The gifted son, p.1
The Gifted Son, page 1
Praise for The Mothers
‘The Mothers beautifully captures the desperation for a baby and the emotional roller-coaster of IVF … In the style of Jodi Picoult, it’s impossible to choose sides. These characters and their heart-wrenching dilemma will follow you off the page and have you asking what would you do? An intriguing, thought-provoking novel.’
Petronella McGovern, bestselling author of The Liars
‘Engagingly and unflinchingly told, Gannon’s new novel, The Mothers, is the story of every parent’s worst nightmare. It is that novel that makes you muse on the most difficult of questions … What makes a mother? And can you ever un-become one? Like all my favourite books, The Mothers is both heartbreaking and heartwarming, and it leaves you with a lot to think about after you turn the final page. I sobbed my way through this wonderful book.’
Sally Hepworth, bestselling author of The Younger Wife
‘For fans of Jodi Picoult, this story captures the emotional rollercoaster of IVF, and the desperation of couples trying to have a baby.’
Family Circle
‘Talk about a page-turner! We dare you to try putting this gripping family drama down. The ending is both heartbreaking and heartwarming.’
NW Magazine
‘Poignant and provocative … [The Mothers] is an emotional exploration of themes such as infertility, marriage, family and motherhood. With empathy and respect, the author skilfully explores sides of the situation.’
Book’d Out
‘The Mothers is an attentive novel, that accurately captures the sense of longing and desperation experienced in the quest to become a mother. It is agonising, penetrating and informative, appealing to your heart at all times. Read this one if you value high quality and relevant contemporary fiction. The Mothers is definitely an early contender for book of the year for me.’
Mrs B’s Book Reviews
‘The Mothers is a gripping read, perfect for book clubs.’
Theresa Smith Writes
‘The Mothers is a fast-paced novel that leaves your hand glued to the book, literally speed reading. Gannon’s use of in-depth detail brings the lives of her characters into sharp focus and her personal style of prose is tinged with journalistic touches throughout.’
Blank Gold Coast
First published in 2023
Copyright © Genevieve Gannon 2023
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.
Allen & Unwin
Cammeraygal Country
83 Alexander Street
Crows Nest NSW 2065
Australia
Phone:(61 2) 8425 0100
Email:info@allenandunwin.com
Web:www.allenandunwin.com
Allen & Unwin acknowledges the Traditional Owners of the Country on which we live and work. We pay our respects to all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Elders, past and present.
ISBN 978 1 76106 776 1
eISBN 978 1 76118 590 8
Set by Midland Typesetters, Australia
Cover design: Nada Backovic
Cover photograph: Getty Images
For Matt
Contents
Chapter 1 Lillian
Chapter 2 Jamie
Chapter 3 Lillian
Chapter 4 Jamie
Chapter 5 John
Chapter 6 Jamie
Chapter 7 Kate
Chapter 8 Jamie
Chapter 9 Jez
Chapter 10 Jamie
Chapter 11 Lillian
Chapter 12 John
Chapter 13 Lillian
Chapter 14 Jamie
Chapter 15 John
Chapter 16 Jez
Chapter 17 Kate
Chapter 18 Jamie
Chapter 19 Lillian
Chapter 20 Jez
Chapter 21 Jamie
Chapter 22 Lillian
Chapter 23 John
Chapter 24 Jez
Chapter 25 Jamie
Chapter 26 John
Chapter 27 Kate
Chapter 28 Jamie
Chapter 29 Kate
Chapter 30 Jez
Chapter 31 Jamie
Chapter 32 John
Chapter 33 Lillian
Chapter 34 Jamie
Chapter 35 Jez
Chapter 36 Jamie
Chapter 37 Jez
Chapter 38 Jamie
Chapter 39 Jez
Chapter 40 Lillian
Chapter 41 Jez
Chapter 42 Jamie
Chapter 43 Lillian
Chapter 44 Jamie
Chapter 45 Jez
Chapter 46 Jamie
Epilogue
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THIS AUTHOR
Chapter 1
Lillian
Lillian Hogarth searched for almost half an hour before she found the old-fashioned brass key in the back corner of her sock drawer, between the plaster handprint her son Jamie had made in Year 1 and the clear plastic box containing her long-abandoned rosary beads. She picked the key up by the loop of green velvet ribbon she had threaded through its eye so it wouldn’t get lost. ‘I hid you too well,’ she said as she returned with it to the dining room.
