Lucien woke early, as usual, when the sun was just peeking through the curtains of his bedroom. But that was the only thing that was usual about this day. Everything felt too heavy - the sunlight, the bedclothes, his pyjamas, his limbs, but especially his heart. Yesterday he had watched them lower his mother's body into the ground and saw the dirt thrown over the box that contained her body. He hadn't even been allowed to see her, to say goodbye. And tomorrow he would be on a train to Melbourne and a new school there, away from all that was familiar.

He wanted to pull the covers over his head and stay in bed all day, maybe all year, but there was too much to do. With a sigh, he flung the bedclothes aside, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood up, determined to get on with the business of the day. Trying to focus his mind solely on what needed to be done, he washed up and dressed carefully and neatly. In front of the mirror, he fixed his tie, straightening it just so, the way his mother had showed him. Studying his reflection, satisfied that everything was as it should be, he glanced up and inhaled sharply as he saw her in the mirror standing behind him. His dear mother, looking as beautiful as ever, her hands resting on his shoulders.

"My sweet Lucien," she said softly, smiling at him. "Remember, mon cher: above all, kindness."

He reached up, intending to squeeze her fingers, but just as he was about to touch her she melted from sight. He blinked away the tears. His heart squeezed tight in his chest. "Kindness," he repeated softly.

Shaking away the vision, Lucien squared his shoulders and left his bedroom. He trudged down the stairs of the old house that was so empty now without his mother's incandescent presence to fill it up. Everything around him seemed darker, quieter without her there.

No one else was up this early, not his father or Mrs. Farnham the housekeeper or any of the dozens of people who had been milling about like carrion birds ever since…

He glanced in the direction of his mother's studio. It would be a comfort to slip in there and sense her all around him, but he had watched his father lock the door and warn Mrs. Farnham to keep out. Still, he walked over and tried the handle, but to no avail. It was as if they were trying to erase his mother entirely. Lucien lifted his head, squared his jaw, and tapped his heart, where he vowed he would always keep her close.

Remembering all the tasks he had to do this day, he went in search of breakfast. He found the kitchen deserted too, but cakes and pies and all other manner of food covered all the surfaces, offerings sent over by well-meaning neighbors. Bacon and eggs, or even porridge, seemed out of the question on this morning, so he broke off a piece of chocolate cake and ate it in his hand as he headed out the door, pausing only to take an apple and stuff it into his pocket, then grab his cap.

The fields around his home were filled with the chirping of birds and insects but few people seemed to be about yet. It promised to be a warm winter's day. This early there was still dew on the ground and a slight wind lifted the leaves gently. He saw a couple of farm hands tilling the fields but only from a distance as he made his way along the damp thoroughfare.

His first stop was outside a well-maintained farmhouse a few miles down the road. He whistled softly, and a brown and white spaniel erupted from the barn door and came running toward him. "Rosie!" he cried, crouching down to greet her. She licked all over his face, causing him to laugh at her enthusiasm.

He patted her head gently. "I won't be able to come visit again," he told her. "Father is sending me away. Just like he did to you, I suppose." He rested his forehead against her neck. "Are they taking good care of you here? That's a good girl."

He scratched behind her floppy ears and her whole body seemed to wriggle in appreciation. His heart swelled painfully. With a near-sob, he knelt and threw his arms around her neck. "I can't see you any more, Rosie, but I won't forget you. Not ever." He continued to hug her as she nuzzled against his cheek, her damp nose brushing against him.

He stayed that way until the farmer's three young children emerged from the house and called for Rosie. Only then did he stand up. The gentle dog looked from Lucien to the others, then back again, clearly torn.

"You go now," he told her, pointing to where the youngsters waited.

With a last look at him, Rosie darted away. Lucien watched her until she reached the children and saw them give her the attention she craved. He nodded, satisfied that she was in good hands. He needn't worry about Rosie, at least.

Hands in his pockets, he continued walking down the road, kicking at stones and swiping at low-hanging tree branches, until eventually reaching the town center. Just ahead of him he saw Sid Bartell's grey horse in front of a dilapidated cart filled with scrap metal, hitched to a railing near the Colonists' Club. He patted the horse's flank as he walked around to its head. Lucien pulled the apple from his pocket and held it out to the huge animal that towered over the boy's slender form. "There you are, Fred," he said softly.

"Not that way, lad" said a voice behind him.

Lucien looked up and smiled. "Good morning, Mr. Bartell."

"Mornin'. Here now, let me show you how to do it. Fred's choppers aren't so good any more." The older man took the apple from Lucien and bit off a piece, then held it out to his horse who promptly gobbled it up.

