'Charlie, your sandwiches are in the fridge!' Jean called from somewhere in the depths of the house.
'Thanks, er...aren't you and the doc eating tonight?' He'd noticed the lack of cooking, and, while he was on a late shift, he expected her to be making a meal for Lucien and herself.
'I'm going to the cinema, there's a note for Lucien.' She peered round the hatch.
'Oh, what's on?' Charlie knew Jean occasionally went to the pictures, but had admitted it wasn't much fun on her own. Still, she went anyway.
'It's a Hitchcock, 'Vertigo.' I missed it when it came round last time.'
'Well, I'm about to go, do you want a lift?'
'That's kind of you, Charlie, if you don't mind?' Jean was always surprised when Charlie did these little acts of kindness for her. She had mentioned to Lucien she would probably be going, hinting it would be nice if they went together, for a change, after all everyone knew they were engaged. But, true to form, he was nowhere to be found when she was ready to go. He was probably engrossed in solving the latest murder mystery in Ballarat!
'I had hoped the doctor would be around, but I expect he's busy.' She smiled as she got into the car.
'...or forgot.' Charlie felt comfortable enough now to pass the odd remark like that, without getting a clip round the ear.
'Charlie...' Jean looked at him, her 'now then young man, behave', look.
'Sorry.' He grinned. 'What time does it end?'
'Um, about nine-thirty. Why?'
'I'll suggest the doc picks you up. Don't want you wandering the streets of Ballarat on your own at night.' He pulled up outside the cinema.
'I'll be fine, it's not as if I haven't done it before, several times. Thanks for the lift.' He watched her go slowly up the steps to the front of the building. She looked lonely.
'Lucien,' Charlie thought, 'you're an idiot.'
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The cinema wasn't particularly busy and she had her pick of seats. She preferred to sit at the back, the view was better, about three rows in front of the double, 'courting' seats, she had sat in with Christopher all those years ago. She had smiled at the memory, although nothing untoward had ever happened. Christopher reckoned that if he had paid for anything he should get his money's worth, and that included the films they went to see. So, even though Jean used to encourage him, there was very little kissing and cuddling went on during the film. She wondered if, one day, she could get Lucien on those seats. She was fairly sure they would not see much of the film, he didn't need much encouragement. She smiled to herself at both thoughts; at how different her two men were.
She declined the sweets from the usherette, and she didn't smoke, so she didn't need the cigarettes on offer. She settled into her seat, ready for her solitary evening out.
The lights had gone down and the film had started. As usual there was the odd late comer, which she only found mildly distracting, so she wasn't paying attention when a voice spoke,
'Is this seat taken?'
She looked round and smiled,
'Lucien, I didn't think...'
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Half an hour earlier:
'Doc!' Charlie called as he entered the station.
Lucien appeared at the door to the office, 'Yes, Charlie.' He answered cheerily.
Charlie pulled him aside, where no one would hear him.
'Jean's gone to the pictures, alone!' He emphasised the 'alone'.
'Er, ok,' Lucien was being his usual thick self, again, Charlie rolled his eyes.
'Alone, doc. In the dark, in the cinema.' Did he have to spell it out. Charlie had made use of the double seats both with Mattie before she left for London, and Rose. In fact he and Rose often went to the pictures, but he couldn't say what the films were they had 'seen'. It was just as well Rose wasn't writing film reviews!
'Ah! Yes, right, got it!' Lucien smiled, 'well I'd better be off then.' He straightened his waistcoat and took his hat and coat of the nearby stand and shouted a cheery 'goodnight', to all and sundry.
And so there he was, asking this pretty lady if he could sit next to her.
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The arm of the seat got in the way, it hindered his taking her hand, so it was going to be in the way if he wanted to put his arm round her shoulders, at the very least. He looked over his shoulder, the very back row seemed empty, perhaps they should move. They were on the end of the row,
'Erm...this arm is in the way. Why don't we move to the back?' He whispered, barely audible, even to her. She raised her eyebrows and smiled, she hoped shyly. She didn't want him to think she had the same thought.
