A Shot at Love

by T. B. Markinson

  Harry smiled a sad smile. “Things are about to get slightly more complicated on all fronts.”

  “How?” Josie asked, wishing she hadn’t.

  “Before I tell you, I need to know what I’m about to say will stay between us. You see, I found out something earlier, before… and it makes the blotter even worse than you know.”

  “How is that possible?” Josie sucked on her cigarette.

  “It just does. Do you promise?”

  “You have my word.”

  “It’s about Camilla.”

  “Jesus. I forgot about her. Is she going ape shit over the blotter? Her name wasn’t on it, was it?” A thought infiltrated Josie’s mind. “Oh, fuck. She isn’t the one responsible, is she? Clive mentioned she was the one who gave him the Ginger George nickname. Is that why she doesn’t want Clive to know she’s here? She clandestinely arrived in the village just in time to watch the fallout of her dirty deed?”

  “I know it’s upsetting, but I don’t think Cam—”

  “Don’t you see. It makes sense. Camilla never seemed too upset about the missing ginger ads. I’ve always wondered about that. Maybe she was upset. Not at first, but after hooking up with Clive she thought he would nip them in the bud. When he didn’t, she took matters into her own hands.”

  “Things have changed. Drastically. But not in the way you’re conjecturing.”

  Josie tapped ash onto the frozen lawn. “Do you plan on enlightening me about what you think is going on?”

  Harry started to speak but stopped.

  Josie used her lit cigarette to light another, as if needing the comfort of having a second ready to go. “Well?” Josie swore under her breath. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be bitchy. It’s just I’m worried about what you’re about to say. After everything.”

  “I’m not exactly sure how to break the news to you.”

  “I’ve found in these situations it’s best to get it over with using the least amount of words.” Josie mimed ripping a bandage off.

  “Pregnant.”

  “Who? Not you, because I don’t think women get pregnant that quickly. It takes time to fertilize the egg.” Josie felt like a moron and tapped her forehead. “There’s also the fact we used the no sperm method.”

  “It’s not possible for me to get pregnant anyway.”

  “Ever?”

  Harry shook her head.

  “I didn’t know. Did you want to have kids?”

  “Uh… it’s not important right now.”

  “Are you sure? You seem…” Josie peered into Harry’s eyes. “Distant.”

  “My cousin.”

  “Your cousin what? Distant cousin?”

  Harry took in a deep breath, seeming to hold it in her lungs for as long as she could and then expelled the breath. “Cam is pregnant.”

  “Camilla is pregnant?” Josie said in a not-so-loud voice, but Harry still motioned for her to be quiet. “Since when?”

  “She told me this morning.”

  “This is why I can’t tell Clive she’s in the village, because she’s off the market or whatever?” Josie flicked ash onto the ground.

  “I’m not sure she’s off Clive.”

  “I don’t understand.” Josie stubbed out the spent cigarette and inhaled on the newer one. “Wouldn’t the father object to Camilla seeing Clive?”

  “Clive is the father.”

  Josie’s vision went fuzzy. If this were a movie, her character would wake up and all this would be a terrible dream that she and Harry could laugh about.

  Sadly, this was Josie’s life.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Harriet placed a hand on each of Josie’s shoulders. “Do you need to sit down?”

  “Why is this happening?”

  “Which part?”

  “Every single part. The end of my career. Getting mixed up in a family sex scandal that doesn’t involve much sex. Working for my mum, who is intent on fixing me up on dates with any lesbian within a hundred-mile radius, except you. To top it all off, the day after I sleep with you, I find out about Camilla—Jesus, will we be related now?” Josie was nearing hysteria, and she waved a hand in front of her face, the red tip of the cigarette moving up and down in the darkness.

  “How do you figure that?”

  “My uncle has knocked up your cousin!” Josie forced out through semiclenched teeth.

  “That doesn’t alter history by making us blood relations.”

  Josie tossed the cigarette onto the ground and rubbed her arms. “It’s weird. Even you have to admit it’s weird.”

  Harriet slipped off her jacket. “Here. Put this on.”

  Josie did, dipping her head in what Harriet interpreted as thanks.

  “What did you mean when you said even you?” Harriet pressed. The way Josie had said the words bounced around in Harriet’s skull.

  “You’re so logical and don’t react to things. But…?”

  “But what? It still doesn’t make us blood relations. It just brings our families closer, but it’s not like—” Harriet stopped herself from saying more.

  “My brain gets that, but it still has an icky factor.”

  Harriet didn’t know how to alleviate Josie’s mind at the moment. “And the other comment about the sex scandal that doesn’t involve much sex?”

  Josie moved closer to Harriet and whispered into her ear. “Clive isn’t a playboy. The only person he has slept with, at least recently, is Camilla.”

  “But the ads.”

  “Were made up. I think he was too embarrassed to admit that.”

  “Clive’s a victim of sexual harassment?” Harriet stared into the darkness.

  “Yes.”

  “Wow. I never would have guessed that. He never let on or asked me to put a stop to the ads.” Harriet ran a hand up and down the back of her head.

  “Men are weird but not surprising. Back in high school, usually the guys who bragged about their sexual conquests weren’t having sex. I can’t believe I missed it this entire time.”

