"Well, you have a lovely day," Lucien smiled as he closed the car door on Amelia, "sorry I can't come with you."
Jean grinned, "No you're not, you would hate it," she adjusted the car seat, "a whole day in a field, helping to gather in the crop, heaving stoops of wheat. Lucien, it's just not you." She laughed and accepted the kiss, "fish and chips tonight, when we get back."
"Right ho," he closed the door and watched his wife and step-granddaughter head off to the farm.
Jean had not hesitated when her friend had phoned and asked for help. It was a bumper crop this year and although they had enough hands to bring in the crops, they were short of help to feed and water them. Some other women were going to help, taking their children to play and help, as much as they could. She had remembered the times when she had required such help, when others had come, brought their children and lifted the crops of vegetables, lettuce, harvested the fruit from the trees; the work had been hard but no one complained and there had been much laughter on those far off days.
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There were crowds of people working in the fields when Jean and Amelia arrived. She opened the boot of the car and took out a tray of homemade pasties, passed a tin of biscuits to Amelia to carry and smiled as Joan met them.
"Jean," she opened her arms, "oh, I'm so glad you came, and Amelia, there are lots of children for you to play with today, dear," she took another tray of pies out of the boot, "and I knew I could rely on you to bake. Is the doctor going hungry today?"
Jean laughed, "where do you want them?"
"Follow me," Joan turned, "over in the barn, we thought, there is water, squash and beer. Thought about a primus and a billy, for tea, but with all this dry straw ..."
"Of course, I remember well," Jean and Amelia followed her to the barn and put their tins and trays on top of bales of hay. There were also hunks of bread and cheese, thick slices of home baked ham, squares of fruit cake and boxes of apples and pears. The field workers could help themselves when they were ready so would come and go at will.
"Now, Amelia," Jean turned to her granddaughter, "let's go and find some children for you to play with, eh?" She held her hand out to her, "I will be here if you need me."
"Ok, gran'ma," she skipped along beside her, "there's a lot of people here," she observed.
"There are, we have to get all the hay gathered today," Jean stopped at a group of children, "so, hello," she smiled at them, some of whom she knew from Lucien's surgery, "this is Amelia, she's my granddaughter. We wondered if she could play with you while I do the food."
"Hello, Mrs Blake," one of Lucien' patients, Fiona, grinned, "of course she can, come on, Amelia," she took her hand, "come a play with us."
Jean smiled as Amelia ran after her new friend and seeing she was not worried about leaving her grandmother's side, turned and headed back to the barn.
As the day wore on, people came and went for food and drink, including the children who dashed in for a cold drink and anything else they could pick up. Jean cut some of the bigger pies and pasties into smaller portions for them, halved the apples and handed out biscuits.
She was just washing a few of the metal cups that had been used when a shout went up outside.
"Amelia!"
She dashed out of the barn and looked over to where the children were playing. Amelia was standing on a bale of hay apparently frozen to the spot. Jean blinked what ? Bearing down on the little girl was a tractor, the front loader at the height of her hips. Jean broke into a run screaming out her name; nobody but the children were close enough to do anything, but they were only children. Amelia just stood there, eyes wide with terror. Jean and the tractor got there together, as the tractor hit Amelia she grabbed her and flung herself onto the ground. Amelia was screaming now, in pain, Jean felt a searing pain as the loader dropped onto her shoulders and head and she blacked out.
There was a silence as those in the field took in what had just happened - then:
"AMBULANCE!" Joan yelled, "We need to get the tractor off her! Get Dr Blake!"
Someone ran to the house, several men sprinted over to the tractor, which had now stopped rolling. Joan could hear Amelia screaming for her grandmother but there was no answering sound from Jean. She felt sick. Two men lifted the bucket and a third crouched under it, holding it off Jean and Amelia.
"Gran'ma!" Amelia screamed, "gran'ma!"
Jean's arm was round her and she lay partly under her. Joan gently lifted Jean's arm and slipped her hands under the child, hoping to ease her out without causing further injury.
