Page 16 of The Henna Artist

I had a feeling she was apologizing for more than hersaas’s presence.

“Sheis Mrs. Jeremy Harris. I’m also Mrs. Harris but my first name is Joyce.” The young woman’s cheeks pinked. “My mother-in-law had a bridge game scheduled today but it was canceled. I’d assumed we’d be alone.”

“Mrs. Harris, I don’t wish to pry, but your mother-in-law seemed to think I was applying to be a governess. You have another child?”

Joyce Harris shook her head, lowering her eyes to her belly.

“But you are pregnant? And your pregnancy is not a secret?”

She shook her head again.

“I need to know how far along you are,” I said gently.

Her eyes filled. Two tears dropped onto the bodice of her cheerful nylon dress. She watched the water travel down the length of the flowered fabric but made no move to wipe it away.

“Mrs. Harris?”

She hesitated. “F-four months.”

It wasn’t safe for women to eliminate babies too far into their pregnancy; four months was the upper limit. When women came to my mother-in-law for help, she would tell me:we must leave the women as healthy as we found them.“You’re sure?”

A beat, and then she nodded.

“At this stage it would be risky—both for you and for the baby. And my main concern is for your safety. I need you to be sure it’s no longer than four—”

She interrupted me with an urgent whisper. “I want this baby with all my heart. But if I’m thrown out on the street...”

The women I helped always wanted to confess their guilt, but it would have been easier for me and for them not to take me into their confidence. I wet my lips. I had to be sure she was telling me the truth.

“If you can tell me with absolute certainty that you aren’t more than four months along, and if you follow my instructions precisely as I give them to you, then you should be fine, but—”

“I can’t sleep. My headache is constant. If I could have this baby, I would. But I don’t know if it’s...my husband’s.”

Many of the women I handled at Samir’s request were having an affair.

“Madam, there is no need to explain.”

Joyce Harris leaned toward me and clasped my hand, startling me. I stared at the pale skin stretched across her knuckles, the loose wedding band, her bright red nail polish. She expected from me what wasn’t mine to give. Forgiveness. Absolution. I was a stranger.

I looked at her face—wet, blotched, streaked with pink. The whites of her eyes were bloodshot.

“He plays squash at the club with John—my husband. That’s where I met him. At the club. He’s married, too. The baby may be John’s but it could be...his.” She released my hand and removed a handkerchief from her belt to wipe her eyes. “He’s Indian.”

For the briefest of moments I wondered if her Indian lover was Samir. But Samir was far too cautious; he made sure to supply each of his mistresses with my tea sachets so he could move on to the next woman with a clear conscience. If Joyce Harris were one of his lovers, he would have told me. He’d never made a secret of the others. Besides, he favored widows, and Joyce Harris was clearly married.

“What would my husband say if I handed him an Indian baby? I don’t have to wonder what Mother Letty would say. I couldn’t bring a brown baby back home to Surrey. There’s no place in English society for such a child. There’s no p-place my baby would be safe.”

I waited until her sobs had subsided.

“Mrs. Harris, I’m sure you’re doing what’s best for your circumstances and for...those around you. But again, I must warn you not to delay. Boil one herb sachet for a half hour in one quart of water. Drink a cup of the liquid every hour until it’s finished. It will taste bitter. You can put honey in the mixture to make it more palatable. Repeat the process once more. Within a few hours, you will develop cramps. Be sure to put some cotton padding in your underwear to catch the flow of blood when it starts. At your stage of pregnancy, your body will expel large clots of tissue, as well. It will be painful, but do not panic. Let the herb do its work.”

Joyce Harris closed her eyes, letting more tears fall. I paused to let her absorb the instructions.

“I will leave three sachets with you, but you should not need more than two. To help with the pain, you can keep a hot water bottle on your belly or soak towels in warm water and apply them to your female parts. Only after it’s over should you call your doctor. He’ll think you’ve had a miscarriage. If you call him too soon, he’ll try to save the baby, which, I believe, is not what you want.”

I patted her pale arm. “It works most of the time, but there is no guarantee. If you’re losing too much blood, you must call the doctor immediately. Again, I need to warn you there will be a lot of pain.” I set a small vial on the tea table and told her to apply the lotion I’d prepared to soothe her female parts, which would feel raw after her body had expelled the fetus. “Do you understand everything I’ve told you?”

She nodded. We sat a little while longer in silence.

---