She’d had to start locking the Tudor-style sideboard when her daughter, Kate, had turned fifteen and hit the inevitable phase of rebellion which, Lillian thought ruefully, was now in its sixteenth year. It had stayed locked because by the time Kate moved out of home, Jamie was old enough to go looking for alcohol to sneak into his backpack on a Friday night. Though Lillian had never really worried about him getting into the cognac and whisky.
As she knelt in front of the dark wooden doors, Lillian’s chest tightened, and she had a fleeting sensation of not being able to get enough air into her lungs. She hesitated, key in hand, wishing she could somehow freeze time and enjoy life as it was a little longer. She had been counting down to this day all year, and while she was relieved they had made it to the milestone unscathed, she feared what was coming next.
To fend off her negative thoughts, she lay her hand against the coarse grain of the antique. Touch wood. Set in the old oak was a brass keyhole embellished with a vine pattern that had inspired Jamie, at age five, to christen it the Narnia door. He’d just seen The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe and had become obsessed with finding a portal to the magical world in his own home. Lillian would hold his warm little hand that was as soft as the Play-Doh he so loved, as they went from room to room opening every cupboard in the house to inspect it for fauns and ice queens.
They’d been performing this routine for a week when Jamie, looking across the breakfast table at the sideboard, spotted something he’d missed. His bright, analytical eyes locked on the keyhole ringed by leaves, and his face lit up with the promise of magic. He hopped off his chair and raced over to check inside, pausing to look up at his mother, and make sure she was watching.
‘You don’t think it’s too small?’ she asked.
‘Maybe it’s just for little people,’ he said, pulling on the brass handle.
The door’s aged hinges didn’t give straight away, and he had to tug it with two hands to get it open. When he saw that it contained only whisky and peach schnapps, Jamie was discouraged but not defeated, and stuck his head into the cabinet and quietly called, ‘Hello?’
Lillian smiled at the memory. Today, all she wanted from behind the Narnia door was the bottle of champagne she had purchased nearly thirteen years ago, after she’d dropped Jamie off for his first day of school. It had been a tough morning and she had been unprepared for how hard it would be to let him go. Kate’s first day hadn’t been difficult at all. Even as a five-year-old, Kate had a self-sufficient toughness about her that made Lillian feel like her daughter could get along quite happily on her own.
But Jamie had always needed her and surrendering him to the spiked iron gates of St Nick’s had stirred up all the past terror that had churned inside her during the endless days and nights she’d spent by his cot in the bleakest, most desperate place on earth—the paediatric cancer wing. Lillian had watched the other students in their identical blazers and crested caps saying goodbye to their mothers and fathers and hoped they’d all be kind to her son.
‘Be good for your teacher,’ she’d said, and hugged him until the softly spoken Ms Giordano bent down next to her and gently said, ‘Hello, Jamie. Do you like building things with blocks?’
Jamie had nodded vigorously and followed the woman with the curly dark hair and silver ballet flats through the school gates as Lillian watched and waved, trying to suppress the emotions bubbling up inside of her. Once he was gone, she hurried back to her car, managing to slam the door shut just before she burst into tears. She sat there crying until a woman in a dress the colour of daffodils knocked on the window and mouthed, ‘Are you alright?’
Mortified, Lillian nodded and wound down her window.
‘Yes, I’m fine. God, you must think I’m an idiot.’ She pressed the pads of her fingers into her eyelids.
