Some children grow up quickly. Some children are regarded as 'precocious', this little girl was bright and observant. She observed her parents bickering, and, as an only child, she had no one to discuss this with. She spent as much time in the library as she could, or in her bedroom, doing her 'homework', and as little time as possible with those that had brought her into the world and then done as much, or as little, as they needed, to see she was fed, clean and clothed.

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It was Saturday. Saturday was her time to go to the library after doing some chores at home. At only seven years old and small for her age she was well known around her part of Adelaide. The librarian, a little bent old gentleman smiled when he saw her come in.

'Good morning, my dear.' he greeted her.

'Shall I dust the desks for you, Mr Stein?' Amelia asked.

'Thank you, my dear.' He smiled. 'I shall come and inspect your work and then, if it satisfies, shall we say sixpence a desk?'

'That would be quite acceptable,' she dropped a little curtsey, and went to the reading room. There were twelve desks and Amelia had to kneel on a chair to dust them properly, but if she got it just so she knew, because she could add up, that meant six shillings for her money box.

She was proud of her savings. Grandma and granddad sent her money for her birthday and a gift at Christmas. The gifts were books, and pretty clothes, which she treasured. Mummy and daddy gave her something useful, such as a pen, a nice one, because her teachers said she had lovely handwriting. She used it to write to grandma and granddad. Daddy had wanted to put the money in the bank, but grandma always said she was to buy something special for herself, and that day was fast approaching, when she would buy something very, very special.

Sunday: Mummy and Daddy always stayed in bed late. Amelia went to mass on her own, as usual. but today she had something else to carry.

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The lunch dishes had been washed and dried and put away. Jean, Lucien and Genevieve had been for their walk by Wendouree and returned. Lucien was making a pot of tea, when there was a knock at the door.

'I'll get it!' Jean called on her way through to the kitchen.

She opened the door and stood staring at the small figure in front of her.

'Hello, grandma.' Amelia smiled, tiredly, 'you did say I could come any time.'

'Amelia,' Jean gasped, 'my dear child.' She pulled her into a hug and felt the child relax, almost slump against her. Jean looked around, there was no sign of her son or his wife so...

'Jean!?' Lucien called through, the silence was unnerving. He went to the door and stopped in his tracks,

'Bloody hell,' he gasped, 'Amelia.' Pulling himself together he went to them, picking up Amelia's suitcase and bringing Jean and the child into the house.

'How..?' Jean sat Amelia on her knee and Genevieve, who had come to see what was going on, joined her.

'Mummy?' Genevieve barely remembered Amelia, technically her step niece, she had seen her so rarely.

'It's Amelia, sweetie,' Jean kissed her daughter, 'she's come for a visit.'

'Ok.' Genevieve was happy about that, being an only child herself, no matter how hard Jean and Lucien had tried! And still did!

'Genevieve,' Lucien took his daughter's hand, 'why don't you and I go and get a room ready for Amelia?'

'Well, daddy,' the little girl said, as she slipped off her mother's knee, 'it will have to be Uncle Charlie's old room, then she can come and play with me.'

'What a lovely idea,' Jean smiled, 'don't you think so, Amelia?'

'Yes, thank you, Genevieve.' Amelia tried to smile but she was so dreadfully tired and hungry. Her suitcase was almost as big as her, she had found it under the spare bed in her room, and she had filled it. 'Grandma, can I have a biscuit, please?'

'Have you had any lunch today?' Jean looked at her, concerned.

'No,' Amelia admitted, 'I had a sandwich on the train.'

'Right,' Jean stood up, still holding the child in her arms, 'we were just going to have some sandwiches, cake and biscuits. I'll do something more for you.'

Amelia leant her head against Jean's shoulder and sighed.

Sitting on a chair at the table, Amelia watched her grandmother scramble some eggs and fry some bacon for her, with a tomato and some potatoes left over from lunch.

