"Good morning," Jean smiled pleasantly observing a young girl dressed in clothes that had seen better days. A plain top and trousers, repaired in places and a little short in the leg. "Can I help you?"
"Is this the house of Dr Thomas Blake?" she said in halting English.
"Yes ..." Jean hesitated.
"Oh, thank god," she gasped, "I have found my family?"
"Good heavens," Jean stepped to one side, "you must be ..."
"Li Blake," the girl stepped in, "the consulate ..."
"Come in dear," Jean smiled, "I have just set the kettle to boil ..."
"You are?"
"Mrs Beazley, Jean; I am the doctor's housekeeper; he will be delighted you have found your way here."
Sensing the girl's frailty from lack of food and water, Jean took the girl by the hand and led her to the kitchen and bade her sit while she made tea and set out cake and biscuits.
Li looked around the room; it was warm and inviting, the cakes and biscuits looked tempting and there was an inviting smell of baking bread.
"Help yourself," Jean smiled, "Dr Blake should be home soon, he's just seeing his patients at the hospital."
Li took a biscuit and nibbled daintily at it, it was sweet and crisp and altogether delicious.
"I didn't know ..." she stammered, "my papa, my father did not speak of his father, I ..."
"Shall we just say they were at odds, but .." Jean sat down and touched her hand, "Li, he has been so concerned about you both, worried about you but he didn't know how to find you."
"I ..." Li didn't know what to make of this, the housekeeper, the house the idea she could be loved again.
"Ah," Jean tipped her head and smiled, "sounds like the doctor has returned."
Thomas turned into the kitchen and pulled up short at the sight. Jean stood up, "Thomas, this is Li, your granddaughter ... she has found you."
"Good grief," he gasped, "how?" He sat down in his customary seat and stared at the young Chinese girl; she dropped her eyes and fiddled with the hem of her jacket.
Jean put a comforting hand on Li's shoulder and glared at the doctor who blinked and swallowed.
"Right, long journey, you must be tired," he cleared his throat, "we can hear your story later. Jean will show you a room you can have, you must stay, child, at least while we try to get in touch with your father." He harrumphed.
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Jean had to persuade Li that she was wanted there, it was just that her grandfather was not a demonstrative man, but he had been worried about her and that was why they had searched for her and had hoped that she would come to them, if she was alone.
"But you are not alone, Li," Jean smiled, "you have your grandfather, and I hope that you will come to see me as a friend. Now," she passed her a blouse and skirt of her own, "as you have no other things, try this on and I shall see about some clothes for you." Li had arrived in the only clothes she owned, which embarrassed her but she had been taught not to ask for anything so to accept this kindness was difficult for her. Jean sat down on the bed beside her.
"Li, it's ok. If you are worried about accepting 'gifts' we can find a way for you to er, shall we say, work for them, eh? You need clothes and I can always use a little help round the house. Come, try this on," she held up the blouse again.
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"What I don't understand, Thomas," Jean hummed after Li had gone to bed, "why your son couldn't find her but we had no trouble. Surely he would know who to go to."
"Hm," he nodded, "I agree, so what next, Jean? We need to find Lucien and I was hoping the consulate or the army would help, at least get a message to him. Do you think they have a hold over him?"
"Really, doctor, why would they do that?"
"I don't know, but when I was at the station yesterday there was a Major Alderton there, he said he had been in the camp with a Lucien Blake and was I related?" He frowned, "I felt very much under observation. Matthew told him I was Lucien's father, and asked him if he knew anything about Lucien's whereabouts. He shook his head but said if he heard anything ... why didn't I believe ..." a knock on the door interrupted his worries.
"I'll get it, Thomas," she stood up, smoothed down her skirt and headed to answer the door as whoever it was knocked again.
"Coming!" she trilled.
Opening the door she was faced with a soldier, a Major if she read the uniform right.
"Yes?"
"Major Alderton," he smiled, a smile that sent shivers down her spine, "is Dr Blake at home?"
"He is," she looked him up and down, "it's a little late for surgery, Major," she frowned.
"You are?"
"Mrs Beazley, his housekeeper," she straightened her shoulders.
"Well, Mrs Beazley, my business is with the doctor, not his housekeeper."
If looks could kill, Major Derek Alderton would have dropped on the spot, but sadly for Jean, and Thomas, they couldn't and she had to let him in; she didn't like him and she knew Thomas didn't trust him, just from the short conversation they had had.
