The Mothers

by Genevieve Gannon

  ‘The parents had probably spent twenty years trying everything they could to help him,’ Melody said. ‘Maybe he had some sort of personality disorder.’

  ‘No,’ Beth said. ‘He didn’t have any recognisable disorder.’

  ‘God, it chills you to the bone, doesn’t it?’ said Rochelle.

  ‘I think we all know that once they’re born there are very hard limits to how much control we have over them,’ Melody said.

  ‘But we can change their lives for the better,’ Dan said. ‘The cake we will eat later comes to us courtesy of one of Grace’s students who will no doubt grow up to become one of the country’s most renowned chefs, thanks to Grace’s efforts. Her father is forcing her to study law or medicine, but Grace has been secretly driving her to culinary classes each Saturday.’

  ‘Well done you,’ said Kent. ‘You can still be hugely influential in young people’s lives even if you don’t have any children of your own.’

  For a moment the only noise was the chink of cutlery on china.

  ‘Still, IVF doctors can do wonders, can’t they,’ Grant said. Dan and Grace looked at each other.

  ‘Oh, are you still doing that?’ said Melody. ‘You hadn’t mentioned it. We thought you’d decided not to …’ She trailed off.

  ‘What’s the success rate?’ Brian asked.

  ‘It’s pretty good, isn’t it?’ said Rochelle, hopeful.

  ‘Actually, no,’ said Grace. ‘Now that I’m forty-four I’ve got a less than two per cent chance of conceiving.’

  Doctor Li had also told them that if Grace was determined to continue down the IVF pathway, they should consider moving to donor eggs, or a donor embryo.

  ‘What?’ said Grant. ‘That’s outrageous. The way people write about it, you’d think you were guaranteed a baby. Famous women forever seem to be carting little bundles home from the hospital even though they’re in their late forties, and early fifties.’

  ‘It’s all a bit Wild Wild West, isn’t it?’ Brian said. ‘Who regulates these places?’

  ‘You could never know,’ said Grant.

  ‘That’s not exactly true,’ Grace said, thinking of the conscientious Doctor Li.

  ‘Who’s for red?’ Dan asked, producing a bottle of Barossa shiraz. ‘This is a nice little drop we first tasted on our honeymoon.’ ‘I wish we had time for winery tours,’ Brian said. ‘But between work and the kids it’s hard to get away.’

  ‘Dan takes photos of the wine labels,’ Grace said. ‘We loved this and didn’t want to forget it.’

  ‘That’s a smart idea,’ said Beth.

  As Dan went around the table, pouring, Rochelle’s hand moved to her wine glass, covering it. There was a pause. Grace met her gaze. Rochelle’s eyes welled up as a silent understanding passed between the two women. Grace concentrated on keeping her face still. Rochelle already had two children and she was forever saying what a handful they were. She had had two difficult pregnancies in quick succession, and she was exhausted. Certainly she hadn’t been planning another baby, as far as Grace knew.

  ‘We didn’t want to say anything until I was further along,’ Rochelle said quietly.

  ‘When are you due?’ Grace asked.

  ‘I’m sixteen weeks but I’m high-risk because of my age.’

  Brian leaned forward and took a piece of bread from the plate in the middle of the table and began buttering it. ‘That’s what got us into this situation in the first place. I didn’t think there’d be much risk we’d get pregnant again. We probably weren’t as careful as we could have been.’ Everyone felt the thump of Rochelle kicking her husband under the table.

  ‘I think I’ll have more wine,’ Grace said, holding her glass up to Dan, her voice high and tight.

  As he poured she cleared her throat, then spoke again. This time her voice was steady. ‘A toast,’ she raised her glass. ‘Here’s to the children in our lives, and the new one about to join us. Son, daughters, nieces, nephews, students. Whatever form they take. They keep us young, and given the number of candles on the cake that’s in our fridge, I’m thankful there is about to be one more.’ ‘Well said.’ Dan raised his glass as Rochelle clapped.

  ‘Here’s to you, Gracie,’ Beth said. ‘The classiest dame there ever was.’

  ‘Cheers!’ came the chorus. ‘Happy birthday.’

