She stood at the end of the drive, this could be the worst thing she could do, or the best. She wouldn't know unless she confronted it.
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Six months ago she couldn't have been happier, she was marrying the nicest, kindest man she had ever know, Lucien apart, but Tom was very close. Not that she'd ever harboured ideas about marrying the doctor, but he was the benchmark. Tom was a policeman, what was it about the uniform? She'd had a slight crush on Charlie back in Ballarat, but it had never come to anything, otherwise she'd never have left. She had insisted she keep working after the wedding until such time as she couldn't, or it was inconvenient and he had eventually agreed. The additional income would come in handy, she reasoned. Then, three months after they married she told him, over romantic meal, she was expecting. She was so happy, but...
Tom was horrified.
'What do you mean?, pregnant!' He shouted. 'We can't afford children!'
'We'll manage.' She was devastated at his reaction, she expected him to be over the moon, but this was awful. She wanted children eventually , this was a bit sooner than anticipated, but she was happy.
Tom stood up from the table and stormed out of the room. It was only a small cottage but there was room for a family of three for now. She followed him,
'What's wrong?' she touched his arm.
He turned round so quick she didn't see it coming, he slapped her so hard she fell to the floor as he marched out of their house and out of her life.
It was a month before they found him, lying in a ditch under his car about ten miles from home. He'd apparently driven at speed and careered off the road; a lonely country road miles from anywhere. They could only identify him by the clothes he was wearing and the car he was driving. When the police came to tell his wife she just offered them tea, a habit from years ago. She knew that night, a month ago, he'd not be back, she was a widow, three months pregnant, and alone.
Tom had no life insurance and his police pension didn't amount to much but it would pay her passage home, if she was prudent. The cottage was rented and when the current lease ended she left, moving to a seedy boarding house in a back street of Plymouth. She could afford a ticket home, just, but as she wasn't showing yet she might just be able to work part of her passage. Shipping lines quite often needed a qualified nurse to look after their passengers, so she'd look for a position there. She was lucky, one ship was going to Sydney and already had a nurse on board but would reduce her ticket price if she was willing to help out. She knew by this time she could not hide the pregnancy, but her money was gone and she was about to be thrown out of her lodgings so she accepted. Her luggage didn't amount to much, enough clothes to see her through the voyage, she had enough knowledge of sewing to allow her to make her uniform last through a month's waist expansion and her off duty clothes; well, if she wore a cardigan nobody would see she hadn't fastened the back of some of her dresses and skirts. She'd stay in her cabin as often as possible.
The three week passage was unremarkable, no problems with the passengers, the odd case of sea-sickness and a few children's injuries when they got carried away running around, but nothing untoward, for which she was grateful. The day they docked in Sydney was the biggest relief for her, home at last.
She stood on the dock, breathing the Australian air, was it so different from England? Probably not, but all the same it seemed welcoming. She'd written to her parents and told them when she would be arriving but there was no sign of the family chauffeur or her father with the car. She went to the office to see if there was a note. There was, but not the note she expected to read.
'To Miss M O'Brien, (It should have read Mrs M Singleton)
Sorry, Mattie, your mess, you sort it.
Dad'
She slumped down into a nearby seat,
'You ok miss?' the clerk asked.
'Er, yes, it's just not what I expected.' she tried to smile as she looked down at her hands; two rings, a wedding ring and a simple engagement ring, that was all she had left.
She picked up her suitcase and, head held high she walked out into the streets of Sydney. It was not a city she was familiar with but the first thing she needed to know was how much it would cost to get to Ballarat.
She went to the bus station, and inquired about the time and cost to Melbourne. Melbourne would be her first stop, at least 8 hours away by road, then to Ballarat; but she had to admit, she might not be welcome there. However, it was the only place she could think of that held any hope for her.
The bus journey was less expensive than the train, so it was her only option. Now to raise the fare. She walked the streets of Sydney looking for a jeweller who would give her a good price on the only thing she had left, her rings.
The last jeweller she came to looked at her as she took the rings off her finger. He saw a sad, hurt girl. He had a daughter and if she was in the same position he saw this girl in, he hoped someone would help her. He offered her more that the rings were worth, enough for a trip to Melbourne by coach and a bus journey to Ballarat, and perhaps a little towards a cup of tea and a sandwich. She saw his pity, and it hurt, but she couldn't afford to turn him down. The other jewellers hadn't even offered her the cost of the rings.
She purchased a ticket to Ballarat, via Melbourne, and used the rest to buy some food to keep her going 'til she got to her destination.
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'Lucien,' Jean snuggled up close to her fiancé, 'I haven't heard from Mattie for ages, do you suppose she's ok?'
'Oh, she'll be alright,' he smiled at her concern,' newlywed, probably busy.' He arched an eyebrow, hoping he'd be in the same situation soon.
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The bus journeys were tedious. She slept as much as she could, or at least pretended to, that way not too many passengers would try to engage her in conversation. She stretched her remaining money, eating the least she could without harming herself or her unborn child. Plenty of liquid at least.
The wait at the bus station in Melbourne for the next bus to Ballarat was the hardest, it gave her the time to think on the path she was taking. When the bus drew in she stood there, should she continue or cut her losses, then she remembered Jean, going to Adelaide. She needed to take the chance that she would be welcome at the place she had once called home. Deep breath, here goes. Once on the bus she was committed, Ballarat was waiting.
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She'd forgotten how long the walk was from the bus station to Lucien's. But she was clean out of change and couldn't afford a taxi, so that was it, she had to walk.
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So here she was, all she had to do was knock...
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'I'll get it,' Jean called down the hall, the knock at the door had interrupted her just as she was putting the finishing touches to the evening meal .
She opened the door to see a young woman dressed in conservative black, her head bowed. She was obviously pregnant, about five months Jean thought.
'Yes,' she greeted the woman, 'can I help you?'
The head lifted, 'Hello, Jean, I...' Mattie didn't know what to say, so she just burst into tears.
Warm, loving arms encircled her, guiding her into the hall.
'Jean?' Lucien's voice came from the interior of the house, he walked through and saw Jean with her arms round a figure whose shoulders were heaving with sobs.
Jean looked up at him and mouthed 'Mattie.'
They both guided Mattie into the lounge and held her until she could speak coherently. She told them the whole sorry story, interspersed with hiccups and sniffs, clinging on to the only people she felt could help her.
Lucien took her from Jean, as she went to make some tea. He could see she needed a full check up, she seemed dehydrated and possibly under-nourished, but most of all she needed to know she was safe and secure.
As luck would have it Charlie was on a late shift so Mattie didn't have to face him. Jean encouraged her to eat some of the dinner she had prepared and then helped her to wash and change before she tucked her into her bed in her room, the room that Jean had always kept for her surrogate daughter, just in case she came back.
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'I can't believe Martin would do that,' Jean said, as they curled up on the sofa later, 'It's not as if she wasn't married. It's not her fault she's in this state.'
Lucien put his arm round her, 'Well if it was Li, I'd be there for her.' he agreed. 'So, what do we do?'
'She came to us because she hoped we'd help, and we will,' Jean looked at him, 'she'll stay here as long as she needs to, if that means for ever then, so be it. Let's see what happens, but for now she needs to know she can have her baby and she won't have to give it up to some awful orphanage or unknown adoptive couple.'
Lucien kissed her full on the lips, 'That's why I love you, you always know what's the right thing to do.'
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