They queued with the rest of the passengers, waiting to have their passports checked and to retrieve their luggage. The port was bustling, a combination of novice travellers, like Jean, and the more experienced who tended to huff at the wait. She had her hand in the crook of Lucien's arm and smiled up at him every time he looked to make sure she was alright with the crowd. They were to stay in Naples for a couple of days before moving on to Rome, then Florence, Verona and, finally, Venice.
As they settled into their room in the hotel Lucien told her what he planned for this leg of their tour. She was astounded at his ideas, that he would show her the best of the countries he had decided on. Wherever they were,
'You pick what you want to do.' He held her tight, 'where you want to go, what you want to see...this trip is for you, Jean.'
She gulped back tears; when she had told him, that day in the garden that she had wanted to see more of the world she had resigned herself to the fact that it would never happen and now... now she was in Italy. She knew what countries he was taking her to, but not where, which cities or towns. She knew they would end up in England, see Mattie, before they headed back home, by cruise ship.
'Oh Lucien... how will I know? I mean I've only read about these places in books...'
'Well,' he kissed her head, then the happy tears that rolled down her cheeks, 'on the first day in each town, we shall just wander, then you can see where you would like to explore in more detail.'
'That's sounds perfect.' She laughed, giddy as a teenager.
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Alice left Matthew in the office and headed to the morgue. She had attended a crime scene early that morning, a small aircraft had come down near the airfield the previous evening. There were two bodies and she was fairly sure it would be a routine autopsy.
She had asked for an assistant and the young man who had been assigned was standing, nervously waiting for the formidable Dr Harvey. She hid a smile behind the clip file she was carrying before moving to the table.
'You are?' She asked.
'Erm, Saul, Saul Jacobs,' he blushed as he spoke.
'Well, Saul Jacobs,' she handed him a clipboard from the side, 'shall we get on with it?'
'Ok,' he gulped. He'd heard stories that she was one not to be trifled with, she had seen off Dr Wallace, butted heads with a senior copper.
'You write down everything I say about the patient,' She started to undress the first body folding his clothes and setting them neatly on the counter behind her. She listed everything she found, and Saul lost himself in his job.
'Now,' she turned to him and turned the top sheet over, 'now we look at the body. We'll start at the head, you keep doing what you did on the last sheet.'
'Overall description of the body, male, aged thirty five to forty, well nourished, height, five foot ten.' She turned her attention to any cuts or bruises. Bruise to the left side of the forehead, indicating he hit his head on the instrument panel, perhaps...' she carried on theorising and commenting. Then she turned to her assistant. 'So, any thoughts?'
'Oh, er... well um...'
'Come on man,' she teased, 'spit it out.'
'He died as a result of the accident.' Saul looked at her, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline, 'I mean, he wasn't murdered.'
'And you come to that conclusion...?'
'Well,' Saul took a breath, 'if he was sitting in the front and there are no injuries to his back then he just fell hard against the front and, er...'
'Hm,' she mused, 'it does seem to be the most obvious. What other tests could I do?'
'You haven't x-rayed his head.' Saul stood ready for a clip.
'I haven't, have I?' She wondered if he had noticed. Matthew had said to try and get any assistants she was offered to work with her, and then they could assign one to her for the rest of the time she was in charge.
'No, miss...er... doctor.' He gulped again, he had been told the worst thing you could call Alice Harvey was 'Miss'.
'What would I be looking for?'
'Um...'
'Please stop hesitating, all this umming and erring is rather irritating, say what you mean to say.'
'Bleeding,' he blurted out, 'bleeding on the brain!'
She turned away and smiled slightly, 'He'll do,' she thought.
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The x-ray showed a depressed fracture of the front of the skull with bleeding behind. Alice didn't think it was enough to cause him to die.
She began a full autopsy, letting Saul watch, weigh and note the organs and findings.
'Dr Harvey,' he chanced his arm, 'he appears to be in good health, unless the blood tests show anything.'
'Quite so,' she agreed, 'so what will we be looking for in the blood?'
'Drugs, maybe,' he thought for a while, 'alcohol.'
So far he seemed to be inoffensive, reasonably intelligent and, most importantly, not prone to fainting.
