The Mothers

by Genevieve Gannon

  I look forward to hearing from you.

  Sincerely,

  Daniel Arden

  A string of contact details were listed, including a daytime business number. He had Priya’s phone number, but she understood why he had chosen to write. It was less confrontational, while at the same time it commanded her attention. It allowed him to get out everything he wanted to say, uninterrupted by argument or interjection.

  After reading Daniel Arden’s missive a few more times Priya called Viv and read the letter to her. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Wow,’ said Viv. ‘You know what this is?’

  ‘A desperate plea from a loving father?’

  ‘Yes. But it’s also evidence they knew about you and still tried to keep you from your son.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that.’

  ‘This is it. This is what Estelle was asking for. The father has admitted they might not be the parents. Now you can ask a judge to order a DNA test.’

  Thirty-seven

  Grace’s trolley wheels squeaked as she circled the supermarket’s eclectic bargain table for a third time. Home potting kits rested against ceramic mixing bowls. Silicone muffin trays nudged foam bodyboards. All were marked close to half-price. Her eye had been caught by a cluster of long rectangular boxes. Light but sturdy, said the label. Safety guaranteed.

  Grace gripped the end of one of the boxes and pulled it free, testing the weight. It was surprisingly light. She scanned its other labels: Swiss Made. For babies up to twenty-four months. She opened the end of the box and tugged on a metal and plastic cylinder until it popped out. It was the leg of a collapsible travel cot. She stood for a moment, in the busy supermarket aisle, and thought of faraway snow-capped mountains, of villages where phone service was intermittent and wi-fi non-existent. Then she tucked the box under her arm and made her way to the checkout.

  Grace jammed the narrow travel cot into the back of the wardrobe in Sam’s room, behind the winter coats and clothes Sam wasn’t big enough for yet, amid the pile of supplies she had slowly accumulated.

  She hadn’t mentioned it to Dan, or really thought of it at all. The collection included an inflatable bath, a collapsible change table and disposable change mats, long-life baby food (even though Sam hadn’t started solids) and baby sunscreen. She lifted a micro-fibre beanie small enough to fit snugly around a grapefruit and rubbed the fabric between her fingers. She couldn’t even remember buying it.

  ‘Grace!’

  ‘Ow.’ Grace stood abruptly and bashed her head against the wardrobe shelf.

  ‘Grace, what are you doing?’

  She turned around to see Dan with Sam in his arms. Their son was sucking on his fist.

  ‘Just looking for something,’ she said, closing the wardrobe door.

  Dan didn’t speak for a moment. ‘Dinner’s ready,’ he said.

  ‘Okay.’ She nodded. ‘I’ll be down in a minute.’

  He didn’t move. ‘Is something going on?’

  She squared her shoulders. ‘No.’

  He nodded and left. Grace exhaled. They were due to see Elliott in the morning and fuses had been short. She made sure the cot and the travel items were concealed by their winter coats, then she went downstairs to join her family for dinner.

  Sam barely slept. He was up at ten. At ten-thirty. At midnight. At one. Each time he cried, Grace leapt out of bed and ran straight to him. When Sam started to roar again at three, Dan laid his palm flat on Grace’s chest and said, ‘I’ll go.’

  Her eyelids fluttered. ‘Okay,’ she replied, barely awake.

  After a few minutes Sam settled, but when Dan didn’t return to the bedroom, Grace, rubbing her eyes, went to investigate the nursery.

  Dan was on his knees, the wardrobe doors flung open.

  ‘Grace, what’s this?’ he asked, holding up a bag of disposable change mats like a piece of roadkill.

  ‘What?’

  Bewildered, Dan pulled another item out of the wardrobe: the travel nappies. And another, the collapsible cot. ‘What is all this stuff?’ His face went red. ‘Travel-size baby wipes? What are you playing at?’

  ‘Nothing, nothing.’

  ‘An inflatable bath? Are you planning to try to run away from this?’