'Oh alright.' She tried to sound exasperated, but it didn't sound like that, even to her. Lucien grinned, it might not be a bad evening after all. He was choosy about his viewing in cinemas and seldom went. This would be the first time he had set foot inside the place since the unfortunate incident with Richard Taylor. But he put that to the back of his mind. Richard hadn't had the opportunity to sit on the double seats in the cinema with his Jean.
They weren't seen as they moved quietly to the back row and settled themselves comfortably to watch the film. Lucien slipped his arm round her shoulder and she nestled against his chest; 'Much better,' She thought. Lucien noticed she was wearing perfume, a light floral fragrance, not too sweet, completely her. He rested his cheek against the top of her head and breathed in deeply, savouring the scent that was his alone to sample. He kissed her temple, she smiled, she wasn't going to see much of this film, she thought, and hoped. His other hand took hers and raised it to his lips, softly kissing the back and then each finger in turn. He could almost feel her smile, she certainly shifted closer, if that were possible. He put his hand under her chin and tipped her face up to his, shifting slightly to allow the movement, but still holding her close. He bent down and kissed her, slowly and deliberately, sliding his hand down to encircle her waist and pulling her closer, she mirrored his move as she slid her hand round him and under his jacket, until they were both lost in their own world. They didn't know how long they were there, but their kiss was broken by the rest of the audience groaning and the sound of broken film clicking through the projector. They broke apart, hoping they hadn't been spotted but, grinning like teenagers, they felt caught, Jean was slightly flushed.
The cinema manager came through, 'Sorry folks,' he apologised, 'Looks like we have a problem. If you head to the desk we'll reimburse you.'
There was a lot of grumbling as the people picked up their coats and bags and headed to collect their refunds. Jean and Lucien held back, they were in no hurry and were quite content to let the rest go first.
'So what now, dearest?' He whispered in her ear.
'Let's just get out of here first, then we can decide.' She slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. There was a crush at the desk, though most were good natured about it. This new manager was doing the right thing, unlike the one who had been sacked for trying to fleece the owners by falsifying the viewing figures and skimming profits off the top of the takings.
'Give me your stubs, I'll get your money back.' Lucien held out his hand, 'it's a bit of a squash there.'
'Thank you.' She handed him the small scraps and stood out of the way of the crowd. He was soon back by her side, handing her the price of her ticket. She tucked her hand through his again and they strolled out into the night.
'Lucien, I don't suppose you went home to eat, did you?' She suddenly realised that he wouldn't have had time to go home and eat the meal she had left for him and get to the cinema for the beginning of the film.
'No, but it's fine. Have you eaten?' He thought he should probably take her to dinner.
'I had a sandwich before I came out.' She had planned to have a biscuit or piece of toast when she got home, that would be all she would need, but if Lucien hadn't eaten he would need something. She notices they were heading in the direction of town, the easiest and shortest route home, on foot. It was a lovely clear night, not cold, ideal for a stroll with one's beau. The smell of the chip shop was faint but enticing.
'Usually I would like to wine and dine my lady, but, how about a portion of chips and the lake?' Lucien felt a little carefree in that formal dining was not for tonight. Tonight was for being in love and young at heart.
'Lucien,' She smiled, it actually sounded rather nice. On their own by the lake under the stars, no one to stare or whisper, 'that sounds like a rather nice idea.'
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They wandered hand in hand down to Lake Wendouree and a bench to sit on. Lucien had had the presence of mind to purchase a bottle of lemonade along with the chips and they sat there sharing the food and drink and looking out over the water. Lucien offered Jean his handkerchief to wipe her fingers of the grease from the chips and he put the paper in a nearby litter bin. They continued to sit there, content in each other's company. Jean leant her head on his shoulder and looked at his strong profile. Sometimes he seemed lost as he stared ahead, there would always be times when he drifted, mentally, but she knew he was hers from now on. He put his arm round her shoulders, a gesture that was becoming more familiar as time passed. Looking down at her sweet face, eyes sparkling in the moonlight he smiled, then leant over to kiss her. He loved kissing her, it was like nectar to his soul, he loved the taste of her, the warmth of her body against his, she was his whole life.