Jean set the plate down in front of her and commanded her to eat. Amelia didn't need telling twice. On the few occasions she had come to Ballarat Amelia had been fed well and she had remembered this. The plate was cleaned and a glass of orange juice followed it down. All the while Jean watched her and wondered. She had arrived alone, no phone call to forewarn them, so had a seven year old managed to get herself all the way to Ballarat from Adelaide, on the train, by herself; and if so; how?

'Thank you, grandma,' Amelia smiled, beginning to look more like herself, 'that was lovely.'

Jean put the plate in the sink and sat down, the dishes could wait.

'Amelia,' She took the tiny hand in hers, 'do mummy and daddy know you're here?'

'No.' Amelia was suddenly close to tears.

'I'm going to ring them, to let them know you're safe, then we'll talk.' Jean kissed her and went to make the phone call.

Amelia listened to her grandmother explain that she was alright and she would let her father know what was happening later or tomorrow.

Jean sat down and pulled the child onto her knee.

'Amelia, how did you get here, on your own?'

'You told me to buy something special with my birthday money,' Amelia looked at her, 'I asked a lady at the station to but me a ticket to Ballarat. I can't reach the desk.'

'But why didn't you get daddy or mummy to let me know and see you safe?'

'I didn't want them to know.' Amelia's eyes filled with tears. 'Grandma, they keep shouting at each other, saying nasty things. Daddy says mummy should do things in the house, and I don't like them shouting.'

Jean sighed and her shoulders sagged, 'Oh sweetheart.' She held her that little bit tighter.

'I don't want to go back.' Amelia sniffed, 'I want to stay here, with you and granddad and Genevieve.'

'Right,' Jean was unsure about this. She would happily have Amelia as long as was necessary but surely there would be some welfare involved. 'For now I will tell mummy and daddy you are staying with us. I know it's a term break, so that should be alright with school and we'll sort it out.'

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The girls in bed, Jean told Lucien what Amelia had said. Mattie was out for the evening with her boyfriend so it was easy to talk. Lucien listened and thought.

'So,' he put his arm round her, 'we have an unhappy little girl, who feels unloved and knows where to find that love she needs.'

'Yes,' Jean looked up at him, 'but, Lucien, what do we do? Amelia...'

'...is so desperate she goes to the only people who can protect her.' Lucien kissed her, 'I'm not saying she's abused, but it is a form of abuse, a lack of love, care.'

'Lucien.' she widened her eyes and gasped.

'Jean, she's seven years old,' Lucien urged, 'how many seven year olds would be able to get themselves somewhere safe and loving? That is a desperate act, and one she had to have been planning for some time.'

'True,' Jean agreed, 'so what do we do now?'

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Jean picked up the phone. Amelia and Genevieve were playing hide and seek in the garden, now was a good time to phone her son.

The phone was answered by Ruby, but before Jean could start, the shouting began,

'You kidnapped my daughter!' Jean held the receiver away from her ear.

'Ruby,' Jean tried to get a word in, 'Ruby!' she ended up yelling down the phone. 'Amelia made her own way here!'

'She's seven! She wouldn't know how!' Ruby yelled back. 'The police are on their way.' She slammed the phone down. Jean looked at the receiver, she cleared the line,

'Matthew,' She was relieved when he answered the phone, 'The Adelaide police are on their way, Ruby had accused me of kidnapping my granddaughter.'

At the station, Matthew recognised a plea for help, and Jean was the last person to kidnap a child.

'On my way.' He was calm, 'I'll just get Blake.' The line went dead.

Jean looked into the garden, she could see the girls, then she paced the floor in the kitchen, and then looked into the garden again, then paced, until Matthew and Lucien arrived.

'What happened?' Lucien gathered her into his arms.

'I rang Christopher's' Jean leant into him 'Ruby answered. She accused me of kidnapping Amelia, said she was too young to make her own way.'

'Are you sure she did?' Matthew asked, softly.

'How else?' Jean looked at him.

'Money.' Matthew inquired, 'where did she get the money?'

'I, we send her money for her birthday.' Jean admitted, 'to buy something she really wants.'

'She's only seven, Jean.' Matthew soothed, 'surely she would spend it on sweets or some such.'