Thomas and Major Alderton disappeared into the study when the Major asked for somewhere private to talk.
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Jean hoped Li would not come down, she had a feeling it might be better to keep her presence a secret for now, she hoped Thomas wouldn't say anything, so she stood at the bottom of the stairs and waited to show the unwelcome visitor out.
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"What do you want, Major?" Thomas faced the man, his height and uniform did not frighten him but his appearance at his house worried him.
"Just to tell you not to look for Lucien," he leered, "or his daughter."
"And why should I not look for my son or my granddaughter?"
"Lucien is busy, he has no time for family ..." Alderton loomed over him.
"Lucien will always have time for family, especially his daughter because I know he is looking for her. Do I understand that he is still working for the service? Are you telling me my son is a spy?" Thomas leant on the desk and stared at him.
"You are better off not knowing," Alderton put his hand on the door handle, "keep out of it, Dr Blake, it would be better for all."
Jean scurried into the living room as the door opened and waited until she heard the front door close.
"Jean," Thomas came out and caught her by the arm. "Lucien is in trouble, I know he is. Alderton threatened us, him and Li. I want you to keep Li in the house, back garden at the most, and if you are going shopping take the car. In fact I am going to as Matthew to assign a constable to escort you."
"Thomas, what did he say?" Jean put her hand to her mouth and gasped.
"Just that Lucien is too busy for family, which I don't believe at all, while we have our differences he still will have time for Li. He told me we are better off not knowing what he is doing, but I am sure it is to do with espionage."
"Did you tell him Li is here?"
"No, and I don't want him to know, but somehow we have to get word to Lucien," he paced the room, "I just don't know how I'm going to do that."
"You are not going to do anything," Jean frowned, "Alderton is bound to be watching you."
"Jean ..."
"Look, Thomas," she stood up and touched his arm, "from what he told you, Lucien is involved in spying, but from what you say he has a dagger held over his head in the form of Li. If you are seen to be doing something when the Major has told you not to ..."
"Jean, you have such an imagination." He laughed.
"Do I? When he arrived he looked at me and when I told him I was your housekeeper he said his business was with you and not your housekeeper, and while I know it is not my business I didn't like the threatening way he spoke to me. I don't trust him, Thomas."
"Whew!" Thomas gasped, "you read too much, Jean, try Jane Austen instead of Helen MacInnes ..."
"Thomas, he effectively told you to forget your son, your only child and your granddaughter!" Jean pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead, "Not knowing what someone you love is doing has got to be the hardest thing. When I didn't hear from Christopher, my husband, for six months I knew something was wrong but I couldn't get any information, and although finally being told he had been killed broke my heart, it was a kind of relief – I finally knew. I don't want to watch you, and Li, wonder, day after day if Lucien is safe, or if he is being driven to do things just because someone holds the threat of hurting his family over his head – that is how little I trust Major Alderton." She sat down, quite exhausted from her impassioned speech.
"Yet you tell me I am to do nothing," he frowned.
"Any letters will have my handwriting on them I will send them to my sister and ask her to forward them on, when we work out where to send them. If she won't then I shall find someone who will," she folded her arms and started to formulate a plan.
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Jean wrote to her sister, Annie, but again Annie was not going to help her. She disapproved of Jean living with a widower and reminded her of her past misstep with Christopher and here she was asking her to help find another man who did not have a wife.
"Anyone would think I am the town harlot," she huffed, when she received Annie's short and quite curt letter.
"Nothing could be further from the truth," Thomas smiled, "you made a mistake, don't we all ..."
"Not my sainted sister, it would appear," she pouted.
"Shall we call in Matthew then, maybe he knows someone in Melbourne, he did some of his early police work there, didn't he?"
On balance Jean thought they could trust Matthew so they invited him to dinner one evening and put all they had to him.
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"So you think they are hindering his search, rather that helping, phew!" Matthew looked round the table and particularly at Li. He was the only person in Ballarat outside of the house that knew of Li's presence, and though she may be young they may require her help in the writing of letters. "But they found you, Miss Li," he hummed, "why won't they tell Lucien?"
"Because that way they can keep him working for them? I don't know, Matthew," Thomas leant on the table, "who was it that found you Li?"
