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Hebe blinked in surprise, but obediently began to work it out. ‘A week, just over, before we reached Gibraltar, then six weeks there, and two weeks at sea, and a few days here and there. Nine weeks I suppose.’
‘And your monthly courses, have they come?’
Too surprised to feel embarrassed at the question Hebe said, ‘Well, no, they have not. I suppose it is because I had such a shock and I am not feeling well. It happened once before when I had a bad fall from a horse, and one month missed.’
‘But two? And you feel queasy and dizzy.’
A horrible cold feeling was creeping over Hebe. ‘Anna, what are you saying?’
‘I think you are with child, my dear.’
‘Pregnant! No, I cannot be!’
‘No?’ Anna said gently. ‘Why should you not be?’
‘No! I won’t believe it!’ Hebe was on her feet, pacing the room, her hands pressed to her cheeks. ‘I will not believe it!’
‘You must see a doctor, Hebe,’ Anna persisted. ‘And see one soon. Better here where no one knows you than in London.’
But all Hebe would do was shake her head and pace, repeating, ‘No, I am not! I cannot be.’
Anna slipped from the room and returned after a few minutes. She took Hebe by the shoulders and forced her to sit down. ‘Now, listen to me. If you are not with child, then you are very unwell in some way and must have medical attention. And if you are, then we must know as soon as possible so we can plan what to do.’
Hebe just stared at her blankly, so Anna kept talking. ‘I have spoken to Mrs Green, our admirable landlady. I tell her I have a woman’s problem and I need to see a doctor and can she recommend a nice one, because I am shy of seeing a doctor in a strange country. And she tells me of this Dr Adams, who looks after her sister and her daughters who have all got children and have had problems and she says he is a very good doctor and nice and fatherly and will not make me shy.
‘So, we will go and see him and you will wear my wedding ring and we will tell him your husband is a soldier on Malta and you have come home to be with your mama because the hot weather does not agree with you. But now you think you are expecting a baby and you are not feeling well and are very upset because neither your husband nor your mama are with you.’
And so Hebe allowed herself to be walked to Dr Adams’s surgery that afternoon. He was, just as Mrs Green had said, a kind and fatherly man and quite understood how ill and frightened young Mrs Smith was feeling. Yes, she was indeed two months pregnant, and she must not cry any more because soon she would feel much better and would be with her own mama. And in the meantime she must rest and eat—even if she did not feel like it—for the sake of the baby.
When they returned to their little parlour Hebe said virtually the first thing she had uttered since they had left the consulting rooms. ‘Anna, what should I be eating?’
‘You are hungry?’ Anna said with relief. ‘You do not feel so sick?’
‘No, I do feel sick and I am not hungry. But the doctor said I must eat for the baby, so I will.’ She stared out of the window as if seeing something beyond the roof tops and the circling gulls and the grey clouds.
Anna bit her lip and went down to order their dinner, much to the relief of Mrs Green, who had been getting anxious that the poor young lady was so pale and had so little appetite.
Hebe doggedly ate her way through a chicken wing, some vegetables, a slice of bread and butter and a glass of milk with the air of someone who had to finish a hard, but essential task. She put down her knife and fork on her empty plate and smiled at her companion. ‘Thank you very much, Anna. I am sorry I have been so…fooli
sh. You have been so kind, I do not know what I would do without you. You have been fearing this from the start, have you not?’
Anna, who was feeling quite sick herself with mingled anxiety and relief that at least Hebe was at last talking rationally and eating, managed to smile back. ‘It is a common consequence of lying with a man, my dear. I could not help but worry.’
‘And that is why you came with me? Oh, Anna, I am so sorry. I have dragged you hundreds of miles from home.’
‘But not at all! I wanted to come to England. I told you, I want to find another handsome English husband like my ’arry.’
Hebe smiled weakly at her. ‘Harry, not ’arry! All your other “aitches” are perfect now.’
‘He called himself ’arry, so I do too,’ Anna said. She suddenly wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. ‘Now, you go to bed, Hebe. You must sleep for this baby as well as eat.’
Hebe took herself off to bed as she was told, but instead of sleeping she sat up against the pillows and forced herself to think. It was as though she had been frozen in a block of ice since Alex had gone and the shock of this discovery had shattered the icy cage open. Now every bit of her was melting into awareness again: slowly, painfully.
‘I am carrying Alex’s child,’ she whispered into the gathering gloom. ‘And he is probably married by now. Even if he is not, he does not love me, and soon will be married. So I am going to have to have this baby by myself.’
She thought for a while, trying to come to terms with it. She did not feel pregnant—however that was supposed to feel. The idea of a child as an individual did not yet seem real, although the idea of Alex’s child as something she was responsible for, something she must cherish for his sake, did.
What to do? Tell her aunt? Impossible. Hebe lay there, wondering why she did not feel more frightened. Shock, perhaps: well, she must take advantage of it and plan while she could.
