Jean and Lucien battling their inner demons on her going to Adelaide.

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She didn't really know what to do ,but she knew what she should do. Christopher had written to say that his wife was not coping well with motherhood, could she come to Adelaide and help out? Ordinarily she would have run to help him but, it was complicated. Mattie said she should do what she thought was right. But what she thought was right and what was right, in her experience were usually two different things altogether.

She couldn't just up and leave, she had to make arrangements, find someone to be housekeeper, receptionist and secretary to Dr Blake. She couldn't stay with Christopher, she would have to rent accommodation; which would mean getting a loan; not easy, she was a woman and would likely as not need a guarantor for the loan. It was all so dreadfully difficult.

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In between his investigating the death of Neville Franklin and worrying Alice for results of the tests on the soil round his mother's body, Lucien was aware Jean was battling some inner demons. He knew Christopher had asked her to go and help out with the baby, but she didn't appear to have said yes or no. He wanted her to make the decision herself, and, much as he needed her he knew he may have to let her go, at least for a while. She was distracted, he was distracted, they seemed to be growing apart, rather than together. Neither could confide in the other and so nothing was discussed.

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Mattie watched Jean work through her problems. She had told her that the bank had refused her loan application, and then Jean refused Mattie's offer to ask her father to act as guarantor. She wished there was something else she could do to help her friend, but try as she might she could not think of anything. She couldn't help her financially, if she had been able to she would have given Jean her last shilling, but a nurse's pay covered her living costs and left little for anything else except to keep her clothed, and half the time she bought the fabric and Jean kindly made whatever garment she asked for.

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Jean had decided that she would have to ask Lucien to act as guarantor, there was no one else she could ask without becoming horribly embarrassed. It was hard enough to ask the doctor, but he was happy to help, even though he didn't want her to leave. He was uncertain as to whether she would come back, and Jean wasn't sure either.

She hated that if she went Lucien would start drinking again. He still drank, but she had noticed that he didn't drink himself to oblivion so often these days, not even when he was confounded by a problem, or Patrick had been difficult, or Munro was being underhand.

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Alice had told Lucien the results of the analysis of the soil. It appeared Genevieve had died of a overdose of strychnine, the same poison that killed Franklin. Lucien would not believe she had taken her own life, and even when Jean found out she had said it didn't sound like her. Lucien's father, Thomas, had talked about his late wife frequently and he never gave the impression Genevieve was the type to commit suicide. She had told Lucien this, knowing he would then try to solve the mystery of his mother's death, and in doing so he would have even less time for her. Maybe it was for the best, it would be easier for her to leave if Lucien was preoccupied.

Meanwhile, Christopher kept nagging his mother to come and help. She told him she had to make arrangements first, and couldn't some of the other mother's on the base help? Could he take some leave? In the back of her mind she wanted to know why Ruby's mother hadn't stepped up, after all, she lived in Adelaide. Mattie had asked her that very question, Jean was always expected to jump when asked. And she usually did, which meant that Mattie felt sorry for her, for the amount of times she was put upon.

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Jean continued to make appointments for the surgery, after all Lucien would still be ministering to the needs of the good folk of Ballarat, she found a stand-in housekeeper, Evelyn Toohey. She had been housekeeper to the late Father Morton and came highly recommended and eventually Jean decided she would have to go to Christopher and Ruby, at least for a little while.

She arranged to stay at the Soldier's Hill for the two days before she caught the bus. In her mind she hoped Lucien would come and persuade her to stay, or at least persuade her that she had a home in Ballarat, with him, when she came back. He'd said she would always have a job there, but that wasn't really what she had wanted or, indeed, needed him to say. He did go to her, but not for the reasons she hoped. He needed help with the case, and, as usual Jean was his sounding board.

She thought it was sweet he had gone to the trouble of making scones for her, even if it was a ruse. He'd actually remembered she was not keen on the ones at the hotel. They'd sat on the end of her bed in her room, drinking tea and eating scones and eventually she had set him on the right road, again.

She saw him out of her room and he held out his hand to shake hers, but when he took it he lifted it to his lips and gently and gentlemanly kissed the back of her hand.