"Shh, pet," she soothed, "let's get you out then we can see to gran'ma." As she moved her, Amelia shrieked in pain. Joan looked down, shifting Jean's body just enough to see an emerging bruise on the thigh half way up from her knee. "Alright, sweetie," she stroked her head, "let's wait for granddad, shall we?" She started to sing to her and kept stroking her head, while another woman reached in and checked for Jean's pulse, breathing a sigh of relief when she felt it, surprisingly strong and regular.
Jean's shoulders were red raw from the loader bucket that had scraped over her, and blood was beginning to congeal in her hair. They daren't try to move her, fearing damage to her neck.
After what seemed like hours they heard the sirens of ambulances and police cars. Officers ran towards them, Dr Blake ahead of all of them calling for Jean. He pulled up short at the sight.
"Jean!" he gasped, "Oh god, no!"
"She has a pulse, doctor," the other woman stood and touched his arm, "strong and regular. Amelia has hurt her leg and is in a lot of pain."
"Yes, right," he took a deep breath, things had to be done, and quickly. Jean had been bleeding he could see, but it appeared to have stopped. He knelt down beside Joan and ran his hand gently over Amelia's leg.
She cried out but didn't move it.
"Alright, Amelia," he soothed.
"Granddad?"
"Yes, lovely," he reached over and stroked her cheek, "now, I am going to give you something to stop it hurting, so, be brave, just a little scratch." He gave her an injection that would not only take away the pain but would send her into a light sleep, then slipped his strong hands under her and gently slipped her out from under Jean and placed her on a waiting stretcher.
"X-rays, leg and head, just in case," he told the ambos. "I'll be along with Jean, when I've got her into the other ambulance."
"Ok, doc," one of the ambos nodded and Amelia was swiftly taken away. Lucien turned to Jean then looked up at the men, still holding the bucket off her. "Let's get that tractor moved," he looked round, "can anybody help?"
More men moved in and started to push the vehicle away. One climbed up and turned the wheel so it was angled away from Jean and as the bucket was dropped it came to rest against a hay bale.
"Looks like the brake failed," he jumped down, "we'll get it into the barn and check it over. No way it should have moved. Bloody hell, doc," he ran his hands through his hair, "I hope she's gonna be alright."
Lucien did as many preliminary checks on his wife as he could; her pupils reacted evenly, her breathing was regular and he couldn't feel any deformities, though he was sure she would have broken some ribs, maybe her shoulder blades - and he needed to keep her neck absolutely still in case there was any upper spinal damage. Ordinarily they would put something either side of her head to keep her neck stable, but to do that he would have to move her first.
"I need something to keep her head and neck still," he turned round to Joan, "something flexible but not too much." Joan thought for an instant then nodded. "Be right back," she started to run to the house, Lucien watched her and wondered what on earth she had in mind.
She came back and dropped, breathless to her knees, "here," she gasped, "can you do something with this?" She handed him a pair of dressmaking shears and a corset. "Mother's" she offered as explanation, "she has others."
Lucien cut it down as much as he could and placed it round Jean's neck, securing it with a bandage and pins, then helped the ambo to get her onto a stretcher, still in the position she had fallen in.
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Matthew had dragged Alice out of the morgue, hoping that she would be able to support Lucien as he and other doctors worked on Amelia and Jean. By the time Lucien arrived with Jean, Amelia's x-rays had been taken and examined. Her head was intact but her femur was broken, clean through. Alice was discussing treatment with a surgeon.
"Pin and plate is no good, she is still growing," the surgeon noted, "we are lucky the fracture is not displaced, surprisingly, so, I recommend we plaster now, while she is still out."
"Right," Alice agreed, "shall I assist?"
"Please," he nodded, "then perhaps we can both assist Dr Blake with his wife, I'm sure he won't stand back and let us work on her without him."
"Doubtful," Alice pursed her lips as she walked with him to attend to the child.
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Lucien stood and looked at Jean's x-rays. Her skull was intact, but he would review and have x-rays done until she woke up, daily if necessary. The shoulder blades were also intact, he was amazed she appeared to have no fractures, anywhere. The skin was scraped raw from the tractor loader and needed careful cleaning, before he could make a proper decision on her treatment. Her neck seemed unaffected, though he thought she may be in some discomfort when she came round.