  ‘No,’ she said, wounded. Was she?

  ‘Don’t lie to me, Grace.’

  She had never seen him this mad. ‘No, no. I don’t know why I did it. I just sort of started. I would never—’ She faltered.

  ‘Since I didn’t know about it, can I assume I wasn’t part of this escape plan?’

  ‘Dan, you’re being insane. Of course I wasn’t going to run off with Sam.’

  ‘Well, that’s sure as hell what it looks like,’ he hissed. He was furious, shaking. He threw the pack of change mats onto the floor.

  ‘Do you really think I would leave you, and take your son?’

  ‘I don’t know, Grace. I mean, what am I supposed to think?’

  ‘Dan, you’re … you’re being crazy.’

  ‘I’m not the one who made a doomsday bunker of baby gear.’

  ‘That’s not what this is. Dan, please. It’s just stuff. We have to see Elliott in a few hours,’ she said. ‘Let’s not do this now.’

  The car ride into the city was silent. Grace had never seen Dan this angry. When they arrived at Elliott’s office, the lawyer’s face was grim.

  ‘What is it?’ Grace asked. She didn’t think she could bear any more bad news.

  ‘They’re seeking an urgent hearing to order a DNA test.’

  ‘What?! But you said that was unlikely to happen.’

  ‘On what grounds?’ Dan asked.

  ‘They say an admission.’

  ‘What admission?’ Grace said. ‘That doesn’t make any sense.’

  Elliott rubbed his chin. His eyes darted to Dan, then back down to his desk. ‘It was a letter.’

  Dan went white. He placed his hand on Grace’s knee but she didn’t feel it. ‘They’re lying!’ she cried. ‘They must have fabricated a letter. Can’t we challenge it?’

  Elliott shifted in his seat. ‘They say Dan wrote to Priya, responding to a letter she had written in which she explained what had happened. They say he admits he knows there was an error, and that a DNA test must be undertaken immediately.’

  ‘No,’ said Grace. ‘No, she never wrote to us. She never wrote to us.’

  Dan’s skin was ashen. He said nothing. ‘No,’ she said again, looking at her husband. ‘You couldn’t have. You never told me there was a letter.’

  ‘Do you want me to give you two a moment?’ Elliott asked.

  ‘No! Dan, tell me there wasn’t a letter.’ Grace’s voice shook.

  Dan’s eyes filled with tears. ‘She wrote to me saying she just wanted to meet us … I thought I could convince her to call off the lawsuit.’

  ‘You hid a letter from the egg woman from me!’

  Elliott was on his feet. ‘I’ll give you some privacy.’ He disappeared out into the hall.

  Dan turned to his wife. ‘I should have told you. I’m sorry. I’d take it back if I could. I didn’t want to worry you.’

  ‘Well, I’m worried now. You were angry at me for putting aside a few … a few provisions when all the time you were secretly writing to her?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He reached for her.

  ‘Don’t touch me.’ She jerked her arm away.

  He reached for her again. ‘I’m not the bad guy. Grace, please. We’re both a little crazy now but we have to stick together. If we don’t, we’ll lose him for sure. From now on we tell each other everything. Swear. It’s you and me, in it to protect our boy.’

  She exhaled heavily, stood and walked to the window.

  ‘I’m so mad at you.’ She began to cry. ‘And I’m so tired. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.’ She pressed her forehead against the cold glass.

  He went to her and put his arms around her. ‘I know. I’m so sorry. I just wanted to protect you. I’m goin
g insane here.’

  ‘I’m exhausted.’

  ‘I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you about the letter, and that I thought you were going to flee with Sam. I’m not thinking straight.’

  ‘I know I should be mad still, but I just feel numb. I’m just so tired and numb.’

  ‘I know,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t want to lose our little boy.’

  ‘I know.’ He held her tight. ‘We’re not going to let them take him from us.’