The woman smiled knowingl
‘Thank you. I don’t usually cry like this.’ Lillian wiped her eyes and blew her nose.
‘It can be scary to let go. My son’s quite shy. I worry he’ll be easily led. His name is Jeremy, but we call him Jez.’
Lillian nodded. ‘Jamie was very sick when he was little. He’s alright now, but there was a time when we weren’t sure he’d make it. And then out of the blue …’ Tears started to leak from her eyes again, but she had control of them now. ‘It was a miracle,’ she said, dabbing at her puffy eyes. ‘It’s just hit me. I can’t protect him in there. I know it’s a good thing that he’s able to leave me, but it’s an adjustment. These are happy tears, really.’
‘I can’t imagine what you’ve been through,’ Caroline said. ‘I hope you do something special for yourself today.’
Lillian exhaled, ridding herself of the last of her sadness. ‘Yes,’ she said, smiling. ‘Thank you.’
She drove home warming to the idea of marking Jamie’s first day of school with a celebration. The Hatton Road cellars came into view, so she parked the car and went in. She took a bottle of Veuve off the shelf and was just about to pay for it when her eyes landed on a bottle of Dom Pérignon. The hand-drawn grapevines of its label conjured up thoughts of provincial vineyards and blue summer skies. She decided that, after everything her family had endured, they deserved a bottle of something extra special.
Soon she was back at the house, channelling her apprehension into preparing a celebratory meal. She baked Jamie’s favourite chocolate cake and made a niçoise salad, letting each task soothe and calm her. She was thinking she would even let Kate have a glass of champagne. Kate had just started her final year of school, also at St Nick’s, which was a co-ed K–12, and she had suffered as much as anybody when Jamie’s diagnosis blew up their lives. Lillian was marinating a chicken, her hands glistening with lemon juice and olive oil, when the landline rang. She glanced up at the caller ID to see ‘St Nick’s’. Her tranquillity shattered, she snatched the receiver off the wall.
‘Hello! Ms Avery? Is it Jamie? Is everything alright?’
‘Hello, Mrs Hogarth. Sorry to give you a scare. Yes, Jamie’s fine.’
The receptionist explained that she was ringing about Kate, who had forged a note from her father to say she had an orthodontist’s appointment, only for the Year 12 coordinator to discover she was among a group of students who had skipped school to attend the climate rally in Hyde Park.
‘The news is saying the protest is getting out of hand.’
‘Oh, thank God,’ Lillian said. ‘I mean, I’ll be there right away.’
Jamie was due to finish his first day at two o’clock, so Lillian called John and asked him to fetch their son. Then she drove to the city in search of their daughter. She realised this was a futile plan when she saw the hordes of protesters milling around. There were city workers carrying placards, grandparents with slogans on their T-shirts and toddlers on their shoulders, and undergraduates dressed up as koalas. The crowd seemed orderly and invigorated by the strong turnout. She wasn’t worried. People were beginning to disperse, and Kate would almost certainly be sitting in a booth with her friends somewhere eating hot chips. Still, Lillian decided she’d park the car and check some of the places she knew Kate liked, when Ms Avery called again to say the students had turned up at the school. It was now after three, so Lillian changed course for St Nick’s.
‘What were you thinking?’ she asked when she was alone with her daughter in the car.
‘Like you would have even noticed if something had happened to me,’ Kate replied tartly.
Lillian could see traces of green face paint behind her daughter’s ear and around her hairline. She held back her retort, in part because she was proud of Kate’s activism, and in part because she feared anything she said would be misinterpreted. These days it was like she and Kate spoke different dialects of English, and each interpreted what the other said as rude and combative. She would raise it later when Kate wasn’t so worked up.
When they got home Jamie was at the dining room table, eating sugary cereal next to his father, who was working on his laptop. The uncooked chicken was still sitting in its pot on the bench.
‘I hear you skipped school to save the world Katey-Kate?’ John teased.
