Back from their honeymoon and back to the orphanage for this story, again needlecraft inspired. I have taught cross stitch in schools for projects.
Some slight racist issues.
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Jean and Lucien had been back in Ballarat as Dr and Mrs Blake for a couple of weeks and were settling down nicely, thanks to the love and support of their friends. There was still gossip, there always would be: a catholic widow marries a divorced man, she his former housekeeper and receptionist, some would never be satisfied. However, Lucien's patients were still, for the most part, happy to remain on his list, and some new residents had joined, so business was good.
Jean had always knitted, jumpers for her boys, cardigans and shawls for various babies born including her own granddaughter, Amelia, and she had used the leftovers to knit the same for the local orphanage, run by nuns. Sister Josephine, who was in charge, was always grateful in a tight-lipped sort of way, but it was the children's pleasure in new clothing that meant more to her. She was always greeted with hugs from the little ones and even some of the bigger ones. The nuns would shoo them away and take the parcels from Jean, sometimes inviting her to take tea with them. It was on one of these visits that Jean noticed a pile of clothes that a nun was mending, buttons on shirts and tears in knees; a sure sign of children having fun. Jack was always worse than Christopher, but no matter how many times she had to mend Jack's trousers and shirts she couldn't begrudge him his fun.
'Would you like some help, Sister?' She asked.
'Oh, no thank you, Mrs Blake,' the Sister smiled, 'I'll get through them in the end.'
'It would be a useful skill for the girls to learn, don't you think?' Jean was surprised, given the strict rules at the home, that some of the older girls hadn't been instructed in needlework. She couldn't imagine how she would have managed if her mother hadn't taught her to sew.
'We haven't time to teach such things, Mrs Blake,' Sister Josephine appeared at the door, 'I had hoped it would be taught at school.'
'It was, when I was there,' Jean agreed, 'but times change. Would you like me to teach them. I'm sure I could spare an hour or two a week.' Jean wasn't sure why she volunteered her services, but Lucien always said, 'If you want something doing, ask a busy woman.'
She didn't really want to spend too much time in Sister Josephine's company, she found her intimidating. Oh dear, would she have to confess this to the priest next time? That she harboured unpleasant feelings about a nun.
'Well, that's very kind of you, Mrs Blake,' Sister Josephine considered Jean a bit of a nosy parker, and, as she was married to the doctor who ministered to the children, could easily carry tales back. But, she had to admit if some of the older girls could sew they would find it easier to get domestic positions, which she considered the best option for them, and it would help keep the clothing neat. So, on balance she decided to take up the offer. 'Won't you need to ask your husband, though?'
'No, I'm sure he won't mind.' It was on the tip of her tongue to say she was his wife not his employee. Lucien was happy as long as the appointments and books were up to date, there was food on the table and she was there to warm his bed. This last she was definitely not going to mention. They loved each other and were an equal partnership. In fact Lucien was happy if she was and even before they were man and wife he would have been happy for her to do this.
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When Jean told her husband what had happened that day and what she had offered to do he agreed it was a good thing. Anything that made her happy; after all he was, to be honest, besotted with her. He was also aware that Jean had reservations about the way the nuns treated the children. Because the majority were of aboriginal decent they were treated as inferior beings, destined to be employed as domestic servants or gardeners, not equal to whites. He admitted the children were well fed, well he saw to that with the weekly delivery of fresh fruit and vegetables, and were clean and sent to school, but they lacked love, the love only a parent could give. He found this hard to bear because that was how his daughter Li would have been raised, after she was found in Shanghai. It hurt, it hurt that he wasn't there for her and so if Jean felt she could make a difference to these young lives he would support her.
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It was decided that Jean would teach needlework for an hour on a Saturday morning and for another hour on Wednesday afternoon, after the children returned from school. The orphanage would provide the needles and thread and Jean would bring her bag of fabric scraps, the one that had helped her make the quilt for the fundraiser.
Her first afternoon she spent showing the girls various stitches, fabrics and the way to do a simple running stitch. There was much laughter as she lightened the session with stories of when she was their age and they all seemed to be sorry when she had to go.
'I'll be back on Wednesday, but now, I'm afraid, I must go and get Dr Blake's dinner. You've all been really good, I've had a lovely time.' She smiled broadly at them, she had enjoyed herself, immensely.
The lessons continued, and the girls lapped up the attention. They all showed they could learn, but most of all they were happy. Someone cared and that was more to them than the lessons in needlework.
