Jean was dreaming of the future, of being married to Lucien, of being in a large double bed and waiting for him to join her. In her dream there was a chill in the air, and before joining her he spread an extra blanket over her shoulders then bent down to kiss her forehead. It felt so lovely that it took her a moment to realize it was no dream. She had fallen asleep on the couch as she waited for him to get home from the hospital.

When she opened her eyes, Lucien was standing over her, smiling down. She could read the exhaustion in the lines at the corners of his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you," he said softly.

She sat up, pushing aside the blanket he'd draped over her. "I need to go to bed anyway, now that you're home safely," she insisted. "Doug is all right?"

"He should be fine, a week or so in hospital, I'm afraid, and another few weeks recuperating at home, then he should be right as rain. How is Violet handling it?" He sat down beside her on the couch.

"A little more quiet than usual, but our three are keeping her spirits up," said Jean, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"Good. Maybe you could take them to the cinema tomorrow while Jack and I are in Melbourne," he suggested. "Make it up to them for what they missed today."

She sat up straight to look at him. "You were planning to have the girls see The Yearling, weren't you?"

"That's right," he nodded.

"Let me get this straight. You're fine with the idea of me spending the afternoon with Gregory Peck?" she teased him.

"Yes, as long as the children are there to chaperone."

She sighed. "Yes, there is that to consider."

He kissed her cheek. "I trust you completely, my dear, even with Gregory Peck. And now we really should get some sleep, I think."

"Oh, wait, I have a note for you first," she told him. "Constable Hobart called earlier with some information about tomorrow. He asked me to pass it on to you. You're sure you still feel up to the trip to Melbourne?"

"I'm fine, Jean, really. Just need a few hours sleep and I'll be good as new."

She wasn't sure that would be the case, but she knew better than to try to argue. Lucien wouldn't disappoint Jack now for anything. She handed him the note with the directions from Bill Hobart, and watched him smile as he read it over.

"I hope it makes more sense to you than it did to me," she told him.

"Perfect sense, thank you," he assured her, before he took her hand and together they went upstairs, to their separate beds much to the regret of both of them.


In the morning Jean finished dressing and stepped out of her bedroom just as Jack was approaching her door, already dressed but looking quite upset.

"Good morning, sweetheart. What's wrong?" she asked him.

"I was going to make sure Dad was awake so we won't miss the train to Melbourne, but he's not there. His door was open," Jack explained.

"Maybe he's downstairs already," she suggested. "Shall we have a look?"

She led the way down to the kitchen and saw Jack's face fall when there was no one there. Jean patted his arm in consolation, wondering herself where Lucien had gotten to. It was then she spied the note propped against the sugar bowl, with Jack's name written on it in a very familiar hand.

She handed it to the boy, who read it aloud.

"Dear son." He paused to grin at her for that before continuing. "I've just popped down to have a look at Violet's father before we go. Please be ready and I'll be there to pick you up in time to catch the train. I'm very much looking forward to spending the day with you. Give your mother a good morning kiss for me, and I'll see you soon. Love, Dad."

"Did you think he'd forgotten such a big day?" Jean asked, while thinking that note was perhaps the sweetest gesture she'd ever seen. If she wasn't already madly in love with the man, the note would have made her adore him even more.

Jack smiled at her, and said very softly, "Mum?"

She leaned down, and shyly he kissed her cheek. "He's the best dad ever," he said.

"We're very fortunate, aren't we? Now, let's get you some breakfast so you'll be ready to go when he gets back."

She had sent Jack to wash his hands while she started preparing the meal for the others when she heard Lucien's car pull up. She smiled to herself in anticipation of seeing him. Deliberately she kept her back to the doorway as she busied herself at the stove. Just as she'd hoped, he crept up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her behind the ear.

"Good morning, my darling," he whispered.

She turned to face him, her smile broadening. "Good morning," she whispered back. "How are you, and how is Doug doing?"

"Much better this morning. We just need to make sure he gets some rest, despite the policemen dropping in to visit him at all hours."

