Harriet kissed
Josie goodbye and rested her head on the back of the door after it shut, wishing they could have stayed in bed all day. Sighing, Harriet headed to the shower. Before she could flip on the water, there was a loud pounding on the front door.
She slipped her robe back on.
The knocking intensified.
“Coming,” Harriet said, annoyed the person was being so impatient. It was after nine in the morning, but still.
Harriet swung the door open to reveal a distraught Camilla. “I wasn’t expecting you until later this afternoon. What’s wrong?”
“Everything!”
Harriet put an arm around Camilla’s shoulders. “Come in. Let’s have some tea.”
“I don’t know if I can drink tea,” Camilla said in a dramatic fashion and placed her head on Harriet’s shoulder.
“Are you ill?” Harriet deposited her cousin on the sofa.
“Worse.”
Harriet perched on the edge of the coffee table. “What’s worse than being ill?”
“I don’t know if I can say it.” Camilla wheezed, as if she were trying to breathe through a clogged snorkel tube.
“Say what?”
Camilla flung herself against the back of the sofa and pulled a throw pillow to her face. “Oh, Harriet. What am I going to do?” The words came out garbled.
“I have no idea, considering I don’t know what’s wrong. If you tell me, I can try to help.”
Camilla tossed the pillow to the side, took in a deep breath, her fingers fidgeting with the drawstrings of her cranberry jumper. “It’s hitting me hard. I mean, when I saw… it… I didn’t believe it. So, I did eleven more. They all turned out the same.”
“Okay. Whatever it is, then it’s… happening. What exactly is that?” Harriet tried to ask in a calm voice.
“It doesn’t have to, but I just don’t know. I think it has to. You know what I mean?” Camilla’s watery eyes stared into Harriet’s.
Harriet chomped down on her bottom lip to prevent herself from screaming just bloody tell me
!
“Are you sure you don’t want tea?” Harriet popped off the table. “I’m going to make a cup.”
“Herbal, please.” She added, “Rooibos if you have it.”
“One rooibos coming up.”
In the kitchen, Harriet filled the electric kettle and flipped it on, smiling over the thought of her weak attempt yesterday to ditch Josie on the walk. Oh my, things really worked, and Harriet thanked Josie for calling her out on her bullshit excuse. The thought of Josie made Harriet miss her, and she texted: Camilla is here acting stranger than usual
.
Josie responded: Just because?
Harriet punched out: No idea. Something happened, but she can’t face telling me. Something tells me it’s going to be big. But Camilla can be a drama queen, so maybe she has a pimple on her right tit
.
Josie shot back: LOL. I really hope that’s what it is. Good luck
.
While waiting for the kettle, Harriet researched rooibos on her phone, quickly learning it wasn’t a true tea. The African plant, after picked and dried, could be brewed into what the tea industry dubbed red bush tea. It didn’t become commercial until the 1930s. Harriet wanted to call Josie to share this info, but the kettle was done, so she prepped herself an Earl Grey with a splash of milk and then Camilla’s drink.
When she returned, Camilla was curled up in the fetal position on the sofa.
“Cam, please tell me what’s going on.”
Camilla sat up, sniffling. “I’m pregnant.”
Harriet almost dropped both tea mugs onto the floor. “What?”
“Pregnant.”
Harriet blinked.
Camilla made a rock a bye baby
motion to hammer home the news.
Harriet set the mugs down on the coffee table. “I… not… I… wow.”
“Exactly,” Camilla said as if she was thinking the same thing.
“Do you know the father?”
“Of course, I know the father!” Camilla’s expression showed her betrayal for Harriet asking such a question. “In fact, so do you.”
Harriet narrowed her eyes. “Is it your ex-husband? I didn’t know him well.”
“It’s not John!”
“Matt?”
“No! I wouldn’t have a child with either of them.”
“What was the name of the bloke you broke things off with recently? It started with an N, I think.” Harry tapped her fingertips against her chin.
“Neil.”
“Yes, Neil,” Harriet said, feeling comforted by latching on to a simple fact. “Is he the father?”
“Nope.”
“Who, then?”
“Clive.”
“Clive?” Harriet parroted, not truly believing she’d heard Camilla correctly. Or, perhaps, Harriet was dreaming and she’d wake laughing about the ridiculousness of the situation.
“Yes, Clive.” It was as if Camilla had to keep saying it for the news to truly sink in.
“How is this possible?”
Camilla’s eyebrows shot upward, seeming to land in a different galaxy. “Surely, I don’t need to explain how a man impregnates a woman.”
“I’m versed in the subject, but Clive? How did you let this happen?”
“Me let it happen?” she protested.
Harriet splayed her fingers on her chest. “I
didn’t let it.”
“I knew you’d act this way.”
“If that’s true, why’d you come here and tell me?”
