Aunt Dorothy mentioned that Thomas was her favourite brother, assuming that she wasn't being sarcastic and he wasn't her only brother...
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Ted was still reeling from his first proper Christmas when he started back at school. He had had such a long break and had done so much. First, there had been writing his letter to Father Christmas, asking for more track and rolling stock for his train set, perhaps some more books, his own cricket bat and ball, and a new football as his old one had a puncture. Because Julia was too young to write her own list he had asked if she might have some more toys, perhaps another doll, but he wasn't sure - he'd leave that up to Father Christmas to decide. All in all, Jean thought, it wasn't a long list, and the bit about Julia's gifts made her smile.
It would seem Father Christmas was in agreement with his parents and the little boy was delighted to find, under the tree, and beside it, all he had asked for. Julia did receive more toys, he was relieved to see, a new doll and a stroller for it, a tea set and a doll's house complete with family.
Then there was Christmas day with the special lunch; Uncle Matthew and Auntie Alice, fresh from their honeymoon, had joined them, as had Sergeant Hobart. Ted had asked why he was there, he wasn't usually.
"Sergeant Hobart has been coming to Christmas lunch for a couple of years now, Ted, he has no family and it's not right he be alone on Christmas day," Jean had explained, "you don't mind do you?"
"No, I quite like him, when he plays footie in the park."
It was true, she thought, both her children had found the soft side of the Senior Sergeant.
The following days had been spent playing cricket on the drive - Lucien had drawn stumps on the garage wall - with dad underarm bowling for him and Julia trying to catch the ball when he managed to hit it. There had been walks and picnics and lazy days in the garden.
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"You do realise he's rather spoilt, don't you?" Jean sighed as she slipped into bed on Christmas night.
"Probably," Lucien opened his arms for her, "but, honestly, nothing he has been given will be ignored."
"I know, and really, you spoiled me too," she held out her hand to admire the diamond and sapphire eternity ring he had given her. "Best take it off," she hummed, "don't want to scratch you overnight."
"If you're going to do that can I take off the other present I gave you?" he grinned wickedly, referring to the sheer silk nightdress that, in the right light, left absolutely nothing to the imagination, she was so glad he had given it to her in private, opening it in front of Bill would have been extremely embarrassing.
"Oh," she giggled back, "I think I might make you work for that."
"So ..." he kissed her lightly on the forehead, "...how about that?"
"Mmm ... I was thinking more like ..." she rose up and leant over to kiss him on the lips.
"...or..." he slid his hands up over her shoulders to hold the back of her head as he pulled her closer and into a deep kiss, his tongue sliding over hers and tasting the toothpaste over the sherry.
"Mmm ... still needs work," she teased, rolling onto her back and tracing her finger down his chest, round each nipple and down to his belly button where she stopped, looked up at him and ran her tongue along her teeth.
"Temptress," he slid his hand down her side to the hem of the nightdress then under it until he met her breast. While his fingers played with her nipple, now a hard bud, his mouth nibbled and nipped along her jaw line, down her neck to the rise of her breast.
"Now you're getting the idea ..." she moaned lifting her hips to his growing need.
He pushed the nightdress up and over her head, taking in her soft, creamy skin, he never tired of seeing her like this...
When they had finished their leisurely lovemaking she snuggled against him, the perfect end to a perfect family Christmas.
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In the playground, all the children could talk about was what they had got for Christmas, what they had done and which family members had arrived. Fraser said his grandfather had stayed with them but all he did was sleep in the chair beside the radiogram.
"Uncle Matthew did that, on Christmas Day," Ted giggled, "he said Auntie Alice had worn him out, but I don't know how."
"At least it was only on one day," Fraser grumbled.
"Hey, Fraser," Ted could see his friend hadn't had as good a time as he had, "d'ye think your mum would let you come and play cricket on our drive, with my new bat?"
"Dunno, would your mum mind?"
