upheaval at the studio and reminded her that everyone there was fighting to keep their job. Demanding where he went and what he did simply wasn’t an option.
They chatted a while, until eventually work couldn’t be put off any longer for either of them. Holly put the phone down and reluctantly picked up her sketch pad. Her plan was to continue to work up more sketches based on the two designs she had already settled on.
When she opened her sketchbook to the first of her drawings, the one of a mother holding a baby, her eyes were immediately drawn to the image of the baby. Her sketch had only subtle suggestions of form but even so, when she traced the baby’s face with her finger it brought to mind the baby of her hallucination. Libby. With a warm rush of emotion, she recalled the moment she had looked into Libby’s eyes and felt an instant connection. Was this what maternal instinct felt like, she wondered, or was she just desperately trying to justify Tom’s belief in her?
Holly’s gaze turned to the figure of the mother. With new eyes, she could see the pose was all wrong. The figure she had sketched was holding the baby tentatively, almost as if it were a box of spiders ready to crawl up her arm. Holly scored a line through the drawing before she knew what she was doing. Then she turned to the second sketch, which she had thought was the most promising in terms of concept. She still liked the spiraling form of the mother spinning the baby around, but again the pose seemed all wrong and the mother might just as well be twirling her handbag. She scored a line through this drawing, too.
With a flutter of panic, Holly knew the pressure was on and she was going to have to work solidly for the next two days to get her proposal ready in time.
The trip to London was a dramatic gear-change from the country life Holly was slowly becoming accustomed to. She left the serenity of the village to catch the early morning train from a nearby town and then battled in vain for a seat, losing it to one of the more seasoned commuters.
The meeting with Mrs.
“Holly.”
“Yes?”
“You’re rambling.”
Holly sighed. “Sorry.”
“So you didn’t have a good night?”
“Now that’s an understatement.” Holly paused, not sure about how much she could tell Tom without worrying him. “Now don’t go freaking out, but I had a bit of an accident. And no, I don’t mean I wet the bed.” She hoped the levity in her voice sounded genuine.
“What kind of accident? Are you OK?” Tom’s voice was laced with anxiety.
Holly did a quick editing exercise in her mind. Tom was level-headed about most things, but he’d be sending her off for a brain scan if she mentioned hallucinations. “I was in the garden and slipped. It’s just a graze on the cheek, nothing major.”
“You banged your head? Did you knock yourself out? Did you lose consciousness?”
“I watch the medical dramas, too, you know. No, I didn’t lose consciousness. No concussion, doctor, honest,” Holly said with an air of confidence she didn’t feel. “Although I may have dented the moondial with my head.”
“What do you mean, the moondial? Don’t you mean the sundial? Are you sure that knock to the head didn’t affect your senses?”
“I’m fine,” repeated Holly, a little too curtly. Tom was closer to the truth than he realized. “It was Jocelyn who called it a moondial and she should know. She lived here first.”
Holly had already told Tom all about her unexpected visitor and mentioning Jocelyn again was a good way to change the subject. Holly hadn’t exactly lied to Tom about her fall, but she hadn’t told him the whole truth either. “She wasn’t very impressed with the rest of the garden, though, and I was actually embarrassed. So when are you going to spend time at home long enough to get it sorted?” she asked.
It was Tom’s turn to be cagey, which eased Holly’s conscience. He told her there was still lots of upheaval at the studio and reminded her that everyone there was fighting to keep their job. Demanding where he went and what he did simply wasn’t an option.
They chatted a while, until eventually work couldn’t be put off any longer for either of them. Holly put the phone down and reluctantly picked up her sketch pad. Her plan was to continue to work up more sketches based on the two designs she had already settled on.
When she opened her sketchbook to the first of her drawings, the one of a mother holding a baby, her eyes were immediately drawn to the image of the baby. Her sketch had only subtle suggestions of form but even so, when she traced the baby’s face with her finger it brought to mind the baby of her hallucination. Libby. With a warm rush of emotion, she recalled the moment she had looked into Libby’s eyes and felt an instant connection. Was this what maternal instinct felt like, she wondered, or was she just desperately trying to justify Tom’s belief in her?
Holly’s gaze turned to the figure of the mother. With new eyes, she could see the pose was all wrong. The figure she had sketched was holding the baby tentatively, almost as if it were a box of spiders ready to crawl up her arm. Holly scored a line through the drawing before she knew what she was doing. Then she turned to the second sketch, which she had thought was the most promising in terms of concept. She still liked the spiraling form of the mother spinning the baby around, but again the pose seemed all wrong and the mother might just as well be twirling her handbag. She scored a line through this drawing, too.
With a flutter of panic, Holly knew the pressure was on and she was going to have to work solidly for the next two days to get her proposal ready in time.
The trip to London was a dramatic gear-change from the country life Holly was slowly becoming accustomed to. She left the serenity of the village to catch the early morning train from a nearby town and then battled in vain for a seat, losing it to one of the more seasoned commuters.
The meeting with Mrs.
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