Emily and Karl had found a small guest house that readily accepted the cash he offered. It was far enough from Ballarat that the news didn't get there too quickly. They were mainly used by travellers just passing through so to have guests for a week was a novelty. The young couple kept very much to themselves, going for walks during the day and staying in their room at night so the owners were not in the least bothered with them.
Emily revelled in the warm baths and by the end of the week was feeling very much recovered, enough to let Karl have his way with her again, though this time they did use the condoms he had bought with him.
"We ought to be movin' on, lass," he mused one night. "We don't want anyone to catch up with us, they'll send you to the bad girl's school and me, well they'll probably put me away 'cos of your age."
"And mum and dad might come lookin'," she sighed. "Yeah, we'd best go; where to?"
"Let's drive and see where we get to, eh?"
"It's an adventure, isn't it?" she smiled and snuggled up to him.
"Yeah," he ignored the reference to her parents, he knew they wouldn't be coming after them, but he wasn't going to tell her that, or how he knew.
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The police were getting nowhere, it was obvious that the two had run away, but how much Emily knew about what had happened to her parents was a mystery. Surely she wouldn't have colluded with Karl to kill them, and why had they been killed in the first place?
"I would expect Emily's parents to want to have him convicted of sex with a minor, or even to have given him a good going over," Matthew mused one evening, "and for his to ground him for the rest of his life, but to kill them ... seems a bit extreme, even given what he had done with their daughter. Nothing about the boy seems to lead up to him becoming a murderer and her teachers think she was the type that would be easily led."
"It takes all sorts, Matthew," Lucien pondered over his whisky, "why did Emily go through with the pregnancy, why did she not try to get rid of it?"
"Scared, scared someone would find out, but how did she keep it a secret?"
"She stayed off school, probably hid in her bedroom most of the time, and a fastened blazer would hide a multitude of sins," Jean set the finished matinee jacket she had knitted for Rosemary to one side, while she took some buttons out of her sewing box. "I don't think she was close to her parents, from what you say the other girls told you. She wouldn't be the first girl to successfully hide a pregnancy. Mrs Wilson said she had filled out a bit the last time she saw her, so I'm guessing that was towards the end of the pregnancy."
"What are you going to do, keep it open?"
"Yeah, I've sent wanted posters to nearby towns, and we are going to canvass small hotels, guest houses along the routes out of town, some of them we've done already, but by the time we knew what had happened they would be well on their way to god knows where." He sighed, he found the whole thing profoundly sad. "At least the baby survived."
"And his parents, what do they say?"
"That they can't believe it, the stealing from the shop or the getting a schoolgirl pregnant, in fact they won't believe that until they have him admit it. They gave us the rego of the ute, and the colour but we haven't found it either ditched or parked up, so they may still be using it. The Jeffs' are being buried in a pauper's grave next week."
"I hope Rosemary's not waking you up at night," Jean threaded her needle.
"I think we've got used to it," he smiled. "She's a lucky little girl."
"Thank you, we hope so."
"Does Miss Smith know yet, that you are fostering and likely to adopt?" Alice grinned, it was about time the harridan was taken down a peg or two. Matthew had come up against her during the course of his career, and rarely in a good way and she just reinforced Alice's opinion of Family Welfare.
"Not yet, there is no reason for us to inform her. Rosemary is a ward of the church, now, and it is up to Sister Josephine who looks after her. I think she was just put out because she wasn't informed of her existence." Jean smiled, "though she is likely to find out very soon, I am going to return the hospital gowns and nappies tomorrow, as the pram has arrived, and I shall of course take Rosemary out for some fresh air."
"What about registering the birth, have you done that?"
"We have, or rather Sister Josephine has. She has named the parents as Emily Jeffs and Karl Steadman as that is what we believe. When Rosemary is old enough to understand, and if she asks we shall tell her the story of her beginnings, until then nobody needs to say anything. She is a foundling." Jean cut the thread and held up the little jacket.
"I like that colour," Lucien smiled, "yellow is such a sunny shade, don't you think?"
Jean just shook her head and smiled.
