in a panic and now worried that Libby might wake Tom, Holly turned to the window and tugged desperately at the blinds. As moonlight seeped through the yawning window, the task became easier until at last, the bright face of the moon was revealed, surrounded by a million twinkling stars. Libby was still babbling impatiently behind her. ‘Well, the plan’s going well so far,’ Holly whispered, her voice trembling. She was relieved to see the moonbeams lighting up the nursery and desperately hoped that the reflection of light from the moon would give her the strength of presence to do what she had failed to do in her previous visits.
She turned back to Libby and took a long, deep breath. The anticipation growing inside her was almost too much to bear. She had longed to hold Libby, to the point of obsession, and this could be the moment that dream came true, to feel Libby in her arms for the first and the last time.
When Holly reached out towards Libby, the baby lifted her arms towards her mother, her hands clasping and unclasping in excitement. Holly felt the softness of Libby’s pyjamas, felt the warmth of her body as she carefully placed her hands beneath her baby’s arms. Holly paused, preparing herself for the joy of lifting her up or the frustration of lifting nothing but despair. Libby looked up expectantly into Holly’s eyes and the fragile connection that had formed between them took on a new strength that Holly believed could never be broken, should never be broken. As Holly’s heart lifted, so did Libby, straight into her mother’s arms.
‘Oh my sweet, sweet, Libby,’ cried Holly, holding her against her thundering heart. She kissed the top of Libby’s head, her cheeks, her nose, her neck. Libby wriggled with excitement and grabbed at Holly’s hair. ‘Mmmm, mmm,’ she said, hitting Holly in the face with her ragdoll.
‘What is that?’ asked Holly, trying to pull the soft toy from Libby’s grasp but Libby held on tight and grumbled disapprovingly at her mother.
‘OK, you keep hold of it,’ apologized Holly. She could feel the full moon looking over her shoulder and she sensed it smiling down at her. In this moment at least, Holly was thankful that the moondial had given her this gift. She wished it could last forever.
Holly was only barely aware that she had been rocking Libby from side to side and as Libby yawned, she rested her head softly on Holly’s shoulder. Slowly and gently, Libby was falling back to sleep and her eyes started to flicker whilst her fingers played rhythmically with the folds of her ragdoll. It was a strange toy, thought Holly. It had a soft ball head with a floppy hat and a square piece of soft cloth hanging down from its neck to form the doll’s body. It had probably once been cream but now looked a worn shade of grey.
Holly continued rocking Libby long after she had fallen asleep. This was going to be the last time she held her daughter and, although she had thought about what she had to say to her, when the moment came, Holly struggled to find the words. There really was only one thing that she wanted to say.
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