Her clothes were replaced with a hospital gown and a drip set up to administer vital fluids, pain relief and sedation if required. Keeping her in the same position, Lucien, Alice and a nurse started to clean and repair the cuts. Alice attended to the scalp laceration, irrigating it with saline before suturing it, neatly. She held the hair away with grips and asked that they be left in place until healing had begun. Then she turned to assist Lucien who was concentrating on being a doctor and not a husband. As they ran clean water and saline over the raw skin she told him how Amelia was.
"We've kept her sedated for now," she help out a dish for a soiled piece of gauze, "the break was clean and she has it in plaster. It appears to be stable."
"Thank you, Alice," he dabbed at a deep scrape, "I must ring Christopher and Ruby, when I've done this."
"Of course," she nodded and looked at the now cleaned shoulders. "What kind of dressing?" she asked, "there's nothing to suture, so ..."
"I need someone to go to my surgery," he turned to her, "in the cabinet there is a pot of ANBP ..."
"Chinese herbs?" she raised an eyebrow.
"It is perfect for this type of injury," he nodded, "I made some up for Amelia the other day, she fell in the garden, a little graze, but ..."
"You made enough for the town," she gave a little smile, "keys," she held out her hand.
"Thanks, Alice," he sighed, "I'll keep this from drying out."
"Shan't be long," she waved as she headed off out of the room, dropping her white coat on the chair by the door.
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"Bill!" she called to Hobart standing taking a statement from one of the farm workers, "I need a fast drive to the Blake's."
"Uh?"
"He has the treatment for Jean in his surgery." She didn't pause in her walk, expecting him to catch her up.
"Right," he pocketed his book, thanked the worker and trotted after her.
Alice could have driven just as fast, herself, but, Bill could put a siren on, and wouldn't get pulled over for speeding."
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Lucien couldn't believe how quickly she got back.
"Hobart," she breathed, "sirens." She grinned.
"I must thank him, later," he unwrapped a pack of gauze and laid it out below Jean's shoulders and took the pot off her, "I'm going to need more of this," he muttered, as he spread it onto the dressing.
"I'll help you, later," she took the empty pot off him and helped him press the dressing to Jean's back, lightly, before taping it round the edges.
"She'll have to stay in this position," Lucien pulled the gown round her shoulders but didn't tie it, "I'll have the nurses turn her four hourly, prevent sores."
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After seeing Jean settled, still unconscious, in a bed, and checking on Amelia, Lucien went to phone Christopher. He felt sick as he was put through to the squad office. He explained what had happened, insisting Amelia would be fine, the break was clean and had been set.
"I can be contacted at Ballarat Hospital," he ran his hands through his hair, "my wife was injured in the incident."
The young woman at the other end of the line commiserated and said she hoped Mrs Blake would pull through ok, and that she would get word to Lieutenant Beazley.
"He'll probably be given leave to come over to you," she told him, "but I'll let him sort that out with you."
"Thank you, but please, impress upon him that Amelia is in no danger."
"I will," she signed off after he gave her a phone number to contact him on.
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The tractor was examined by the farm workers, a mechanic, and Danny and Bill. A leak was found in the brake pipe, possibly caused by a stone flying up when it was on one of the dusty and rough roads round the farm. It was a dreadful accident, but that was all it was.
"Actually," Blake sighed when Matthew went to tell him of the outcome, "I'm rather glad, I don't think I could take someone hating children that much."
"Yeah," Matthew put his hand on his friend's shoulder, "she'll be alright, Blake, she's Jean Mary Blake ..."
"Oh god I hope so," Lucien couldn't hold back the tears at the thought Jean may be dying in front of him and he couldn't seem to do anything about it.
A nurse brought him some tea, which he drank absent-mindedly, not noticing the milk and sugar in it.
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He sat talking to her through the night, helped the nurses turn her and nipped out to see how Amelia was. The little girl, it was decided, should be kept sedated for the night and they would see how she was faring in the morning. He was called out to the phone in the early hours. It was Christopher, an angry, scared Christopher.