'So?' Jean looked at him, 'I know Christopher and Ruby don't approve of her having sweets. But seriously, Matthew, she likes books and I can't keep up with what she reads; I assumed she was buying books, it never occurred to me she would save to buy a ticket to Ballarat.'

'She will have to come in and tell us, and the Adelaide lot, what she did.' Matthew warned.

Jean went to get her but Matthew stopped her.

'No, Jean.' He reasoned with her, 'she mustn't be warned about this, even if your son comes too. What she says must be her own words. Let her play.'

They sat in the kitchen drinking tea and saying nothing. Well Matthew and Lucien did, Jean couldn't sit still, to be accused of kidnapping your own granddaughter...

Lucien took her into the living room and sat her down. He poured her a whisky, but she wouldn't drink it, she didn't want to be seen as a drinker. She got up and paced, she moved ornaments and photographs on the sideboard, adjusted the curtains, until Lucien pulled her close and tight,

'Let go, Jean, let go.' An order to let the tears flow, 'it's alright, it will be alright, I won't let anyone hurt her.' He raised his eyes heavenward, pleading with a deity he didn't believe in to make it alright, for them, for Jean and Amelia.

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Ruby and Christopher must have alerted the police on the Sunday, that Amelia was missing then let them know what they had heard as soon as Jean had rung, for the Adelaide force representatives were there before dinner the following day, without Christopher and Ruby. Lucien answered the door.

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'So, Amelia,' a detective smiled at the dainty little girl, 'how did you get here? It's a very long way.'

Amelia detailed how she had saved her birthday money and gone to the station and asked a kind lady to buy her ticket for her. She admitted she had told an untruth, telling the lady her parents had told her to go to see her grandmother for the term break.

'But how did you know which train to get and when it would leave?'

'When we come to see grandma I ask daddy about the things that tell you about train times.' Amelia stood with her hands behind her back, back straight and feet slightly apart. At ease.

'Oh, I see.' the detective mused, 'so...' he opened a train timetable and laid it on the table, '...can you tell me which train to take to get back to Adelaide before ten o'clock tomorrow?'

Amelia looked at the timetable and traced her finger along the coloured bars.

'This one.'

The detective looked and raised his eyebrows, she was right, the best train,

'But you've missed it.' She announced. One thing daddy had taught her was how to tell the time, army style.

Matthew and Lucien suppressed a smile.

'The next one will get you there for twelve thirty,' Amelia suggested, 'so you will be there for lunch.'

'Thank you.' The detective smiled. 'Your mummy and daddy took this train, so they will be here...'

'...in time for dinner.' Amelia went and stood by her grandmother. 'I want to stay here.' She stated, rather firmly. Jean put her arm round her and the little girl leant into her.

'Detective,' Lucien stood up, 'may I have a word with you, in my study; Lawson would you join us?'

The three men went into the study and shut the door, Jean and Amelia watched them go.

'They won't make me go back, will they, grandma?' Amelia looked worried.

'I don't think so, but it may not be as easy as we would like.' Jean couldn't hide her worry from the child, she was too intelligent for that.

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'Gentlemen,' Lucien indicated they sit, 'my child rearing experience is limited but my dealing with children isn't. As a doctor I've come across those who are phenomenally bright and knowing, those who are of average intelligence and some who are somewhat disadvantaged in that department, so we can't say that Amelia couldn't work out how to get to us by herself. We know, Jean and I, that she is doing very well in school, she is observant and takes in far too much for someone of such tender years. This has been planned, she had to plan it, saving her birthday money and any money she got for dusting in the library; something I checked and I hope you did too, detective.'

'I did.' The detective agreed, 'I went to see Mr Stein, the librarian. He was only too happy to say what a lovely, well mannered little girl she was, so helpful and a real shining light on a Saturday morning.'

'Let me tell you about our relationship with Christopher and Ruby Beazley...'