"Someone from the Consulate," she frowned, "he looked nervous, I think. Gave me the money for my fares and told me to get out of the country as fast as I could. He was different to the man who usually found me somewhere to stay. I suppose I didn't think too much about it, other than I was going to find my family."
"So they moved you around?"
Li nodded, "I didn't think much about it at the time, each place was ok, and they gave me just enough for my keep. They said it was to keep me safe."
"Maybe the Consulate isn't the way to go," Jean took the plates to the sink, "this is where you come in, Matthew, we were hoping you may know someone who could help."
"Hm," he sat back in his seat and drew his brows together, "I do, but, I'm not sure. I mean they don't like injustice and served in intelligence during the war so they may have access to people we don't ... I think I have a day off due, maybe I'll take a trip to Melbourne, see Vera ..." he gazed at the ceiling and Jean could see him plotting.
"Thank you, Matthew," Thomas said quietly.
"No promises, I'll make an enquiry or two, perhaps ..."
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Lucien hated what he was doing, what he was being made to do, but if he was to find his daughter he needed the money and the tips, the hints and information he was being drip fed. He had found a private detective but he wasn't particularly good at his job, always avoiding the questions Lucien would ask. The only letters he received were from his father, and he never opened them, still feeling the sting of rejection at the age of ten and the damning of his marriage to a Chinese woman. Why should he care for the news, the minutiae of life in a provincial Australian town and yet more recriminations?
The latest hint had been an orphanage in a small town near Shanghai and, surprise surprise, he had a job to do there. The job was done but the orphanage had never heard of anyone by the name of Li Blake. He sat in his tiny flat and scrawled 'return to sender' on yet another of his father's letters, noting it was lighter than usual – even less was happening in Ballarat, it would seem.
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"No promises, Lawson," his contact smiled wickedly, she always had that smile when she was planning something, "but I'll see what I can do."
Matthew left the elegant house on the Esplanade in St Kilda and felt some tiny glimmer of hope for Lucien and Li. His contact had agreed to see him and listen to the story he had to tell. There were avenues to pursue, Alderton had to be investigated she said, and then whoever was in the Consulate that could have given Li the means to leave China and get to Australia.
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It was a sort of stalemate, Jean thought, they couldn't do anything, but they had to do something. Matthew insisted they hold off for a while, until his contact had investigated the Consulate in China.
Another letter was returned. Thomas sighed and put it in a box in the study.
"Grandfather?" Li watched him from the door of the room.
"Li, my dear child," he smiled and beckoned her in, "from your father," he indicated the box.
"Father's letters?" she looked hopeful.
"Sadly, no," he sighed, "they are my letters to him, he returns them unopened."
"Why?"
"Sit, Li," he pulled out a chair, "let me tell you about my relationship with your father." He tried to tell her in the gentlest fashion that he had made a complete hash of his fatherly duties after his wife, Lucien's mother, died. He told her how he had sent Lucien to a school in Melbourne, how he was distant and glad when he went to Edinburgh to train. "I pushed him away, Li, and I regret it so much," he sniffed, Li thought he was crying. "But," he inhaled, "I won't give up, I need to apologise for what I did. When he married your mother I was ... I was angry ..."
"Angry?"
"I married a Frenchwoman, Li, she had trouble when she came to Ballarat, trouble fitting in. The local people, particularly the women, looked at her as if she had three heads, it took a long time before she was accepted. She was so beautiful, your grandmother, here ..." he showed her a photograph he kept in his wallet, "all the men adored her, and I was well aware that some of them wanted her, as they shouldn't want another man's wife, but it didn't stop them, and she was an incurable flirt, loved life and lived it to the full. I didn't want that for your mother, yet I knew if Lucien brought her back here she would suffer the same as my darling Genevieve did. So I was cruel, I told your father it was folly, but I didn't explain why. I was so wrong, in so many ways, and I am so sorry, you would both have been safe if I had welcomed her ..."
"Grandfather," she reached over and touched his hand, "you have taken me in, I am so grateful to you and Jean, and maybe you can talk to father and tell him all you have told me."
"If he read my letters," Thomas huffed, "then he would know."
"I think," she laughed, "you are very much alike."
"Probably, you don't think me a bad man?"
"No, grandfather," she shook her head, "just worried for your son and his family."
"Bless you, child." He smiled and patted her hand.
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The little plane landed on the rough airstrip that was little more than a field. Even now she used this quiet place to fly from and return to; there she could be greeted how she expected to be, without being observed.