  “That makes the blotter even curiouser.”

  “It does. It also explains why the women didn’t get too riled up about the ads. Do you think all of them were in on it together?”

  “For what purpose, though?”

  “A bit of fun. Excitement. Who knows?” Josie’s attention focused on a group leaving the nearby pub. “I should get back.”

  “We need to talk—”

  “I know, but I’m on the clock, and I left Clive behind the bar.”

  “Josie, please let’s not leave things this way. Not after... No, not just because of last night. Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I’ve been pulled into your orbit. I know that makes zero sense, and it may shock you given your assessment that I’m the logical and unfeeling one.”

  “I never said unfeeling.”

  “Not with words, no.”

  Josie closed her eyes briefly. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt your feelings. Last night was so lovely. It’s just that I’m feeling like the world is against us, and I don’t know if I have the energy to fight it. The Clive and Camilla news—it’s upsetting.” Josie massaged her forehead. “I’m so tired.”

  “I have the energy to fight for us.” Harriet stood straight. “Lean on me, Josie.”

  “How can you say that? After…?”

  “It’s been a confusing day, with some ups and a lot of downs. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

  “But, my mum treated you horribly, and I didn’t say anything. I just stood there.”

  “She’s a force to be reckoned with, and I don’t think anything you said would have helped.”

  “I could have stood up for you.”

  “I could have stood up for myself, but she scares me.” Harriet stroked Josie’s cheek. “I never gave that part a second thought. Really.”

  “You really can be sweet. Logical, yes, but also so very sweet. I love the combination…” Josie’s voice drifted off.

  “I’m n
ot going to ask what the but is.”

  “I’m sure you can guess.” Josie avoided looking at Harriet.

  A few things crowded Harriet’s mind, but were they the same things? “I’d rather not put words or thoughts into your head. After work, can we talk?”

  “Not tonight, Harry.” Josie tapped the side of her head. “I need to process everything.”

  Harriet suppressed a bitter comment about Josie thinking Harriet was too analytical. Who was the thinker now? “Tomorrow, then? Breakfast at the café?”

  For a fleeting moment, the stress and worry dissipated from Josie’s face, replaced with a hopeful expression. It didn’t last long, but Josie said, “Does nine work?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have a good night.”

  Harry watched Josie disappear down the side street, heading for the bridge to take her over the river, a swirling sensation in the pit of Harriet’s stomach that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Given the situation, on the surface it would seem the cause was unease. But Harriet couldn’t banish the thought that everything would work out and the swirling was a good sign. Did this count as something illogical? But how to share it with Josie without freaking her out even more?

  “Is he at the pub?” Camilla pounced as soon as Harriet returned to the cottage.

  “He is.”

  “Did you say anything to him?”

  “You asked me not to.”

  “Good.” Camilla mangled her left hand with her right.

  “Did you want me to say anything to him?”

  “Of course not! Clive cannot know he’s the father.”

  “Not ever?” Harriet didn’t understand this, nor did she entirely believe Cam. Why else rush to the village where the father-to-be lived? True, Harriet was Camilla’s sole confidant, but the expression of longing and wistful sighs made Harriet think Camilla was battling herself to figure out the right thing to do. Which was understandable.

  Camilla stared blankly.

  “Have you ever wanted to be a mum?” Harriet asked.

  Camilla collapsed onto the sofa. “I never really thought about it. It’s no secret I’m selfish.”

  Harriet decided to sidestep this bullet. “What’s the first thought that pops into your head when I say baby?”

  “Food.”

  “Your baby?”

  “Food.”

  “Pregnancy?”

  “Food.”

  “Winston Churchill?”

  “Food.”

  Harriet chuckled. “Something tells me you’re hungry.”

  “Famished. Can you get fish and chips again?”

  “Sure.”

  “And orange juice. I really want some.”

  “Fish and chips and OJ.” Harriet held two fingers in the air. “Anything else?”

  “Peanut butter and cucumber.”

  The requests roiled Harriet’s stomach, but she refrained from saying anything. It seemed fitting Camilla would have strange cravings. Even as a kid, she loved soy sauce on her vanilla ice cream, although Harriet wasn’t sure the cravings were pregnancy related since Camilla was still in her first trimester. Harriet had been doing some sleuthing about what to expect ever since hearing the news, knowing she would be by Cam’s side every step of the way. That was what cousins were for.

  Heading back to the village square, a place she couldn’t escape today, Harriet spied Eugenie alone on a bench near the World War II memorial. The way her shoulders stooped worried Harriet. Should she tuck her head into the collar of her jacket and walk by, so not to provoke Josie’s mum? Harriet wasn’t the type to walk away when someone seemed to need a shoulder to cry on. And, if she wanted things to work with Josie, she’d need Eugenie’s dislike to thaw some. Was this the right time, though? Another glance hinted the woman had been sobbing, or were her shoulders still juddering up and down?

  “Everything okay, Eugenie?”

  She sniffled and dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “Too okay.”

  Harriet wasn’t quite following. “What does that mean?”

  “Ever since the blotter appeared today, the pub has been hopping.”