‘Trigonometry’s no use to me on a dead planet,’ she replied, grabbing a mandarin from the fruit bowl then heading for her room.
Turning to her son, Lillian kissed the top of his head and asked, ‘How was your first day of school?’
‘I cut my finger!’ Jamie said, presenting a digit wrapped in a Mickey Mouse bandaid. Lillian kissed that too and tried to stop the images of classroom scissors and Stanley knives from penetrating her thoughts.
‘Why don’t you show me how you can change out of your uniform all by yourself,’ she said. After Jamie scurried off to fulfil this challenge she dropped the spoiled chicken, whole, into the rubbish bin. ‘I’d wanted tonight to be special,’ she said to John. ‘I got so upset letting him go, after everything.’
John stood and kissed his wife, then picked up the bottle of Dom, which had been left on the bench.
‘We can drink it another time,’ he said, appraising the label. ‘It will age nicely. Jamie can’t have this anyway, so why don’t we save it? Instead of drinking it on his first day of school, we could drink it on his last day. Together.’
‘That could be nice,’ Lillian said, only half convinced.
John put the French champagne into the sideboard and they ordered pizzas from the place with the real woodfire oven and a bottle of Fanta. After the kids had gone to bed, Lillian said, ‘When I dropped him at the gate I couldn’t stop thinking, what if something happens to him? I know he’s healthy now, but he still seems so fragile. I just want to wrap him in cotton wool.’
‘You’ll get used to it,’ John said, snaking his arms around his wife’s waist. ‘One day down, three thousand–odd to go.’
‘How will I survive it?’ Lillian sighed.
But she had, and more importantly so had Jamie. Thirteen years had passed and there had been mercifully few emergencies. No broken bones, and only one rugby-field collision that had resulted in a possible concussion. By then, Lillian had come to accept that her teenage son was not the vulnerable baby she’d once fretted over. He would be eighteen in nine days and, while that brought fresh concerns, she reminded herself that the relapse she’d worried about had never come. Nobody had picked on him for being small and he’d grown into a healthy and popular young man. Her fears had been unfounded, and that was another reason to celebrate. Today was his last official day of school, and they were going to eat a family meal together and finally drink the Dom Pérignon she’d bought with so much hope and optimism all those years ago.
Lillian slipped the key into the Narnia door’s lock and turned it until she heard it click.
They had made it.
Chapter 2
Jamie
Jamie Hogarth had a lot to look forward to; he just had to get through the day. He kept his head down as he ran across the hot asphalt, trying to make himself a small target. There were schoolyard snipers everywhere, crouched in the bushes with their ties wrapped around their heads and hunched over the drinking fountains, furiously refilling pump-action Super Soakers. He could hear the squeals of girls who were under assault from water bombs on the oval. Their cries of horror and delight gave the air a crackle of excitement. The chorus of that ancient school-leaver’s anthem, ‘School’s Out’, thumped through the PA system, which had been hijacked by the graduating class.
Rivals from other schools were circling the campus in their cars like great whites, cartons of eggs at the ready. Jamie checked to make sure he hadn’t been seen, then ducked into the main building and took a seat outside the principal’s office. As the door swung shut behind him it silenced the chaos outside. The chilled air offered relief from the harsh sun, but not the nervous energy fizzing in his stomach.
‘He’ll be with you in a moment, Jamie,’ the receptionist said.
‘Thanks Ms Avery.’
Jamie tugged at his tie. He was still tightly buttoned into the blazer he had been rapidly outgrowing all year. It sealed in sweat like a straightjacket but he just had to bear it another thirty minutes and then he could take it off for good. Then he could wave it over his head and fling it up onto the sports shed roof if he wanted. Or not. Secondhand blazers sold for two hundred dollars, which could go towards the bond on the house he and Jez planned on renting together. Jamie’s carefree summer was closer than it had ever been, but the universe kept throwing up obstacles. That morning the principal had laid his hand heavily on his shoulder and said, ‘Can you come to my office after assembly?’