"So, best dressed baby girl in Ballarat for her visit to the hospital tomorrow?" he laughed.
"I wouldn't expect anything else," Matthew agreed.
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Jean manoeuvred the pram into the hospital and along to the maternity suite. The nappies were neatly folded, the gowns pressed and folded and they were all stacked tidily on the shopping tray under the pram.
"Mrs Blake," the nurse who had been there when she first brought the baby in caught up with her. "Goodness," she gasped, "that isn't the scrap you brought in, is it?"
"This is she, her name is Rosemary, nurse," Jean smiled and placed her hand tenderly on the baby's chest.
"But ... the consultant said she'd never make it." She peered into the pram at the sleeping child, "she's beautiful, but how?"
"Love, my husband says, regular feeds warm baths and cuddles. He also said that if she'd survived for three days, alone, then she had an inner strength. I've brought the nappies and gowns back, all cleaned and ready for use." Jean indicated the laundry.
"How kind," the nurse smiled, "do you want to bring them along, I'd love for sister to see her," she added with a wicked glint in her eyes.
"Then maybe I can find out who reported us to welfare." Jean frowned.
"Either sister or the consultant," she sighed, "they really weren't happy with you and Dr Harvey. Don't understand why, you saved them having to explain why they didn't try to save her, though I would guess they will have to now. I don't like him y'know, he's ... oh I don't know, I just don't get that he cares. Healthy babies, well that's another story, takes all the credit. So, if they reported you how come you still have her?"
"Miss Smith came round and said that she would have placed her at the orphanage ..." Jean told her how Sister Josephine had come up with a plan that meant Rosemary was now a ward of the church. But that was all she said.
"So, you will foster her until a suitable home is found for her, then."
"That's about it," Jean agreed, "whoever takes her will get the pram, too."
"That's kind of you."
"Well, we don't know how long she will be with us and I can't carry her everywhere, not if I'm shopping."
"True. Well here we are." They stopped at the entrance to the nursery. "Sister, Mrs Blake has brought the baby things back," she called over.
"I expect the orphanage have their own," Sister marched over.
"Why the orphanage?" the nurse handed her the nappies.
"That's where family welfare placed her, though I doubt she made more than two days."
"That explains it," Jean lifted Rosemary out of the pram, "well, Sister, Rosemary, that's what I named her, is now my foster child, courtesy of the church, and as you can see she is a fine healthy three week old baby. As a ward of the church welfare have nothing to do with her now."
The nurse turned her back to hide her smile and lifted the pile of gowns from the tray.
"But, she had no chance ..." sister stammered.
"You said she had no chance, if I remember correctly neither you nor the consultant actually looked at her, examined her, in fact you barely spared her a glance. Fortunately my husband had more faith, and I have more patience ..." she cradled Rosemary so the sister could see the healthy child.
"We see it all the time, weak, frail babies that don't make it, fade away ..."
"Well, it would seem Rosemary isn't one of them." Jean frowned, 'see it all the time', 'weak, frail babies' ... phrases that bothered her. Just how many babies died on this ward? Yes, she knew some babies failed to thrive for some unknown reason, but this, this felt different. "Anyway, I must be off, she'll be needing a bottle very soon. Thank you for the loan of the clothes." She placed Rosemary in the pram and drew the soft blanket over her then with a wave to the nurse headed out of the hospital.
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"So it was sister who dobbed you in to Miss Smith, then," Lucien hummed, "but you are worried about something else."
"It was when she spoke about weak, frail babies, and how they see it all the time. Your father did a lot of home births and most of them survived, if one was lost it was due to some complication that couldn't be avoided and he always came home so very sad." Jean sat down and offered Rosemary a bottle, "Sister was nervous when I said the church had asked me to foster her, and that you had more faith than she or the consultant had, and I had more patience. I think both are lacking in those two."
She adjusted her seat on the couch and nodded to the space next to her. "It's not just that, though, Lucien," she sighed, it's the fact that she said they see failures all the time. This is not the middle-ages, we are not a third world country where infant mortality is rife."
"Want me to look into it?" he took the bottle off her while she helped Rosemary bring up her wind.