A reasonable question, Ted thought, he hadn't asked her. They resolved to speak to their mothers that afternoon, at pick up time.
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Jean and Mrs Wilson were assaulted by the two boys talking at the same time, until Jean held her hands up and stopped them.
"Now," she smiled, "one at a time, please."
Ted looked at Fraser, and Fraser looked back at Ted.
"Well, mum," Ted tipped his head, "I was wondering if Fraser could come and play cricket with me, on the drive, please."
"I suppose so," she replied, thoughtfully, looking at Mrs Wilson.
"What about your windows, Mrs Blake," the other parent looked worried, "I'd worry they would get smashed."
"I worried about that too, when the doctor played with him at Christmas," she agreed, "but there is a wicket drawn on the garage wall so they hit the balls down the drive, not towards the house."
"Can I mum, please?" Fraser opened his eyes wide at her.
"Can we get settled into school, first," Mrs Wilson sighed, "you have a new teacher and new things to learn, so ..."
"I think that's a very good idea, Mrs Wilson, " Jean smiled, "perhaps one Saturday, when they're used to the new ways."
So it was decided, when the boys showed they were keeping up and paying attention to Mr Noonan, they would arrange a Saturday and they could play cricket, have lunch and then either play more cricket or with the train set.
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Mr Noonan was a different teacher to Miss Burns. He expected his class to sit quietly, put their hand up to answer a question and present neat and tidy work. Some of the boys found him tough but Fraser and Ted seemed to rise to the challenge. He rewarded effort, even if it wasn't successful, because, he told the children, "we learn by our mistakes - just don't make the same one twice."
He liked to challenge his pupils by setting them a research or practical task for their homework each week. Nothing too difficult, giving them a seed, a jar and something to grow it in, not just soil, but cotton wool, or blotting paper and the instruction to write what happened each day. Maybe chart the weather for a week, much more fun, Lucien said, than spellings or times tables.
"They still have to be learnt, though, dear," Jean smiled as Ted measured the height of his sunflower, "or he won't be able to write up his science tests."
Lucien held up his hands in submission and grinned.
Ted showed his mother the chart he was filling in, "it's growing, mum," he smiled, "have I written it right?"
Jean smiled at the spelling of 'wensday', corrected it and patted his head.
"As long as you keep looking after it like you do, it will grow strong and tall."
"Mum," he chewed the end of his pencil, "can Fraser come this Saturday, please? We've been working really hard in school, Mr Noonan says so."
"Don't chew your pencil, Ted, dinner won't be long," she gently pulled the writing implement out of his mouth, "I need to speak to his mother, first, but if she says it's alright, then, yes."
"Hooray!" his face lit up with joy and he hugged her, "thanks mum."
"So, what's all this?" Lucien did his stern father act, that nobody believed, especially not Ted.
"I asked mum if Fraser could come and play cricket on the drive with me," he turned and faced him, a serious expression on his face, "he didn't have as much fun as me at Christmas, his granddad just went to sleep by the radiogram and didn't play with him."
"I see," Lucien smiled, "well, then, I suppose if it's to cheer your mate up, it's a nice thing to do."
Ted grinned back and went to put his work away and play with the trains and Julia until dinner was on the table.
"I spoke to Mrs Wilson," Jean passed Lucien the cutlery, "apparently Fraser was really excited that his granddad was spending Christmas with them but, as Ted says, all the old man did was sit by the radiogram and sleep, in between meals. Fraser was really disappointed."
"Shame." Lucien finished setting the table.
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Jean let the boys, including Lucien, play on the drive and she decided to bake biscuits with Julia. Mattie had taken the weekend to go and visit her parents and catch up with some old friends. She also thought she might see if Charlie was available for a coffee, at the very least, and took some photographs to show him.
With the front door open, she could hear the shouts and laughs of the cricketers, and the thwack of the ball as it hit the bat. There were also pauses as a search for the ball went on, when it was hit into her shrubs, she hoped they weren't trampled too much.