'Do you know how to test for drugs?'
'Yes,' he nodded, 'morphine, bennies, cocaine, sedatives.'
'Right, well you start those while I put this one away.' She pointed him to the equipment she would normally use, 'then we can start on the second body.'
She had started on the second autopsy when Saul called her over to his bench.
'Dr Harvey,' he rubbed the back of his neck, 'I think he had benzedrine in his system. Quite a high dosage.'
'Enough to kill?' She came over to him.
'I suppose so,' he sighed, 'but it would depend on him, surely. If it was his first time, or if he was particularly sensitive to it...'
'I have to admit, there is no sign of heart disease, the only other cause was the bleed to the brain.' She studied his test result, 'so death due to a combination of a bleed to the brain and a high dose of benzadrine.'
'Wonder how he got the bennies,' Saul murmured.
'Indeed, well,' Alice nodded, 'I think that's more Superintendant Lawson's area, don't you?'
'Oh, yes, I didn't mean...'
She patted his arm and suggested they carry on with the second autopsy.
Upon close examination they discovered bruising over the chest and finger bruises round the neck. He, too, had a bruise across his forehead, quite a bit bigger than the first man. Alice looked at her notes from the scene, he was the pilot, so the bruises over the chest would be from the steering column.
'Dr Harvey,' Saul interrupted her, 'the x-ray.' He pushed it under the clips on the light box.
'Thank you,' she stopped reading the scene notes and gazed at the image. 'Hmm, no fracture, no bleeding...'
'Perhaps he took the full force on his chest.' Saul suggested, feeling a lot braver than when he had started that morning.
'Well, let's open him up and have a look.' Alice turned to the body and picked up a fresh pair of gloves.
Apart from the bruising to the chest there were no other injuries, internal or external.
'Now what?' Saul asked.
'Well, Saul,' she folded her arms, 'could you do the blood tests for me, and then, as everything else seems normal, I'm going to take a look at his brain.'
'But the x-ray doesn't show anything.'
'I know,' she smiled, 'but there may be bruising, and that won't show on an x-ray. Now, where did Dr Blake put the bone saw?'
Saul watched wide eyed as she took the top of the man's head off and extracted the brain. He was so stunned he forgot to feel even slightly nauseous and they both poured over the organ.
'See here...' she pointed with a scalpel, 'deeper colouring - bruising, and here,' she turned it so they could both see the brain stem, 'bleeding, and bruising further up.'
'So, his brain rebounded in his skull?' Saul whistled, 'bloody hell.'
'Indeed,' Alice raised her eyebrows, Saul blushed and immediately apologise for his language.
'Well, I'm going to write up the report.' She smiled, 'then he needs putting back together.'
'I'll do that,' he pulled on some gloves.
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Alice passed Matthew her autopsy reports for the two men.
'I'll talk to you later,' she smiled, 'but I have surgery in half an hour.'
'Right,' he called after her, 'how's your new assistant?'
'He'll do.' she waved over her shoulder.
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They strolled hand in hand through the streets of Naples. It was very different to any place Jean and been to. The streets were narrow and quite steep in some places. Instead of stopping for a full lunch they stopped at a pavement cafe and ordered some local seafood and water. With some salad and bread, they were quite content.
'Lucien,' Jean stopped outside a small newsagent type shop, 'I know it's our honeymoon, but I'd like to send a postcard or two. To Alice and Matthew.'
'I'm sure they'll be rather glad to know you haven't run off with a sailor, or an Italian,' he teased. 'Yet!'
'Silly,' she chose two postcards and they went inside to pay for them.
After dinner they went for a stroll in the town. There were still quite a lot of people around and music floated out of some cafes and restaurants. Jean found it all perfectly charming. During the day she had identified a couple of places to visit knowing they would be moving on to Rome the day after.
'I'm not going too fast for you, am I?' Lucien asked as they headed back to their room.
'I don't think so,' she took her hat and jacket off. 'But I will need the cruise home to recuperate.'
'Well, if you want to stay longer somewhere, just let me know.' He took her in his arms and kissed her. She melted into his arms and let him do what he wanted, which was slowly undress her, he kept telling her this was one of his favourite things, it was like unwrapping an exotic gift each time. Each time he examined his 'gift' he found new things to wonder at.