  PART THREE

  Thirty-eight

  Priya had a forest of paper laid out before her—handwritten notes, bureaucratic forms, scrawled reminders. She wet her forefinger and leafed through a pile of references.

  ‘Ask me another one,’ she said without raising her eyes.

  ‘Okay.’ Nick looked to the ceiling for inspiration. ‘The baby got into the kitchen cupboard and ate a fistful of dishwashing powder. What do you do?’

  Priya screwed up her face. ‘Would a baby do that?’

  ‘Mel did it when she was three. Quick. He’s turning blue. What do you do?’

  ‘Right, um. Induce vomiting and call poison control. No! Call an ambulance. No—’

  ‘Either of those would be fine,’ Nick said. ‘You’re going to breeze through this.’

  ‘What did your mother do?’

  ‘She threw me and Mel into the station wagon and drove to the hospital.’

  ‘I guess that was her maternal instinct working.’

  ‘Try not to worry. The interview isn’t going to be a parenting pop quiz. They’ll just ask about your work and your support networks. They need to know this is a safe home for a child. Which it is.’

  Priya pursed her lips, unsure. ‘Thank you for all of your help with this.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Seeing your life’s achievements reduced to a few pieces of paper is a sobering experience,’ she said. ‘One of the forms Estelle gave me had this big section for volunteer works and charitable acts. You know, to demonstrate my worthiness. And I had nothing. If I was hiring someone for the position of “mother” based on this résumé, I wouldn’t even call me in for an interview.’

  ‘You donate to the Cancer Council,’ Nick said.

  ‘A fifty-dollar automatic withdrawal each month. That’s hardly a reason to alert the Nobel prize committee.’

  ‘You’re a good person, Priya. You love your family. You work hard. You have integrity. That’s why so many people wrote you such glowing reports.’

  Viv had written a letter of recommendation: A loving and devoted aunt. As had her boss: Responsible and hard-working. Rajesh, Darsh and two of her girlfriends had also contributed. Still, Priya feared the dossier she would be presenting as part of the pre-custody hearing interview was flimsy.

  ‘I’m worried about what I’m up against with the other couple. What if they, I don’t know, spend their holidays vaccinating orphans or knitting blankets for the homeless. What if they have references written by MPs and CEOs. They both have good jobs. I bet they know a lot of important people.’

  ‘The interview isn’t about competing with them.’

  ‘No, but the court case is. How am I going to persuade the judge my son is better off with me than with the woman who gave birth to him?’

  They silently pondered this problem until Nick picked up Priya’s empty mug. ‘More tea?’

  ‘That’d be a good start.’ She leapt to her feet and took the cup from him. ‘Peppermint?’

  ‘You sit. I’ll get it.’

  He brushed past her and went into the kitchen and ran the tap. The pipes groaned and Priya shuddered. Her Coogee apartment was so shabby and old. She’d have to avoid running the tap when the social worker came for the interview. Nick returned, wiping his hands on a tea towel. ‘I think the washer in your sink tap needs replacing,’ he said.

  ‘I know. I’ve been meaning to call the agent. But with all this,’ she said, gesturing at the paperwork, ‘I just haven’t had the time to address leaking taps.’

  ‘Beachside living isn’t all sunbathing and ice-cream, eh? I reckon I’ve got some washers in my ute. I could do it.’ He moved to the door.

  ‘You don’t have to do that.’

  ‘It will take two minutes. One less thing for you to worry about.’

  He was halfway down the stairs before she could answer. Priya went to the kitchen and took out two cups. By the time she was drowning their teabags in scalding water, Nick was slotting the tap head back into place, whistling cheerily. ‘All done.’ He wiped his hands again and accepted the tea she held out.

  ‘That was fast. Thank you.’

  ‘All part of the service,’ said Nick. ‘Cheers.’ They knocked their mugs together. ‘It’s nice to feel like I’m being useful.’