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Fraser stood, bat in hand, waiting for the doctor to bowl to him. He had tempered his bowling to suit both boys and give them a good chance to hit the ball, this time Fraser swung the bat, connected with the ball and it flew past Lucien and towards the road. Ted ran after it.
"Stop! I'll get it!" Lucien turned and ran after his son.
As he got half way down the drive the ball came flying back to him. In surprise, he missed it. Leaving it to Ted to pick up, he went down to the road to see who had caught and sent the ball back, to thank them and apologise for what must have been a near miss.
"Hello," he approached the man, reading the plaque on the gate post. He was Lucien's height, fair hair, uncontrolled by hair cream but, neatly cut. His clothes had seen wear; faded but clean grey trousers and checked shirt, no tie, scuffed boots and whatever else he had was carried in an old kit bag over his shoulder. "Sorry," Lucien waved his hand in the direction of the house, "batting practice, six year olds."
"No worries," the man held out his hand, "looking for Thomas Blake, this is the last address I have for him, but ..."
"If you mean Dr Thomas Blake," Lucien shook the man's hand, "he passed a few years ago, I'm Dr Lucien Blake, his son." Lucien nodded in the direction of the plaque.
"Arthur, Arthur Blake, Thomas' nephew, not that he knew me," Arthur shrugged, "he and dad didn't see eye to eye."
"Aah," Lucien nodded, "Aunt Dorothy said as much. That the family practically disowned dad when he married a Frenchwoman, my mother, but when they tried to reach out to him after she died he closed them off."
"Dad!" Ted's voice floated down the drive, "are you coming?"
"In a minute, son!" he called back.
"Good my father never met my late wife," Arthur grimaced, "she was Austrian. Met her while travelling. Lost her during the war, shot helping the allies."
"I'm sorry. Dad never met my first wife, either, Chinese," Lucien sighed.
Arthur reached into his shirt pocket and handed Lucien some papers which he examined. His army discharge papers and passport, plus a couple of letters from his father, William.
"Come up to the house, meet the family."
"I thought you said ..." Arthur looked confused, despite the young voices coming from the garden and the boy who had called for his father.
"Second go, two little 'uns." Lucien indicated he walk with him, "Ted's playing cricket with a school mate and Julia's baking with Jean, my wife."
"Your first wife?" Arthur fell into step beside his cousin.
"Lost for seventeen years, then, well ... we divorced, long story, but we are both happy, now."
"Right," he smiled, his story was probably just as long. "so ..." he looked up at the two boys, "which one belted it down the drive?"
Fraser blushed, instantly giving himself away, "sorry, sir," he looked up into a pair of smiling blue eyes, "did I hit you?"
"No, son," Arthur grinned, "quite the slugger, eh?"
"Er, I suppose so," Fraser looked at Ted who shrugged his shoulders.
"Boys!" Jean called from the porch, "juice!" She turned to look for her husband and gasped when she saw him and another man, talking to the boys, it was like watching brothers.
"Thanks, mum," Ted ran over to her, followed by Fraser and they took a glass each and a biscuit.
"Jean!" Lucien called, patting Arthur on the shoulder and urging him gently forward, "Jean, this is my cousin, Arthur, Uncle William's son."
"Uncle William?" Jean questioned, "your father's brother?"
"Yes," he smiled, "Arthur, my wife, Jean."
"Pleased to meet you Jean," Arthur held his hand out, "I'm afraid I was looking for Uncle Thomas, but Lucien tells me he passed."
"Yes, a few years ago," Jean took his hand, noting it was rougher than Lucien's, the nails chipped but clean. "How do you do?"
"Very well, thank you," he smiled, "I'm afraid Lucien and I have never actually met, before. Our fathers were ... how shall I say ... estranged?"
"So I hear," she mused, remembering what Dorothy had said, "please, come in, I'll put the kettle on, or a cold drink?"
"Tea would be just grand," he grinned, "haven't had a decent cuppa in a while."