"A long time," he smiled, kissing her softly, "I worried about you."
"You always worry," she laughed and wrapped her arms round his chest and sighed, "but it's done now."
"A good outcome?"
"Of course, though there are some loose ends to tie up here. Someone has been playing, toying with another man's life, using him like a puppet and it shall stop," she linked arms with him as they walked to the car.
"I wouldn't expect otherwise," he smiled, "and I have found out things about this Alderton."
"And?" she climbed into the car.
"Not acting under orders," he frowned, "does know about Blake's daughter, though, he's the one that arranges her accommodation then sends the details to the Consulate."
"So he knew all along where Miss Blake was?"
"He doesn't now, it would seem."
"No, I found the man who got her out of China. Not difficult, he is a secretary, reads the letters, sees what's going on and decided a child should not be used as a pawn. He saw the order to move her again so he decided he would do it. Of course it has to be a secret and I won't tell, he'd lose his position and I'd lose a spy of my own."
He shook his head and gave a little smile, she would always use a situation to her advantage.
"Why didn't he tell Blake?"
"Didn't dare write, couldn't meet with him but he could find Miss Blake and get to her. After that he said he hoped someone would come looking for Blake, or find a way to get word to him."
"If only he'd read his father's letters," he sighed.
"Maybe not his father's but there is his daughter or the housekeeper, I believe she's rather resourceful," she grinned.
"What I don't understand is why the letters get through uncensored," he pulled up outside the house.
"They are letters from Australia to him, if he was writing back I dare say they would be. But the day to day happenings in Ballarat, or anecdotes about patients or people he knows ..." she shook her head.
"So, if the handwriting on the envelope is different won't they read them?"
"That is where we have to come up with something. Obviously it can't be addressed in Chinese that will be a giveaway that Miss Blake is safe, I think a typed envelope, perhaps from a lawyer?"
"Looking like his father has passed?"
"An unpleasant thought, my darling, but one we have to employ."
And that was how they managed to get Lucien to read a letter.
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Major Lucien Blake frowned at the resealed letter. No letters coming from Ballarat were ever read before being passed on to him, but this one was different – the envelope was typewritten. The return address was the solicitor in town so had his father passed? He opened it and read down, indeed it did ask him to return to see to his father's estate, the house and effects, and the housekeeper who was still in residence. The last line confused him, though.
"The last thing your father said was that lemon juice is rather revealing and that heat should help the problem."
Lemon juice was a common way to get secret messages out, so old school and so well known that nobody used it now. He heaved a sigh and took out his lighter meaning to burn the letter. As he held the flame to the corner he frowned, indeed it did seem like there was a message hidden under the typed words. A simple message:
"Come home Major Blake, Li is here."
He drew the flame hastily away and closed off the lighter, the message faded. He did it again, and again until the paper began to singe. He burnt it, threw it in the fireplace and dragged his small suitcase out from under his bed. This was not how he got his orders, he was called to the consulate office and given a coded message and sent off with appropriate papers. This time this message was not from them, this was not a case, someone had done what he could not, they had found his daughter. He had no reason to doubt it the message was too simple for that.
As a regular traveller nobody took any notice of the tall westerner boarding the ship with his suitcase and trunk. He had a passport, money, a travel permit – everything was in order as he began his journey home.
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"He won't contact us, Li," Matthew warned her, "not for a while, anyway. Any letters he sends home will be read; all we can do is hope he got the message."
"Well," Jean sighed, "his room is ready for him, when he does come back."
"And if Alderton comes calling?"
"Why would he do that?"
"If it is discovered Blake, Lucien, has gone walkabout ..."
"I thought he worked undercover, Matthew," she grinned.
"Yeah, yeah he does."
"Well then ..."
"Ok, you obviously have faith in him even though you've never met him ..."
"Somebody has to," she pushed a cup of tea in front of him, "for Li, if no one else," she added in a whisper.
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Lucien found himself looking over his shoulder all the time he was on the ship, so much so that he arranged for his trunk to be taken off at Darwin and sent on by train. If he had to run he didn't want the added weight and he couldn't leave it behind, there was too much in it, too much of his past life that he didn't want to get into the wrong hands and things he wanted Li to have.
