18 September 1959

"Lovely day for it," Lucien said, drumming his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel and casting about desperately in search of some harmless topic of conversation in which he could engage Maureen without touching on any of the unpleasant feelings currently swirling through his mind. Oh, there he did not doubt at all that he must do whatever it took to provide Lorraine with the proper medical care, even at the risk of causing further offense to Jean, and a part of his heart dearly hoped that seeing her again might put them on the path to reconciliation. But other, more complicated troubles assailed him; would Jean think he was manipulating her, trying to use her girls to get back in her good graces? He was doing nothing of the sort, not really; Maureen had come to him, had sought him out herself, and it had not been his idea that he go to the pub. Would Jean cast him out anyway, deny him access to a patient who needed him, or worse would she stand by silently and speak no word to him, give him no choice but to leave without making amends? There was no way to know what waited for him, and the oppressive weight of the silence between himself and Maureen had grown quite awkward. He didn't really have the first idea what to say to the girl; apart from her profession and the fact that Jean liked her he did not really know anything about Maureen at all.

His feeble attempt at small talk earned him an incredulous arch of her eyebrow - a move that reminded him forcefully of Jean - and the pursing of her lips; she had an uncanny knack for making him feel as if she could read his thoughts, and he knew then that she had seen through him at once.

"You don't have to keep me entertained, Doctor Blake," she told him. "We can just sit quietly for the next few minutes."

"Right."

And he tried, he really did. He tried to focus on the road, the mechanics of driving the car, the puffy clouds scuttling by overhead, but in silence his chaotic thoughts crescendoed into a stupendous roar. In the end, he managed to hold his tongue for approximately two minutes, but after that he could bear it no longer, and spoke again.

"I've been terribly remiss," he said, and beside him Maureen sighed audibly. He ignored her. "Tell me a little bit about yourself, Maureen."

"Well, Doctor Blake, I'm a whore, and apart from the occasional walk to the market I don't get out much."

That shut him up, at least for a moment. The words had been delivered coolly, had no doubt been intended to remind him of the reality of their circumstances. She said it so matter-of-factly, but when the word whore passed her lips he was forcefully reminded of Jean, speaking that word not proudly or dispassionately the way Maureen had done, but in a tone of anger, and sorrow, and hurt. There were some people he had known, over the course of his life, who having been painted with some derogatory label by society wrapped themselves up in it like armor, and he wondered now if Maureen was one of those people. Wondered if the word whore had been hurled at her feet so many times that she had at last picked it up and draped it round her shoulders like a robe of state, knowing that if she said it first the word could not sting so much when it was delivered by other people.

"Oh, you're more than that," Lucien said softly.

"You think I'm too good to be a whore, Doctor?" she fired back.

"No," he said, struggling to find some way to articulate his thoughts. "It's just that you, all of you, you're….well, you're people, aren't you? You can't be reduced to any one thing. What you do for a living isn't what defines you. Any of you."

The silence this time was more speculative than daunting; it seemed Maureen was mulling over his words, and Lucien was holding his breath, waiting to see whether he would be rewarded or admonished for having spoken to her so plainly.

"You're a very strange man," Maureen said at last, and Lucien laughed, and some of the tension seemed to dissipate from the car. "That was a very noble thing you just said, but you've paid for a woman, same as all the rest."

"I did," Lucien agreed, the good humor of a moment before vanished entirely. "But it's not as if I could take her out to dinner, or to the cinema. It was made very clear to me that there was only one way I could spend time alone with Jean."

"Don't you dare blame that on her."

Maureen's defense of her employer was admirable, and the heat in her voice spoke to a deep affection that warmed Lucien's heart; it was good to know that Jean had someone on her side, someone willing to stand up for her, to fight for her, even when she wasn't present. She deserved that, he thought.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said. "The circumstances are...complicated. I know that. I just...well. I just wanted to be with her. And if that's the only way, then I accept it."

"Would you have done it properly, if you could?" she asked him softly. "Taken her to a nice restaurant, or the cinema, or the park? Treated her like a lady?"

I would have married her, if I could have, he thought glumly.

"Yes," he said. "Yes."

"She deserves that much. Mrs. Beazley is a real lady. I've heard stories about other madams but she's not like that. She's...good. She deserves something good."

And I wanted to give it to her. God help me, but I did, Lucien thought.

Aloud he said only, "here we are," for the car had at last lumbered to a stop in the carpark behind the Lock and Key. Lucien turned the car off and reached for the door handle, but Maureen stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

"Wait," she said. "Let me speak to Mrs. Beazley first. She doesn't know you're coming and it might upset her less if I warn her."

"Very well," Lucien said, flashing her a grateful smile, and that was that. Maureen slipped from the car and Lucien was left alone with all thoughts and his worries and his hopes.

It was a Friday, and Fridays meant deliveries. Dimitri had come and gone, and Jean was just finishing up a quick tour through the kitchen, making sure everything was in place for the weekend when the sound of a footfall behind her heralded Maureen's arrival. Jean smiled when she saw her; it was always nice to spend a few minutes with Maureen.