"I was planning to take Violet down for a visit after the cinema, but if you think it would be better if we wait until tomorrow..."

"Yes, I think it would be best," said Lucien. "And speaking of the cinema, why not invite your sister and her children to join you? And since Dad will be at the club's snooker tournament until this evening, you could all go out to dinner afterwards." He pulled out his wallet and handed her several notes.

She frowned at him. "Lucien, I'm perfectly able to afford it from my wages."

He leaned forward to kiss her forehead. "I know, my dear, but since I won't be with you, it would make me very happy if you'd allow me to treat all of you."

Jean was tempted to remind him that it wasn't as though he was deliberately missing a family event; he was fulfilling a promise to his soon-to-be son. But she knew it would do no good anyway - he'd still feel guilty. If paying for their day would help him feel better about all of it, she would allow it. "Very well," she said, accepting the money. "But only if you promise to enjoy your time with Jack today."

"I have every intention of enjoying my day with Jack, and here he is now. Ready to go?"

"Ready!" he said. "Bye, Mum."

"You mind your manners, and do what Dad tells you, young man," she told the boy.

"I will," he said as he tugged Lucien toward the door.

Lucien shrugged and blew her a kiss as they left.

Jean made herself a vow to trust that Lucien would make the day special for Jack, just as he had done with Christopher, and there was no reason to worry about either of them. Instead she would concentrate on making the day special for Christopher and Li, as well as poor Violet.


They settled into their seats on the train. This early on a Sunday morning the carriage was nearly empty. Jack took the seat next to the window, and as soon as the train pulled away from the station he had his nose pressed against the glass to take in the sights.

Beside him, Lucien slid down in the seat and stretched his legs out straight in front of him. He knew he wouldn't sleep, but the temptation to close his eyes was overwhelming.

"Jack, would you mind terribly if I had a bit of a kip?" he asked.

The boy shook his head, tearing his gaze away from the window for just a moment to face Lucien. "Mum said you needed to sleep more."

"Yes, well, your mum is right, as usual. I'm just going to rest my eyes. You'll stay right here, yes?"

"Uh huh," Jack said.

"Good man," said Lucien, and he pulled his fedora down to cover his eyes as he closed them.

His exhaustion and the motion of the train had him dozing off almost at once. He wasn't certain how long he was asleep, but the sound of voices woke him. He realized one of them was Jack's and it seemed agitated.

"No!" Jack said firmly.

"Come on, then, son," said a man's voice he didn't recognize. "We won't be gone long."

Lucien's eyes flew open, fearing that an attempted abduction was occurring. He was half out of his seat trying to protect Jack before he recognized that the man before him was a railroad employee.

"Sorry to disturb you, sir," the man said, tipping his cap. "I just thought the lad might like to see the engine, but he insisted on staying here."

Lucien quickly put a protective arm around Jack. "Thank you for the offer, but he'd promised he would stay right here if I fell asleep, and he's a man of his word." He looked down at the boy. "Do you want to take a look at the engine, son?"

Jack shook his head. "Mum said I should stay with you."

"There you have it," Lucien told the man. "Thank you anyway."

When he had left, Lucien released his hold. "Are you sure you don't want to go see the engine?" he asked the boy.

"I'm sure," Jack said emphatically. "I don't like that man."

"Why not?" Lucien asked, wondering what the trainman might have said to Jack before he woke.

"I don't like his clothes." Jack frowned and shook his head.

"His uniform?"

Jack just stared straight ahead.

Lucien decided it was as good a time as any to speak with the boy about his feelings toward anyone wearing a uniform. "Have a seat, son," he invited. "Now, I know it was a long time ago, but do you remember the first time we met, in the camp?"

He nodded. "After the guard hit me. You fixed my face where it hurt."

"That's right. And I know that the guard that hit you was wearing a uniform, but do you remember what I was wearing?"

Jack's nose scrunched up as he tried to remember. For him it was half a lifetime before.

Lucien decided to help him out. "I was wearing a uniform, too. I was a soldier as well as a doctor, and back then I had a real uniform. Of course, later on after we'd been there for a while, most of it was gone."