'Come back soon, please.' A whisper, and then he was gone, without looking into her eyes again, afraid he may do something they would both regret. Jean found herself staring at the place he had kissed her and a tear slowly formed at the corner of her eye. She turned and closed the door before the tears really began to fall, as she knew they would, before anyone saw her.

In her room she surveyed the tea cup he had used, the remains of the scone he had eaten and the place on the end of her bed he had sat on. Alone in her room at his house she allowed the tears to fall when she needed them to; when she was angry, or hurt or just sad; now she did the same, but she didn't know if she was hurt or just sad. She wasn't angry, not this time, he had to deal with the Franklin case, but more importantly, his mother's death, the truth of how she had died, before he could move on, perhaps he would then allow his true feelings to show, to allow himself to fall in love with her, as she had fallen in love with him.

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Lucien descended the stairs slowly. Jean, as usual had sorted his thoughts and ideas out into a sensible order and he now knew how to deal with Clement, and he was also certain Jock was more involved in his mother's death and was possibly passing blame onto Franklin who was no longer able to defend himself. He had to get this sorted and quickly, before Jean went out of his life. He was so unsure she would ever come back to Ballarat, to him. He hadn't exactly given her cause to return. He took her for granted, was unreliable, late, or not appearing for meals and offended people in town on a regular basis, which made her angry and embarrassed. To add insult to injury, every time she defended him it added fuel to the gossip that they were sleeping together. He'd heard the gossip, Mattie had told him it happened and had even reported some of the things that were said. He didn't know what to do about that. Should he go around and tell everyone that he would not take advantage of her, that her reputation was his prior concern and that the talk was uncalled for and totally untrue? But Mattie had dissuaded him saying Jean would be even more embarrassed and his righteous indignation might have the opposite effect. She was right, of course. So he continued to listen to her cry at night, put up with her acid tongue when it all got a bit much for her and longed for a time she would let him comfort her.

He thought he might get some inspiration of how to solve the riddles before him at his mother's grave. Doug Ashby was there, placing some flowers in the ordinary little vase that stood there. Removing his hat and turning it round by the brim, in thought, he approached. The ensuing conversation with the former Police Superintendant made him angry. Doug had told him that it was Jock who had killed Genevieve, out of jealousy, angry that she refused to have an affair with him. Between them they hatched a plot to get Clement to admit what he had done to Franklin and Genevieve. They would have to involve Matthew and Charlie, the only two serving police officers they could trust.

When Jock pulled a gun on Lucien, Lucien told him he would have to kill him because it was the only way to stop the truth coming out. Although a bullet hole to the centre of Blake's forehead would indicate murder, not suicide. There again, a fleeting thought wafted through Lucien's brain, it would mean Jean could go to Adelaide with a clear conscience. Again another thought, she would still be hurt. If nothing else, they were friends. But it was not Lucien that died, it was Doug Ashby, and Lucien had to deal with his feelings over that.

At the station he watched as Charlie and Matthew informed Munro he would be going to Melbourne to answer charges of corruption. He felt a sense of relief, that Munro would be out of his hair and Matthew would be back in charge; he hoped. Then it hit him; Jean was about to board the bus for the long, tedious journey to Adelaide and he needed to speak to her. If he hurried he could catch her. For once the car started on request and he got to the station just as the bus driver was telling Jean they would have to leave.

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She had one foot on the step when she heard a familiar voice call her,

'Jean! Jean! Wait, please!' He caught up with her.

'Lucien.' Her heart did a little flip of joy to see him, but as usual he was late. 'The bus is about to go, I have to get on.'

'No, wait.' He looked up at the clearly exasperated driver, 'can you get Mrs Beazley's luggage off, please?'

'Lucien!' Jean knew she would have to wait another two days before she could catch another one.

'I need to talk to you. You can go by train, later, if you really must.' He looked so desperate to speak and there were things she needed to hear, and things she needed to say.