One afternoon, Sister Josephine said she would have to go and talk to Father Emery and would leave Sister Agatha in charge. Sister Agatha had only come to the orphanage recently and was inclined to stick to the rules laid down.
Halfway through a lesson Jean heard the cry of a very young baby. Thinking that the nun would see to the child she continued the lesson, but the wailing didn't stop.
'That's the new baby,' Mary, an aboriginal girl, informed her. 'He cries a lot.' Mary looked hurt, as if she felt every scream that the child gave.
'He cries all night,' Gracie offered, 'he keeps me awake.' But she was not cross, she too was sad. Some of the other children agreed that the new addition to the community kept them awake, but not one of them was angry about it.
Jean could bear the noise no longer, she was a mother and a grandmother and she could not let a baby's cries go unheeded.
'Where is it?' She asked.
'The nursery,' Mary said, 'I'll show you.'
On the way up the stairs the two met Sister Agatha. Jean confronted her,
'Aren't you going to see to the baby?'
'He's not due to be fed for another two hours, Sister Josephine says he must be kept to a routine.'
'That's not a hungry cry,' Jean answered, sharply, 'He's uncomfortable, even colicky.'
'Those are Sister Josephine's rules.' Sister Agatha was short in her reply, and she turned and walked away.
Jean looked at Mary, Mary looked at Jean and took her hand, 'This way.'
In the nursery there was only one cot, and in it a very cross and very tiny baby.
Jean took one look at him and picked him up, holding him upright over her shoulder; at which he gave a very loud burp! She rubbed his back and his knees, previously pulled up to his chest in pain, relaxed, still crying but no longer in such pain.
'Mary, I need a cup of boiled water and a spoon.' she instructed the young girl. 'I'll be in the sewing room.'
Mary went one way, Jean back to the sewing room and the children.
'Sorry, girls, he really needed a cuddle.' She said and sat in her seat. Her pupils brought their work to her and she praised them for continuing and producing good work. They always did, just to please Mrs Blake.
Mary appeared with the water and spoon and handed them to Jean, who gently cradled the boy and administered her tried and tested remedy for colic, boiled water; it had always worked for her notoriously windy boys!
Sister Josephine entered the room. She had returned from her visit to the priest and had been informed that Mrs Blake had taken it upon herself to interfere in the care of the newborn.
'Mrs Blake,' she boomed, 'a word, please.'
Jean told the girls to put away their sewing and she would see them on Saturday, God willing. She followed the nun, still cradling the baby who was now sleeping soundly.
'I am informed by Sister Agatha that you have interfered in the nursery.' Sister Josephine looked sternly at her as if she was a child. Jean, while still thinking the nuns were imposing, no longer was afraid to speak her mind.
'This baby was suffering from colic, he was in a lot of pain.' She offered in explanation.
'We leave them to cry until their next feed, it does not do to get to emotionally involved with an abandoned baby.'
'Nevertheless,' Jean would not be put off, 'colic is not relieved by waiting until the next feed, I know, I have had two colicky babies and I would never leave them to cry in such pain!'
'Mrs Blake,' Sister Josephine tried to explain her position, 'we can't get too close.'
Jean by now was furious. She would be speaking to Lucien about this, but as a mother she could only advise.
'I suggest that when he cries in pain you give him cooled, boiled water off a spoon. I found it eased the symptoms.'
'His adoptive parents will be informed.'
'He is to be adopted, then?' Jean asked.
'Well, no-one has come forward yet, but as a white baby he will be soon snapped up.' Sister Josephine advised.
Jean said good bye before she exploded. A baby was not something you bought in a shop, yet she felt that the orphanage dealt with the babies that way.
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Jean strode into the house after the sewing lesson. Still angry she headed to the surgery, which should have finished. Knocking, just in case, she waited for the call to be admitted.
'Come in,' Lucien called, not realising his list for the day had finished. He looked up, his beloved wife was standing there red-faced with fury. What had he done this time?
'Jean...' he went to greet her. 'What's the matter?'
'There's a baby at the orphanage, he has awful colic. Sister Josephine didn't like it that I gave him cooled boiled water while she was out. The sister left in charge wouldn't do anything until his next feed.' Her eyes filled with tears. 'Lucien, he was in such pain, he drew his knees up to his chest, what could I do?'
Lucien pulled her into a hug. She was right, instinct had taken over.
'You did the right thing, darling,' he kissed her forehead, 'but I didn't know they had another child there. I must go and give him the once over.'
'He's very small,' she told him, 'I think he was an early birth.'