"I don't know," she bit her lip, she knew the pain of that particular loss and worried that the grieving mothers had not had the support or care they needed. "How long as he been at the hospital, I didn't recognise him, or the sister?"
"I'll find out. Tomorrow I'll do a bit of digging. Now, how did Miss Rosemary behave at the hospital?"
"Perfectly, would you expect anything else?" she smiled.
"Of course not, and sister?"
"Was stuck for words, which is why I am asking these questions. The nurse seemed glad I had taken her down a peg or two, but I don't enjoy doing things like that, Lucien."
"I know, love," he kissed her, "by the way, the photographs are back, the difference is immense." He took a folder out of his pocket.
"We need to put them in order in some kind of album, I suppose," she handed him the baby and took the pack from him. "Wow!" she exclaimed, I'd almost forgotten how waif like she was. And now," she waved the most recent picture ... "where did you get them processed?"
"The courier, Martin was happy to help."
"Hm," she drew her brows together, "what does he want in return?"
"He says nothing, but I am still looking into the fire when he was a child."
"You'll get there," she smiled. "I'll get an album tomorrow, for the photographs, date them and we'll keep it in the surgery for now. Well, best see to dinner."
"Can I help?"
"Tell you what," she grinned, "you can change her and put her in her nightgown," she took the bottle and tossed it from hand to hand as she headed into the kitchen.
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"Oh god," Jean breathed, "what does she want?"
Miss Smith was standing at the front door waiting impatiently to be admitted. She had had a long wait but Lucien was out at the hospital and because Alice had the day off she had accompanied Jean and Rosemary into town to shop and for a walk in the Botanic Gardens. Not something she was wont to do normally, but it was a lovely late autumn day and she had nothing else pressing. Matthew was on duty so the house was empty. So, here they were, pushing the pram up the drive and giggling at the story of Lucien lying with Rosemary spread-eagled on his chest, which had become commonplace according to Jean.
Alice shuddered, she had some awful long term memories of the ineptitude of the welfare system. She had always hoped things had changed but after Jean's recent exchange with Miss Smith she doubted it.
"Nothing good," she murmured, "probably been alerted to Sister Josephine's subterfuge."
As they neared her, she drew her thin lips into a line so sharp they disappeared.
"Miss Smith," Jean stood waiting for her to move so she could get the pram to the door. For a moment she didn't move then she stepped into the corner.
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In the kitchen Alice set the kettle to boil and took a baby's bottle out of the fridge. Jean lifted Rosemary from the pram and told Alice she would just be a moment.
"Madam needs changing," she ignored Miss Smith who had followed, uninvited, into the house.
"I'll set this to warm, Jean," Alice smiled, "tea?"
"Please."
While Jean was in the studio attending to Rosemary Alice continued to potter about the kitchen, put the shopping away, set the tea things out – even getting a cup for Miss Smith though with a bit of luck by the time the tea was ready they would have shown her the door.
"You are?" Miss Smith finally spoke.
"Dr Harvey," Alice nodded.
"Miss Smith, Family Welfare," she extended her hand which Alice looked at as if it carried a communicable disease and declined to take it.
"I know who you are," she hissed through gritted teeth. "The question is: why are you here?"
"The baby, the foundling that is still with Mrs Blake and not in the orphanage." She huffed.
"Sister Josephine asked Mrs Blake to be her foster mother, given the extra care she needed."
"But doesn't now, she can go back."
"Foster children have open ended placements, as well you know, until such time as a suitable home is found for them. Rosemary will stay here until that time. As you handed her over to the church you have no jurisdiction over her, any more. What do you have against Dr and Mrs Blake, because this seems to me to be a personal vendetta?"
"They brought the child here without permission."
"You stupid woman," Alice snapped, "Rosemary had been left to die, the hospital weren't going to do anything, not even make her comfortable, so what else was she supposed to do? She knew her husband would examine the baby and set out a course of treatment for her."
"The police should have informed me."
"The police were busy trying to find her mother, and solve the murder of her grandparents. Superintendant Lawson knew she was safe, in no danger."
"That is not how it works."