'Come on, it's time I got you home.' Lucien stood and held out his hand. He was sorry to break the mood, but the temperature was beginning to drop and he didn't want her to catch a chill. She accepted the hand and tightened her grip, she didn't want to let go, ever; but certainly not for tonight. He took the hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm and they walked home, slowly. They didn't speak, they didn't need to, just being together was conversation enough.
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Lucien dug in his pocket for the door key and ushered her into the hall. It was warmer in the house, Jean hadn't realised how much cooler it was outside, and the heat hit her. Lucien helped her out of her coat and hung it with his on the hook. She turned to him and linked her hands behind his head, leaning back just enough to look into his eyes.
'I love you, Lucien Radcliffe Blake.' She whispered.
'I love you, too, Jean,' He paused, she had just used his full name, but he didn't know if she had a middle name. 'Do you have a middle name?'
She tilted her head to one side, surprised at the question, but she answered anyway,
'Yes, it's Margaret.' She smiled at the memory of her grandmother who she had been named after.
'I love you too, ' he started again, 'Jean Margaret Beazley.' And he bent down and pulled her into an embrace so deep she felt as if she was cocooned in a soft, warm, comforting blanket. She didn't want him to let go and slipped her arms down and round his torso holding tight, almost desperate in her need for his strength.
Lucien felt her hold him, there was more to her response than he was used to. Usually she would accept his kisses and caresses but not more, separate beds on separate floors. Catholic guilt fighting with desire; almost desperate desire. He didn't know how far she would be prepared to go, but even if it was just kisses with further touching and no more than that, he would be happy. He slid his arm down her back and bent down to sweep her off her feet. She giggled, nervously, shyly. He carried her slight form through the house, stopping at the foot of the stairs leading to her room but she shook her head, he proceeded to the living room, again she shook her head, he arrived at his bedroom door, he couldn't think where else she would want to be set down. She tipped her face to look into his eyes, he looked almost afraid, he needed her reassurance that everything was ok, and she was not going to push him away, ever.
He gently placed her on his bed, ensuring her head was safe, as if she was a patient. She pushed off her shoes and pulled him down to her, not having relinquished her hold on him.
'Jean,' he breathed.
She put her finger to her lips, 'Shh.' She didn't care if they were intimate, made love, or not, she just wanted to be with him, in his bed, in his arms. If things progressed, well, so be it; she loved him, she wanted him and she was determined that they would not be ashamed of that love. Whatever the church and Ballarat had to say, she didn't care anymore.
Lucien had wanted to take Jean to bed ever since he had realised she was more than just his housekeeper, and these were thoughts he was ashamed of, feeling that they were the base thoughts of a man for, well, as his army colleagues had said, anything with a pulse. He had spent many nights deriding himself for these thoughts, he knew he could not take Jean to bed under those ideas. It took time for Lucien to come to terms with the death of his wife, Mei Lin, and to understand that his feelings for Jean were not wrong, just a little previous!
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Lucien awoke to the weight of something across his chest. Sleep had been deep and trouble free, no nightmares, disturbing dreams, just pure, sweet sleep. He moved his head and saw a vision. Dark curls adorned the pillow next to him, soft skin rested against his side, rising and falling slowly and rhythmically, entrancing. The weight was her arm, carelessly flung over his chest in rest. The soft skin was her naked body, and he was glad, more than glad, spellbound by the memory of their night together, the night she had finally given herself to him and now he knew that Jean Margaret Beazley was never going to leave him.
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From a small, sweet scene in 'La La Land', I slipped into Ballarat Land. Enjoy. Reviews and comments welcome.