Three Wishes by Liane Moriarty Read Free Book Online

complained about their children being spoiled by doting grandparents. She didn’t need to worry about Maddie missing out on her discipline quota with Maxine. It was like sending her to boot camp.
    On the coffee table was a typed document Maxine was obviously in the middle of proofreading. Lyn picked it up. It was a speech for a parenting workshop her mother was running called “Triple the Heartache, Triple the Fun!”
    “She’s made a career out of being our mother,” Cat always complained.
    “So what?” Lyn would say.
    “It’s exploitation.”
    “Oh, please.”
    Lyn flicked idly through the speech. Most of it she recognized from previous speeches, articles, and her mother’s book:
     
    Sometimes you may feel like a traveling freak show. Eventually, you’ll get used to the stares and the approaches by strangers. I remember once I counted the number of times I was stopped by well-meaning people wanting to look at my daughters as I walked through Chatswood Shopping Center. It was—
     
    Fifteen, thought Lyn. Yes, we know, fifteen times!
     
    It has been calculated that it takes twenty-eight hours a day to look after triplets. That’s tricky, considering we only have twenty-four at our disposal! (Wait for laugh)
     
    I’m not so sure you’ll get one, Mum. That’s not actually very funny.
     
    Monozygotic twins—meaning one egg—share 100 percent of their genes. Dizygotic twins—meaning two eggs—share only 25 percent of their genes, like any normal sibling.
     
    Gemma would be offended to hear herself described as a “normal” sibling. When they were in second class, Sister Joyce Mary chalked a picture of the three-leafed shamrock on the blackboard to illustrate how “the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost were three persons but one God.” Gemma’s hand shot into the air. “Like triplets! Like us!” The nun winced. “I’m afraid the Kettle girls are not like the Holy Trinity!” “Yes, but I think we are, Sister,” said Gemma kindly.
    When Gemma told the story to their mother, Maxine explained that her analogy might have been reasonable if they’d all come from the one egg. However, as only Cat and Lyn were identical and Gemma was a “single egg” they probably couldn’t becompared to the Holy Trinity, which was a lot of nonsense anyway. “I don’t want to be a single egg!” wailed Gemma. “What if we were Siamese triplets?” asked Cat. “With our heads all glued together?” But their mother had turned up the car radio to drown out Gemma.
     
    Sibling rivalry is obviously a complex issue, which I will be discussing at length. On other hand, you may feel envious of mothers of “singletons” and worry that your babies are actually closer to each other than to you. This is perfectly normal.
     
    That was a new one. Surely their profoundly practical mother had never worried about anything like that?
    “Why did you tell that journalist Gemma was a teacher?” Maxine came back into the room and handed over a glass of water and a tablet.
    “I think she might still do some casual teaching every now and then,” said Lyn, putting the speech aside. “How was I meant to describe her?”
    “Yes, well, that’s certainly a point,” said Maxine. “Odds-body! Jack of all trades! I called her the other day and she casually mentioned she was off to do stilt walking for some promotion at Fox Studios. Gemma, I said, are you actually capable of walking on stilts?”
    “She wasn’t,” said Lyn. “She told me she kept toppling over. But apparently the kids in the audience all thought it was hilarious.”
    “Hilarious indeed. Gemma is a drifter. I read in the paper today about that murderer in Melbourne. They called him a drifter. I thought to myself, that’s how people would describe Gemma! My own daughter! A drifter!”
    “She doesn’t drift far. At least she only drifts around Sydney.”
    “I’ll grant you that.” Maxine, who was sitting on the sofa in front of Lyn, suddenly took a deep breath