Lucien told the men about Jean going to Adelaide when Amelia was born, about her struggle to get Ruby sorted, the arguments then and since, even that Christopher had accused his mother of sleeping around when he finally got up the courage to question Genevieve's conception. He also gave them his observations of their relationship with their daughter when they came to stay, admittedly rarely. Jean and Amelia were very close. He told how, when they came to see them after Genevieve was born, how Amelia toddled round the kitchen, following her grandmother and seeming to prefer her company to that of her parents.

'Well,' Matthew suggested, 'don't all children do that with their grandmothers. I know I did.'

'Mostly, I suppose.' Lucien agreed, 'but this is more, and now Amelia has made her way here, and given your ploy to see if she really could read a timetable, it's entirely plausible that she did this completely unaided, as she said.'

'What did she bring?' The detective expected a list of toys, sweets, perhaps her money box...

'Clothes, her money in an envelope; I suspect the box was too bulky; her toothbrush and hairbrush, her favourite books and a photograph we sent her, of her with Jean and Genevieve.' Lucien listed the main things, and looked at the surprised and, frankly, impressed looks on the other two faces.

'No toys or sweets?'

'Well, her teddy bear,' Lucien admitted, 'we gave her that for her first Christmas, but I think that's about it. The fact is, gentlemen, Amelia ran away from home because she's unhappy.'

'I agree.' The detective smiled. 'I have to say I am rather impressed with her.'

'I think she's bloody amazing.' Matthew grinned at Lucien, 'but don't tell her that.' He lowered his voice.

'I won't,' Lucien laughed, 'she does have to know there are things she can't always get away with.' He looked a little more serious, 'Jean and I have no problem if Amelia stays with us, but I know Family Welfare will become involved and, if anything, they will be our stumbling block.'

'True,' Matthew nodded his head, 'what you really need is for her parents to agree to you and Jean raising her, then Welfare don't need to be involved any more than being notified.'

'Well,' the detective mused, 'you're a doctor, well regarded in Ballarat,' he watched Lucien's face, 'I checked.' He confirmed, 'so you are probably a better bet for a guardian than some I've dealt with.'

'Don't suppose you talked to her teachers?' Lucien asked.

'I did, actually.' The detective smiled. 'They gave her a good report, that she is well behaved, a good student, gets high grades. At Parents' Evenings Mrs Beazley usually sits tight-lipped, her father is non-committal.'

Lucien rolled his eyes. 'Well, there's nothing we can do until they get here.'

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The girls were sent out to play while Jean prepared a dinner that would feed everyone. She was on edge so Lucien spent some time in the kitchen with her, leaving Matthew to tell complimentary stories about them. The detective listened and all the while watched the supportive husband, the wife, loving, practical and worried. He rather hoped that the little runaway would be allowed to stay here, where she was loved.

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'Where is she!' Ruby screamed in Jean's face as the door was opened, and pushed passed her. Apart from the noise Jean noticed an overwhelming smell of mint, and she knew that Ruby had been drinking. She'd lived with a drunk, now an ex-drunk, for long enough to spot the signs; the bright but vaguely unfocussed eyes, the mint used to hide the smell of whisky and the slightly unsteady gait. She raised her eyebrows at Christopher but he just looked at her.

'Christopher,' Jean hissed, 'she's drunk.'

'Don't be ridiculous.' He scowled at her. 'We've had tea, that's all.'

'How stupid can you be?' Jean asked, incredulously.

Ruby was standing in the living room facing the men. Lucien was holding her arms, stopping her from hitting out. He too saw she was drunk.

'Give me my daughter back!' She screamed at the doctor.

'Sit down, Mrs Beazley.' The detective said, firmly. 'Mrs Blake,' he called, 'could you do some coffee for Mrs Beazley?'

'Yes, of course,' Jean went into the kitchen, she kept coffee but they rarely drank it, Christopher went into the living room.

'We'll just take Amelia and go,' He stood there.

'You may be her parents,' the detective looked him up and down, 'but your wife is drunk and I have to be sure the child is safe. At the moment I don't believe that.'

'My wife is not drunk.' He insisted. He was the only one that did not believe, or want to believe, that Ruby had been drinking.

'Christopher,' Lucien stood in front of him, 'is she usually like this?'