"How could you let it happen!" he shouted down the phone, "you are supposed to be looking after her!"
"Christopher," he tried to calm him, "Amelia will be fine, it was an accident, no one could see it happening."
"She is supposed to be in your care!" Christopher wasn't listening, "we're flying over, we'll be there tomorrow evening!"
The Sister in charge of the night shift on that ward had seen Dr Blake try to calm whoever it was on the other end of the line, presumably Amelia's father. She approached him, he looked tired and careworn.
"Doctor," she put her hand lightly on his arm, "he's just frightened, in shock."
"No, he blames me, usually does," he shrugged and headed back to Jean's room.
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She couldn't see anything, just a painful bright light. Nor could she hear anything, not a sound. She tried to speak, call out for Amelia, it was Amelia she was looking for, but her voice was lost. She had been taken from her, that she knew. Her limbs felt so heavy as she dragged herself towards the light. Then, a voice, one she recognised, but one she shouldn't be able to hear.
"Go back, Jean," he said, "we're not ready for you."
"Amelia," it sounded like a grunt, "I must find Amelia."
"She's not here," he whispered, "go back now."
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Lucien must have fallen asleep at Jean's bedside. Alice woke him gently and sent him to freshen up. Matthew had brought fresh clothes and his toiletries from the house and told him he would sit with Jean while he showered in the doctor's changing rooms.
"When you're done," she looked into his eyes, red rimmed from crying, "breakfast, then we shall make some more ANBP."
"I need to get the herbs," he grumbled.
"Got them," she held up a box, "went to Mr Hong's last night, got him out of bed. I don't think he was too pleased until I told him what I wanted them for."
"I don't think I'd thought that far," he ran his hands through his hair.
"I don't suppose you did, he said he would go and get some more today, in Melbourne."
"He'd do that, for us?" his eyebrows rose and he blinked at the generosity of the little Chinese restaurant owner.
"Jean has always been very kind to him," Alice smiled, "as she is to all of us."
"Thank you, Alice," he touched her arm.
"Off you go," she chivvied him out of the room, "I can help the nurses with Jean, then you had better go and see Amelia, too."
"Hm.." he nodded, thinking back to the conversation he had had with her father in the early hours.
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Amelia held out her arms to her grandfather. He held her and kissed her and told her how brave she had been.
"My leg feels funny," she sniffed.
"Well, my darling," he stroked her head. "When the tractor hit you it broke the bone in your leg, and Auntie Alice and another doctor have very kindly put it in plaster for you, until it mends."
"Oh," she tried to process this information, which, at four years old, was not easy. "Is gran'ma here?"
"Ah, well," Lucien wondered how much he should tell her, and how, "grandma is not very well, sweetie," he kissed her, "she got hurt when she helped you. She's having a long sleep, to help her mend."
"Can I see her?"
"Soon, sweetie, soon," he sighed, "she needs to rest. The doctors and I are looking after her."
"I want a cuddle, from gran'ma," she started to cry.
"I know darling, but at the moment she can't cuddle anyone," he hugged her, "not even me."
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After preparing more of the herbs and changing Jean's dressing, Lucien spent the day between his wife and granddaughter. Amelia was proving to be a difficult patient, so if Alice or Matthew were prepared to sit with Jean for half an hour at a time, Lucien went to Amelia and read to her, or sang to her, helped her make cards for Jean and sent a nurse for her favourite foods as she refused to eat what she was given in the hospital. He knew he was spoiling her but she had been through quite an ordeal. Part of him wondered if he took her to see Jean she might settle, but he didn't want to frighten her.
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The bright light wouldn't go away. He kept telling her to go back, but without Amelia, how could she?
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Three days of changing dressings, talking to her, reading to her, and still she didn't move, her eyelids didn't flicker. He had more x-rays of her head done, but there was nothing to be seen. He began to think it was her decision not to wake.
