Jean cleared away the lunch dishes and then went to get ready for a stroll with her love. In spite of the gales the previous day it was not cold, so she chose to put a light jacket on. It complemented the blue of her dress and she was lucky to have found the material while browsing in the sewing shop one day. Even though Lucien had offered to take her clothes shopping in Melbourne one weekend she had declined. She enjoyed sewing and was very good at it, some, those that were her close friends, told her you couldn't tell she made her own clothes, they looked so professionally finished.
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Lucien drove them down to the lake and parked up by the rowing club. Their usual route was from there to a large clump of trees where they had found a hidden spot for a quick kiss. At first Jean had been embarrassed, in case they were caught, but as time had gone on she enjoyed the 'danger'.
The closer to the trees they got, the more they could see the damage done by the high winds, at least two trees were down and one or two others were looking decidedly bent.
'It doesn't look safe, Lucien.' Jean said, sorrowfully, 'Those trees have really suffered.'
'You're right, we might have to find another 'snuggle spot'.' He agreed.
'It won't be the same.' She sighed, 'not leaning against the tree you climbed as a boy.'
He remembered the first time he had shown her that tree, she had been doubtful it was his tree, until he showed her where he had carved his initials in the trunk. Still there, grown out somewhat, but still visible. It was so far into the copse that there was no chance they would be found, unless boys were climbing trees, but as they went during school hours, it was unlikely.
They continued until they got to the trees, anyway. Looking around it was a mess, their tree was exposed so they would be seen. They walked further in and found another tree for Lucien to press Jean against and they resorted to being teenagers again, and again Jean wondered. She was looking forward to marrying him, sleeping next to him, making love, it had been so long, she thought it would almost be like the first time. Over the years since Christopher had died she had missed the intimacy, but no matter how the one or two 'gentlemen callers' she had had, had pressed her she could not bring herself to take that final step. It all seemed too casual, and casual sex was not for her.
A strong breeze started up and blew the hem of her dress up, just enough to expose her stocking tops. She giggled and pushed the skirt down. Lucien looked at her and smiled, hoping for a stronger breeze!
'Perhaps we'd better head home.' He said, wistfully, 'it looks like the wind is starting up again, and I don't like the look of those clouds.' He took her hand and led her out of the copse, skirting the fallen trees. She looked back and stopped. What was that? The breeze had shifted some leaves exposing what looked suspiciously like a hand.
'Lucien, wait.' She pulled his hand and pointed.
He moved past her and indicated she should stay back. Stepping into what was the top of the tree he moved aside branches and leaves to see the body of a young man, little more than a teenager. He put his fingers to the neck already sure he would not find a pulse, and he was right.
'Jean, go back to the rowing club. They have a phone. Call the police and the ambos.' He went over to her and kissed her forehead. She was pale and shivering. He took his coat off and draped it over her shoulders.
'Are you alright?'
'Yes.' She gave a wan smile, 'it's just a shock, that's all.' She returned the kiss on his cheek and went to do his bidding, holding the coat around her for his warmth.
She found the phone and even though there was no one around she called the station and spoke to Bill Hobart. Briefly informing him of what they had found, without saying why she and Dr Blake were in the copse, she listened to him tell Ned and Charlie to head over to the lake and said he would call the ambos. She put the phone down and headed back to Lucien. She could stay where she was but in spite of what she would see she wanted to be with him, not alone and wondering.
'They're on their way!' She called as she got closer to him.
He was squatting down looking at the body, having cleared away more of the foliage. It was not a pretty sight so he called back to her to stay away. The boy had a sharp branch through his torso which was what had probably killed him, but how had he got there? If the tree was upright he would be in the middle of the branches. He was not lying under a fallen tree, he was in it, as if he had been there when it had fallen. When the ambos got there he would need more than the body, he would need half the tree as well! It was a puzzle, for sure. He stood up and moved back to Jean, wiping his hands on his handkerchief.