“Because I have no one else to tell.”
Harriet picked up her tea mug, holding it in both hands, needing the warmth and a moment to gather her thoughts. “Have you told Clive?”
“No!”
“Are you going to?”
“Do I have to?” Camilla seized her mug. “What good would it do to tell him? He’s not the settling down type.”
Funny. Harriet thought the same about Camilla. “He’s going to be a father. It seems like something he should know.”
“I just… How do I break the news to him?”
“That’s a good question. He’s nearing forty and has never been married.”
“Does he have any children?” Camilla sipped her tea.
“How would I know?”
“You live in the village.”
“I haven’t done DNA tests on everyone.” Harriet chewed on her bottom lip, nearly drawing blood.
“You make it sound like he sleeps with everyone.”
“He does!” Harriet regretted saying it so bluntly. “You’ve seen the ginger ads yourself. You thought they were funny.”
Camilla closed her eyes. “Why is this happening?”
“Do I need to explain to you how it happened? Are you in such shock you can’t remember the steps to getting pregnant?”
Camilla’s head drooped as if all the muscles in her neck suddenly disintegrated. “I don’t know what to do, Harry. What should I do? What would you do?”
“Can I think about it some? I mean, this is big. The biggest. And, I only just learned of it. This isn’t something to make a snap decision about.” Harriet gripped the back of her neck, kneading the tightening muscles.
“Whatever you do, don’t tell Clive I’m in town.”
“Uh…”
“Uh, what?”
“Josie knows you’re in town,” Harriet confessed, her eyes dropping to her folded hands in her lap.
“How? I just arrived.”
“I texted her while making tea,” Harriet explained, realizing it sounded pretty lame.
“You texted Josie to say I was here?” Camilla’s expression inquired how Harriet could betray her like that.
“I had no idea what was going on. At the time, it seemed so innocent. You being pregnant never entered my mind.”
“Text her not to mention me to Clive.”
“Won’t that raise unnecessary questions?”
“I don’t care. She means nothing to me.” Camilla’s hand motion made it clear she’d lumped Josie into the annoying local-yokel category. No wonder Eugenie didn’t like Harriet, if this was how most of the city people treated the publican.
Harriet didn’t know how to convey how much Josie meant to her. “It’s not that simple.”
“Just text, Don’t tell Clive about Camilla
.”
“She’ll ask why, though. Josie’s always asking why.” It was one of the things Harriet found so charming.
“Tell her to mind her own beeswax. Honestly, do you like her more than me?”
How to answer?
“Maybe I should call her. Make it clear it’s imperative.”
“Do what you need to do. The last thing I need this weekend is for Clive to find out I’m in Upper Chewford. I need time to figure out what to do. There has to be a simple solution.”
Harriet didn’t know how to break it to Camilla there weren’t any simple solutions to this situation. Instead, she asked, “Do you know how far along you are?”
“Seven weeks.”
“Seven!” Again, Harriet regretted the accusatory tone. “How’d you not notice earlier? Or were you ignoring it in the hope it would resolve itself?”
“Work has been stressful. And, the idea never entered my mind. Well, not until yesterday. One of my coworkers said she thought she was pregnant until the doctor told her she was perimenopausal. She’s your age. And, I was like, wouldn’t that be great if I could stop buying tampons
and wished I would enter that stage soon. Then I started to think about the last time I had a period and couldn’t remember. I couldn’t get a doctor’s appointment right away, so I took a test to rule it out and then…” She waved for Harriet to fill in the blank.
“Eleven more makes it hard to ignore.”
“I really thought I’d lucked out like you. You’re already menopausal and never have to worry about this.” Camilla motioned helplessly to her stomach. “I mean, you never had to worry about getting pregnant, but you don’t have to pack tampons for holidays or keep them on hand at the office. I really wanted that to be the case. Now…” Camilla stood. “I’m going to take a nap. This has worn me out.” Without another word, Camilla retreated to the guest bedroom with her tea.
Harriet slipped out into the garden to make the call to avoid Camilla overhearing it.
“Hey there,” Josie’s voice was sultry, nearly making Harriet forget the reason for her call.
“Are you working?”
“I’m helping Mum get the pub ready. You need a gin and tonic already?” Josie joked.
“I just may.” Harriet glanced down at her outfit, wondering if it would be okay to head to the pub in a robe and slippers.
“What’s wrong?” Josie sounded alarmed.
“Did you mention to anyone Camilla is here?”
“No. Why?”
“Please don’t. I’ll explain more… at some point.”
“That was vague. Are you okay?”
Harriet ran a hand through her hair. “Of course.”
“Are you coming to the pub tonight? Maybe we can chat.”
“I’ll try my best.”
“I gotta run, Harry. I’m sending positive thoughts.”
“Thanks. I might need an army of positivity.”