  Grace smiled at her friends. Dan kissed her cheek and she turned into him, clasping his back to hide her hand going to her eye to wipe away a tear.

  Bridget’s cake was demolished and six bottles of wine were drained before two am when the last guests said their goodbyes. With the house empty, Grace began to clear the table.

  ‘Let me do that,’ Dan said.

  ‘I can manage,’ she said.

  ‘It’s your birthday.’ He took the grimy dish from her hand.

  ‘You cooked all day.’ She snatched it back.

  He stood back and watched her roughly fill the dishwasher racks with crockery.

  As she tried to jam in one last plate there was a crack. Grace held up her grandmother’s good china, which was now two jagged halves. She pressed the pieces together, feeling a surge of anger then a rush of misery. Hopelessness covered her like a lead cloak. ‘Oh,’ she sobbed, overwhelmed.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Dan asked.

  She wanted to say so many things—that she was annoyed with herself, angry and sick to death of her own weak will that stopped her from feeling anything but pure excitement for her friend—but she held back her fears, she had burdened Dan for too long. She took a breath and tried to overcome the emotions coursing through her. ‘Yes. I’m sorry,’ she said. Her hand went to the string of pearls around her neck. ‘Thank you for everything you did today. I couldn’t have asked for more. I’m really—’ Her voice faltered. ‘Very lucky.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said, rubbing her shoulder. ‘What do you say we get a dog? A little spaniel or something to keep us company.’

  ‘That’s … that’s a great idea. I love spaniels.’

  ‘Me too. I don’t know why we never thought of it before. I suppose I thought it was something that would come after kids. A Christmas puppy for them to play with.’

  Grace smiled sadly. ‘And now if we wait until we have children to get a dog we may never have either.’

  Silence fell again.

  ‘We still have one more embryo,’ Dan said quietly.

  She bit her thumbnail.

  ‘Doctor Li said there’s a chance she’s okay,’ he added, still cautious.

  ‘I almost wish they hadn’t told us,’ she said. ‘If your child is born and there are complications, you just deal with it. But asking us to make the conscious decision to give life to a child who might always suffer seems like too big a task to place on two people’s shoulders.’

  ‘I’m not scared to raise a disabled child.’

  ‘I’m not either. I just think, if we choose this one, are we condemning her to a short and painful existence, when a donor egg would give her a stronger body?’

  ‘It’s impossible to know.’ Neither of them spoke for a moment. Dan touched his wife’s arm. ‘Do you want to do another round?’

  ‘I don’t think another round of retrievals is an option.’

  He nodded.

  She looked at her hands. ‘If we used a donor egg I’d feel guilty about abandoning our last frozen embryo.’

  ‘Maybe the possible exclusion means it won’t take. I mean, none of the others have.’

  ‘Who knows what it could mean? She might need full-time care. She might not need any special assistance at all. She could be perfectly healthy.’

  ‘And even if she isn’t, she’s still our little girl.’

  ‘Yes, she’s ours. What kind of parents would we be if we abandoned her?’

  ‘So, what are you thinking?’

  ‘I’m imagining her in that cold refrigerator in Alexandria waiting for her chance.’ Grace had tears in her eyes. ‘I think … I think I want to give her a chance.’
>
  Dan broke into a smile. ‘Me too.’ He hugged her. ‘Let’s do it. Let’s go get our girl.’

  Twelve

  Nick and Priya stared at each other from opposite ends of their dining table like old foes, while a neckless man in a shiny blue suit opened a glossy portfolio and laid out a series of pricing structures his real estate agency offered.

  ‘I recommend going for this package,’ the agent, Brett, said as he tapped the second-most expensive option with a silver pen. ‘A lot of young families are slowly starting to look west, but we need to entice them with a high-impact campaign. Spend money to make money and all that. We’ll do print. Online. And a digital street sign. They have these nifty features now where we can imbed an LED screen into the sign to give a three-sixty-degree view of the interior.’

  ‘I’ve seen those in Paddington and Darlington,’ Nick said. ‘Surely you’re not recommending something like that around here? It would be stolen in sixty seconds.’