She liked doing pretty much the same to him, running a finger down the scars on his back, kissing them lightly They didn't frighten her, as he thought they would, but she could only imagine the pain he went through and resolved that never again would he feel such pain if she could help it. She stood behind him, naked, having relieved him of everything but his shorts and put her arms round him, kissing his back softly and running her hands over his chest, circling his nipples then running her hands so delicately down to slip them inside his shorts and push them off. He gasped, softly and waited for her to move round to face him and press herself against him.
When she did so he ran his hands swiftly down her back and lifted her up so she could wrap her legs round his waist and, as he moved backwards to sit on the bed she slipped down and over him, grinning and moving, rubbing her breasts against his chest, feeling him hold her round her trim waist, to stop her falling backwards as she arched in release and squealed with ecstasy.
They fell on the bed panting and giggling,
'God, Jean.' Lucien hissed, 'you're amazing.'
'You're not so bad yourself,' she teased as he rolled them both under the bed clothes, then dived down to explore her with his tongue.
'Lucien! Luci...! Oh!' She screamed then gasped at what he was doing to her. Sometimes her less than expansive knowledge of ways to please a spouse were a blessing, that way he could surprise and excite her.
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He loved showing Jean Italy, although he was not as familiar with it as he was with France and England, but seeing it through her eyes he felt as if he were seeing it for the first time. Her joy at learning new things, trying new food, the way she poured over the guide books filled him with pride and love. He asked for nothing in return but her company. As they walked through the narrow streets of Naples and later in the week, in the wider streets of Rome she held his hand or linked her arm with his, totally at ease.
She wanted to see all of it,
'Even the old ruins?'
She turned and looked at him, 'I'll never get the chance again.'
'Well you'll just have to make to with living with this old ruin in Ballarat,' he laughed.
'You are not an old ruin, darling,' she linked her hands behind his neck, in the street, 'you are my renovation project, and I think I've just about finished it. I do love you, Lucien, just as you are.' She tiptoed up and kissed him, fully and passionately, in the street!
Lucien was quite taken aback, how often had he wanted to steal a kiss when they were out at home and here she was... wonders would never cease!
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Alice checked the post box, Matthew so often forgot and Janet, the cleaner/receptionist, usually assumed he had checked and... well it worked best if she did it.
Rates, telephone bill, a medical journal and two postcards. The bills were Matthew's department, he had agreed he would pay them as he was living there, Alice would read the journal, but the postcards...she decided they could wait until dinner.
She dealt with Agnes' weak excuses for not following the diet she had outlined for her, so she threatened her with, not only a stay in hospital but, a thorough telling off by both Dr and Mrs Blake on their return. Agnes liked Dr Harvey, a little like Lucien but more forthright.
'As you wish, doctor,' she inclined her head, 'but really, is it worth it?'
'Miss Clasby,' Alice leant forward over the desk, 'neither you nor I want to risk the wrath of Lucien Radcliffe Blake on his return. I promised him I would look after you...'
Agnes smiled and promised she would try to follow the regime.
Alice watched her leave, true the revised diet and medication would prolong her life, but she felt the older woman only came to surgery for company.
She tidied up the consulting room, put the bills ready to post and, on hearing Matthew return from the station, headed to the kitchen to make tea.
He joined her there and took the cups out of the cupboard.
'Good session?' He asked, putting milk in the jug.
'Mm,' she warmed the pot, 'Agnes came in, I think she's lonely. She wouldn't need to come so often if she followed instructions, but I have a feeling she only comes for a chat.'
'Wouldn't surprise me,' he waited for her to fill the pot.
'Anything interesting, have you found out any more about our two flyers?' The case was dragging on, to the state where Matthew and his fellow officers were coming to the conclusion that the one high on bennies panicked, and banged the control pilot's head against the console until he blacked out and died, and the plane crashed in the trees.
'We've closed it.' he sipped the hot tea, 'we can't find anyone who can change our initial findings so, death by misadventure.'
'Silly sods.' Alice mused. 'Waste of life.'