"I remember you had short trousers and your shirt didn't have sleeves when you gave us the Christmas presents," said Jack.

"That's right, but only because I no longer had a uniform to wear. What I'm getting at is that a uniform doesn't make someone good or bad. It's the person inside the uniform that is good or bad."

"Like Sergeant Lawson?"

"That's an excellent example," said Lucien. "And your father, too. He was a soldier so he wore a uniform." He allowed Jack to consider that for a few moments before continuing. "Was there another reason you didn't like that gentleman?"

Jack nodded. "You said I shouldn't leave you and so did Mum, but he wanted me to go with him."

"I think perhaps he was just trying to be kind, but you're perfectly right," said Lucien. "He shouldn't have tried to talk you into something you knew you shouldn't do. If that's why you didn't like him, it's entirely justified. Now, what do you say we visit the dining area, eh? Maybe get something to drink?"

The rest of the journey went without incident, and the train delivered them to the Flinders Street station precisely on time. From there they caught a taxi to the Melbourne Cricket Grounds, the home of the Flying V football team as well as the cricket.

Across the road from the grounds there were a few small shops selling goods related to the football. Lucien saw Jack's eyes light up in wonder at the multitude of items, from apparel to blankets to footballs, all emblazoned with the familiar Big V. The boy remembered his manners and did not ask for anything, but Lucien recalled perfectly well how it felt at that age to idolize sportsmen.

"Let's take a closer look, eh?" he suggested, and Jack was only too willing to comply. They emerged several minutes later with Jack wearing a new jumper and waving a pennant in support of his favourite side.

They crossed the road to find that the area immediately outside the grounds themselves was crowded with people waiting to go inside for the match. Lucien reached down for Jack's hand to be certain they wouldn't be separated in the crush of people. Together they made their way forward, Lucien keeping an eye open for a special entrance per the instructions from Constable Hobart.

He was so intent on finding it that he wasn't looking down until Jack tugged on his hand and pointed. "Look, Dad, that boy's crying."

Lucien saw the figure then, a lad of about Jack's age with his head hanging and tears streaming down his face. Thinking perhaps he'd been separated from his parents, Lucien let Jack lead him over beside the boy, where Lucien crouched down to get a better look.

"What's wrong?" Jack asked. "Are you lost?"

The boy shook his head. Hanging from his hand was a homemade pennant, a hand drawn V on a sheet of paper taped to what looked like a portion of a broomstick. Lucien could tell how much care had gone into the drawing, with an elaborate set of wings flanking the two sides of the V, and the background lovingly coloured in the traditional dark blue shade.

"I made this so I'd have a pennant too," the boy managed through his tears. "It took me a long time and I thought it was really good, but those older boys made fun of me because I made it myself."

"Can I see?" Jack asked him.

The other boy, seeming a bit buoyed by someone taking an interest in what he'd done, lifted it so Jack could take a closer look.

"Wow! That's great!" he said. "You really made that?"

"It's not as good as yours." He pointed to the pennant they'd just purchased.

"I think it's better," Jack insisted. "You want to trade?"

"Really?"

"Really. I like yours because it's not like everybody else's."

"Okay, let's trade."

Lucien stepped in before the transaction was completed. "Are you certain you want to give it away after you spent so much time on it? You've really done a beautiful job here."

The boy nodded. "It's spoiled now, after what they said," he insisted miserably.

If it had been Jack who'd made the banner and let others spoil it for him, Lucien would have talked to him about not allowing the opinions of others to devalue him and his accomplishments, but knowing nothing of the other boy's circumstances he decided that if both of them were happy with the transaction he'd allow it, unless the boy's parents objected.

"Are you here with your father or someone else?" Lucien asked him.

"Nope, on my own. I live just over around the corner," the boy explained, pointing in the direction of home. He looked considerably less sad now that Jack and Lucien had appreciated the work he'd put into his creation.

"You see many matches then, do you?"

"Only when someone has an extra ticket to give away. I just come before the match starts. I like to cheer on the players when they arrive and then I stay until everyone's gone inside," he explained.