Watching closely, Lucien nodded at the process. "Yes, I see. Thank you, sir."

"It's a bit early for you to be in town, isn't it?" asked Mr. Bartell. "No school today?"

"No, sir. Not today."

"Ahh, that's right. You've just lost your mum, haven't you?"

Lucien nodded solemnly, staring at the ground and rubbing a shoe carefully in the dirt. Seeing the sympathy in people's eyes tended to make him want to cry, and his father had told him he was too old now to be crying in public. When he had control of himself once more, he said, "I've come to say goodbye to you and Fred. I'll be going away tomorrow."

"Off on an adventure, are you?"

"Not quite, sir. Just off to boarding school, I'm afraid."

Mr. Bartell's bushy eyebrows shot up, but Lucien watched him attempt to hide his surprise. "Well, I suppose school can be a new adventure, too."

"Yes, I suppose that's true," Lucien said slowly.

"Life is what you make of it, lad. Bad things happen to all of us, my boy. You can let them make you weak, feel sorry for yourself, or you can use them to make you stronger. It's your choice."

"Yes, sir." Lucien thought about that. He wanted to be stronger. Certainly his mother had wanted that for him, he knew. He had heard his parents argue about him, his father claiming her attentions made him soft. His mother had insisted she was raising him to be a strong man, strong enough to overlook the frailties of others. Lucien resolved to make her proud.

"I understand. I'll try, sir." He held out his hand to the man. "Goodbye."

Mr. Bartell shook his hand, resting the other on his shoulder and squeezing briefly.

Lucien looked up into his eyes for just a moment, then had to look away. "I'd best be getting on now."

"Safe travels, son."

Lucien nodded. He could feel the man's eyes still on him as he turned and walked over to the stairs leading up to the Colonists' Club.

He had been coming here to the club with his father for as long as he could remember. The place was stuffy and old-fashioned, but at the same time there was a sense of comfort here. Part of it was the routine and familiarity, he supposed, but the major factor was, of course, the presence of Mr. Drury. Cec.

Lucien stood in the doorway, turning his cap in his hands and looking inside. He knew the rules of the club, no visitors unless invited in by a member. There weren't many people inside at this time of the day, but it would be full up in a few hours. He recognized a couple of people. There was the mayor with Mr. McAvoy, who looked angry, just as his boy Donald always did. At least Lucien wouldn't have to deal with Donald McAvoy at school any longer, so there was that.

Mr. Michael Tyneman was in the club, too. Lucien had been told that Mr. Tyneman's younger son Edward would be at his new school. If Edward was anything like his brother Patrick, though, that wasn't much of a recommendation for the place.

From behind the bar emerged Mr. Drury. When he spotted Lucien, he came over to greet him.

"Master Lucien, what brings you here today? Where's your father?"

"Good day, Mr. Drury. Father is still at home, I believe. Actually, I came to see you, if I may?"

"Yes, of course. I'm honored. Please do come in."

Father never allowed him to sit at the bar and Mr. Drury knew that. Lucien followed him as he led the way into the lounge.

"Would you like something to eat, Master Lucien?"

"I don't think so, sir. But thank you."

"Well then, what can I do for you?"

Lucien paused, overwhelmed at everything in his life that was changing. And then, for the first time Lucien could remember, Mr. Drury sat down beside him. "Let me say how every sorry I am for the loss of your mother. She was a lovely woman. She will be sorely missed."

"Thank you, sir," said Lucien. "Yes, I think she will be. I …" He stopped again, fighting for control, twisting his hands together tightly.

Mr. Drury said nothing, just rested his hand atop the boy's and waited for him to continue.

When he felt that he could speak without his voice breaking, Lucien looked up at this man who had always been so kind and patient with him. "I've come to say goodbye."

"Goodbye is it?" said Mr. Drury, frowning.

"Yes, sir. I'll be leaving in the morning for Melbourne. Boarding school."

Lucien almost missed the small gasp. After a short pause, Mr. Drury said, "I see."

"Yes," said Lucien, looking down again. "My father says… Well, he thinks it will be best."

"He's only thinking of you, you know."

"I'm sure you're right. He probably won't have much time for me anyway now that… Well, now that everything's changed."

"Your father is a good man, Master Lucien. I'm certain he's just concerned about your welfare."

Lucien was about to reply otherwise but thought it would not be kind, either to his father or to Mr. Drury, who was his father's friend. "Yes. Right you are," he said. "I want to thank you for… putting up with me. Perhaps I can see you if I come home at holidays."

"Of course, Master Lucien. You will always be welcome here, with or without your father. Always. It has been my pleasure to serve you."