'She's highly strung.' He sulked.

'She's drunk' Lucien stood his ground, 'good at hiding it, I would say she's got rather good at it. Lots of mint to hide the smell, a functioning drunk. I should know.'

'Yes, you should.' Christopher snarled.

'I never hid it.' Lucien threw back, 'I drank, I'm the first to admit it, but I don't now, just one at night, ask your mother.'

'She's going to back you up.'

'I'm not.' Matthew stood up, 'Dr Blake is not the drunk he was. He is upright and sober, and I haven't seen him drunk in, ooh, over six years.'

'Thank you, Matthew.' Lucien smiled and nodded. 'Now, to Amelia. Jean and I would be happy to look after her.'

'You are not taking my child from me.' Christopher growled.

'Dr Blake,' the detective stood up, 'can I use your phone?'

'Use the one in the study.' Lucien told him.

'I'm going to ring Adelaide then Welfare here, if you don't mind.'

'Not at all, whatever you have to do, Amelia is not going anywhere with these two at the moment.'

Lucien went into the kitchen where Jean was giving the children their meal. She didn't think they should eat with the adults that night, they would eat and then they could play in the studio or Genevieve's room.

She looked sad, he thought, and hurt.

'Granddad,' Amelia looked at him and he could see she had been crying, so had Genevieve.

'Yes, sweetheart.' He sat in the chair next to her.

'You know that stuff that's in the pretty bottle, on the sideboard?'

'Whisky, that's called a decanter.' He informed her.

'Mummy has some of the stuff.' Amelia may be bright and self reliant, but she was still a child, and they were known to 'drop you right in it!' at times. 'She drinks a lot of it.'

'Does she, darling.' He looked up at Jean who had her hand over her mouth in horror.

'Yes,' Amelia reached for her orange juice, 'but she doesn't keep it in a ...a decanter. She pours it into the apple juice bottle. It's horrible.' Amelia pulled a face. 'I wanted a drink one day and picked up the apple juice, only it wasn't...' she swallowed her drink, '...it was horrible, I was sick.'

'I see,' Lucien kissed the top of her head, 'well, my dear, my whisky is kept in the decanter only and the one next to it is grandma's sherry. Apple and orange juice is kept in the fridge, and you can help yourself to that any time, can't she, Jean?'

'Of course,' Jean gulped the idea of Ruby hiding her whisky and it being where a child could get at it horrified her.

'Thank you,' Amelia smiled sweetly at her grandparents.

'Amelia,' Christopher had heard everything, 'is that true?'

'Yes, daddy.' Amelia looked him in the eye, 'it is.'

Christopher stood looking at her and ran his hand through his hair. His wife, a secret drinker, an alcoholic. The doc was right, at least he never hid it. Where had he gone wrong? He was going to lose his daughter over this.

'Where's Ruby?' Jean asked Matthew.

'Bathroom.' Matthew smiled, he was positioned where he could see who went up or down the stairs.

'Christopher,' Jean turned to her son, 'you said you only had tea on the train. Did Ruby use the facilities?'

'Yes, a couple of times, why?'

'Was she eating a mint when she came back?'

The detective had come out of the study and was listening to the conversation, or rather, interrogation.

'I bet she had a drink when she went out of the carriage.' Jean folded her arms, 'she eats a mint to cover up the smell.'

'But how?' Christopher asked, 'she wasn't gone long enough to get to the buffet car, buy a drink and get back to me.'

'Her handbag.' Jean answered simply. 'Has she got a hip flask, like Lucien used to carry?'

'I don't go through my wife's handbag.' Christopher was horrified.

'No, I don't suppose you do, anymore than I do.' Lucien murmured, he could hear footsteps He rolled his eyes to the stairs as he saw Ruby, with her handbag hanging off her arm, return.

The detective went over to her and took the bag,

'Hey!' Ruby grabbed it back, 'that's mine, how dare you?'

'Madam,' he held out his hand, 'I would like to do this without argument, give me your bag, please, I wish to search it.'

'What for?' She gripped it tighter. As she looked at him he could see she was not focussing properly.