"You see the players up close?" asked Jack, clearly impressed.

"As a matter of fact, I was just looking for the players' entrance when Jack here spotted you," Lucien said. "Maybe you could point it out to us? I'm Doctor Blake, by the way."

"Tony Harris," said the boy, pointing to his own chest. "Come on, I'll show you where it is." He waved his newly acquired pennant in front of him as he led the way."

Jack followed, waving his own acquisition, with Lucien bringing up the rear to keep an eye on both of them.

The players' entrance was cordoned off to prevent anyone from getting too close, and there was a security guard on hand to keep order. Jack and young Tony moved right up to the barrier, but Lucien stepped over to speak with the guard.

"How do you do? Lucien Blake here. I was told to ask for Joe Turner, that he'd be expecting me," he informed the man.

The guard nodded. "I'll send him your way as soon as he arrives."

"Thank you. I'll be just over there with my son."

He hadn't told Jack that Hobart had arranged for him to meet the man who was one of the boy's favourite players.

They waited as the sportsmen began to arrive. Tony seemed to know them all, naming each man as he entered and pointing them out to Jack, who was clearly impressed. Mister Turner was one of the last to enter, and Jack's eyes widened to see his hero in person. The man looked every inch the part, with his wavy black hair, piercing green eyes, huge shoulders, and trim waist. He waved to the supporters on hand as he walked over to the guard, who pointed out Lucien.

"Oy, Doctor Blake," he called, holding out a hand which Lucien shook. "Hobie said you'd be here. These your boys?"

"This one is Jack," said Lucien, placing a hand on his shoulder. "And this young man is our friend, Tony."

"Pleased to meet you, fellas," said Turner. He spotted the pennant Jack held, the one Tony had created. "My word, that's a real corker. Well done."

"Tony made it. Isn't it great?" said Jack.

"It sure is," said Turner. "You're an artist, Tony. We ought to have that winged V on our kit, it's that good."

Tony smiled, now proud of his creation once again. It didn't matter if the older boys hadn't liked it, not when Joe Turner himself had praised it.

"I'll tell you what," said Turner, "I think the three of you should watch the match from the team box so our owner can see that pennant, too. What do you say?"

Jack looked to Lucien, as did young Tony. "Why not, eh? Thank you, Mister Turner, that's very generous of you."

"Stay right here. I'll have Harry the guard over there get someone to take you inside. Enjoy the match."

"Good luck!" both boys told him as the footballer moved away.

A few minutes later an elderly usher arrived to escort them into the grounds. As they began to walk, Lucien leaned down to say quietly to Jack, "I think your friend Tony might want his own pennant back. Would you mind awfully?"

Jack glanced over at his new pal. "You should take this," he said, holding it out. "You did all the work on it."

Gladly Tony took back the pennant he'd made and waved it proudly now. Lucien saw him glance in the direction of a group of other boys who were perhaps three or four years older. They saw Tony and nudged each other as Lucien, Jack and Tony strode past them and into the section set aside for friends and family of the team's players and executives. A couple of mouths were hanging open in shock that the boy they'd ridiculed was being treated as a VIP.

Tony (as well as Jack) felt special indeed.


A/N: The incident with young Tony is loosely based on an actual event. A schoolteacher in Florida had told her class that they would be having School Colors Day the following Friday, and they should all wear apparel for the team they supported. One boy was a fan of the University of Tennessee, and there wasn't time for him to get anything from that far away, so he made one for himself by drawing his own version of the Tennessee logo on a piece of paper and pinning it to the front of an orange t-shirt (the team color for the University of Tennessee). He was very proud of the shirt he'd made, but after lunch the teacher found him alone in the classroom crying. Some of the other children had ridiculed him at lunch for his handmade shirt. The teacher shared his story on social media to show the effects of bullying on the child. Someone at the University of Tennessee saw it, and the university's Athletics Department sent the boy a big carton filled with team items to share with the whole class. And then they created an official school shirt featuring the boy's version of the logo to sell with their other merchandise. It sold out immediately.