Christopher and Ruby arrived as predicted. Ruby was tearful until she saw Amelia, unharmed except for the cast on her leg. She was calmer than Christopher who railed at Lucien, blaming him entirely for his daughter's injury and even when Matthew and Danny insisted it was just an accident, it could have been any child on that hay bale, but it happened to be Amelia, he growled at them. She was lucky that Jean go to her in time. It was Jean that had come off worst, still unconscious.
"I can't and won't wrap them in cotton-wool," Lucien snapped, "your mother is her own woman, all she was doing was helping, just as she always does. Amelia is going to be fine, she will be up and about in no time, the cast should come off in six weeks, or thereabouts and with gentle exercise she will soon be running about."
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Inside her room, through the window, Amelia could see her father arguing with Lucien.
"Mummy," she sniffed, "why is daddy cross with granddad?"
"He's just worried about you, darling," she soothed.
"It wasn't granddad's fault," Amelia pointed out, "it was that silly old tractor."
"I know, love," Ruby sighed, "but you know how daddy wants to keep you safe."
"I wish I could see gran'ma," Amelia sighed, "granddad says she's having a long sleep to get better."
"Er, yes, she is," Ruby was surprised at what Lucien had apparently told her, but it was better that trying to explain she was unconscious and he was worried she would never wake up.
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Alice was standing at the foot of the bed, reading the cards Amelia had made for Jean. They were sweet little drawings, that probably only Amelia could identify, and wobbly letters saying how much she loved her.
"I see Amelia's been practising her writing," she smiled, watching Jean's face. It twitched, she was sure it did, an eyelid, the one she could see from that angle moved.
"She's fine, Jean," she went on, "broke her femur, but it's a clean break, she'll be running you ragged in no time."
Again, she was sure, just a twitch.
"Amelia says her plaster itches." There it was again, she ran out of the room to find Lucien.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx"Christopher," she snapped, "shut up."
They both turned to her, she hardly knew him, he felt it was incredibly rude.
"Lucien," she grabbed his arm, "every time I mention Amelia, say she is ok, Jean's face, her eyelid moves."
"What?" Lucien grabbed her hand.
"She is there, she hears us, but I think she is looking for Amelia."
"Don't be silly," Christopher blurted out, "she can't look for anyone where she is."
Alice glared at him. "The last thing Jean did was to hold Amelia, now she isn't, nor can she hear her," Alice insisted.
Lucien looked at her, trying to process what she was saying. Alice wasn't fanciful, she didn't think much of religion, or wild theories on the unconscious mind.
"She's just been turned," she persisted, "if Amelia was put on the bed next to her, the plaster would be away from Jean."
"You are not taking my daughter to see her grandmother in that state," Christopher stood and barred the door.
"Out of the way," Lucien snapped and pushed him to one side. He threw open the door to be met by Ruby and Amelia staring at him. "Sorry Ruby, this has to be done, for Jean." He turned to Amelia and slipped his arms under her, "come on, sweetheart," he smiled, for the first time since it had happened, "let's go and see gran'ma."
"Yes please," she whispered, wrapping her arms round his neck. "Is she awake?"
"No, Amelia, she isn't," he kissed her, "but I think you might be able to help us with that."
"Ok," she snuggled into his shoulder.
"You are not going anywhere with my daughter," Christopher barred the way.
"I want to see gran'ma," Amelia pouted.
"You can't," her father snapped, "not until she's better."
"I ...WANT ... TO ... SEE ... MY ... GRAN'MA!"
Lucien pulled his head back and shook it, she really was quite loud when she put her mind to it.
"Don't you shout at me, young lady," Christopher reached over for her, but she clung to Lucien.
"Go 'way!"
"Amelia!"
"What is it, Lucien?" Ruby appeared behind him, having watched the scene play out.
"Alice says that every time she mentions Amelia, says she is doing ok, Jean stirs," he turned just enough to see Ruby without taking his eyes of Christopher.
"And you think that if Amelia goes to her, perhaps speaks to her ..."
"Yes," he nodded.
"Then, by all means," she moved round and held Christopher's arm, "take her through."
"Ruby .."
"No, Christopher," she spoke softly, but firmly, "if this is what Jean needs, then it must be done. She's done a lot for Amelia, and for us, our turn to repay that debt."
