I don't think I've ever had so many reviews in one day! Thank you. I appreciate them, and your ideas have got me thinking. I rather like miss ouiser's idea of giving Lucien's POV, and I might have a go at that once this is finished. There'll probably be one more chapter after this. x

Jean sat at her dressing table and read the letter for the third time. She realised she still had her coat on, and shrugged it off, tossing it onto the bed with an uncharacteristic lack of care.

She had expected to find Lucien in the house, probably nursing an almighty hangover. She had thought she might have to be firm with him, even argue with him, and make it clear she was moving out. She had been sure how the conversation would go..

But the letter, and more importantly Lucien's absence, changed all that.

His note assumed she would be back, that she would stay, and that she would be waiting for him when he got back from China. The cheek of the man!

He said nothing about her behaviour, or indeed his, but he called her his friend. That took the wind out of her sails. Sometimes only a friend will tell you the truth, and maybe that was what she had done.

And those last words...'with much affection'... were making her chest ache. She refused to think about why that might be.

Jean changed into clean clothes and sat down again in front of the mirror. She had decided that she would stay at least for today. She needed to explain Lucien's trip to Mattie and Danny, and there was little point in her moving out when he wasn't here anyway.

Automatically she started applying her makeup, finding the familiar routine soothing. Finally satisfied, she opened her jewellery box on a whim, looking for a necklace to wear. She usually didn't bother much with such things, but she really ought to keep up standards, she thought.

On top of the few bits of jewellery Jean owned was the brooch Lucien had given her. She smiled wryly. She had never worn it - never had occasion to. It was rather too showy for her taste, and she never went anywhere very special.

But maybe she should wear it today. She pinned it on her blouse and looked again at her reflection. She had to admit it suited her; it brought out the green flecks in her eyes. She touched it for a moment. That was just a coincidence, she thought. He had bought it for his wife, she was sure of that, despite his denials, and she wondered for a moment if giving it to Jean had been his way of giving up on ever finding his wife.

She sighed and sat up straighter. Enough of that, Jean. He was just a friend. And maybe her employer. Maybe.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Matthew had stayed for dinner, and Jean had put him in Lucien's seat. No one commented on this, least of all Matthew, but it was apparent to them all that she was brittle, and too bright.

The conversation touched on Lucien's trip to Shanghai, then veered away, nobody wanting to think too closely about whether he would really come home as he had promised, or whether his daughter would keep him there.

"No sooner had I rehired him, Jean, than he was asking for time off. That's Blake all over though. I've never been able to keep up with him." Lawson grimaced in frustration.

He had realised when Blake gave him the parcel that it contained more than just a sign, but it seemed to have unsettled them all.

Even Blake's assurances that he would come home hadn't been enough. Mattie and Danny seemed adrift. How could they be the lodgers of a man who wasn't there? And as for Jean...

It was just dawning on Lawson that Jean loved Blake. He suspected she didn't even know that herself yet, but the brooch gave her away. Only Lucien would have given her something that exotic. His eyes were drawn to it over and over, even though he knew he was in danger of being caught staring at Jean's chest.

As so often, he felt his anger at Lucien rise. Jean was a fine woman who deserved better than to be messed around like this.

Jean was restless and unsettled. She still believed he was unlikely to come home, if Ballarat even was home. There was so little here to draw him back; just some elderly patients, and this little household. Two young people and a middle aged woman sitting around a table waiting for 'Dad' to come home, when in reality his family was in China.

His daughter, his own flesh and blood, would surely keep him there. And of course his daughter might know what had happened to his wife. She couldn't even dare think about that.

Jean showed Matthew to the door, listening to him make polite remarks about her cooking. As she started to close the door he turned on the doorstep.

"Jean, last night...after you left, Lucien opened that letter from Singapore. His wife is dead." He hesitated, letting the news sink in. She looked shocked but didn't speak. "Apart from his daughter, everything he has is here now. He will be back, I'm sure of it."

He saw Jean swallow hard and her eyes glittered. She nodded and shut the door, and Lawson walked away. Perhaps he shouldn't have told her.

Jean rested her forehead on the back of the door, breathing thickly through unshed tears.

Even if he did come back, he had a wife to mourn now. How would he survive knowing his seventeen years of hope had been wasted? And yet...and yet there was a family waiting for him here, if he wanted it.