"No? It doesn't work for the child, I can tell you that. Take a child from a good home and leave it in an orphanage, yet leave children with parents who routinely beat them, sell them to men for sex, because it is the child that complains – I know what you do, only what it suits you, only what brings you the least trouble." Alice was leaning over the table glaring at her, tears rolling down her face, "I was that child, Miss Smith, and I was ignored, I wasn't believed when I told what my parents did to me and my sister. Not even when I showed the bruises, the cuts and the damage they did to me. So I suggest you leave Mrs Blake to foster Rosemary and the church to decide on her future – because when you insisted she go to Sister Josephine you relinquished all control."
"I should like you to leave my home, now, Miss Smith," Jean, who had entered unnoticed and heard everything, went to Alice's side and stroked her back with her free hand. "Otherwise I shall have to call the police and have you charged with harassment."
Miss Smith looked from one to the other then turned on her heel and stalked out of the kitchen and up the hall. They heard the door close and both relaxed.
"Alice?" she murmured.
"Sorry, Jean," she sat down, "it all came out, you didn't need to hear that."
"I won't say anything," she put her arm round her and pulled her close, dropping a motherly kiss to her head, "does Matthew know?"
She nodded. "He knows everything about me, Jean, that's why we're still together."
"Thank you, for what you said to her."
"I just wish there had been someone like you around when I was a child, it would have been nice to grow up in a loving home."
"You are loved, here, Alice," Jean smiled, "now, tea and a bottle for Rosemary and let's forget about her, eh?"
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Sister Josephine checked the paperwork and found it all in order. Picking up the telephone receiver she dialled Dr Blake's number and waited.
Mrs Blake always answered the phone with a cheery greeting, it gave her almost a joy to hear the musicality in the tone.
"Ah, Mrs Blake, good morning," she smiled, "I wonder if you and the doctor would have time to drop in today?"
"Er, yes, he has surgery this afternoon, but I'm sure we can come along in the next hour, if that would suit?"
"Lovely, that would work nicely." She put the phone down and smiled, this time she would have to confess to putting one over on Miss Smith. The woman had been so incensed about the way the fostering of Rosemary had been handled she even contacted the Bishop who was now on his way over and his visit would likely cross that of the Blake's – that was a shame.
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"Jean," Lucien looked her in the eye, "Sister Josephine is on our side, you know that. I bet Miss Smith has been up to complain about the foster parents she found for Rosemary and Josephine is going to see that she can't do anything more. Remember what she said, about seeing her when madam her is a month old?"
Jean nodded.
"Well, she's five weeks, isn't she, so ..." He held the door of the car open for her, "let's go and see Sister Josephine."
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Sister Josephine greeted them pleasantly and commented that it surely couldn't be the same baby, could it?
"She's come on very well," Lucien smiled, "growing just as she should be, I don't have any worries about her health, as a doctor, as a father – well worry comes with the territory, doesn't it."
"Well, doctor, Mrs Blake, it's been over a month and as you know I intended for her to be adopted. Have you thought any more about it?"
"We'd like to go ahead," Jean smiled with relief, "she's very much part of our family now."
"Of course, well, I suppose you can guess who I had a visit from, recently."
"Miss Smith," they chorused. "She came to see me, at the house." Jean continued, "I can't say she was welcome, and Dr Harvey told her exactly what she thought of Family Welfare – she has experience of them getting it horribly wrong."
"She told me she was rude, but if the doctor has had a bad experience with them ..."
"Her childhood, they failed to keep her safe from abusive parents," Lucien sighed, "fortunately she has put it behind her and made a place for herself in the world. We are happy to have her as a friend and lodger."
Sister Josephine cleared her throat, she also knew the Superintendant lodged at the Blake's and she didn't think the relationship between the police officer and Dr Blake's colleague was completely innocent, but what she didn't know was none of her business, in this case.
"Miss Smith has taken it upon herself to contact the Bishop and he is due here very soon, so I thought we should get this done."
"Won't you get into trouble?" Jean raised her eyebrows.