'I promised Christopher, Lucien, my son needs me.' She spoke quietly as the driver put her luggage at her feet, knowing she was not going to make the journey then, he'd seen it often before, lovers trying not to be torn apart. The bus drew off and they were left, staring at each other. Lucien picked up her cases and put them in the boot of his car. They needed peace and quiet to talk so he drove her to the lake. Here they could sit either in the car or on a bench and talk without being overheard.

'Jean,' Now he was free to talk he didn't know how to start.

Jean knew this, he could be so articulate and then so tongue tied. 'Did you find out what happened?' Get him on the deaths, he needed to tell her anyway and it was easier for him to talk about that.

'Yes.' His eyes filled with tears at the thought. 'Jock Clement killed Franklin. Franklin was writing a diary and everything would come out. That was what he wanted, that and to be Grand Master of the Lodge. He poisoned him with strychnine, the same way he killed my mother.' Tears made their way down Lucien's cheek and he didn't try to stop them, no need, Jean had seen him cry before. 'Mum refused to have an affair with him so he killed her; as simple as that.'

'Not really simple, though, Lucien.' She replied quietly, 'He took two lives, destroyed two others, yours and you father's, that's not simple. It was a calculated, despicable act, one designed to cause pain to everyone involved. I'm sorry, Lucien, sorry that you lost her, and that you lost her in such a horrible way.' She touched his arm and leant over to kiss his cheek, tasting the salt from his tears.

'He killed Doug Ashby, too. Doug tried to take the gun off him and it went off, twice, Doug didn't stand a chance.' Lucien told her, Doug was his friend, even if Jean wasn't over keen on him, given he had been instrumental in her younger son, Jack, being sent to Melbourne on firearms charges. 'Doug admitted he loved mum, too. It seemed everybody loved her.'

'...but only Jock Clement was prepared to act on it. Everybody else had too much respect for your father to actually proposition her. She loved you both, very much, Lucien, and that's what you have to remember.' Jean squeezed his hand. She had made up her mind, she couldn't leave him at this time. So what was she going to do?

'You need a holiday, Lucien. Just a couple of weeks away from Ballarat and its problems.' She suggested, 'come to Adelaide. You will have to stay in a hotel, but we could...' she realised she sounded like she was propositioning him.

'Would you mind? What would Christopher say?' Lucien thought that spending a little time with her would be quite soothing, even if it would only be walks in the park, lunches and possibly dinner.

'It's not up to Christopher, if he wants me to help then maybe he'll have to put up with you being around occasionally.' She straightened her back 'There are some lovely parks in Adelaide, for a walk or a picnic. And, no, I don't mind.' She turned and smiled and the sun came out in his dark world.

'I'd like that very much, Jean.' He stood up and offered her his hand. 'I suppose we'd better see if we can get your money back for your bus ticket. Then, if it's alright with you, can we pop home so I can pack and then we'll go by train, shall we?'

'Let's.' Jean accepted his hand and they walked back to the car like that, hand in hand; which Jean thought was forward of them both, but no one could see.

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As the train drew into Adelaide station Jean stirred. She had nodded off on Lucien's shoulder and he had just put his arm gently round her shoulders.

'Is Christopher collecting you?' That was something he had not thought of. Did she want Christopher to know he had come with her.

'Yes, he has a key to the flat I'm renting. He's going to take me straight there and let me drop off my things then to his house.' Jean wasn't sure what her son's reaction would be to her travelling with her employer, probably not too favourable, he could be a little bit of a stuffed shirt, as Jack put it. He would probably think the worst.

'I'd probably better stay out of the way, then,' Lucien's cheeky side was reappearing.

'Come round tomorrow afternoon. We can go for a walk, if you don't mind Amelia in the pram.' Jean reckoned that would give her enough time to introduce the idea of her seeing Lucien while he was there.

'That would be lovely.' He bent down and kissed her cheek, 'I'll find a hotel then I can let you know where I'm staying.'

Jean returned the kiss, 'See you tomorrow.' She took her cases and went to find her son, who said he would wait outside the station, when she told him her travel plans had changed, but not why.

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I didn't plan for this story to go to more than one chapter but it seems to have its own ideas. In fact it was supposed to be a 'not going to Adelaide' story.