  Brett looked dubious. ‘It was just a suggestion. Right,’ he said, with a salesman’s gusto. ‘Let’s take a look through the place before we get down to brass tacks.’

  ‘You’ve seen the front,’ Nick said, as they walked through to the entrance hall. He gestured to the original master bedroom. ‘That’s the guest room. I added another storey with a new master bedroom and an ensuite.’

  He took Brett up the winding stairs. Priya stayed in the hallway and tried to block out Nick’s description of all of the features she had carefully chosen and he had lovingly installed. A young couple had come by earlier to pick up their marital bed. Nick had told Priya she could have it, but she said she had nowhere to put it. ‘Besides,’ she reasoned, ‘we should sell it and split the money.’ She wouldn’t have minded if Nick kept it if she could be sure he wasn’t going to invite Barbie doll internet women into it. It had sold on Gumtree in less than an hour. Mattress and all. Priya threw in the blue linen manchester free of charge, knowing she’d never be able to sleep soundly in it again.

  ‘We’ll have to hire some furniture,’ Brett said. Priya listened as he explained to Nick that furnished houses fetched a better price. ‘Also, it’ll cover the discolouration in the paint.’

  When they had shifted the bed they had discovered a perfect bedhead-shaped outline on the wall. The bedroom Nick had built had large windows on all sides that bathed the room in light during the day, and the sun had leached the colour from the yellow walls. Where the bed had rested was a dark shadow in the original buttery cream, protected, as if from a nuclear blast.

  The men thumped down the stairs.

  ‘Next?’ asked Brett.

  Priya and Nick’s eyes went to the second downstairs bedroom. ‘Another bedroom?’ Brett charged towards it.

  ‘We don’t need to look in there,’ Priya said.

  At the same time Nick said: ‘It’s the same as the other one.’

  Brett had already opened the door and stepped inside. The jungle scene had been completed. Amid the palm trees were laughing monkeys, a smiling elephant.

  ‘Hm,’ Brett said, his enthusiasm dipping for the first time since he crossed their threshold. ‘I’d recommend painting over this.’ Priya’s lip trembled. Nick took Brett’s arm by the elbow and guided him out of the room. ‘Let me show you what I did with the kitchen.’

  There was no pre-nup, and only one shared asset. The house would be sold at auction. There was a small amount owing on the mortgage; the remaining profit would be divided fifty–fifty, less the agency fees.

  The tour complete, Brett pressed them for a decision. Nick was staring at the brochure with his hand over his mouth. His eyes were tired.

  ‘What do you think?’

  Priya shrugged. ‘I just want it sold.’

  ‘We don’t have to hurry,’ Nick said. ‘You can live here. I’ll move out.’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I want a clean break.’

  ‘Ah, do you folks need a moment?’ Brett asked.

  ‘We’ll take this package,’ Priya said, tapping the one Brett had suggested. Nick nodded but didn’t speak.

  ‘Okay.’ Brett retrieved the silver pen from his pocket and clicked it open. ‘If you just sign here and here, we’ll get things moving.’

  Nick took the pen. He looked up at Priya, the nib hovering over the page. ‘We don’t have to rush into anything,’ he said.

  ‘Nick.’ She closed her eyes.

  ‘This is our home. We could rent it out, see how things go.’

  ‘I’ve spent fifteen years seeing how it goes.’

  Nick flinched. ‘Lucky you were on your guard,’ he grumbled.

  She heard the scratch as he scribbled his signature. When she opened her eyes it was done. She signed her name alongside her husband’s.

  ‘Okay, folks.’ Brett slid the brochures into his briefcase. ‘You can relax now. Leave it all to us.’

  Nick shook his hand. Priya turned away so he wouldn’t see the distress on her face.

  When Priya returned to her sister’s place the house was silent. There was a note on the side table: Hope it went okay. There’s leftover masala in the fridge xox. Priya put the bowl in the microwave and retreated to the couch while it heated, her feet tucked up underneath herself.

  She had to shift to find a comfortable position. Her backside was tender. She was secretly taking hormones Doctor Carmichael had prescribed. Priya had stormed into the decision to sell the house, but she couldn’t bring herself to sever the IVF process they had begun. She had thought that once they did the transfer there would be no turning back, but what she had discovered was she was already past the point of no return. In her imagination, the baby already existed, conceived in their minds, now waiting for biology to catch up.