'True.' Matthew sighed, 'so, anything else, in the morgue?'
'No, but I'm quite happy with young Saul.' She headed to the sink, 'he wants to learn, and he can do most of the tests I need doing.'
'Good.' He looked in the fridge, having asked Janet to do some shopping for him. He took out some chicken. 'Right, Dr Harvey, dinner.'
Between them they prepared dinner, Matthew showed her how to wrap a chicken breast round sausage meat and wrap that in bacon. She usually prepared the vegetables and it had become almost a game, with laughter, teasing and the odd kiss to the cheek.
As they sat together afterwards with a whisky, Alice produced the two postcards.
'How do you feel, about yours being sent here?' Matthew turned his over.
'Well, I know that Jean knows where I live,' She read the note, 'but knowing I am here for surgery... '
'Well, she hasn't run off, or thrown him overboard.' Matthew noted.
'Looks like Italy agrees with her.' Alice read her card.
'Have you ever been out of the country?' Matthew asked.
'No,' Alice put the card down. 'You have, though, haven't you?'
'North Africa,' he agreed, 'a bit too hot, for my liking.'
'Jean always wanted to see more of the world,' Alice remembered a conversation she had with, the now, Mrs Blake, 'she never thought she would get the chance.'
'Do you?'
'The more I read of the state of other countries the more I want to stay here,' she sighed, 'I at least understand what's going on to a certain extent. I don't envy her, I'm not jealous, I am happy for her.'
'She deserves it.' Matthew stated and refilled her glass.
'She does.'
As Alice left, lifting herself up to kiss Matthew's cheek and thank him for the evening, she wobbled. Matthew caught her,
'Too much whisky doctor?' He teased.
'Superintendant...' she raised her right eyebrow, 'are you insinuating...'
'Perish the thought,' but he took advantage of his hold on her and pulled her into a short, but still meaningful, kiss.
Alice gasped, 'Goodnight, Matthew.' She breathed.
'Goodnight, Alice,' He nodded and smiled.
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Alice smiled all the way home. Slowly but surely Matthew Lawson was chipping away at her resolve not to get involved with another man. The last had only wanted one thing, and as soon as she had understood that, she had turned and walked away. She still had time, plenty of time, to close down again; but she didn't want to...yet.
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Matthew smirked as he limped to his bedroom. She tasted rather nice, he thought, whisky and lipstick... such a long time since he had tasted the latter.
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The Uffizi Gallery was all Jean had imagined and more. Such glorious art, Lucien smiled at her as she gazed at the paintings by such artists she had only heard of, Michelangelo, Rafaello, Botticelli, only seen pictures in books. She felt like a schoolgirl and apologised to her husband for her childish behaviour.
'Jean,' he took her hand, 'the Ballarat Art Gallery does not show such riches as these, enjoy, I do. And I love that you get such delight in them.'
'Lucien,' she looked embarrassed for a moment, 'can we see David, you know, the statue. Only, in books it is highly praised and as we're here...'
'Of course,' he smiled, didn't everyone who came to Florence want to see David, but at the same time he understood her embarrassment.
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She stood and looked, walked round the statue and mused. Lucien decided not to show any emotion, if he could help it, a seventeen foot high statue of a nude male took some looking at.
'Well,' she hummed, 'quite a well defined figure, but, on balance,' she turned to her husband, 'I think I got the better deal.' She smirked and let her gaze wander to her husband's nether regions. He blushed.
'Jean,' he leant forward and breathed in her ear, 'care to show me what you mean?'
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She lay on the bed, and stretched, reaching towards the headboard, then sighed. He turned and looked at her, taking his eyes down from her pretty face, over her breasts, down to the curls between her legs and leant over to dip his tongue into her belly button.
'Lucien, oh, mmph...' she bit her lip, and raised her hips unconsciously.
His fingers roamed down and found her slick already, he'd learnt in such a short time it didn't take her long to be ready for him, but he liked to take his time with her, stroke her, dip in and out, tease her with his fingers. He would nip at her nipples, run his fingers down and round over her rump and pull her under him before he took her and loved her until she could barely breathe. .