Ted and Fraser having watched the adults while they drank their juice took their glasses back to Jean.
"Thank you, Mrs Blake," Fraser wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"You're welcome, Fraser, now," she put the glasses on the tray, "how about you both go in and play with the train set, you both look a bit hot? I think dad will want to talk to his cousin."
"Ok, mum," Ted handed his glass back, "has Julia finished baking?"
"She has," Jean looked down at him, "if she wants to join in, you share, please. You've more track now ..."
"Before you go in, Ted," Lucien touched his shoulder, "this is my cousin, Arthur. Arthur my son, Ted, and his friend Fraser Wilson."
"Good to meet you boys," Arthur grinned a crooked grin.
"Hello," they chorused, Ted holding out his hand, as he had been taught. Arthur's hand swallowed the two smaller hands as he shook them gently.
"Come on Fraser, let's see how long we can make the track," Ted dragged his friend in, "me 'n dad got it round the legs of the dining table over Christmas, bends an' all."
Lucien grinned and he and Arthur followed Jean into the house.
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Lucien told Arthur to put his bag down under the coats and then took him down to the kitchen, where Jean put the kettle on and a plate of freshly made biscuits out.
"Dada," Julia went to stand by her father, "we cook," she grinned and allowed herself to be lifted onto his knee.
"They look lovely, sweetheart," he kissed her curls, "are we allowed to try them?"
"Yes, jus' one," she took his face, firmly, in her hands to make sure he understood.
"Right, well, would you like to say hello to my cousin Arthur?"
She smiled, shyly, "hello," little more than a whisper.
"This is Julia, she's not two yet," Lucien hugged her gently.
"How nice to meet you, Miss Julia," Arthur smiled softly, "you are a very pretty little girl."
"Play now, dada," she wriggled to get off his knee, "trains."
"Off you go," he let her down, "play nicely."
She toddled off, "Ted! me play too!"
"She's a cute one," Arthur noted.
"Did you ..?" Lucien asked.
"Yes, a boy, Maximillian, Max for short," Arthur took the offered cup from Jean, "he's in Melbourne at the moment. We got him out when things started to go wrong, sent him with a couple who worked for the engineering firm I was with, well the man did anyway. Forged the papers, changed his name to Michael, and they took him back to Birmingham as their own son."
"Goodness," Jean gasped, "how did you keep in touch?"
"Not easy," Arthur sipped his tea and sighed, "but when Claudia was shot I knew I had to get out. Found a group of British soldiers, offered my services, joined up and spent the rest of the war building bridges or blowin' 'em up, depending on the situation. Running an engineering company I knew where to 'liberate' supplies," he winked, "Kept my mind occupied and off losing her."
"I'm so sorry," Jean whispered, "it must have been awful for you."
"War doesn't care who it hurts, Jean," he slumped in his seat, "it's pretty indiscriminate."
"I lost my first husband, in the Solomons," Jean told him, "it took a long time for me to move on."
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
There was a silence around the table until Lucien took a deep breath and decided a cheerier subject was called for.
"So, Arthur, what have you been up to since?"
"Finally got back to England, to the boy in 'forty-seven" he sat back in his chair, "took a while to get to know him but we got there in the end."
"I'm glad you did," Jean smiled, "family is important."
"Indeed it is, Jean," he nodded in agreement, "these silly family feuds over marriage are such a sad thing."
"Now, Arthur," Jean stood up, "you will stay for lunch, won't you? It's not much, we have a proper dinner in the evening."
"I don't want to put you to any trouble," he stood and turned as if he was about to leave.
"It's no trouble," she smiled, "please."
"Where are you staying?" Lucien noticed Jean's expression.
"Oh, I'll find somewhere," Arthur shrugged and grinned.
"There's plenty of room, here," Jean took the cups to the sink, "you are welcome to stay."
"Jean," he gasped, "that's very kind of you, but you don't know me."