He disembarked at Cairns and took the first of numerous trains. The ship continued on to Melbourne without him, his pyjama jacket caught on the railing outside his cabin, his suitcase open on a chair in his cabin with some money and a 'false' passport that had been issued by the Secret Service all to make them think he had fallen overboard during the night.
It worked. He had left a false forwarding address for a place that didn't exist and nobody knew that Lucien Blake had disappeared and not drowned.
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He changed out of his stolen ship workers clothes in a tailor's in a small town where the train stopped. He bought another suit, shirts, underwear and shoes, as well as all the other things a respectable doctor travelling home would need, had his beard trimmed and his hair cut and satisfied with his appearance and travel plans, put everything into the new suitcase he had also purchased and took the next train out of Cairns. He would stop every two to three towns, change direction and continue until eight days later he stood on the platform at Ballarat station and noted that not much had change in the past thirty odd years.
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Four days earlier:
Jean opened the door assuming it was a patient, it wasn't.
"Home of Thomas Blake?" the man in a courier's uniform grunted.
"Er, yes," she cleared her throat.
"Sign 'ere," he passed her a pad.
"What am I signing for?"
He stood aside to reveal a large, battered trunk with various travel labels attached being unloaded from a van. She stepped over to it and examined some of the writing, noting it was addressed to Dr Thomas Blake and there were a few small labels with his son's name on, including an old faded one that had the address of the School of Medicine, Edinburgh, Scotland on it; she held out her hand for the notepad and signed it.
"Where d'ye want it?"
"Just put it in the porch," she shrugged, "I'll have it moved later."
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Matthew came as soon as she summoned him.
"I can't move it on my own," she had told him, "but I think you and I could, together. I don't want to ask Thomas, at his age ..."
He looked at it and scratched his head. "Y' think he sent his things on?"
"He could be on his way, Matthew," she smiled, "but he wouldn't want to carry something this heavy, in case he had to make a run for it."
"Thomas is right, you read too much spy fiction."
She laughed, she had just take Thomas' advice and started a Jane Austen and while it was intelligently written she still preferred something with a little more excitement. It was probably because she hadn't had the chance to travel, she thought, so she did it through books.
They heaved the trunk inside the house then, as Jean was mindful of having to re polish the wooden floors and it was very heavy they put it on one of the rugs and slid it to the door of Lucien's room. Between them they got it to sit at the end of his bed and she put the rug back where it usually lay.
"Tea?" she smiled.
"Now that's sounds like a darn good idea," he brushed the dust from his hands and followed her to the kitchen. "Where's Miss Li?"
"In the study with Thomas, he's showing her pictures of Lucien as a little one, and she's shown an interest in science." She set the kettle to boil and put out the cups and saucers for all of them. "I'll call them through when tea's made."
"They seem to get on well," he mused.
"Very well," Jean agreed, "he says she has Lucien's eyes, they are rather blue and I have to say I found this strange but Thomas says that Mei Lin must have had European ancestry, maybe a long time ago but that could be the reason she too has blue eyes."
"Never was much good at science," Matthew shook his head and frowned.
"Isn't that why you employ a police surgeon?"
"Ha ha," he grumbled.
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Li was intrigued with the trunk but as it had a rather sturdy padlock on it they decided against trying to open it.
"It belongs to your father, Li," Jean put her arm around her, "I'm sure he'll show you what's in it when he gets here."
"He really is on his way, isn't he," her eyes shone with joy.
"I am sure this is the reason he sent this," Jean agreed, "but you must be patient."
"I shall do my best," she stroked the battered top of the trunk and sent a little prayer to whatever god she thought could help her father find his way home.
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Major Alderton called again, this time in the middle of the day, in fact in the middle of surgery.
Jean stood her ground and told him Dr Blake was not available he was taking surgery and would be some time. Should he wish to see him she suggested he make a formal appointment, and closed the door.
Li stood at the bottom of the hall and watched Jean straighten her shoulders and huff at the nerve of some people.
"Jean?" she whispered.
"Li, I didn't know ... he didn't see you, did he?" Jean went to her side, "he mustn't know you're here."
"Why? Uncle Derek was a friend of the family," she frowned.
"Uncle Derek?"
Li nodded, "Hmm ... he used to come to dinner with mother and father, sometimes if father was out he would come and have dinner with mother on her own, father said he spent more time in our house than his own er ..." she frowned trying to recall her father's word, "... um, billet? Yes, billet was what he called it."