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'You'll need a warm jacket with you,' Lucien picked up a blanket, 'it will get cold as the night wears on.'
She had no idea what he was taking her to, just that it would go on late into the evening and he had arranged a basket of food and drink to keep them going. He took two cushions off the chairs and squeezed them on top of the basket.
They walked hand in hand through the busy streets of Verona towards the amphitheatre. Lucien handed over the tickets and took her inside and chose a space where they had a perfect view of the central performance area.
It was a phenomenal performance, 'Aida', big choruses, beautiful arias, Jean was entranced. The pastry Lucien had offered her stayed untouched in her hand, and it made him smile to see her so engrossed, oblivious to all around her. During the intervals he encouraged her to drink a glass of wine and eat and she snuggled close as the evening wore on and the temperature dropped, but never once did her attention waver.
She was still speechless as they wandered back to the hotel. He had wrapped the blanket round her shoulders as the cool of the evening and tiredness began to take its toll on her, but through her tiredness she looked so very happy.
He handed the basket to the concierge and took her upstairs where he undressed her and put her to bed.
'Thank you,' she murmured, sleepily, 'that was wonderful.'
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Alice noticed Dr Wallace hanging round the mortuary corridor. He didn't seem to be doing anything productive so she ignored him until he was ready to speak to her. The way he watched her discuss something with Saul and then head off to see Superintendant Lawson made her skin crawl. He had tried bad mouthing her to Matthew over the murder of Edward Tyneman, and had been taken down several pegs. After Lucien had been reinstated he was rude whenever he saw her, knocking into her, as he had done that day in the morgue, looking her up and down as if she was something he had got stuck to the bottom of his shoe. She was sure he was up to something.
'You have two new patients, Dr Harvey,' Janet handed her a cup of tea as she headed to the consulting room to start surgery.
'Really,' She raised her eyebrows, 'well, that's good, newcomers to the town?'
'No, former patients of Dr Wallace.' Janet wasn't keen on him either, but she saw Dr King, which is how she knew Jean and why Jean had asked her if she would step in for her while she was away.
'Oh,' Alice looked wary, that could explain him hanging round the morgue. But that behaviour had started almost as soon as he lost his position as police surgeon.
The two new patients were pleasant, families with children and their only complaint was that in one case he had dismissed the Down's syndrome child of one, and the rash on another, which Alice determined was just a reaction to a new washing detergent his mother had used. She knew Lucien would be empathetic to the one and practical with the other, which is what she tried to be.
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Matthew noticed she was quiet over dinner.
'Just a little more tired,' she smiled a small smile. 'Two more families on the list.'
'Oh, right,' he looked at her, 'I did ask you at the wedding, if you would be alright.' He tried to look stern, but he just looked concerned.
'I know,' she reached for his hand, 'and I am fine, it's just been a bit busier than usual. If you don't mind, I think I'll head home, early night.'
At the front door he took her hands in his.
'How about we both take Sunday off.' He looked into her eyes, 'do something completely ordinary, like drive somewhere remote and have a picnic.'
The thought of being away from the surgery and the morgue for a day was very tempting. Nobody would be able to contact them,
'Alright,' she sighed, 'yes.'
Matthew pulled her into a hug and a soft kiss, 'See you tomorrow.'
'Good night, and thank you.'
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Lucien smiled as Jean's head rested on his shoulder. She had fallen asleep almost as soon as the train had pulled out of Verona station taking them to Venice, their last stop in Italy. He had decided that it would be best for them to attend the opera the night before they left, having a feeling that Jean may need a little more sleep and where better than on the train. He put his arm round her shoulders and she automatically cuddled closer.
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They boarded a vaporetti to take them to their hotel, where Jean freshened up and apologised to her husband for being a less than engaging travelling companion.
'Honestly, Jeannie,' he grinned, 'I dozed a bit too. I'm dragging you all over Europe at a heck of a speed...'
'Lucien, you are not dragging me anywhere,' she laughed and wrapped her arms round him. 'I wanted to see more of the world, and this is wonderful. Last night, the opera, I could never have seen anything so big at home, I loved it, it was magnificent.'
'Well, we'll have a restful few days here,' he bent and kissed her, 'and, although you have left the church you could, if you want, attend Sunday service at St Mark's.'