"Maybe, but we know, don't we, that the best place for Rosemary is with you, not in an orphanage." Sister Josephine pushed the papers towards them, "I need you to sign these, then all is done. There are no caveats, I don't demand that you bring her up in the Catholic church, or send her to a particular school all I ask is that you bring her up to be good and kind, show her the way."
"Now that we can do," Lucien smiled and put his signature to the paper, then handed the pen to Jean.
The signatures had just been finished and Sister Josephine was handing the copies of them to Lucien when a young nun knocked on the door and said that the Bishop had arrived.
"Show him in, sister," Sister Josephine smiled.
The Bishop strode in, Lucien stood up and Sister Josephine kissed the ring as she should, but she was ready to do battle over her handling of this adoption case.
"Your Grace," she smiled, "may I introduce Dr and Mrs Blake? They have just adopted this little one."
He cleared his throat and peered through his round glasses at the baby, then at Lucien and finally at Jean. He saw a well dressed professional couple with a beautifully dressed baby sleeping in the woman's arms, then he frowned; was this the couple Miss Smith had spoken about? On first impression they seemed a good couple.
"As you know, Sister," he took a seat, "I have been contacted by Family Welfare, here, about what I have been told is an unorthodox fostering of a foundling. Is this she?"
"Let me tell you a story, Your Grace," Jean interrupted and at his accepting nod, she told him the story of how she had found Rosemary, what the hospital had said and what Sister Josephine had done. "We accept that subterfuge was used, sir, but Sister Josephine would have called my husband for his advice on such a fragile baby and he would have either sent her to the hospital or told her to find a foster home. It may not have been the correct way to go about things but it was the right way."
"And now you have adopted her?"
"Yes, she is part of our family, we love her and we will give her every opportunity we can, for her health, her education ... we weren't sure she would make it beyond a couple of days, but those days would be full of love, now we see her going on to make her way in the world, perhaps marry and have children of her own and we will be behind her all the way."
"Have you raised children, Mrs Blake?"
"I have two grown up sons, and a granddaughter, my husband has a daughter in China."
"China?" he gasped.
"My first wife was Chinese," Lucien hummed, "our daughter was thought lost when the Japanese invaded Singapore and I was imprisoned. I have less experience that my wife, but we can always learn, can't we? If you would care to call on your way home, Your Grace," he continued, "we can show you Rosemary's journey in pictures. I have documented her growth to explain that even the tiniest baby has hope."
"So, what is Miss Smith's problem?" he was confused, Dr Blake and his wife seemed to only have the child's best interests at heart, and if she wasn't in the orphanage then she was one less drain on resources. If what Mrs Blake said about her beginning was true her medical care would have been costly, and while he did not begrudge the child proper care ... it all seemed so silly really.
"We don't know, above she has some sort of beef with my husband, or maybe me, though I haven't come across her in the course of bringing up my sons." Jean frowned, "I just don't think she likes that someone had a good idea and it wasn't her. She also doesn't like that I took matters into my own hands at the hospital – would you, Your Grace, have left a child to die even if there was medical capability around her. Would you not give her the chance? God moves in mysterious ways, does he not, his wonders to perform."
"Indeed he does, Mrs Blake," the Bishop smiled, "indeed he does."
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Lucien slipped Rosemary's adoption papers into the album, closed it and patted the cover. Here was a new beginning for him, and for Jean, as parents. The Bishop had accepted their invitation to see the album and see where Rosemary would grow up and he had also promised to counsel Miss Smith about her methods, try and find out why she felt the need to take the baby from Mrs Blake.
"Lunch!" Jean called through, "Lucien?"
"Coming," he lifted the album from the desk and carried it through. "Any idea when we are likely to see the Bishop?"
"When he's finished talking to Sister Josephine, I suppose," she hummed, "Rosemary is in the pram in the garden." She noticed him looking around, "the fresh air is good for her."
"Quite right," he smiled and went to look through the sunroom window, just to be sure. And there it was, the pram with the net over it to protect the baby from unwanted visitors of the feline variety.
Jean had put some salad and cold meat out for lunch, the bread she had somehow found time to make and bake that morning, water, fruit and cake.
