preferred to make things up as he went along, but he was thirty-two now and he was desperate to be a father or to at least know that he would be one day.
Tears had started to well in Holly’s eyes and the sunlight that surrounded Tom’s head was a blurred halo. The only thing Holly could see clearly was his soft green eyes.
‘Hey, you’re crying,’ Tom said, sounding shocked.
Holly blinked, willing the tears to disappear. ‘I’m not,’ she lied defiantly.
‘Ah, I forgot, you never cry.’
‘I do. Not that I am now, but I do.’
‘When?’
Holly paused, struggling to find a recent example that would prove Tom wrong. ‘There was that film, the one where the dog died.’
Tom frowned as he tried to remember. Then he stifled a laugh. ‘That must have been over two years ago, I don’t think we were even married then.’
‘But I cried, point proven.’
‘OK, point proven,’ conceded Tom. ‘But I don’t want to push you into anything you don’t want for yourself. I had hoped that when Lisa had her baby and then Penny, you’d just want to follow suit, but I can see it’s not going to be that simple. If you’re not ready to start talking babies yet, then I understand.’
Lisa and Penny were the closest thing Holly had to friends in London and they’d had their babies within a year of each other. She knew Tom had been disappointed when Holly hadn’t miraculously become broody at the sight of a newborn. Little did he know that her enthusiasm to move to the country had in part been fuelled by a desire to put as much distance between herself and the endless baby chatter.
‘Once I’ve got the house in order, then we can start on the next five-year plan. A joint one this time, and making a baby will most definitely be on the list,’ she told him.
‘A baby? Singular?’ Tom said. His body had begun to relax again and he was back in teasing mode. ‘Have you looked at this body? It’s a well-tuned baby-making machine if ever there was one. You won’t be able to so much as look at me without getting pregnant.’
‘Hold on, tiger,’ smiled Holly, relaxing too. ‘I think that baby-making machine of yours could do with a little more practice.’
‘Your wish is my command,’ replied Tom.
It was lunchtime before they managed to explore the rest of their new home.
The days disappeared in a blur and Tom’s departure was drawing painfully near, painfully fast. They had unpacked everything that needed to be unpacked, cleaned everything that needed cleaning and replaced as many of the things that needed replacing as they could afford. What little savings they had left had already been set aside to pay for the renovation of a small outbuilding at the side of the house that was going to be used as Holly’s studio.
Tom’s parents had visited, bearing gifts and even helping out with the physical demands of turning the gatehouse into a home. Typical of Diane and Jack, they had stayed long enough to help but hadn’t outstayed their welcome. They knew without being told that Holly and Tom had a lot of quality time to try to cram into two weeks.
Diane had made sure the kitchen was organized and fully stocked with a range of cooking essentials before she left. She was keen to support Holly in one of her new projects. Holly wanted to learn to cook. Her dad had been keen to show Holly the basics, if only to keep himself well fed, but the basics had involved how to open tins of beans, how to pierce the cellophane before putting ready meals in the microwave, how to make instant noodles, that kind of thing. Now Holly and Tom were living so far away from the conveniences of fast-food takeaways and restaurants on every corner, she was keen to improve her skills. The move into the country was more than simply a change of address; Holly wanted it to be a change of lifestyle.
‘It’s a beautiful house, Holly. Jack and I are so happy for you both,’ Diane told her as they unpacked a mind-boggling assortment of kitchen utensils. ‘And Mum would be too. It makes the pain of losing her a little easier to bear, knowing that her legacy is to help you and Tom start a new life of your own.’
‘I’m just sorry Grandma Edith isn’t here to see her money being well spent. It means a lot to me and Tom that you’re happy with how we’ve used the inheritance.’
‘It’s all about investing in the future. This is where it all starts for you and Tom. This is where your family will be made.’
Diane gave Holly a hug and didn’t see the cloud of doubt pass over her face. Holly only wished she had the same kind of confidence in herself that the entire Corrigan family seemed to have.
Three days before Tom was due to leave, Holly’s to-do list was complete and the house was officially in order. The builders had already started work on the outbuilding and, although Holly was happy to sit back and let them get on with it, Tom obviously felt some kind of threat to his masculinity so he took up his own physical challenge by clearing the overgrown garden.
Leaving the men to their labours, Holly stayed indoors to start work on the preliminary sketches for her new commission. Mrs Bronson was a young wife with a very rich and very much older husband. To celebrate the birth of their first child together, as opposed to the numerous children her husband had fathered from a variety of previous marriages and dalliances, Mrs Bronson wanted to mark the occasion with a sculpture. It would need to be a substantial piece and would become a permanent and prominent feature in the entrance hall to their mansion.
Naturally, the theme of the sculpture was mother and child. Given the theme, Holly had been reluctant to take on the commission, which would take at least six months to complete, but the money was too good to turn down.
She had set out her sketch pads in the study that morning, full of good intentions but with a distinct lack of inspiration. Money alone wasn’t incentive enough to get her creative juices flowing. She just didn’t have that same depth of feeling she usually had to draw upon. She knew nothing about the miraculous bond between mother and child that everyone else seemed to drone on about.
Holly couldn’t recall a single memory of her childhood where she had felt that kind of bond. She had spent most of her formative years feeling either alone or afraid. Her mother had been in her teens when she had discovered she was pregnant. A hasty marriage and an unwanted child had come as a nasty shock to her and she hadn’t been prepared or willing to give up her freedom.
With a young child to care for, her mother’s social life had been severely restricted, so she often brought the party lifestyle she craved into the house. Holly had vivid memories of a house full of hangers-on, either recovering from the last party or waiting for the next. Her mum was always centre of attention, dancing barefoot through the house whether there was music playing or not. She always looked her happiest when she was dancing and everyone was drawn to her, even Holly, like a moth to the flame, eager to share her mother’s excitement. She could remember one time when her mum had picked her up and twirled her around the room to squeals of delight from her daughter, but Holly was never sure whether that had actually happened. She suspected it was merely a false memory of a longed-for dream. The memories Holly could rely on were those where her mum would stop dancing and point an accusing finger at her daughter before proclaiming to everyone that this was the creature who had ruined her life. The look on her mother’s face was one of pure loathing, and that was the image that Holly recalled when she thought of motherhood.
Until