'I don't know, Lucien,' she looked down, 'I haven't been to church since I told Father Emery that the church didn't support me.'
'Oh Jean,' he knew it had been a difficult decision for her to marry a divorced man, knowing she would not be accepted by the church she had belonged to all her life. 'I don't think for a moment god has forgotten you.'
'But...'
'It's not god who has deserted you, just the men who think they know him,' he stroked her head, 'just because I don't believe, doesn't mean I don't understand.'
'Would you...' asking him to attend Sunday mass, even just to be at the back of the cathedral was a lot, she thought.
'If you want to go, yes, I'll accompany you.'
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It was a rich service, Jean thought, and for the first time for a long time she felt she should be there. She couldn't take communion, but she could sing the hymns, make the responses, and, with Lucien joining in his rich baritone she could bear that.
They spent the next few days wandering Venice, admiring Murano glass, seeing all the sights, the Bridge of Sighs, the Rialto Bridge. Jean drank it in, trying to commit it to memory, laughing as Lucien took photographs of her sitting opposite him in a gondola, eating a gelato as she leant against the bridges; the wandered through the market and bought a few trinkets, souvenirs of a truly romantic time. At night Lucien treasured her, loved her and held her as they slept soundly, no nightmares or disturbing dreams to upset either of them.
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Alice picked up the phone,
'Mortuary, Dr Harvey speaking.' She raised her eyebrows at the request. 'Matthew, is there a body?'
'No.'
'So why do you need me?' This was odd, Danny was attending a disturbance at a house in Redan, now Matthew was calling her out to the same place.
'Dr Harvey,' he sighed, 'I'm sorry, but I need you to ascertain the mental health of the occupant.'
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She pulled up in front of a small house, where she could see a police car and two officers, Danny and Matthew, talking at the gate.
'What happened?' She approached them.
'The neighbour called, saying Mrs Wallace...'
'...Wallace?'
'Yeah, wouldn't y'know it, Dr Wallace has a wife.' Danny grunted. 'Anyway, she had lit a bonfire in the garden, and has been dancing round it, waving a baby.'
'What?!' Alice looked horrified.
'That's what the neighbour says.' Danny shrugged, disbelievingly.
'Dr Harvey,' Matthew approached, 'we can't find Wallace so...' he looked at her, straight in the eye, '...please, perhaps you can see...' he scratched his head.
'Where?'
'Back garden,' Danny showed her to the gate, with Matthew behind her.
'Did the neighbour give any other information?' She asked as he put his hand on the latch.
'Only that they rarely, if ever, see her. Seems she had a nervous breakdown after her baby died, ooh, ten years ago.' Danny pushed the gate open to reveal a still smouldering pile of garden refuse, and what appeared to be a bassinet. A figure, naked and shivering in the cool air, crouched at the far side, stroking what, at first glance, looked to be a tiny baby.
'I think that's a doll.' Alice whispered, 'too small to be a baby, even a premature one.'
'Right,' Matthew decided she knew best.
Alice carefully and slowly approached the keening woman,
'Hello,' she murmured quietly, 'Mrs Wallace?'
The figure stiffened.
'My name's Dr Harvey,' she took a couple more steps, 'can I do anything for you?'
The woman pulled the doll close to her breast. Alice noted there was not much there, shrunken breasts and her rib cage rather prominent. Underweight, half starved and clearly unbalanced.
'Hello?' Alice spoke gently again. 'Mrs Wallace?'
Slowly, and with utmost caution Alice approached and crouched down,
'You must be cold,' she looked over to Danny and mouthed the word, 'blanket.'
Danny shot into the house and grabbed the first blanket he could find, draped over the couch, discarded, he thought, by Mrs Wallace. He crept round to Alice and handed it to her. She held it out, as if to welcome a child into her arms.
'Come on, let's get this blanket round you.' Keeping her voice low and calm, Alice moved a little closer.
The head began to lift, the firelight highlighted the hollow cheeks, wide, frightened eyes and Alice gasped,
'Lizzie?'
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Sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter up, but hopefully you won't have to wait too long for the next. No promises.
