Yesterday's Sun by Amanda Brooke

the tears roll down her cheeks.
    “You can say the word, Mum. It’s not like I could forget,” Tom told her. “She died. Holly died.”
    Holly gripped the door handle. Whether it was fear or determination, her sense of touch seemed to be recovering slightly and the handle felt firm in her grasp, unlike her sanity. Holly could barely gasp in shock because the wind had been knocked out of her body and she felt utterly weak. She wanted to run but couldn’t draw her eyes away from the horror that was being played out in front of her like a car crash in slow motion.
    “No more of this,” Jack was insisting. “We said we would go home today. We agreed it was for the best.”
    “But it’s been less than a month. Tom’s world’s been turned upside-down,” argued Diane.
    “Dad’s right,” Tom said, straightening his back in firm resolve. “If we don’t do this now, then it’s just going to get harder and harder.”
    “And if you keep on blubbing, you’re not going to be able to see your way down the path to the car,” warned Jack.
    “At least let me help you with your case,” insisted Tom, taking a step over the threshold.
    “What about Libby?” Diane sobbed.
    “She’s safe enough in the living room and I’ll put the snip on the door.”
    No sooner had the figures retreated from view than a sound came from the living room. It was a sound so alien to the house that Holly released the door handle as if, like the moondial, it too had been charged with electricity.
    She wanted to turn and run but something about the sound of a baby crying caught her around the chest. Never before had Holly felt a reaction like that to a baby’s cries. Instead of moving away, she stepped into the hallway and entered the living room.
    The baby was in a bassinet in the corner of the room. Her eyes were open wide and alert. They were bright green, a mirror image of Tom’s. When the baby saw Holly, she didn’t just stop crying; her whole body relaxed and she stilled herself. She was the most beautiful thing Holly had ever seen. She had wisps of blond hair and a handful of tiny curls licked her forehead. Her cheeks were perfectly round and her pink lips the cutest Cupid’s bow. Holly couldn’t resist and she gently stroked the side of her angelic face. The baby responded by moving toward her hand, her little mouth searching for nourishment.
    “So what’s a tiny wonder like you doing in a nightmare like this?” whispered Holly.
    The baby wriggled and gurgled and Holly instinctively reached for her. She paused only briefly as the urge to hold the baby consumed her. She had never in her life had any desire to hold a baby and she couldn’t recall a time when she actually had held one. She slipped her hands beneath the baby’s body, her fingers sweeping over the soft, warm folds of the blanket she was wrapped in. Her fumbling fingers met no resistance and Holly could feel no weight against her hands as she tried to lift the baby out of the bassinet. Holly frowned in frustration as the need to hold the baby overwhelmed her. But no matter how hard she tried, the baby remained firmly in the bassinet, and sensing Holly’s frustration she began to cry, much louder than before.
    “I’m coming,” called Tom’s voice and Holly heard him rush down the hallway and into the kitchen.
    Holly stepped away from the bassinet and looked around the room with rising panic. The stack of sympathy cards lined up across the mantelpiece didn’t escape her notice but she was more intent on finding a hiding place. She scurried over to the large patio windows that led into the conservatory and slipped into the shadows just as Tom appeared with a baby bottle in his hand.
    He picked the baby up and sat down on the nearest of the two sofas to feed her. He was practically facing Holly and although she knew she wasn’t completely hidden, there was still no sign that Tom sensed she was there.
    “Alone at last,” Tom sighed as the baby guzzled her milk