Smiling gently, Lucien stood and shook hands. "Thank you. Goodbye, sir."

"Goodbye, Master Lucien. Best of luck to you in Melbourne."

These farewells were becoming more difficult, but there was nothing else for it. One more to go. Lucien made his way back down onto the street, but before he could proceed he was flagged down by a passing automobile. He peered through the window to see the Clasby ladies, Nell and Agnes. They had been great friends of his mother's for as long as he could remember. Miss Nell was very dear to him, but Miss Agnes could be just a bit intimidating at times. She was the only lady in Ballarat that drove her own automobile.

"Good day," he said, touching the bill of his cap.

"Good day. I thought that was you, Lucien, dear," said Miss Nell, reaching out the window to squeeze his arm gently. "What are you doing in town?"

"I had… some business to attend to."

"Well, if your business is finished, young man, we can give you a ride home," said Miss Agnes. "That's where we're headed."

"It's very kind, thank you, but I have one more stop to make first. Perhaps I'll see you after that."

Miss Nell was about to say something, but Miss Agnes cut her off. "Very well then, Lucien. We will see you later."

He gave a small wave to the ladies, touching his cap once more, and set off again.

His last destination was his school. Or his former school now, he supposed. It was getting along into the afternoon when he reached it, and he was beginning to feel a little hungry but food could wait. He stood outside the schoolyard gate; class should be ending for the day shortly.

There was no one in sight yet, aside from a couple of sheep in the pasture across the way. Looking around for something to entertain himself, he spotted a couple of sturdy sticks on the ground. He retrieved them, and after a moment of weighing them in his hands carefully and breaking the longer one so they were roughly the same size, he used them to drum against the schoolyard fence. He was just finishing a rousing rendition of Puttin' on the Ritz when the bell rang and the school doors burst open, spewing forth the pupils.

Several of them stared at him curiously as they went by, some giving him a wide berth, as though losing a parent might somehow be contagious. Lucien didn't really blame them. How could they know what it was like?

Finally his friend Matty Lawson emerged. Taller than Lucien and rangy of limb, Matt was looking over his shoulder and almost passed Lucien without seeing him. At the last moment he stopped, staring at the sandy-haired boy.

"Lucien. Are you all right?" asked Matt.

"Yes. Well, no, not really," Lucien admitted.

"No, I wouldn't think so." Matt glanced over his shoulder again, then took Lucien's arm, pulling him along. "I, uh, I have to get home, but is there anything I can do for you?"

"I'll walk along with you," said Lucien.

"But your house is in the other direction," Matt pointed out.

"That's all right," said Lucien. "I have time."

Matt shrugged at that, but kept walking. "When are you coming back to school?" he asked.

"I'm not. That is, not to this school."

At that, Matt stopped walking and stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"I'm going away. A posh boarding school in Melbourne. I leave tomorrow morning."

Matty stared a moment longer, before nodding and moving on. "Your father."

Lucien hummed in confirmation. "I don't think he wants me around now."

"Oh." Matt looked straight ahead, not wanting to embarrass Lucien by meeting his eyes. "For how long? At the school, I mean. When can you come back home?"

Lucien paused to consider. "When I'm a man, I think."

"Oh," Matt said again. "Sorry, mate."

"Yes, well," said Lucien. "Anyway, I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye." He held out his hand.

Matt stared at it a moment, then shook it, pumping several times. "Bye, Lucien."

"You'll try to keep an eye on the little ones?" He and Matty had been trying their best all year to prevent a few of the older children from bullying the youngest students.

Gulping slightly, Matt nodded. "I'll try."

"Thank you, Matty. And thank you for being my friend."

Matt punched Lucien lightly on the shoulder. "Go home," he said.

Lucien watched him walk away until Matt was nearly out of sight, then turned around to go back to his own house. After tomorrow it would no longer be home, he supposed.

He let himself in through the back door, wondering what he could find to eat. Miss Nell seemed to be waiting for him in the kitchen.

"There you are," she smiled. "I've just made you a sandwich for your tea. You wash up while I pour." Her gentle smile always made Lucien feel a little better about things.

"That'll be lovely. Thank you." He did as instructed, only to discover that after a few bites he wasn't really hungry any longer. But since she had gone to so much trouble for him, he decided the least he could do was finish it.

She fixed the tea then sat down at the table with him, turning her own cup around in her hands as she watched him. "Do you need to talk about anything, Lucien? You must be confused with all that's been going on around you."

He looked at her. He had so many questions, so many things tumbling around in his mind, that he hardly knew where to start. He picked the biggest one. "Why did she die?"