"Thank you, Ruby," Lucien offered her a small smile, then turned to the child in his arms, "come on, Amelia, let's go and see if gran'ma will wake up."
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He stood outside Jean's room and sighed.
"Now, Amelia," he hugged her a little tighter, "before we go in I need to tell you something."
"Ok," she looked into his eyes, trusting him beyond words.
"There are tubes going into gran'ma, to help her," he tried to explain, "these tubes take things into her to stop her feeling any pain, to make sure she has enough liquid, because she can't drink, while she's asleep. You mustn't be frightened of them, they don't hurt her."
"Ok, granddad," she nodded, "can we go in now?"
He almost laughed at her impetuousness, "yes, lovely, we can."
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The room was dim, Jean faced the door and the dressing on her shoulders could not be seen by Amelia. Lucien stopped just inside waiting for Amelia to adjust to the sight.
"Can I sit on the bed, granddad?" she whispered.
He took her across and gently lay her next to Jean, then stood back, lifting up the safety sides to prevent her tumbling out.
"Hello, gran'ma," she whispered, stroking Jean's curls, "granddad says you are asleep. Please wake up," she sniffed, "I want a cuddle off you."
Lucien swallowed the lump in his throat and watched. At first he didn't see anything except the little girl gently stroking Jean's face and kissing her, murmuring that she loved her.
Then ...
Jean's arm moved, just a little, and she groaned softly. Amelia snuggled closer and the arm moved over her.
"Amelia?" Jean muttered, "I've been looking for you."
"Silly gran'ma," Amelia giggled, "I was only down there," she waved her hand in the direction of the room she had been in, down the corridor.
Lucien tiptoed over and touched her head, "hello, Jean," he bit his lip, "I've missed you," his voice little more than a whisper, a choked whisper.
Jean opened an eye, "I had to find Amelia," a simple fact, for her, "I lost her, he kept telling me to 'go back', that they weren't ready for me, that she wasn't there."
"Who, darling?"
"Christopher, I think," she sniffed.
Lucien had heard about such experiences, from the very ill, that there was a bright light but someone always said it wasn't their time, those that came back, from the brink of death. Some recalled an old man telling them to 'go back', or 'not yet', some would say it was god, some a deceased spouse, whatever it was, whoever it was, had sent Jean back to him, to Amelia, and he was truly grateful to them.
He offered her a sip of cool water and they sat for a while, holding hands while Amelia dozed in her grandmother's arms. Lucien explained her injuries, that she would find it painful to lie on her back for some time.
"I did wonder why I am lying on my side," she smiled, "I'm sure I'll cope."
He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a wicked little twinkle in her eyes.
The door opened and Sister poked her nose in. She smiled to see Mrs Blake awake and talking, and the little girl asleep in her arms. It wasn't something she encouraged on her ward, but after what they had been through, who was she to complain.
"Doctor Blake," she beckoned him over. He patted Jean's hand and tiptoed across the room. "Amelia's meal is ready for her. Would Mrs Blake like something, perhaps some tea?"
"I think that would be lovely, Sister, thank you," he smiled, "could Amelia's meal be brought in here?"
"Of course."
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Amelia shared her grandmother's bed for the next week. She was happy to be moved when Jean was lifted or turned, though towards the end of the week Jean was well enough to sit up and eat and drink properly.
Initially Christopher did not think it appropriate that Amelia should see her grandmother unwell, but when he suggested she return to her bed, she created such a scene that even Jean had to laugh. Ruby shook her head; Jean and Amelia were incredibly close and she knew that Jean was only conscious because of the bond between them. Christopher wanted to know when Amelia would be able to fly, back to Vietnam.
"Not for at least six weeks," the surgeon who had initially put the plaster on her leg, "first we need to be sure the bone is healed, then we need her to be walking confidently, and without pain, probably using crutches."
"Crutches!" Christopher's voice rose an octave, "she's only four!"