"Well," he mused, helping himself to a good plateful, "if the Bishop turns up soon at least he'll see Rosemary will be well fed."
"I'm rather looking forward to her trying solids, you know," she smiled, "my boys used to get it all over their faces, and anything they didn't like they tipped over their heads."
"Did it stop you giving it to them?" he had a picture of a small Jack pouring a bowl of porridge over his, or Christopher's heads. Porridge was not a favourite of his which is why this image came to mind.
"Not immediately," she smiled, "I expected them to try it several times to make an informed decision ..."
"Even at toddler stage?"
"Of course, new tastes need exploring, Lucien," she tipped her head and made herself a dainty sandwich of the salad leaves and cold ham.
"I bow to your experience, my dear."
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The Bishop appeared just as surgery was starting which meant Jean had to leave the waiting room to show him the album and make him tea – because one must make a bishop most welcome.
"Well, goodness me," he turned another page, "what a change, from that first picture. Your husband is a very talented doctor, Mrs Blake," he took the tea cup, "you were right, in my opinion to bring Rosemary with you. If what you say is true, about the consultant and the maternity sister I am truly shocked."
"Yes, well, I have my concerns," she huffed, "Lucien is looking into them, something sister said to me when I returned the nappies and gowns I borrowed. But, we shall see what happens; Rosemary is my daughter now."
Before he left he asked permission to bless the baby and he blessed her too, she didn't have the heart to tell him that in the eyes of the church she was a scarlet woman.
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They had decided to close the case of the missing teenagers and the murder of Mr and Mrs Jeffs. Matthew said there was no more evidence, or leads to follow.
"They've run away," he huffed over dinner, "and done it rather well."
"Surely you can leave it open and if anything comes your way you can follow it up," Jean frowned, "I mean, we know who we're looking for don't we? Emily and Karl. What do Mr and Mrs Steadman think?"
"They don't know what to think, apart from being very disappointed in their boy and angry with him. I did think that someone would notice two such young kids alone in a ute but no one's come forward. We have had pictures in papers all round the state, posters in the local and not so local police stations – nobody has seen them. If they hadn't done something so despicable I would admire them." He scrubbed at his sore eyes.
"They must be working, they would need money, or have there been some robberies? How are they living?"
"Jean," Matthew slapped the table, "I don't bloody well know, I really don't. Sorry, it's not your fault."
Alice put her hand over his, "And it's not yours," she smiled softly. "They'll be found eventually. Now, Lucien, how goes your digging into the new obstetrician?"
"It's like trying to get blood out of a stone, going through the board. He's got a stellar reputation, arrived about six months ago, she arrived shortly afterwards with a glowing reference. You've done no autopsies on newborns have you Alice, none that I don't know about?"
She shook her head, "I'd tell you, before you noticed that I was wobbly – children on the table always make me wobbly. Sometimes they make me think it could have been me all those years ago."
Matthew patted her hand, "I'm so glad it wasn't," he murmured.
"Me too," she smiled.
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Small towns had been the best places for the two runaways to stop over in. They would do a few odd jobs to pay for the food they needed, the fuel for the ute and places to stay – though they did have the camping gear Karl had put in the ute the day he had left his home, murdered Emily's parents and driven them away. So far, three months had gone quickly and successfully. No one had recognised them, no one questioned the age of them as they touted for work in cafés, on small farms or wherever itinerant workers were needed. They had picked grapes in a small vineyard and camped out for a month, but that was the longest they had stayed anywhere.
"We need somewhere a bit more permanent for the winter, lass," he said one evening as they sat out under the stars. "It's gettin' cold at night."
"Where will we go, Karl?" she rubbed her upper arms and he pulled her close.
"Next town we stop by we'll find something," he assured her, but even he had not thought that far. They needed somewhere to stay long term.
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The town was small, nondescript, just what they liked. As they made their way slowly along what appeared to be the main street they saw an elderly woman slip and drop her shopping.
"Here," Karl called across and jumped out. He went over and helped her pick the groceries off the ground and asked her if she had far to go.
"Not too far," she hefted the bag into her arms.