"You're a Blake," she turned, "it was like watching brothers walk up the drive."
"Really?" his eyebrows shot up, "you could see it."
"Yes, and if I hadn't, a very old and good friend would have said as much. She noticed how like Lucien Ted was, when he came to us."
"Pardon?"
Jean and Lucien told him a short version of how Ted had come to them, and assured him that Agnes Clasby was more than likely to point out the likeness.
"We can call her, if you like," Lucien grinned, "though she doesn't get out as much as she used to."
"I bet she'd like to see you," Jean thought out loud, "in fact, why don't we invite her for dinner?"
"Matthew and Alice are coming over, love," Lucien reminded her, "are you sure?"
Jean rewarded him with a 'look'.
"Right, yes, of course," he was suitably chastised.
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Arthur looked round the guest room. It was clean, tidy and fresh. His usual billet was a boarding house, or even a barn, he wasn't fussy when he was on his own, but when he had Max with him he tried to find something more comfortable. All he had wanted to do was speak to his uncle and tell him he bore him no grudge, let bygones be bygones. He knew he had a cousin, Lucien, his father had made some snide remark about the name, but, having married an Austrian, not a German, as Claudia was always at pains to let everyone know, he could understand more of his uncle's feelings than his father's. They had so much to talk about, him and Lucien, repair the breaks in the family.
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"Did you find everything?" Jean lifted her head from setting out sandwiches and plates.
"Thank you, Jean," he nodded, "I really didn't expect to be welcomed so warmly."
"You were looking for Thomas, what kind of welcome did you think you would get?" she was curious as to whether the same feeling William had for Thomas had gone the opposite way. "Thomas never mentioned his brother and spoke very rarely of his sister when I worked for him."
"I really didn't know," he admitted, "the feud was over Thomas' marriage."
"Thomas didn't want Lucien to bring Mei Lin here, either. I think that was more to protect her from the gossip from the locals than his displeasure but he didn't get that across to Lucien and lost the chance to be a grandfather to Li." She fetched a jug of water from the side, "it's taken a long time for Lucien to find peace."
"If you hadn't been here, when I came back, Jean," Lucien appeared behind Arthur, "I still wouldn't have found that peace."
She smiled through her blushes.
"I've phoned Agnes," he continued, "she's looking forward to meeting you, Arthur."
"Should I be worried?" Arthur asked.
"No, I don't think so," Lucien grinned, "she knew both my parents, and probably yours."
"I think we'll eat in here, tonight," Jean mused, "it's a tight squeeze round the dining table."
"Quite," her husband agreed.
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Mindful of the children's ages, conversation around the lunch table centred on places Arthur had visited since the war. He said he had been advising on the rebuilding of some places, before heading to England in nineteen forty-seven.
"Why did you go to England?" Ted asked, wondering why he hadn't come to Australia.
"My son was there," he smiled, "I went to see him."
"Oh," Ted thought for a moment, then decided it was probably a grown up issue and left it at that.
"You said Max is in Melbourne ..." Jean wiped Julia's fingers, "do you have friends there?"
"Not really," Arthur leant his elbows on the table and linked his hands, "he wanted to spend some time at the galleries and museums, he's an art historian."
"That must be interesting," Lucien sat back in his chair, "there's some half decent stuff in the gallery here, you know."
"More than 'half decent', dear," Jean chided him, "there are some very good works, you know that."
"Of course, Jean," he nodded, "you are quite right."
"If you need to ring him, tell him where you are ..." Jean suddenly realised Arthur might want to let his son know how far he had got in his search for family.
"I would like to, but I can use a box," he smiled, "I passed one on the way up here."
"No, there's one in the study, unless you're plotting something," Lucien grinned.
"Ha ha," he laughed, "I'll just give him a quick call and, if I may, pass on your number."
"Of course," the doctor agreed, "he can ring you if he needs to."
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Lucien said he would collect Agnes for dinner before Matthew and Alice arrived. Arthur was concerned he was imposing on a special occasion.