"I'm thinking stew for tomorrow," she said as Maureen drew near, "do you think that would be all right?"

"Fine," Maureen said dismissively. There was something focused, determined about her expression that left Jean feeling uneasy, and her fears were proved founded in a moment. "I need to talk to you about something."

"Of course," Jean answered at once. They kept no secrets from one another, and Jean always wanted to be available, ready to listen calmly to any of her girls. It was not her habit to pass judgment on them, and it was not their habit to hide things from her. Whatever Maureen had to say Jean would hear it, and answer as honestly as she could.

"Lorraine's in a bad way," Maureen said, and Jean's heart sank. "She was afraid to tell you because she doesn't want to lose her job, but she needs a doctor."

"She's not expecting is she?" Jean was aghast at the very thought; she'd only just lost one girl to pregnancy a few months before, and she didn't like the idea of losing Lorraine, too. They would manage, of course, they always did, but -

"No," Maureen said. "Worse. I think it's syphilis."

God help us, Jean thought faintly. Some customers had a favorite girl, but some preferred a variety, and if one of the girls was sick, they were all at risk. Not to mention the potential damage to the business, should word get out; Jean's establishment was preferred by the local elites because it was quiet, discreet, and above all, clean. If her reputation were compromised they might not ever recover, and all her dreams of moving to Adelaide and starting afresh would turn to ashes in her hands.

"I'll ring Doctor King-"

"I already have," Maureen said grimly. "He hung up on me. And Raine won't go to the hospital, she went into hysterics when I mentioned it."

"She'll have to," Jean said firmly, wiping her hands on her apron, a plan already forming in her mind. I'll drag her down there by the ear myself if I have to.

"Maybe not," Maureen said carefully. The wary expression on her face, the intent way Maureen was watching her now told Jean that the girl had no doubt already come up with alternate arrangements, but it seemed she was apprehensive about how Jean might respond. Why should she be, though? Jean wondered. Lorraine needed help and Jean would gladly accept it from any quarter. Surely Maureen must have known that Jean would support whatever decision she had made, unless….

Oh, no. The truth began to dawn on Jean along with a growing sense of distress, and in the next breath Maureen confirmed it.

"Doctor Blake is sitting in his car outside," she said, and Jean's heart sank in her chest, and she leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest in a bid to stop the sudden trembling of her hands.

Of course Maureen had gone to Lucien. He had been the girls' physician, before, and he was the only doctor in town willing to come to this place, willing to dirty his hands with the likes of them. If Lorraine was as terrified of the hospital as Maureen seemed to think then bringing the doctor to her was the only logical solution, but Jean wished with all her heart it had been any other doctor, any other man.

One month now she had been without him. One month without his hands, his gentle smiles, his sparkling blue eyes, one month without the hope and the warmth that he had brought to her. Jean remained firm in her conviction that she had done the right thing in leaving him behind, that though it hurt she had spared them both a greater heartbreak down the line, but that conviction did not breed happiness. A little bit of the light seemed to have vanished from her world, without him. The routines that had once comforted her now felt stale and restrictive, and she was lonesome and distractible, with nothing to look forward to, nothing to give her hope save for that one single dream of Adelaide, which felt no closer to her reach now than it had done three months before. The only excitement she ever found these days was when a soldier came to the pub, but none of them had been Major Alderton, and no whisper of him had reached her there. The days were long and dreary, the nights quiet and despondent, but it was not just the loss of his company that caused her malaise. It was the realization that had struck her as she lay beside him his bed, the sure and certain truth that the love she had dreamed of, the love she remembered, the love she hoped might find her once again, was forever beyond her grasp. If she could have loved, she thought, she would have loved him, but he had turned out to be no more than a dream, and the loss of that dream stung as much as anything else.

And now he was here. Sitting in his car outside, waiting for Jean to accept or reject his aid as she chose. Should she bring him in? After she told him in no uncertain terms that he was not welcome Lucien had not dared set foot inside the pub, and even now he was not barging through the door, was instead leaving the decision in her hands. It was a courteous gesture, but it offered scant comfort, for the truth was she could not bear the thought of seeing his face again. That handsome face, that kind face, that face she had traced with her fingertips; he was no longer hers to want, to long for, and yet she feared that if she saw him now the longing might overcome her, and undo her.

But something had to be done about Lorraine.

"Send him in," she said quietly. "Bring him to me here. We'll go see Lorraine together."

"Thank you, Mrs. Beazley," Maureen said. It seemed a funny thing to say, to thank her for such a thing, but then again Maureen knew how Jean had cared for Lucien, and no doubt she'd noticed the changes in Jean's spirit since the day everything fell apart. Perhaps Maureen understood, on some level, what it would cost Jean to see Lucien again. It was a terrible price to pay, but something had to be done, and Jean would give everything she had for her girls. Even her pride.