'I'll call tomorrow, coming with me?' he said.
'Better had, they know I'm bound to have told you.' She leant up to kiss her hero, and then went to see to dinner.
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Lucien breezed into the orphanage, 'Hello Sister Josephine,' he greeted the nun with his most engaging smile. Jean followed closely behind, not wishing to seem to be his lackey, but to observe the reaction from the dour sister. 'I believe you have a new resident, my locum did not leave any notes so I have come to review the baby's health.'
Sister Josephine could not deny there was a baby on the premises he was giving vent to his feelings about being left alone.
The nun could not but escort the doctor to the nursery. She showed her displeasure in the looks she gave Jean who just gave her sweetest smile. (The Ice melting one).
In the nursery Lucien looked at the tiny scrap in the utilitarian cot.
'How old?' he asked, troubled with the size of the infant.
'A month,' Sister Josephine tersely confirmed.
'A bit small, was he full term?' Lucien asked.
'We don't know, he was left here, on the doorstep.' Lucien picked up the baby.
'I thought that only happened in Victorian novels,' he observed, knowing, sadly that it didn't but wanting to get a reaction from the sister.
Lucien laid the child on the examination table. Instantly the legs were drawn up and the child screamed. Both Lucien and Jean winced at the pain and Jean moved forward to the child. Lucien quickly checked him over, lungs, obviously in good order, limb flexibility good. Apart from chronic colic the little chap seemed in good health, but his weight was an issue for the doctor. He was far too light for a full term baby, even a small one!
'Is he feeding well?' Lucien asked the nun.
'Well, he takes what he wants, I suppose.' Sister Josephine answered.
'What he wants is dictated by the colic, but it is not what he needs.' Lucien pronounced, 'I'm going to prescribe that he has more frequent feeds, interspersed with cooled boiled water when he becomes distressed.'
'So...' Sister Agatha tried to process this, at which Lucien noted she had no experience of looking after small and sickly babies.
'Half as much milk, twice as often, with cooled boiled water, administered by spoon, in between feeds, or when he starts to cry. You can tell he has colic by the way he draws his knees up.'
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At Jean's next sewing session she again heard the baby screaming in pain. She didn't need Mary to show her to the nursery, and she was saddened to see the boy alone in his cot, knees drawn up, red in the face raising the roof. She picked him up and lifted him onto her shoulder, he burped and left milk deposits over her shoulder.
'Shh,' she cooed, 'it's alright little one, Mum...Jean's here.' She had to stop herself saying 'mummy', but it was instinctive. She carried him down to the sewing room where she was surprised and pleased to see Mary had brought the remedy she had first asked for the previous week.
Sister Josephine appeared at that very moment, 'Mrs Blake!' she roared, as red in the face as the baby, 'I have told you we cannot get too close.'
'He was in pain!' Jean was furious, 'How would you like to be left with acute indigestion without relief?'
'Mrs Blake...' but Jean had walked out, carrying the little scrap. She was not going to leave him there. In the car she placed him gently on the passenger seat, she would have to drive carefully to ensure his safety, but she was going to get him to Lucien. She had no idea what would happen next, she had essentially kidnapped the child, but his well being was all that she cared about.
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Lucien was alerted to Jean's appearance by the sound of a screaming baby.
'Oh, no!' he thought, 'she's not gone and taken him from the orphanage?'
He looked up to see his wife looking very, very angry carrying the tiny scrap he had first seen in the nursery at the orphanage, and while he had concerns about the child's progress he thought he had given clear instructions as to how he should be treated.
'Lucien,' she broke down, 'I couldn't leave him, he's in agony, and he was left alone.'
Dr Blake put his arms around her and the child, 'Let's have a look at him them,' he soothed and took the child from his wife.
After an examination Lucien gave the baby back to Jean.
'Well, I think it's due to the formula they're feeding him, maybe they are trying to make him gain weight quickly by giving him a stronger solution. Whatever, it is just causing him a lot of discomfort. I suggest he just has boiled water for twenty four hours, he'll be well hydrated and probably happier. Then we can look at a better feed regime for him.' He watched Jean cradle the child, stroking his head and murmuring to him. He seemed to like it and soon fell into a relaxed sleep. He put his arm over her shoulder, 'Jean?' he asked.
'Nobody wants him, Lucien,' she sniffed,
'But you do, don't you?' He pulled them into his arms, careful not to disturb the slumbering infant.
'Oh, Lucien, we're too old to raise a child.' She smiled wistfully.