  “That’s good, right? It hasn’t hurt your business.”

  “I don’t understand it. Don’t the women in this town have any decency? Clive is the one acting downcast. The women are cackling over it.”

  “Why do you think that is?” While Harriet knew the truth, she didn’t know how much Eugenie knew, and she didn’t want to betray Josie’s confidence.

  “I thought I understood this place, but maybe I was gone too long and I’m as much of a stranger as you are. Or perhaps this means I’m just old. I don’t feel old—oh, I have aches and pains.” Her wave implied who didn’t? “But I don’t feel like a woman who’s reached her dotage stage and is completely out of touch with the way things are.”

  Harriet took a seat next to Eugenie. “You’re nowhere near that stage. As for the women in the village, it just seems to be good fun. I doubt we’ll know half of what’s really going on.”

  Eugenie whipped her head around.

  “I don’t mean there’s more to it.” Harriet did her best to block out the Camilla situation so she could sound sincere. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s all just a joke.”

  “Sex isn’t a joke. It drastically changed my life.”

  Harriet rested her hand on the back of the bench, as she pivoted to face Eugenie. “What do you mean?”

  “I got pregnant with Josie when I was so young. I loved her father, but sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d waited until I was Josie’s age to settle down. Now, I’m back in the village I grew up in, working in a pub, and I’m a widow.”

  Harriet attempted to find the bright spot, once again shoving down the knowledge that Clive’s life was about to drastically change because of sex. That was if Camilla told him. “You own the pub, though.”

  “Doesn’t change the fact it’s a pub. Now Josie’s here, following in my footsteps. I worry so much about her. I want her to stay, but I also want her to live up to her potential.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  “When I seriously think about it, what does this village have to offer her?”

  Me. “Do you think she’s unhappy here?”

  “I don’t think Josie knows what’s good for her. Why did you move here, Harry?” Eugenie seemed genuinely interested.

  “I wanted a peaceful life.”

  “Alone?”

  “I was alone when I moved, yes,” Harriet hedged.

  “Are you happy?”

  No. “It’s hard to answer that question.”

  “You should get a cat. Trust me when I tell you letting people into your life only complicates it to kingdom come. I wanted to get closer to Clive after living in America for so long. Look how that turned out.”

  Eugenie may not have spoken truer words, but Harriet didn’t want to untangle herself from the complications in her life. If the only way to have Josie in her life was to embrace the complications, she’d do it. The thought of not having Josie was too painful.

  “I think you’re selling Josie short. She’s intelligent and will figure things out in due course. Pushing her in either direction won’t help.”

  Eugenie’s head once again rounded on Harriet like a momma bear on the attack. “I’m a pushy mum, am I? You have no idea what it’s like to be a mother.” With that, Eugenie rose to her feet and left Harriet on the bench.

  “Well, that worked out well,” Harriet muttered to herself.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Josie wiped down the final table, marking the end of another shift. Her yawn, a mile wide, wasn’t an accurate measure of how exhausted she truly felt. If she didn’t think she’d wake up sore as shit, she’d curl up on Winston’s bed and drop off to sleep right then and there.

  “Josie, love, care for a cup of tea?” Her mum already had two steaming mugs in hand. “Join me in the kitchen.”

  That was the last thing Josie wanted, but ho
w could she tell her mother, who was nineteen years her senior, she was too knackered? Josie also feared they’d get into a verbal brawl, and Josie was still processing everything. “I really hope it’s herbal.”

  “It’s bedtime tea.”

  They sat on barstools around the butcher-block table. Josie sipped the tea, feeling soothed. Or maybe just the suggestion the tea should be soothing calmed her. “Ah, I needed this.”

  “Your mum always knows what’s best for you.”

  Josie laughed. “So she thinks.”

  “You don’t?” Her mum held her mug at chin level with both hands.

  “Oh boy. Is this one of our motherly chats that involves me staying quiet while you tell me what I should do with my life because I’m so young and stupid?”

  “You are young.”

  “Do you also think I’m stupid?”

  “I’ve never called you stupid.” Her mum set her mug down.

  “Yes, you have, when I stole your car when I was fourteen.”

  “The act was stupid, not you.”

  “If I remember correctly, you called me a stupid twat in front of the cops who brought me home.”

  “I was worked up, and you, young lady, were lucky those cops were friends of your father’s,” her mum scolded, adding the finger shake Josie had seen on numerous occasions. “Your life would have been much different if you’d ended up in juvie.”

  “I’m well aware. I didn’t say you were wrong to say that. I’m just clarifying that you have called me that.”

  “You love being right.”

  “I’m a woman.” Josie sipped her tea.

  Her mum ran a finger along the brim of her mug. “Where do you see yourself in the next year?”

  Josie leaned on her forearms, gearing up for whatever battle was brewing. “I have no idea, Mum.”

  “That’s a problem.”

  “For whom?”

  “You.”

  Josie shook her head. “I disagree. I’m rather liking not having the next twelve months plotted out. I feel like every aspect of my life has been planned out until this point, and look where that got me.” Maybe if Josie repeated these types of thoughts one hundred times every day, she’d start to believe them.