'Lucien?' She touched his arm.
'Well, it's odd. It's almost as if he was in the tree when it fell, already speared on a branch.' Lucien ran his hand over his head, in that endearing way he had when he was faced with a puzzle.
'But how could that be?' She asked, equally, if not more, puzzled.
'At the moment, your guess is as good as mine.' Lucien mused. 'Anyway,' he changed the subject. 'When the boys get here I'm going to take you home and then I'll go on to the morgue.'
Jean sighed, 'Oh dear. I thought we'd have the evening together as Charlie's rostered on.' She was used to him being out at all hours and knew nothing would change but, still... Ah well, she'd finish her mending without distractions.
'Me too.' He smiled, 'I'll make it up to you.'
The sound of cars arriving disturbed them so they drew apart, quickly. Lucien directed operations before taking Jean back to the car and driving her home. As she got out of the car on the drive, Lucien pulled her back and kissed her.
'I don't know when I'll be home, if the wind gets up again and you don't want to sleep in your own room, use mine.' He smiled, not wanting it to sound like a lewd suggestion, 'I'll take the couch tonight.'
'I'll be fine.' She returned the kiss, thinking she would be playing with fire if she slept in his bed, tempting though it was. 'I'll leave something that can be heated up on the stove for you and Charlie.' She left the car and went inside, waving to him before she closed the door. She went upstairs and put her jacket away and turned to look at her bed. Somehow it was a lot less inviting than even the couch. Anyway, she had other things to do rather than thinking about where she might sleep tonight.
In the kitchen she thought about what she could make for a meal that she could eat and that would heat up easily for the men. She had planned a casserole, and if she carried on with that idea it would be easy enough for even Lucien to heat up a portion on the stove top. She turned on the radio to break the silence. She was used to being in the house on her own but today it seemed eerie. Perhaps it was the occasional whine of the wind blowing round the house.
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Lucien arrived at the morgue just as the ambos were unloading their curious cargo. They had managed to get almost all the tree top that the body was in, into the ambulance. They had to use two mortuary tables side by side to lie it on which made it difficult for Lucien and Alice to get round it. Before they started examining, Lucien took several sheets of paper and started making quick sketches of the scene. Alice was impressed at his artistic skills not knowing they were honed in the POW camp. Accurate and quite detailed, they showed all the vital information they would need when they had cut away the excess wood. Charlie brought a wood saw in to cut away the branches and soon all they had on the tables was a body with a branch through his torso.
'Lucien, I think this boy has been dead more than twenty four hours.' Alice looked closely at the body. Rigor had passed, the skin was discoloured beginning to decay. The doctor helped her turn the body over to reveal blow fly eggs round the mouth and in the eye sockets. The temperature was too low for them to hatch quickly, they could be anywhere between zero and six days old, but Lucien would have to check in his books to be sure. They cleared away the eggs, not wanting them to start hatching, and put them in sealed jars.
They set to work cleaning and examining the body properly. A male, about fifteen years old, well nourished, well dressed and healthy. Cause of death, a wooden branch through the torso, through the heart causing massive internal bleeding. Time of death, anytime in the last week. Neither could be absolutely sure.
They cleaned up and presented their findings to Matthew Lawson.
'So how did he get there, up in a tree?' Lawson asked, in his usual brusque manner. He didn't like loose ends, he wanted it all tied up neatly.
'Matthew, I just don't know.' Lucien sat in the chair opposite his old friend. 'It looks as if he was dropped onto the branch, but how, I don't know. As far as I know no small aircraft fly over the lake. In fact I don't think it's on a flight path at all. He's only a boy, someone must have missed him.'
'No, there were complaints it disturbed the peace so all planes fly away from it.' Matthew agreed. 'Go home, Blake, I'll get Ned to check for missing persons.' He continued. 'We'll look at it in the morning.' He was tired from his trip to Bendigo and his leg ached. He'd had a hard job convincing the powers that be that he was fit enough to return to duty as Superintendant of Ballarat Police and he wasn't going to give in without a fight, so being sensible about his working hours was the best way to deal with it.