"Not at all," Jean assured him, "it's not unusual for the Lawson's to dine with us they are close family friends. Matthew and Lucien were school friends and Alice is his colleague in the morgue."
"The morgue?"
"Yes," Lucien grinned, lifting the car keys, "Alice is a pathologist, we do the autopsies together, on murder victims or unexplained deaths." He opened the door, "I'm the Police Surgeon," he added as an after-thought.
"Matthew?" Arthur asked, wondering if he was a medic too.
"Chief Superintendant of Police," Jean shooed Lucien off to collect Agnes, "Julia adores him, just watch her reaction when she hears his footstep, the thud of his walking stick on the hall floor," she laughed.
Arthur raised his eyebrows, from his original idea of connecting with an old family member, joining the dots he called it, it would seem he had found a whole new family that were warm and welcoming, as opposed to the cold and stiff uncle he had been told about, by his late father. Uncle Thomas may have been distant, but Cousin Lucien couldn't have been more different.
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True to form, when she heard Uncle Matthew arrived, Julia toddled as fast as she could to greet 'Maffoo'. Arms wide ready to be swung up onto his hip, he described it as being like a monkey in the zoo, but everyone could see how much he enjoyed it, even Alice, though it did always bring her round to the fact he would be a wonderful father ...
Jean was just introducing Arthur to the Lawson's when Lucien arrived with Agnes. Physically a little frailer, but still with that razor sharp mind they had come to love she looked Arthur up and down and extended her hand.
"Definitely a Blake," she pursed her lips, "William's lad then, eh?"
"I am, Miss Clasby," he bowed a little and kissed her hand, "a pleasure, I think," he smiled.
"I didn't know him as well as I knew Thomas and Genevieve," she admitted as he offered her his arm and took her to the living room, "but we did meet."
Lucien poured drinks while Jean finished in the kitchen, refusing any help from the guests.
"There are no peas to pod today, Alice," she smiled.
Alice pouted in reply, "I dare say Ted and I will survive," she accepted her drink and sat in the chair.
Both Arthur and Agnes looked from one to the other and decided they didn't want to know, it was obviously some form of secret code!
"So, Miss Clasby," Arthur turned to her, "what happened, between my father and my uncle?"
"Well, if you really want to know," she smiled, "they were two of a kind. Both passionate about their calling, your father, as you know, engineering - at first cars, then aeroplanes, and Thomas, medicine, the sick, his practice here - and, inevitably they would argue. William had moved away, by the time Thomas came back from the Boer War, travelling through Europe and meeting Genevieve..."
"Alright, everybody," Jean called through from the kitchen, "dinner's ready."
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Conversation flowed between the adults and the children. Ted wanted to know about building bridges; Arthur said he would show him the following day, with his train set; Agnes told what she knew of William, which, she had to admit was very little. She did know of the rift between the siblings and how it had affected Thomas.
"Particularly after Genevieve died," she sipped her wine, "he could have done with their support, with you, Lucien, but he pushed them away."
"He never mentioned anything to me," Blake sighed, "then, or when I came home for the holidays."
"No, well, he wouldn't, would he," Agnes agreed, "unfortunately, Thomas could hold a grudge."
Lucien hummed his agreement. The sound of cutlery on plates cut through the following silence.
"So, Arthur," Jean turned to the newest member of the family, "you said, earlier, you had been travelling, with Max ..."
"He wanted to see Europe, where he was born," Arthur nodded, "so, when he finished university we sold everything, and headed off."
"You must have seen a lot of changes," she noted.
"Indeed, some good, some not so," he agreed, "we started in Austria, he wanted to see ... " he looked towards Ted and decided it wasn't a subject for young ears. "... places me and his mother knew, then we just walked ..."
"Walked?" Alice's eyebrows rose in surprise, "all the way?"