"And she needs to learn to walk again, without fear of pain," the surgeon drew his brows together, "what do you plan on doing if she gets tired, or the leg aches? Carry her? That won't do her any good." He had never given crutches to one as small or as young as Amelia but he had a feeling, that if he let her leave without being properly rehabilitated, then she would have trouble in the future.
Christopher looked at him, he couldn't take six weeks or more, leave, he would only be allowed a month for a bereavement.
Ruby touched his arm, "Chris," she pulled him aside, "I know it's hard, but she needs to be properly recovered ..."
"... it should never have happened," he grumbled.
"No, it shouldn't, but it did, and it's no one's fault," she continued, ignoring his scowl, "why don't I stay? You go back, you can call regularly, I can help your mother through her recovery, and get Amelia through hers."
His shoulders sagged, his wife sounded more like his mother every day, strong, competent, organised. Realistically she was right. They didn't know how long it would be before Amelia was running around again, without worrying if she was going to fall, or without her being afraid of breaking her leg or another limb.
His heart ached as he agreed to her idea, if the doctor and his mother would.
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"After what you did for us, in Adelaide, when Amelia was born," Ruby sat on the bed, Amelia on her lap, for a change, "I think it's time for me to say a proper thank you."
"It's very kind of you, Ruby," Jean smiled, "Lucien says my head injury is fine, and he has taken the stitches out. It's still a little tender, when I brush my hair, but that will fade."
"Your shoulders?" Ruby asked.
"Still very sore," she admitted, "and will be for some time." She pouted.
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Lucien had been encouraged, by Jean, to return to surgery, between his visits, which were long. He came every day with good wishes from his patients, gifts of flowers, biscuits and cake, which Amelia made great holes in, and cards. She put Ruby's offer to him.
"Oh, well," he scratched his head, "that's very kind of her. How do you feel about it?"
"If it means I can get out of here, then I'm all for it," she grinned. "You're doing the dressing, anyway, or Alice if you're not available, that can be done at home. Amelia has learnt to shuffle around on her bottom, and I'm sure she'd be better off at home."
The house was cold and empty without Jean, he and Matthew moved around each other, though Lucien wasn't at home very often, and Matthew had mentioned to Jean he wasn't eating properly, not even the meals that Ruby had started to cook for them.
"She's not a bad cook, Jean," he sat by her bed, having sent Lucien to see to a body in the morgue, "but he rushes in and out again."
"Thank you for letting me know, Matthew," she patted his hand, "so, if I come home and Ruby does the cooking and housework ..."
"Only if you're ready," he smiled, "Lucien will have my hide if you push too hard."
"Oh Matthew," she laughed, "I can't wait to get home, to my own bed, the sun room, it's the little things I miss ..." she didn't mention she missed waking up next to her husband or his attentions in bed. Though with her sore shoulders ... there again ... she smiled, to herself.
Matthew knew what she meant, but, "missing your nightly sherry, Jean," he teased.
She giggled, "some."
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Ruby had seen Christopher off on the train. She had assured him that when Amelia was fit, and ready to travel she would bring her home to him. He still didn't want her to stay, or Amelia, but he couldn't fault her in her desire to do the right thing by his mother and their daughter. They had had some arguments over the situation, and she was still a little bit angry at his blaming Lucien.
"You never liked him," she had snapped at him, one evening, "yet look what he has done for your mother. She is happier than I remember her, he absolutely adores her, and he is devastated that she and Amelia got hurt. Come down off your high horse, Chris," she huffed, "they are so right together, and, you didn't want her to be this happy, when she came to help us. You were dead set against her coming back to Ballarat, following Lucien, but I am glad she did, for her."
"He's reckless," he grunted.
"I know, and so does she," Ruby grinned, "I think that's what she likes about him."
"Huh," he finished packing, realising he would get no sense out of her.
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"Well, Jean," Ruby smiled, "I hope I got your clothes right," she placed a small holdall on the bed, "I found all you asked for, I think."
"Thank you, Ruby," Jean reached over and winced.
"Let me," Lucien stepped forward, "why don't you go and get Amelia dressed, Ruby, I'll help Jean."
Jean blushed a little as her daughter in law picked up her daughter and took her out to another room.