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Jean had eaten her dinner, and tidied up, leaving enough in a saucepan for Lucien and Charlie when they came in. She'd finished the buttons on Lucien's shirt and repaired one of Charlie's uniform shirts, honestly they were as bad as each other. She was sure Charlie was turning into a young Lucien when it came to tearing his clothes. She decided to have a bath and change into her nightwear, then have her evening sherry. Perhaps one of them would be back by then to keep her company. She knew who she hoped it would be. She'd lit the fire in the studio; it would be burning nicely when she came down after her bath.
She had finished her bath and was sitting in her bedroom brushing her hair before she went downstairs. The wind was gusting round the house and rattling her window which she habitually left ajar. She thought she'd better close it properly, it would only cause a draft when she was in bed. She chose the wrong moment. As she lifted the latch bar the wind whipped the window out of her hand and off its hinges, flinging it against the garage roof and smashing it into pieces.
'Oh!' She screamed, jumping back and staring aghast at the hole that was once her window. Now what? The window would have to be blocked up for now, but she didn't fancy going out into the shed to find a piece of wood and the hammer and nails in the current weather. However, there was no one else around and she had no idea when either of the men would return. Damn! It would appear she had no choice. She went downstairs and put her coat on over her robe and nightdress. She grabbed a torch and, slipping into her gardening shoes in the sun room, she took a deep breath and the advantage of a short lull in the wind and ran across to the shed. It took her a few moments, but even Jean's shed was tidy, before she found a piece of old cupboard that Thomas had thrown out. It looked to be about the right size to cover the gap, she grabbed the hammer and a handful of nails and waited a moment before there was another break in the wind before she ran back to the house.
Jean was grateful for those years running the farm. She had learnt a lot about make do and mend and, although it had irked her they didn't have enough money to have someone do those jobs, she now saw how useful those lessons were.
She kicked off her shoes and went quickly into the kitchen, colliding with Lucien who was just coming to find her, having come in through the front door as she had gone out through the back.
'Oh! Lucien, you're back!' She smiled.
'Jean, what on earth are you doing?' He was holding her elbows to stop her falling as they crashed together.
'My bedroom window is out. The wind caught it.' She had a look on her face that asked 'isn't it obvious?' 'I need to block it out. The draft will keep me awake.' She tried to move round him.
'Let me at least help.' He let go, took the piece of wood off her and followed her up to her room. Inside it the wind was blowing the curtains around and it was cold.
'What do you want me to do?' He asked, not being the practical one, and it seemed to him, in that instant, he should be a little embarrassed at his lack of carpentry skills.
'Well, if you hold the wood over the hole I'll put the nails through.' She figured it would be easier for Lucien to use his weight to hold the wood in place while she positioned the nails.
'Sure you don't want me to do the hammering?' He asked.
'No thanks.' She wasn't sure he wouldn't spend more time hitting his fingers than the nails.
It took some minutes before the job was done and Lucien was impressed at her, she was a constant source of wonder to him, and he told her so.
'You get used to it, living on a farm and scraping a living.' She smiled.
He put his arms round her and held her close, determining she would never again know a life where she had to make do and mend. He breathed in her scent, cold air and the clean smell of soap after her bath. Kissing the top of her head he suggested, again, she sleep in his room. Her room was cold and dark.
'I'll give you ten out of ten for persistence, my dear.' She smiled, her room was cold, and it was tempting, but even if she eventually gave in she was going to make him work for it. 'The fire is lit in the studio, I'll be warm enough in there.' Lucien rolled his eyes, the woman was infuriating sometimes, he only wanted to be sure she was warm and secure. She changed the subject, 'Shall I heat up some stew for you? You must be hungry.' Then, breaking all her rules about eating only in the kitchen or dining room, 'I'll even let you eat off a tray in the studio, if you like.'