'I'll let you know if I find it.' He answered, 'now we can do it here or down at the station.' He turned to Matthew, 'your assistance, Superintendant.'

'Get your hands off me!' Ruby turned away from them.

'Do you want your daughter to see you arrested and taken down to the station?' Matthew suggested, 'it would be better for all if you allow my colleague to search your bag here. Your husband can watch.' He reached over and removed the bag from Ruby's grasp and opened it.

Matthew was used to seeing Jean's and Alice's handbags, theirs were smaller, Ruby's was one of the new fashioned ones, plenty of room for TWO whisky flasks! One was empty the other half so. Undoing both Matthew could smell the whisky and he held it to the detective and to Lucien.

Christopher's mouth dropped open, he put Ruby's behaviour down to tiredness at the end of the day, she told him often she had had a busy day and was tired. She would blame Amelia, say she had been difficult when she got in from school. Whenever he asked his daughter what she had done to upset mummy, Amelia had said she had done nothing, and had cried when he said she must have done something to make her mother so tired. Ruby would doze on the couch in the evening and fell asleep almost as soon as she went to bed.

Jean ushered the children through to the studio and went to answer the door. She felt tired, tired and angry and deeply saddened, but somehow not surprised. Ruby had been hard work when Amelia was born and she wondered if she should have brought Amelia with her when she left to come home with Lucien.

'Mrs Blake?' The woman inquired.

'Yes,' Jean smiled, 'and you, I take it are from Welfare?'

'I am, Eunice Wright.' She held out her hand and smiled. 'Don't worry,' she continued, 'I'm not here to drag a child away, kicking and screaming. I want to know what your granddaughter..?'

Jean nodded, 'Amelia.'

'...Amelia wants. How she feels.' Mrs Wright smiled again, Welfare had an awful reputation sometimes. 'I will need to speak to her alone, but I will leave the door open so you can see her.'

'Right,' Jean was understandably wary. Some adults had a way of twisting children's words.

Mrs Wright was introduced to Amelia's parents, Lucien, Matthew and the detective who had requested she attend the house. She noted the defeated look in Ruby Beazley's eyes and the confusion in Christopher's. Jean showed Mrs Wright to the studio and introduced her to Amelia, who was curled up in a chair with Genevieve.

'Genevieve, darling,' Jean held her hand out to her daughter, 'you need to wait until they've finished. Why don't I give you your bath and you can get your pyjamas on.'

'What about Amelia, mummy?' Genevieve's big blue eyes looked up at Jean, 'won't she be having a bath, too.' Jean had out the girls in together the previous night,

'She'll have one later, sweetie, come on.' Jean took Genevieve out of the studio and upstairs.

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'Amelia,' Mrs Wright smiled and sat opposite the child. 'I'm not here to frighten you or hurt you, I just want to get to know what you want.'

'I want to stay here, with grandma and granddad and Genevieve.' Amelia stated, quite simply.

'Why?' Mrs Wright sat back and studied her. The chair dwarfed her, she was so tiny.

'Grandma's a good cook, she doesn't shout at me or granddad, like mummy and daddy do. She's kind and lovely and sings to me and Genevieve. She lets me play in the garden and doesn't get cross when I get dirty.' There were lots of things about grandma and granddad Amelia could tell her, all of them good. 'Granddad's silly, he plays the piano for us, and lets us ride on his back like a horse. He reads to us at night and shows us clever things when he's experimenting.'

Mrs Wright had looked into the backgrounds of both Lucien and Jean and could not see any reason why they should not be appointed guardian to a troubled little girl.

'Amelia, how did you get here?' Mrs Wright asked. The detective had told her what she had told them and she wanted to know if Amelia would wander from her original story.

Amelia sighed, and told Mrs Wright, exactly what she had told grandma and granddad and the detective and Uncle Matthew, she told it with the boredom of one who was getting sick of people not believing her.

'Honestly,' She exhaled sadly, 'that is how I got here.'

Mrs Wright laughed, 'I believe you, you clever little thing, you, but I did have to ask.'