'What's age got to do with it? Love is what he needs; love and cuddles and feeding.' Lucien retorted, grinning, 'But maybe we should talk about it, sensibly.' He planted a kiss on her cheek.
'You're right, of course, but...' Jean sighed, 'What do we do for now, I don't want to take him back to the nuns.' She pulled the baby closer to her breast.
Their thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock at the door. Lucien went to answer it. Opening the front door he was surprised to find Sister Josephine and the Superintendant. Sister Josephine didn't look particularly happy.
'Frank, Sister, come in,' he greeted them brightly.
'Dr Blake...,' Sister Josephine started, only to be silenced by Frank Carlyle.
'Lucien,' he began, 'Sister Josephine says Jean has taken something from the orphanage that doesn't belong to her.' When the nun had gone to the police he was astounded to hear her accuse Jean of theft. Sister Josephine had been reluctant to say what it was exactly that Jean had taken, just that what it was did not belong to her. When she had admitted it was a child he was even more shocked. Jean, a kidnapper!
'It doesn't belong to Sister Josephine either,' Jean appeared in the hall carrying the precious bundle.
'Jean,' Frank went up to her, 'you can't go taking children from the orphanage, it's kidnapping.'
'I wanted the doctor to look at him, he has been suffering from colic and Sister Josephine isn't helping him.' Jean answered, stubbornly.
'That's as maybe,' Frank looked seriously at her, 'but there are ways and means to do it, without getting accused of kidnapping.'
'Jean was right to do what she did, Frank,' Lucien indicated they should sit down in the living room. 'This little chap is struggling to cope with the feed he is being given. He hasn't gained any weight since I first saw him.'
'We need to feed him up so prospective parents will be interested in him.' Sister Josephine countered.
'A fat baby isn't necessarily a healthy baby,' Jean got up and went to the kitchen; the baby was stirring in her arms, she decided to try him with boiled water; and put the kettle on. While she waited for it to come to the boil she got a cup and spoon ready. Taking the cup of water and spoon to the living room she soothed the child while it cooled. The baby turned its head to the sound and to Jean's breast. She smiled, 'Sorry sweetie, the well's dry,' she bent and kissed his forehead. She attended to the child while Frank , Lucien and Sister Josephine talked about what to do with the baby and Jean. Lucien suggested either the baby was taken to the hospital or it stayed with them. Although he wasn't sure where it could sleep and what they would do about the things it would need. He watched his wife, totally engrossed in caring for the baby, her natural tenderness touched him and he began to think that adopting him wasn't beyond the bounds of possibility. Sister Josephine remained tight-lipped, Mrs Blake seemed to think that she could do what she wanted and so did her husband. She couldn't change doctors for the orphanage, the others charged, Dr Blake was prepared to do the checks on the children for free. It was true that nobody had even considered taking on a sickly looking babe, so she may have to give in and let them decide on his future.
'How is he?' Lucien looked over at Jean.
'Alright for now, but maybe a weak formula would be a good idea.' Jean answered. 'He is hungry, but I'm worried that full strength will give him colic again. However, a clean nappy would make him more comfortable.'
'Err...' Lucien looked worried, 'we don't have any, do we?'
Jean smiled, 'If you look in the back of the linen cupboard there are some old ones I normally use as cloths. One of those will do for now.' She stood up and followed him before taking the baby to the bathroom.
When she came back down Frank and Sister Josephine had left, Lucien held out his arms to her and she gratefully accepted to embrace. She didn't know what was going to happen and she was worried for the baby's immediate future.
'I've persuaded Frank and the Sister to let him stay with us for now, until we work out what is to be done. Will you be alright to look after him?' Lucien knew this was a silly question, it was what she wanted.
'What about a cot and nappies?' She asked, going to sit on the couch.
'Sister Josephine is sending some nappies and clothes back down with Frank, as for a cot, well the bottom drawer of the chest in our room will have to do for now.' He suggested.
'Maybe the laundry basket will be a better idea, it's got high sides and I can put folded blankets in for a mattress. Matthew will be fine in there.'
'Matthew?'
'Yes, I've decided we can't keep calling him, 'it', or 'the baby', so I thought Matthew would suit him. It means Gift of God.' She tilted her head waiting for his acceptance.
Lucien smiled and took her in his arms, his wonderful, gentle, caring wife. Matthew was going to have a loving home with them, of that he was sure. Because Jean loved him so could he.
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An unlikely scenario, legally, but hey ho, this is fiction.