He smiled and agreed that would be nice,
'Do I have time for a quick shower?'
'Surely, I'll see you in the studio,' and she was off downstairs.
He showered and changed into his pyjamas and robe and met her in the studio. A delicious bowl of 'all in one' stew was on a tray on the small side table by his chair with a glass of whisky. Jean was on the couch, her feet tucked under her and a blanket over her lower half. She looked adorable, her hair was tousled and her eyes sparkled in the firelight. He ate his meal and took the tray out to the kitchen. She could just hear him washing up his bowl and spoon and smiled that he would bother, but he knew that if he didn't, she would, because all pots were washed before she retired for the night.
He returned to the studio, she hadn't moved but as he entered they started their little game again; her patting the space beside her, he raising his eyebrow, and she smiling, coyly.
'Did you work out your puzzle?' She asked as he pulled her against his chest.
'We know the cause of death, but not how he got into the tree.' He swirled the whisky round the glass, 'he's been dead more than a day, so he's been in the tree since before the gales.'
'Climbing?' She asked.
'Don't think so, he fell with more force than that.' He mused.
'Oh.' She sat deep in thought, then decided that they could deal with that in the morning. She lifted her face to him, a sultry smile on her sweet face. He gave in to the silent invitation and they spent some time kissing and touching. Lucien was surprised to find she was wearing a nightdress, which meant he couldn't slip his hand inside her pyjama top. Not fair, he thought, she had her hands inside his! His hand moved inside her robe and over her shoulder, encountering the fine strap of her nightdress which he found easy to slip down the top of her arm, meaning he could slip his hand over her breast. She gasped at his light touch causing him to stop and pull away from the kiss to look into her eyes. He needed her permission to continue. He eyes were bright and as she gazed into his she relaxed. That was all the permission he needed but vowed he would go no further, but he did wonder why she had chosen a nightdress for a change, still, best not ask.
The fire began to die down and the room became slightly cooler. Jean had her head on Lucien's chest and her eyes were threatening to close. If she didn't move they would end up where they ended up the previous night, and really there wasn't enough room on the couch, cosy as it had been. She felt him kiss the top of her head, it was one of those endearing little acts of his that made her feel so safe. She looked up at him, so gentle, so...oh what was the word she was searching for?
'Come on, I insist.' He stood up and pulled her into his arms. 'My bed, I promise I won't do anything you don't want me to. Trust me.'
As he looked at her she knew that she wanted to spend the night with him, the trouble was not that she didn't trust him, she didn't trust herself!
'Lucien, what if Charlie finds out?' What other excuse could she give?
'I'm not going to tell him, are you?' He smiled, almost cheekily.
It was no good, she gave in,
'...but only to sleep.' She warned him, crossing her fingers behind her back.
'Want to put a pillow down the middle?' He suggested.
She slapped his shoulder playfully and grinned, 'I don't think that will be necessary, do you?'
He was glad she thought that, it meant he could at least hold her.
Lucien let her get into bed first, waiting outside the door until she called him. He hung his robe over hers on the back of the door and went round to the other side of the bed, slipping under the covers and turning on his side to face her. He could be happy like this for the night, just hearing her breath and snuffle in her sleep. She lay the same, on her side looking at him. He reached over and moved a curl off her cheek, so soft. She tipped her face and kissed his fingers. She wriggled a little closer, daring herself to put her head on his chest as she had done when they were on the couch together. She knew she wasn't being fair but when he was near her she wanted the physical contact, that closeness she had missed for so long. Lucien seemed to sense her thoughts, and made the decision for her. He reached and pulled her to him, so her head was where she wanted it to be and she responded by laying her arm over him. Gradually relaxing, knowing he wasn't going to go any further, she fell into a deep sleep, deeper than she had for years. Lucien smiled and closed his eyes, knowing his sleep would be deep and trouble free for the first time since he had returned to Ballarat.
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Better get back to the matter of the boy in the tree!