This is the story I've been trying not to write for a while, but it seems to have a life of its own. It's set after season 4.

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"The truth is rarely pure and never simple." Oscar Wilde

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Jean left the letter on the hall table with the rest of the post, but that didn't mean she put it out of her mind. It had a Melbourne postmark, and she was fairly sure it was from Lucien's lawyer.

Three months had passed since Mei Lin had left, and they had discussed the divorce only once, and that was on the driveway, with emotions running high and Mei Lin scarcely out of sight. When Lucien had asked her to marry him, Jean had agreed, but told him he needed to sort out the divorce before she would be engaged to him.

He had agreed to that, and assured her he would get to work on it. But she had seen little sign of progress, and nothing at all had been said between them. It wasn't that she was unhappy with their lives as they were, but she wanted the divorce finished and their marriage settled.

A typewritten letter from Melbourne was a rarity, and she could think of nothing else it could be about. Jean may have shaken the letter curiously, and even held it up to the light, but she would never admit that, and she then left it on the table and got on with her morning as usual.

After lunch she noticed it had gone, and when she took Lucien a cup of tea during a break in his afternoon surgery she couldn't see it on his desk.

"Are you out at a rehearsal this evening, Jean?" he asked. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

She breathed a small sigh of relief. Progress, hopefully. And now she didn't need to raise the subject.

"Yes, I'm out later, but Charlie's not home for dinner so we should have some time then."

She dropped a brief kiss on his cheek as she put the cup down on his desk, and Lucien ran his hand over her hip as she stood next to him. The casual, familiar way he did this pleased her. She smiled at him a moment longer than usual before returning to the kitchen.

Later, as Jean served up the meal for the two of them, it occurred to her that Lucien was nervous. He took his time in settling at the table, and he seemed distracted. She placed the two plates on the table and sat down, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

He picked up his fork and tasted the pie, but didn't compliment her on it as he usually would.

"I had a letter from the lawyer today, Jean, about the divorce." He looked at her seriously.

"Is there a problem?" she asked, suddenly worried by his mood.

"In way, yes, there is," he continued slowly. "I'd hoped we could divorce quickly on the grounds of Mei Lin's adultery with Derek Alderton, but that's not going to be possible, apparently. It was a long time ago, and Derek is dead, so it seems a judge might not think that's reliable evidence."

"Even if Mei Lin agrees?" Jean's appetite had disappeared and she set her knife and fork down with a clatter.

"Yes, even then. So an alternative is to be separated for five years. The years before she came back don't count, he says, because I was still looking for her and we didn't choose to be separated."

Five years. Jean's heart sank. Hadn't they wasted enough time already?

"I see," she said in a small voice. "Is that it? There are no other options?"

"There are always options, Jean, but you might not like them either." He really didn't want to have to talk about what the lawyer had suggested, but he had no choice.

"The lawyer said that, perhaps, I could provide some evidence of...committing adultery, and that then Mei Lin could divorce me in Hong Kong. And that would perhaps be fairer to her - after all, I'm the one who wants the divorce." He looked Jean in the eye, trying to work out what her reaction would be.

"But..." she hesitated for a moment, "you haven't committed adultery, have you?" But now she wondered. Seventeen years was a long time, and maybe he had.

"No, but that isn't the point. What we need is some evidence that I might have done." Lucien put down his fork and cleared his throat. "The lawyer suggested that I should look into finding a private investigator to help me."

Jean was now staring at him open mouthed. "A private investigator? To help you commit adultery?" Her voice was rising in pitch and Lucien knew he was making a mess of this.

"Look, Jean, none of it would be real. I'd have to spent a night somewhere, probably a hotel in Melbourne. The investigator would take some photos of me with a woman, arriving at the hotel and then leaving the next morning. That would be enough for a judge to presume...well, you know..."

"And where does your lawyer think you will find a woman to do this?" She suspected she knew, but had to be sure.

"Well, er, I believe it's usual to pay someone." Jean now had her eyes closed and he was sure he had seen her shudder. "Nothing would happen, Jean. It's just for the sake of the divorce."

"The divorce." Jean pushed her plate away and stood up. "Perhaps we shouldn't even be thinking of a divorce then. Lucien, how can you even consider doing this? We'll just have to wait for the five years to be up. We're fine as we are, aren't we?"

He caught at her hand as she walked away from him, but her fingers slipped through his. His hopes slipped away too. Could they really live in this strange limbo for five more years? Maybe Jean thought she could, but he was far from sure he could wait that long.

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This might seem an odd way of obtaining a divorce, but it was actually pretty common in the days before 'no-fault' divorce. Hiring someone to go away with, and then arranging to be photographed, or for hotel staff to give evidence, was a relatively convenient way to get a divorce on the grounds of 'adultery', even if no adultery actually occurred.

In Britain at least, it became known as a Brighton Quickie in the 1940s and 50s, as there were hotels in Brighton that were well known for arranging this!