Chapter 40
FORTY
SIXTEEN YEARS AGO
Camilla
I expect an immediate response to my pregnancy announcement to Lawrence but I don’t get one. Still, I hold onto hope as I scroll through job ads and check on the precious amount of money I have left in my savings account. It has dwindled every day.
Message me back, Lawrence, message me back, I repeat silently, like a mantra.
When I wake the next day, and see he has not replied, I feel too heavy to move.
I can’t seem to get out of bed. I am tethered to the mattress as I realise that everything is hopeless.
I have no hope. But I can’t let myself sink.
I have to fight this. He will message me, he will.
It may take a few days because he’s in shock but he will message me.
He comes from the kind of family to whom heirs are important.
And I need his money. So, so badly.
Maybe I need to go and see him, just turn up at his parents’ house.
I’m sure I can find out where it is and just go there.
But I don’t want to look like someone who is after their money, even if I am.
I need new clothes and a haircut. I need to look sophisticated and worthy of being the mother of the heir to the Holmes fortune.
I need money for that. It always comes back to money but now Lawrence will have to take care of me until his child is an adult.
I will have the life I deserve and I will have a child who loves me and I won’t need anyone else ever again.
I have left Reese alone so far. I haven’t asked her for anything or demanded she help me because I deserve some help from her.
I’m sure she set her pernicious friend on me, told Victoria to destroy me.
But I’m not destroyed. Reese will give me money to keep quiet about all her spilled secrets even if she’s no longer with Lawrence. I can post on Facebook too.
Lifting my phone, I begin to compose a message to Reese, hoping I can just exploit that need of hers to be a good human being. And if that doesn’t work, I can use blackmail.
Because Lawrence and his family and friends still don’t know the full story.
What will be more important to her? I wonder. Maintaining the facade of being a good person or knowing that I am suffering? Screwing me over. How worried will she be about me exposing her secrets? Because I’ll do it. I’ll do anything I can to get what I want.
Hey
I type because I need to know I have her attention.
A message pops up.
Not Delivered.
I try again but get the same message.
‘Well, screw it,’ I mutter aloud and call her. It rings once and then goes to message bank.
Hey this is Reese. It’s super important that you leave a message so I get back to you. I’m sorry I missed your call.
‘It’s me, Camilla,’ I say. ‘You need to call me.’
After I hang up, I go to the small fridge in the room and take out my last piece of fruit, biting into the floury apple and chewing even though it tastes awful.
I need to eat. According to the internet, my baby is the size of a pea right now.
I will need to see a doctor but I’ll wait for Lawrence to respond.
He may have a doctor his family uses. As I finish my apple, I imagine meeting Reese and Victoria years from now when I’m with my child.
I imagine myself as a successful professor of history with a fabulous life.
I try Reese again. It rings once and goes to message bank.
I spend the next hour doing the same thing and getting the same result.
My messages are not delivered and the calls ring once and go straight to message bank.
When I realise what’s happening, I feel like a prize idiot.
My calls have been blocked. Victoria has probably done the same thing.
Screw that. I don’t need Reese or her vicious friend. I just need this baby inside me.
It’s time for Lawrence to step up. I send another message to him.
You need to answer me, Lawrence. I’m pregnant and I’m keeping the baby.
He doesn’t reply to that. I wait five minutes and try again.
I know you’re getting these messages. I’m at the Fly Quick Motel and we need to talk. The baby is yours. I am 100 per cent sure of that.
My frustration mounts as I wait for him to reply. Unlike Reese, I know these messages are being delivered. I call his number but it rings a long time and goes to voicemail.
This is Lawrence. Leave a message.
‘This is Camilla. I know you’re getting my messages and I won’t be ignored. This is your baby and I’m keeping it. You need to contact me so that we can work out how we move forward from here.’
A few minutes later, I’ve had it with being ignored.
Listen carefully Lawrence. I’m giving you an hour to respond to me. If I don’t hear from you, I will be going to your parents’ house to talk to them. I’m sure your mother will be delighted to hear she has a grandchild on the way.
And finally, I seem to have hit a nerve because a text message comes through from Lawrence about five seconds later.
I’ll be there tomorrow at 11 a.m.
I am overwhelmed with joy and I leap up off the bed.
He’s coming. I’ll have this baby, and Lawrence will have to take care of it, and us.
Finally, things are going my way.
I’ve won, I’ve won, I’ve won.
I go to the bathroom so I can have a shower but when I sit down on the toilet, I start cramping and then I am bleeding. It comes fast and is thick and dark red. I know what’s happening.
‘No, no, no,’ I repeat as I sit there and I lose everything that was going to make my life worth living.
This can’t be happening. It simply can’t be happening.