"Come on, Missus," he lifted the other bag, "we'll give you a lift."
She eyed him suspiciously.
"Jus' me and my girl," he nodded over to the ute, "shootin' through, lookin' for somewhere for the winter. Time to help a lady," he smiled.
He seemed such a pleasant, well mannered young man and the bags were heavy so she accepted his kind offer and he and Emily helped her into the ute. They drove her just to the outskirts of town where she asked them to pull up at a reasonable sized house with a small holding running down the side.
"Got a tile missing there, Missus," he nodded towards the house and the tile that had slipped from the roof.
"There was a gale the other night," she sighed, "I suppose I shall have to get someone in to fix it."
"I can do that," he helped her down, having an idea. "You got no one at home to help."
She looked him up and down. In the three months they had wandered Karl had done a number of physical jobs and he looked strong.
"I can't pay you."
"Bit of grub?"
"Alright," she nodded, alright, a meal, for you both."
"Em'll help you with the groceries," he nodded to her still sitting in the ute.
"'Course I will," she jumped down, "come on give me that big bag."
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"Where are you off to?" Lucien watched Jean pack a basket of clothes that Rosemary had outgrown.
"Hospital," she smiled, "can you cope with Rosemary? Mrs Grey has gone into early labour I thought she might need small baby clothes."
"Sure," he nodded, Rosemary was asleep in the pram, "but she's only seven months."
"I know, her husband rang ..."
"Ah that was the phone call, didn't he want me?" Lucien pouted.
"Just wanted to let us know, so I thought ..."
"Ok, call me if you need me."
Jean kissed him and left the house. Mrs Grey was under the care of the consultant they weren't able to find out anything about so she thought if she went she might be able to observe. She'd known Millie Grey for years, since she was a junior member of the choir at church with Jack, and helped her with her wedding dress when she got married a couple of years ago – you could say they were friends.
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Millie Grey was in the Labour Ward, alone and terrified.
"Oh Mrs Blake," she reached out for her hand, "thank you for coming. They say they can't stop the baby coming and it's too early." She sniffed, tears falling again. "I'm so scared."
"I'll stay with you," Jean put her basked down and stroked her cheek. "What happened to start you off?"
"Nothing, I was sitting in the chair having a cuppa when it started and it got going so quickly. Dave called an ambulance and here I am. The consultant's supposed to be the best in the business but he's so huffy." She groaned again. "Can you stay? I mean for all of it. Dave can only wait in the corridor."
"I'll do my best," Jean smiled, wondering if she could get into the delivery suite with her. This baby, if born alive, would be small and need an incubator, she thought, and the consultant didn't like weak babies.
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It wasn't sister that took Mrs Grey to the Delivery Suite, it was the nurse Jean had spoken to when she returned the baby linen, so it was easy for her go down with Millie.
When the consultant arrived with Sister she was forced to leave, but through the window she could see them put Millie's legs in the stirrups and hear them urging her to push and telling her to stop whining.
"You need to put your efforts into getting this baby out!" Sister shouted and that was enough for Jean. Just as the baby was born she charged in and was at Millie's side before the consultant noticed.
The baby didn't cry but as Jean looked over she saw its foot twitch. The sister was shaking her head and about to wrap it up and do whatever she usually did with stillborn babies. The consultant cut the cord and pulled off his gloves.
"See to it, Sister," he huffed.
"Hey!" Jean shouted and took the baby off sister, "wait."
"What the hell are you doing in here?" he rounded on her.
"More than you are," she unwrapped the baby's face. "Hey, little one," she patted its cheek then rubbed it firmly. "Come on, mummy wants to see you." She turned the baby so it lay on face down along her arm and patted its back. It gave a thin, reedy cry. "That's it, let's hear you."
Sister stared at her, "It was dead," she gulped.
"Finish with Mrs Grey," Jean ordered, "you never even tried," she glared at the consultant. "This is what you do, isn't it, you don't try to get a tiny baby going. If it's not full term, if it's weak you don't even give it the chance." She unwrapped the baby to see whether it was a boy or a girl, "this little boy deserves more."
