The Mystery
In a small English hamlet, more like a village than anything else, lived a girl named Harriet. One day her mother, who loved all things mystical, brought Harriet with her to see the village fortune teller.
The fortune teller fanned out her tarot cards with care and declared,
Your Harriet will be a happy one. Everything will go well for her. But strange, I dont see a man by her side.
Harriet was about ten then, and the words of the cryptic old woman lodged somewhere in her mind, even though she couldnt really make sense of them.
Years flitted by. Harriet grew tall and strikingly pretty. The local lads lost their senses around her, but Harriet never settled for any one suitor. She would meet one, then another, never giving her heart for long.
After finishing school, she never left to study in the city, though she did quite well in her classes. Instead, she stayed and worked at the local dairy. Rumours drifted about a possible romance with some manager, but no one had ever seen them together.
The other ladies at the dairy would warn the newest worker:
Be careful, Harriet, dont get stuck here with us or youll watch your life slip away. You should go to London; with your looks, youd be snatched up in a heartbeat.
Harriet would listen, smile, and say nothing.
Suddenly, gossip swept through the hamlet: Harriet is expecting!
A thorough debate broke out. Who, and when, had managed to bless the hamlets most beautiful maiden? Speculation ran wild, but no one ever found out who the father could be.
Harriets mother didnt ruminate for long,
Serves you right! Youve brought shame upon us. Youre on your own now. You made your bed, I expect you to lie in it. And youd better figure out where youre going to live, because youre not staying here. Im giving you a month.
Fine, Mum, Harriet replied evenly, Ill go. But dont call me back later.
Within two weeks, Harriet bought herself a little cottage, with all the household bits thrown in. A stroke of luck, neighbours said: the old owners children had taken her to London and sold the place for a pittance. Where Harriet, heavy with child, got even that modest sum remained a riddle.
And then, odd things began to happen. The cottage was swiftly made tidy, transformed and stylish. A new picket fence appeared, and in the garden, a fresh well was dug. Strange men turned up and accomplished all this in no time at all.
Soon after, the neighbours watched a delivery lorry trundle up, bringing Harriet crates of appliances and bits of new furniture. Harriet herself seemed content, always smiling, beaming, nothing at all like a forsaken woman.
That autumn, Harriet had a son, Charlie. In the garden of her neat cottage rolled a new pram, pale blue. Harriet quickly regained her strength, looking even lovelier than before. Always trim and well put together, she strode through the village, chin up, a picture of satisfaction.
At home she worked nonstop: minding her boy, tending the plot, getting the hearth going, popping to the shop, and piles of washing with the baby. But Harriet never complained, not once, to anyone.
The neighbour women saw Harriet was a hard worker and a kind soul and, bit by bit, they befriended her. Sometimes theyd mind Charlie when Harriet needed to nip out. Why not help?
They lent a hand in the gardensending a husband to clear a patch or coming themselves to help weed. Just small favours; mostly, Harriet managed all herself.
When Charlie was nearly two, a neighbour burst into another’s house, wild-eyed:
Youll never guess!
What is it?
Harrietshes expecting again!
Go on, you mustve misseen.
Not at all. Go and have a look yourself!
And the village started murmuring again. Theories abounded, but none stuck. No one had ever seen Harriet with any man.
She ignored the whispers, living her life as before. New oddities cropped up: a smart bathhouse popping up in her garden, gas men going off their usual route to kit her out with gas, and out back, a gleaming polycarbonate greenhouserather expensive, everyone noted.
Wheres a single woman getting that sort of money? theyd mutter, must have a secret admirer in high places. Still, Harriets little mystery stayed locked tight.
Before long, the same blue pram was parked in her garden again. Charlie now had a brother, Harry.
Another two years, and along came another brother, Oliver.
Harriet bore three sons, and nobody ever knew the fathers.
Some laughed openly, called her odd. Others, seeing the boys healthy and happy, knowing Harriet didnt drink and worked from morning till night, admired her for her courage.
Some wagged fingers and tut-tutted, using Harriet as a warning for their own daughters.
Harriets mother couldnt understand, felt nothing but shame. She made no effort to help, or to get to know her grandsons.
All the while Harriet carried herself with pride, ignoring every adverse glance and whispered word.
Time drifted by. One day a sleek car pulled up to Harriets cottage. The director of the dairy stepped out, an armful of grand flowers in hand. He entered the house, and as he stayed inside, a crowd of neighbours silently clustered outside. Whispers ran through the lane:
Whats going on? Whys Mr. John Davenport (whom everyone respected) calling on Harriet in broad daylightwith flowers, no less?
Folk knew the dairy director had lost his wife a year ago. Shed been bedridden for many years and hed nursed her himself, never abandoning her, right till the end.
Harriet stepped outside to see him off, and so many eyes were watching she was almost startled. John Davenport drew her to him and kissed her in plain view. Then, so everyone could hear, he declared:
Harriet has agreed to be my wife. Together, with our sons, we invite you all to our wedding.
A thunderous hush hung in the air. People blinked and stared at the radiant couple, not daring to believe it. Only then did everyone realisethose boys of Harriets, they looked just like John Davenport
Congratulations poured out from all sides.
After a grand, well-attended wedding, John moved Harriet and the boys to his house. The whole hamlet turned up to help with the removal.
And a year later, a long-awaited girl was born into the family
So much for listening to fortune tellers.
