“Check it out!” Pumla slapped a piece of paper on the desk in front of Jamie.

Jamie had been in since early that morning dealing with the paperwork involved in the monthly payroll. It wasn’t her favourite job in the world, and now the lunchtime rush was about to start. Having bits of paper shoved under her nose was not about to improve her mood.

“What?” She snatched at the page and stared at it. It said “Lancet” at the top. Was that a catering-supply company? No. Her mind clicked into gear. It was a lab. She was looking at the results of a blood test. But what blood test?

“What the heck is this?” she asked. “What am I looking at?”

“That, my friend, is the result of my pregnancy test.” Pumla did a little shimmy around the office. “Human pregnancy hormone and progesterone levels both sky-high. The doctor says he hardly ever sees such high levels in an early pregnancy. I always was an over-achiever.”

Jamie’s brain struggled to catch up. “You mean you’re pregnant? You’re actually pregnant? Really and truly?”

Pumla nodded, a huge grin bisecting her face from ear to ear.

“Oh, my God!” Jamie leaped up and flung her arms around Pumla in a rare hug. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks.”

They did a little dance around the office, uttering supersonic squeaks of glee.

Then they stopped and grinned at each other.

Jamie’s gaze travelled down Pumla’s body to rest on her flat tummy. “There’s a baby in there,” she said. “There’s an actual, honest-to-goodness human being inside there.”

“I know. Isn’t it amazing? I think I’m just starting to show, don’t you?” Pumla pushed her stomach out as far as it would go.

“Um … sure,” Jamie agreed.

“So, how are you feeling?”

“Fabulous!” Pumla beamed. “I feel absolutely great. A bit tired, though. In fact, very very tired. At odd times of the day too. Like yesterday, I got home from work at six and just sat down for a minute in front of the TV. When I woke up it was nine. And all I could do was stagger upstairs to bed and sleep for another eight hours. But no nausea. Absolutely none. I have no idea what people are even talking about when they say the words ‘morning sickness’.”

“Well, that’s great. It looks like you’re going to have an easy pregnancy.”

“I know! Isn’t it brilliant?”

“So have you told Dumisani yet? How did he take it?” Pumla’s smile dimmed. She shrugged.

“You did tell him about the baby, didn’t you?” Jamie said.

“Yes, of course I told him.”

“And…?”

“He’s not co-operating at all. He’s being a total asshole about the whole thing.”

Before Jamie could ask what she meant, the door chime sounded and a rush of early lunch customers came in. There was a table of eight, a table of four, and a table of two. Getting them settled and happy took all Jamie’s time and attention. And no sooner did they all have menus and drinks than more lunchers flooded in, leaving her with no room for anything in her brain besides who wanted their dressing on the side, and who wanted rye instead of wholewheat bread.

Pumla was equally busy manning the takeaway counter. Ciabattas and baguettes were flying out the door, and there was a brisk trade in sweet pastries too. Jamie found her eyes being drawn to Pumla again and again. It was as though she were seeing her in a whole new light. No longer just Jamie’s business partner and slightly irritating friend – what they used to call a ‘frenemy’ back in high school – Pumla was now an expectant mother. She was fulfilling her biological destiny. She was gravid. The strange, Latin-sounding word popped into Jamie’s head out of nowhere.

She looked at Pumla again. No, she wasn’t showing yet, whatever she might think, but wasn’t there something subtly different about her? She was paler, for one thing. Instead of its usual healthy colour, her face had a greyish tinge. She looked a bit clammy too.

Her writer’s brain stored away these details for later use. This was a great opportunity to observe a pregnant woman up close. Google could only take you so far. Jamie thought she’d done a reasonable job of conveying Eve’s pregnancy in her novel up until now, but there were always little touches you could only add as a result of personal observation.

Swallowed up in the lunch rush, she dashed from table to kitchen and back again, sometimes stopping to replate a meal that hadn’t been laid out to her specifications.

The crowds were starting to thin out before she had a chance to look over at Pumla again. No, she definitely wasn’t looking herself. She was even paler, if that were possible, and her face seemed almost haggard. Something was not right. Jamie carried some plates through to the kitchen and emerged at her friend’s side.

“Hey,” she whispered. “Are you feeling all right? You look like hell.”

Pumla frowned. “That’s because I feel like…” And she slid quietly down to the floor. “Shit!”

Jamie felt panic rush all over her like a heat rash. A glance at the kitchen told her no one was looking their way. In fact, no one in the restaurant seemed to have noticed anything. Pumla had just disappeared from view and was now lying unnoticed behind the counter.

Jamie remembered once hearing a doctor say that fainting was nature’s way of forcing the body horizontal so blood could get back into the head. Ella had been a great fainter as a child – skinny as a stick and constantly overdoing the ballet thing. Some of the routine came back to Jamie. She dropped to the floor and lifted Pumla’s legs higher than her head to encourage her blood pressure to equalise.

As the greyish hue of her face receded, Jamie rolled her onto her left side, into the recovery position. Somewhere nearby, she could hear a voice saying, “Wake up, wake up, wake up, dammit!” It took her a moment to realise it was her own.