  If it was a girl, they had decided they would name her Isabelle after Nick’s maternal grandmother. If it was a boy, he would be Sadavir, for Priya’s maternal grandfather. Isa and Sadavir were too real to abandon.

  In a few days she had an appointment booked to retrieve her eggs, which she had decided to freeze. She was thirty-seven and about to be single again and reasoned it was good insurance. It would be a while before she would be ready to even think about dating. Then, it would take time to find the right person. If and when they were ready to discuss pregnancy she’d be … what? Forty, at the least. But her eggs would be thirty-seven.

  Vivian padded out from her bedroom, rubbing her eyes. ‘How was it?’

  Priya shrugged. ‘It wasn’t fun, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Did he try to get you back?’ she asked.

  ‘No. But he tried to stop me selling the house.’

  ‘It’s very fast.’

  ‘Why wait?’ Priya said.

  Viv bit her lip. ‘How are you feeling?’

  Priya sighed and shrugged. ‘Empty.’ She stabbed a chunk of curry with her fork.

  ‘I saw this in the bathroom bin,’ Viv said, taking an empty vial and alcohol swab sachet from her dressing-gown pocket. ‘You’re still doing the treatment?’

  Priya swallowed the curry and nodded. ‘I couldn’t back out. We’ve come so far. I thought this time next year I could have a baby … and now it’s all gone. Not just the baby, but Nick, the house. Everything. And now, maybe I’ll never get the chance to be a mother.’

  ‘But …’ Viv struggled to find the right words. ‘You and Nick have broken up. What are you planning?’

  ‘Freezing my eggs,’ Priya said.

  ‘P-ya!’ Avani called.

  ‘How did you get out of bed?’ Priya asked the little girl standing in the doorway. ‘You naughty little rabbit,’ she said as Avani motored across the room and threw herself at her aunt, hugging and clambering onto her lap.

  Priya stroked the girl’s curls and kissed her head. ‘I just want to keep my options open,’ she said.

  A few days later, Priya walked up the ramp to Empona with a head full of questions and a heart whirring like a hummingbird.

  ‘There’s been a change of plans,’ she explained to D
octor Carmichael.

  ‘Has something happened?’ The physician looked immediately concerned.

  ‘Nick and I split up.’

  Doctor Carmichael tilted her head sympathetically. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

  ‘But I still want to have a baby. I want to be a mother now. I’m ready. Nick and I … we were planning … that is to say, I’ve been ready for years. I was hoping you could tell me about using donor sperm.’

  ‘Priya.’ The doctor removed her glasses. ‘I find myself in an unusual position. It is not my job to counsel you. But the split is very fresh—are you sure this is how you want to proceed?’

  ‘Yes, Doctor Carmichael, I’m sure.’

  ‘Having trouble conceiving is stressful. A lot of couples separate then reconcile. Maybe if you wait—’

  ‘The split had nothing to do with infertility,’ Priya said quickly.

  ‘Okay then.’ Doctor Carmichael held Priya’s eyes for a moment, then the professional briskness returned. ‘In that case, let’s look at options.’

  ‘I thought it would be good to find an Indian father. So the baby looks like me.’

  ‘Well, you can use a local donor of Indian heritage, or you can use an international donor.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘And there are additional fees.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Doctor Carmichael spun around on her chair and pulled some documents from her filing cabinet.

  ‘These outline the costs,’ she passed them to Priya. ‘The good news is the donors are all vetted. Given your history, I would recommend we proceed straight to IVF. We’ll retrieve your eggs today as planned and freeze them. Then I’ll give you some information to take home and consider.’

  Twenty minutes later Priya was in the surgery with her legs in the stirrups.

  ‘Your follicles look good.’ Doctor Carmichael smiled. ‘We’ll see you after your nap.’

  When Priya woke the doctor was smiling. ‘We got six,’ she said. The number was written on the back of Priya’s hand in black marker. ‘Six is very good. Go home and rest, and when you’re ready, you and I can talk more about donors and your baby.’