Miss Nell inhaled sharply, tears springing to her eyes.

Lucien quickly held up his hand. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you…"

"No, no, my dear boy. You've done nothing wrong. I just wish I had an answer for you that made sense."

"She was a good person, yes?"

"Yes, she was, dear. A very good person. She loved you very much, you know."

He nodded. That was one thing he knew without a moment's doubt. "I just wonder why, though. Why she had to leave. Was God punishing someone? Is it because I was bad?"

"One thing I'm sure of is that God did not take your mother away to punish you, Lucien. Perhaps… Perhaps God saw what a wonderful person your mother was and he wanted her company. She always made everyone around her feel happier. Everyone loved your mother."

Lucien thought that over. "God must be quite selfish if he took her away from all of us that loved her so he could have her to himself."

"No, that's…" Miss Nell began, but she was interrupted by Agnes, who stood at the pass-through window looking on.

"That's exactly right," said Miss Agnes. "She was taken away from all of us that loved her. It's not fair one bit, is it?"

Lucien shook his head.

"In fact, there are a lot of things going on that aren't fair," Miss Agnes continued. "Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be much we can do about them. We fight where we can, though. And we never stop pointing out the things that aren't fair. We never just accept them, do we?"

"No, ma'am," said Lucien.

Miss Nell glanced sharply at Agnes. "Lucien, darling, if you've finished your tea, perhaps we should get your things packed up for school. You'll want to be sure we have everything you'll need."

"Yes," he said slowly. "I've never been to boarding school though, so I'm not entirely sure what I need."

"Then I'll help you decide, shall I?" said Miss Nell.

"Do that," said Miss Agnes, "while I make one last attempt to talk some sense into that philistine."

In his bedroom they found a packing case already loaded with his clothing, shoes, and other essentials. The work of the housekeeper, old Mrs. Farnham, no doubt. He would have to remember to thank her.

With Miss Nell's help, he added in a few of his favorite books, his penknife, a magnifying glass, and the pocket watch his mother had given him, passed down from his grandfather.

"Now then, what toys would you like to take with you?"

Lucien looked away. "None, I think. After all, I'm going away to school to learn to be a man."

"Lucien, dear boy, that won't happen overnight. You have years to learn that. You're still a child now."

He shook his head fiercely. Couldn't she understand? "The quicker I become a man, the sooner Father will let me come home."

He instantly regretted telling Miss Nell when he saw the tears in her eyes, but before he could attempt to take it back, she had gathered him up in a hug.

He patted her back somewhat awkwardly. "Really, I'll be fine," he assured her. "It must be a very good school, after all, or Father wouldn't have chosen it."

"Yes, I'm sure you're right. Now, you finish up here, and I'll be right back. Save room in your bag for one last thing, won't you?"

"Yes, of course," said Lucien.

When she had disappeared, he sat down on the bed for a moment, thinking. He would have to be more careful of what he said to others. He didn't need to upset everyone just because he was being sent away. That wasn't very kind.

When he heard footsteps approaching, he returned to his packing, trying to force himself to look a little more cheerful.

"Now there," said Miss Nell, "I'm sure you recognize this." She held out a gold foil candy box.

Lucien couldn't help but smile. "Mother's favorite sweets."

"That's right. Now I want you to take them with you. Whenever you are feeling a little blue or missing home too much, you can have a treat and remember how happy your mother always was when she had a box of bonbons."

"I will," Lucien promised, smiling at the thought. "Thank you, Miss Nell. What a wonderful gift. It will be like having Mother with me, won't it?"

"It will indeed. Now, if we're done here, maybe you'd like to go out to the garden before dinner. Your father seems to be busy with patients. Mrs. Randall and her children, I think."

Lucien thanked her again. He placed the box of sweets in his trunk carefully so it would not be damaged, then smiled at Miss Nell and excused himself to go down the stairs.

He was taking his cap from its hook near the door when he heard the sound of a bump, followed by a yelp of pain. He hurried around the corner toward his father's surgery to see a little girl, maybe five years old or so, sprawled on the floor, grimacing and rubbing her head. Her dark hair was in braids and her huge blue-green eyes were filled with tears.

"Oh dear, oh dear. What happened to you, young lady?" he said gently, helping her to her feet and peering at the bump rapidly rising on her forehead. He brushed back her bangs to get a better look. "Are you all right?"

"I hit my head on the table," the little girl sniffed. "It hurts."

"I'll bet it does, Miss Randall is it?"

"My name is Jean," she told him. "Jean Randall."

"Hello, Jean Randall. I'm Lucien Blake. Now let's see if we can find a bit of ice to help with that bump, shall we?"