Chapter 49 Lottie
LOTTIE
NOW, NSW SOUTHERN HIGHLANDS, AUSTRALIA
I’m sitting on my hospital bed, waiting for the child doctor to discharge me.
In the meantime, I am sipping terrible tea and pondering how anyone is meant to recover their health in a place where noise and interruptions make it impossible to sleep.
I am not good without sleep; one of many reasons why I do not wish to be a mother.
I push this unwelcome thought from my throbbing head.
Avoidance is a well-developed skill in my family.
I flick between websites on my laptop, and decide I should send an email to Roddy or Mary to see if they can put up a sign on the shop door to say it’s closed for a few days.
I still feel fuzzy-headed but memories are returning: Phyllida in hospital; the girl in the bookshop, though I can’t recall her name.
I suddenly remember a letter that feels important, even urgent, though I can’t say why.
I flick onto my emails and see I have been included on a slew of messages to garden club members.
From: Mary Penhallidon
To: Garden Club
Subject: Postponing Garden Club Meet on 20th
Dear Members,
As you all would have heard by now, poor Lottie was hit by a truck yesterday. She’s going to be all right but in consideration of Miriam needing to take care of her, we are postponing the open garden at her place that was going to be on Saturday.
From Mary
From: Miriam Peters
To: Garden Club
Subject: Re: Postponing Garden Club Meet on 20th
Hello everyone,
Thank you for understanding the need to postpone our open garden, given I may be unable to spend the time preparing for it.
Lottie is fine but I need to see how she goes.
Silly girl, walking between a car and a truck!
But it is important after a head injury that someone be on hand to observe, and also, given her newly ‘delicate condition’ she needs some TLC.
She learned some exciting news while in hospital, but I won’t spoil the timing of her announcement.
Let’s just say there might be a designer pram (hopefully in blue) parked outside my doorstep in a few months’ time!
(And if anyone is a member of the Royal Sydney Golf Club and would like to sponsor a potential new member for a 2044 intake, do let me know.
The male line in my family has quite athletic genes, so we won’t let you down.)
Best,
Miriam
Anger flares in me, hot and wild. At Miriam, and at myself because I didn’t think to explicitly tell her to keep quiet about this stupid, ridiculous pregnancy. I should have known she’d pull a stunt like this.
I take a deep breath, thinking of what my mother’s email will mean.
I am, according to my recent ultrasound, about nine weeks pregnant.
I’ve never wanted a baby. If anything, now this pregnancy has arrived, I want motherhood even less than I did when it was a hypothetical possibility.
I think of Hugo and presume he would be pleased, which makes me furious.
Also, because he has no idea my body has been taken over by an alien due to his carelessness and so he isn’t here to provide soothing words.
Despite my protestations to Miriam about two people being involved in impregnation, I am letting Hugo take sole responsibility. It seems like the least he can do.
I email Roddy, asking him to come and see me.
It’s strange that he hasn’t yet been in.
If the whole village knows what’s happened, he must have heard too.
I want to talk to someone about my pregnancy, and how terrified I am.
I want desperately to talk to Hugo, but that’s not an option.
Tears well in my eyes; a hot, fierce pang of loneliness.
Miriam will be coming to pick me up soon and I’ll have to stay with her for a few days to make sure my concussion completely heals.
Just perfect. I finish the email to Roddy, telling him to come to Miriam’s as soon as is humanly possible so I don’t go insane.