  Priya couldn’t help but smile. She hardly ever had visitors to her flat, and she hadn’t realised how desperately lonely she had been. Nick’s presence was like a tonic, restoring her. Their time apart had changed them. They were kinder to each other. He was more considerate and she was more appreciative. He’d had his hair cut in a style shorter than he usually wore. It accentuated the corners of his brow and cheekbones, and made him appear more mature, as did the slivers of grey that had grown in around his temples and occasionally caught the light. Priya wondered if he really had grown during their months apart, or if it was only an illusion she wanted to see because she missed him.

  ‘You’ve been more help than you can know,’ she said shyly.

  ‘Really?’ His blue eyes settled on hers.

  ‘Really. This whole thing has been really draining.’ She held his gaze. ‘Can I show you something?’

  ‘Of course.’

  She went into her bedroom and returned with some baby clothes.

  ‘I bought him some presents when I first learned about him. I take them out every day and I lay them on my lap, or I fold them, ready for him to wear, and I imagine what it would be like if he was here.’ She closed her hand over the small cotton foot of one of the jumpsuits and imagined the little toes it was designed to keep warm.

  ‘Pri.’ Nick hugged her. She let him hold her for a moment, relishing his sturdy warmth, then she pulled away and plucked a tissue from the box on her coffee table.

  ‘I cry constantly,’ she said, blotting her face. ‘Just the other day I had to leave the office because I was so angry and frustrated that this could happen. I couldn’t sit at my desk a minute longer.’ She felt a sob rise up but she held it back, swiping at her tears. ‘I went to Hyde Park. It was sunny. There was a woman there with a baby in a sling. She was a tiny thing, she couldn’t have been more than a few weeks old and she was sucking on her mother’s finger, dozing, while the woman read.’

  She blinked rapidly.

  ‘They looked so happy, so peaceful, and I thought, imagine someone tearing those two apart. What kind of monster could do such a thing?’

  ‘You’re having doubts?’ Nick asked. ‘You think that’s what you’re doing to the couple in Glebe?’

  ‘No,’ Priya shook her head. Her tears were banished now and her voice hardened with determination. ‘No, that’s the thing. As horrible as I felt, I knew with more certainty than ever that I had to do it. Because the woman with my son isn’t like the mother in the park. She knows her baby doesn’t belong to her and she doesn’t care.

  ‘When I wrote to them saying I wanted to get to know the baby but wouldn’t fight for custody it was because I was thinking about what was best for him. I was worried about taking him from a loving home. But they ignored me. They weren’t worried about what they were denying him. This woman thinks her desire for a child is greater than his right to know his real family and everything that comes with that. His history, and his heritage. And I won’t abandon my son to someone like that, Nick, I won’t do it.’

  ‘Priya.’ He gripped her arms, his face bright, eyes wide. ‘Ever since you told me about your baby I’ve been racking my brain, trying to come up with a way to help you, and the
n it occurred to me.’ He took her hands. ‘Let’s stay married. Not go through with the divorce. It’s not too late.’

  ‘What? Nick—that’s crazy.’

  ‘Why is it crazy?’

  ‘I appreciate your help with this but …’

  ‘Listen, if you want custody of your son, it will help if there are two parents. The court will hear you’ll have someone to support you. That you won’t be doing it alone.’

  Priya licked her lips, suddenly hopeful as she realised this was true. She and Estelle had been building a case that would convince the court Sadavir belonged with her, among his tribe, but they couldn’t argue their way around the fact that if she was granted custody they would be removing him from a two-parent home in Glebe to live in a one-bedroom walk-up with a single mother on a single income.

  Nick continued: ‘We broke up so quickly … I know it was my fault and maybe this is something I can do for you that could make a real difference. And maybe you could learn to trust me again.’

  ‘Nick, I don’t know.’

  ‘Think about it. It makes sense.’

  ‘And what if I do get custody? Are you ready to raise a stranger’s baby with me?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said with certainty. ‘Absolutely. I’ve put a lot of thought into this. This boy is your son and you are my wife. Even though we haven’t seen each other for a little while.’