"He won't live."
"That's what you said about the little girl I brought in, the baby that was left to die, but you know what, she's fine, she's where she should be for three and a half months, being weaned."
"Oh yes, Sister told me about that, a fluke," he sneered.
"Do what you have to with Mrs Grey," she turned towards Millie, "then get out." She went over to Mille staring open mouthed and ignoring the pain of delivering the last part.
"Hey Millie, you have a little boy. I'll get Lucien down to sort out his treatment, I think he will need to be in an incubator for a while, but he's perfect." She handed the baby to his mother and stroked her hair. "Well done," she added softly.
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Lucien listened to Jean tearfully describe what she had seen with Millie Grey then he put the phone down, picked up Rosemary and headed down to the hospital. When he got there he handed the baby over to Jean; he could see she had taken charge.
When she had put the phone down on him and dismissed sister from Millie's care she had pulled two nurses into the room.
"I want an incubator for this little one, Mrs Grey needs to be helped to bathe and then taken to the ward."
The nurses reckoned she wasn't a woman to be trifled with, but saw she had the new mother's best interests at heart. Jean took the baby to his father waiting in the corridor and wondering what the heck was happening. He had heard raised voices and the consultant had stormed out and stomped down the corridor.
"Hey," he called after him, "what's going on?"
The consultant waved him away and was followed shortly after by the sister, red faced and worried. Dave watched them have a heated discussion and look back at him.
"Dave?" a soft gentle voice brought him back to his wife and what had happened to her and their baby, "hello," Jean Blake smiled, she was holding a tiny bundle, "this is your son. He's a little bit small and will need to be in an incubator for a while, but he's a fighter."
"You've been with her?" he gasped and peered at the tiny face in the blanket.
"I stayed until they threw me out, then I ..." she cleared her throat, "well, things didn't go as I thought they should so I um I interfered. Would you like to hold him?" She offered the baby while the young father took in what she had said.
"You saved him," he held his son, "thank you." He couldn't find the words to say how grateful he was. "Why? Did they say he wasn't going to make it?"
"Shall we just say they weren't as positive. They were the same with Rosemary."
"Is that the little girl you and the doc adopted?"
"Yes, a foundling, they didn't think she would make it either, and babies like your son take a lot of looking after until they catch up." She heard footsteps approaching and looked up to see Lucien carrying Rosemary down to her. "Ah, here's Rosemary."
Dave Grey looked up, "She was a foundling?" he gasped.
"Aha," Jean nodded and took her into her arms, "Millie's in there, Lucien," she nodded towards the delivery room, "this is the baby, tiny; I've ordered an incubator and asked the nurses to help Millie to bathe."
"Congratulations, Mr Grey," he smiled.
"It's a boy, Lucien," Jean smiled.
"Lovely. Well, Mr Grey, shall we go and see your wife and I can take a look at this little fellow."
Jean watched them go into the room, looked at Rosemary and headed out of the hospital. She now knew what was going on, the consultant seemed to want only healthy babies to come out of his unit, less work, but she was surprised at the sister's attitude. She passed Geoffrey Nicholson on her way out.
"Mrs Blake," he nodded, "how are you?"
"Quite well, thank you, Mr Nicholson." She smiled.
"Visiting?"
"Yes, er, Mr Nicholson, you are on the board, are you not?"
"I am, why?"
"Can I talk to you, about something I have just witnessed?"
"This way," he ushered her back into the building, "tell me what's got you worried."
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"So Geoffrey listened to you," Lucien watched Jean spoon puréed fruit into Rosemary's mouth.
"And Matthew and Bill arrested the consultant and the sister on charges of infanticide," she sighed, "they are a married couple but she practices under her maiden name, because the hospital doesn't employ married women."
"But why?"
"I have no idea, and I don't think I want to know," she put the spoon into the now empty dish. "The Grey's?"
"They're fine. Millie is recovering well, the baby is in the incubator and seems to be alright. He's a fighter. They've named him John. Millie says if it had been a girl she would have been called Jean, after you, because of what you did. John was the best male alternative they could come up with." He grinned. Jean blushed.