"Pretty much," he smiled, "it's the best way to see a country. We just booked in little places as we found them. It was while we were in an art gallery in Bonn that we noticed little, almost hidden notes about pieces that were missing since Adolph started plundering the museums. It piqued Max's interest and now he has to prove he has the knowledge to help the MFAA." Arthur's face beamed with pride.
"MFAA?" Matthew looked confused.
"Monuments, Fine Arts and Archives program," he clarified, "they are trying to find and return misappropriated art works."
"So," Alice mused ...
"He is going round museums and galleries around the world, working where he can, and writing about little known works or artists. He hopes this will prove he has the necessary skills to evaluate works, authenticate them."
"Pathology for art?" Alice tried to put it into a way she could understand, having looked at an x-ray of a picture with Lucien to work out why it was of interest.
"X-rays work," Lucien followed her train of thought, then proceeded to tell Arthur what they had found out about a painting of his mother's.
"Well, I never," he grinned, "crafty lady."
"I'll show you the painting later, if you like," Lucien offered, "it's in the studio."
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Jean noticed Ted stifle a yawn and Julia was well on the way to falling asleep in her high chair.
"Excuse me," she pushed her chair back, "I think these two need to go to bed, cricket can be tiring." She stood and held out her hand to Ted, "come on sweetheart," she smiled, "bedtime."
"Mum," he rubbed his eyes.
"Ted," she warned, "you're tired, you'll see Arthur tomorrow."
"Okay," he huffed.
"Say goodnight, dear," she lifted Julia out of the high chair, it was the only day of the week the children were allowed to stay up later than usual bedtime and it wasn't unusual for Julia to give in before dessert.
"Goodnight," Ted slid off his chair and headed to get ready for bed.
"Night, son," Lucien reached over and ruffled his hair, "sleep well."
"Night dad," he whispered.
The adults round the table smiled as the two children were taken off by their mother.
"They do rather well, for little'uns," Arthur muttered, "I wonder if Max would have been able to do the same."
"We know that Ted is the only one of his friends who is allowed to stay up a little longer if we have certain guests..." Lucien stood to start taking the plates through to the kitchen.
"...we're rather like one big family, though, aren't we?" Alice pointed out, "I certainly feel that way." She blushed a little.
"I'll take that as a compliment, Alice," he grinned, "we are so glad to have you, in the family."
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Matthew and Alice washed up, they insisted, while Lucien showed Arthur the painting of Agnes over the Davies painting Genevieve had tried to hide from Thomas.
"Remarkable," he mused, "I wonder if anyone else has done that."
"I have no idea," Lucien stood it on the sideboard, "but the only way we can retrieve the Davies is to remove mother's, and I am not going to do that."
"I take that as a personal compliment, Lucien," Agnes looked up at him, smiling. He just bowed his head slightly.
"How long are you staying, Arthur?" Matthew limped back into the living room.
"Oh, I don't really know," he looked into his glass, "I don't want to impose, but I would like to see the gallery, then I can tell Max about it. Metropolitan museums and galleries are all very well, but where better to hide looted or over-painted works than in a smaller place."
Jean wasn't sure if she minded or not, visitors were always welcome, which was what she told Arthur, while composing the next shopping list in her head.
He smiled and decided he would speak to her in private, about helping with the finances, even though he could see they were not in difficulties.
"We used to take in lodgers," Lucien observed, "the district nurse, a copper ...so much room, and they were company. My practice nurse lives in, she's in Melbourne 'til tomorrow evening, seeing parents."
"A full house then," Arthur noted, "what happened to the copper?"
"Detective training," Matthew swallowed his drink, "good lad, he'll go far."
"Mattie was hoping to catch up with him," Jean shifted on the couch so Alice could sit down, "I think she misses him."
"Really?"
"As a friend, Lucien," she elbowed him gently, "they were like brother and sister."
"Yes, of course."
Jean shook her head and sighed, clueless.
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So, how long will Arthur stay? Will anything happen? A rather quiet chapter, hope you don't mind.