Jean's arms were restricted in movement. She struggled to pull things up, so in the end, Lucien dressed her, from her underwear right through to her cardigan. She winced at the bra straps over the dressing.
"You could go without," he suggested his voice soft with concern.
"Lucien," she raised an eyebrow, "I can't go out in public without my bra."
"You have your blouse and cardigan," he stroked her shoulder.
"Hm ..." she huffed and drew her brows in.
"They're rather ... pert ... you know," he teased.
"Behave," she smiled and let him have his little moment.
He put his arms round her waist and pulled her close.
Ruby opened the door without thinking and quickly closed it again.
"Mummy?" Amelia pouted, "what's the matter?"
"Granddad and grandma," she hugged her, "they're having a ...a grown up cuddle."
"Oh, so ..."
"Let's wait a few minutes shall we?"
"Ok," Amelia snuggled into her shoulder.
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It was so nice to be home. Ruby put Amelia down in the hallway and she shuffled along to the kitchen. She put the kettle on while Lucien took Jean through to the studio bedroom where she changed back into her nightdress and robe.
"Better?" Lucien picked up her clothes and put them away, or in the laundry basket.
"Yes, thank you," she held her arms out, as best she could, "thank you, for everything."
He took a stride and took her in his arms holding her gently, kissing her softly wherever he could, while ensuring she was in no pain.
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Jean lay across his chest, snuffling softly in her sleep. Just because she couldn't lie on her back didn't stop her . While Lucien had been worried that making love would hurt her, or cause her undue stress, she showed him that actually, she was relaxed and satisfied and would probably sleep better than she had since the accident.
She had taken the lead, and, when they had come to their release even the tingles in her shoulders made her feel alive, again.
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Twelve weeks later:
"Thank you, Ruby," Jean hugged her daughter in law, "for everything."
"You take care," Ruby sniffed, "I'm going to miss Ballarat, you, your ... our friends. Let me know if you need me to come help again, I know your shoulders aren't fully healed."
Jean smiled, she was going to miss her, too. Amelia was to stay. He leg had healed, she ran and played like any other child but still tired more easily than a four year old should. Ruby knew she had to go back to be with her husband.
"Come and see us whenever you want, Ruby," Lucien put his arm round her shoulders, " you and Christopher are always welcome."
"Thank you, now," she turned to her daughter, "you be good, you hear. Keep doing what granddad tells you, and soon that leg will be as good as the other one."
"Ok, mummy," she cuddled into her, "I love you."
"I love you too, sweetheart," Ruby bit back the tears, "but daddy needs me too. I wish you could come with me, but if your leg still aches, perhaps we should wait a while."
They had, at first, worried that Amelia's leg was not healing as it should, but x-rays showed otherwise. Then they had come to the conclusion that it was nothing to worry about, Amelia didn't want to go back to Vietnam, to her father. During the phone calls Christopher had made he had told her, repeatedly, that she would be kept safe, not allowed to go out on her own or play in fields and on hay bales. She didn't like that idea, and she told him so. She wanted to play with friends, and she had friends in Ballarat. When the time came to pack she had screamed and cried, run into the studio and hidden under the bed.
They had pleaded, assured her she would be able to come back and see her grandparents, but it was to no avail. She remembered all too well that her father had not wanted her to see gran'ma when she was in the hospital, had argued with granddad (who was her hero) and kept grumbling to mummy that it was not right she should share a bed with Jean, in hospital.
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Amelia ran down the hall through the kitchen and out into the garden.
"Little madam," Jean sighed, filling the kettle, "she got her own way."
"Hm," Lucien stood behind her and held her gently, "do you mind? Having her here?"
"Of course not," she huffed, "she's due to go to school and we said she would live with us when she did, to save her being moved around so much."
"We did," he agreed, nibbling her earlobe.
"And even Ruby has admitted that the school she would go to, out there, well, it's not the best."
"Hope she sleeps through," he mumbled in her ear, a comment that earned him a quick nudge from his wife.
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Amelia did sleep through, which gave them the time to explore other ways to satisfy their need for each other, many times.