'Ok.'

'What would you do if I said you had to go with your parents?' Mrs Wright wasn't going to let that happen, she would only run away again, and it would probably destroy the trust she had in Dr and Mrs Blake.

'Please don't make me.' Tears welled up in her eyes as she whispered the heartfelt plea.

'I won't.'

Amelia's face lit up, 'you mean I can stay?'

'Yes.' Mrs Wright smiled back, 'you can stay.'

Amelia shot out of the studio and ran past her grandfather with a 'I can stay!' and up the stairs into the bathroom,

'Grandma, Genevieve, I can stay!' She flung her arms round Jean's neck and kissed her as Jean held her tight and smothered her in kisses.

'Yippee!' Genevieve splashed water over the side of the bath, 'come on, Amelia, come in the bath, the water's still warm!'

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Downstairs the noise could be heard by the adults in the living room.

'Well, I suppose she's happy.' Christopher muttered.

'Mr Beazley,' Mrs Wright turned to him, now stern, 'you and your wife have to sort yourselves out. Until you, Mrs Beazley, can stop your drinking nobody is going to let Amelia go back to you.'

'There's nothing wrong with my drinking.' Ruby grunted.

'Ruby,' Lucien knelt in front of her and looked up into her eyes, 'until you admit it we can't help you. Hiding whisky in the apple juice bottle and carrying two flasks around is the act of an alcoholic.'

'I am not an alcoholic,' she looked at him, 'what would you know about it, anyway?'

'I was you, once,' Lucien admitted, 'but I only had one flask, a lot of bottles, but I never hid my drinking, did I, Superintendant?'

'No, we all knew when you'd been drinking.' Matthew nodded wisely, 'you openly used your hip flask when on duty, or in the morgue.

'Ruby,' Christopher knelt too, 'don't you remember? How I didn't want mum to have anything to do with the doctor, because his drinking would break her heart. Somehow mum turned him around and, if Amelia can't live with us, there's no one I trust to care for her more than him and mum.'

Lucien stood up and looked down at the pathetic sight. Ruby was still at the stage of denial and until she accepted that her drinking was out of control then there was nothing anyone could do to help her. He was impressed with Christopher's tenderness, he could have railed at her, that her drinking meant they were losing their only child, but he didn't, he took her hand and kissed it softly.

'Come on, love,' Christopher pulled her up, 'let's go home.' He looked at Lucien, 'There's an overnight train, we'll take that.'

'You are welcome to stay.' Lucien said gently.

'No, thank you.' Christopher held out his hand, 'it will only prolong the agony.'

'You must say goodbye to Amelia.' Lucien held his hand tightly, 'she needs to know you do still love her.'

'Yes, of course.'

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Jean took Amelia downstairs, having tucked Genevieve into bed and promising to come back. Christopher approached her and smiled tenderly,

'Amelia,' he kissed her cheek, 'mummy and I are going back to Adelaide. I need to get mummy better before you can come back. We do love you, lots, but mummy isn't well enough to look after you. I hope you understand.'

'I love you too, daddy.' She kissed his cheek, 'I hope mummy gets better, soon.'

Christopher smiled, 'I do too.' But he wasn't sure if Amelia would ever go back to them, he knew Ruby's war with drink was going to be a long series of battles to be won, first.

Jean's heart broke as she watched her son and his wife leave the house. She held Amelia close and Lucien held them both. Over the coming days he knew she would want to know if there was anything she should have done, could have done when she was there seven years ago, but she was sure Ruby was not drinking then, she would have noticed, she'd had plenty of practice.

Lucien didn't think he had any answers to the questions she would ask, or the ones Amelia would ask, as she grew, but he would be there to love and support them for as long as he had to.

Mrs Wright said she would call back in the next few days to see how things were going and to get Amelia into a school. Jean thanked her for her kindness and understanding. The detective said he too would take the overnighter, and Matthew stayed to have his dinner and talk to them, offer his support and any help he could give.

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This story has been haunting me for some time so I suppose that meant I had to write it, Hope you like it.