"Li," Jean pulled her into the living room, "he was the one who said we weren't to look for you or your father, the soldier we told you about."
"He did?"
Jean nodded, wondering how much she should tell the girl and on balance decided the truth was best.
"He told your grandfather that your father was too busy for family, he had no time for you, we think he had something to do with you moving about so much, at least that's what Inspector Lawson was told by his contacts. We don't trust him that's why we told you to stay out of sight and why we didn't even tell you his name. Li," she put her arms around her, "I'm sorry, he's betrayed you, all of you."
Li slumped onto the couch and stared at the floor. "I didn't know," she sniffed, "father said he was a friend, he even helped him find a ship to get me and my mother away from Singapore. The ship sank, it was bombed, I think, or some such happening, I lost sight of my mother, they told me she had gone to heaven and put me in an orphanage; I found out later that there were very few survivors. It was later that they showed me her coat and a necklace she had been wearing. The necklace was a gift from father when I was born, she never took it off. I knew then that I would never see her again."
"That's the necklace you wear?" Jean pointed to the tiny heart shaped locket she always wore. Jean had wondered why she hadn't sold it to help her on her journey and now she knew.
She nodded and fingered it, "the engraving is 'love' in Chinese."
"It's lovely," Jean smiled. It was quite a simple gift she thought, but full of so much meaning, Lucien had time for his family, more time than Alderton would ever have.
"Uncle Derek never had a wife, you know, Jean," Li looked up at her, "now, knowing how it is between a man and a woman I think perhaps he wanted my mother the way other men wanted my grandmother. He dined with us so often ..."
"You said," Jean drew her lips together and frowned, "it makes sense. And because the war took her from both of you he now wants to make sure you and your father are never reunited."
"So that would leave all of us alone."
"Yes."
Jean put her arms round her and held her close.
"They tried to do that to me and my boys, you know?"
"How?"
"When I broke my leg ..." Jean told her about the boys being taken to the orphanage and how she volunteered to work for them just so she could see them. "It didn't stop Jack getting into trouble but at least I was there for both of them. I love my boys, Li, I don't like what Jack did but it doesn't mean I don't love him."
"They are lucky boys to have you, Jean," Li smiled and looked up from where her head lay against Jean's breast, "and we are lucky to have you, me and Grandfather, and father too, when he arrives."
"Let's hope so, eh," Jean laughed, "now, I expect your Grandfather will want a cup of tea ..."
"... and a biscuit or two." Li added hopefully.
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Lucien pulled his hat down over his face and bent his back in an effort to go unrecognised by Major Alderton who was scanning the crowds with a sergeant at his side. Occasionally he noticed Derek talk to the sergeant, perhaps describing someone they were looking for. He didn't know what involvement he had in the world Lucien had inhabited since the war, but they had not parted on the best of terms. They had both been interned in the same Japanese prison camp and Lucien had saved his life on at least two occasions. The last time Derek had told him to let him go, he had nothing to go back to, but it was not in Lucien's nature as a doctor to let a man die if there was something he could do about it; so he had patched up his wounds and left him with a long and rather ragged scar down his left side, Derek had not forgiven him.
He milled about with the crowds of working folk returning from their day's toil and managed to hail himself a taxi.
"Mycroft Avenue," he grunted as he climbed into the back of the car, throwing his suitcase before him, "number seven."
"Sir," the driver nodded and pulled out into the traffic, noticing his passenger all but hid his face from the window.
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Lucien passed his driver a pound, way above the fare, told him to keep the change and that he had never seen him or taken a fare to this address.
"Ok, mate, no worries," he grinned, for this he would have a convenient case of amnesia.
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The garden looked well tended, as he remembered his mother keeping it, the hanging basket in the porch had been watered if the damp spot on the floor was any indication, the door was clean and freshly painted he thought and the windows shone.
"Father must have a decent housekeeper at last," he mused to himself before knocking and waiting for the door to be opened. He wasn't sure what he was going to say to his father, it certainly wasn't his writing in the lemon juice, but if Li was here then recriminations could wait.
"I'll get it!" a pretty voice, young and musical floated through the wood, he raised his eyebrows. He raised them further when a very attractive woman, a little younger than himself, opened the door and seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Jean had been a little worried it might be Alderton again.
"Oh," she smiled, "you must be Lucien, Dr Blake's son?"
"Er, yes," he coughed, "how did you know?"
"You have Li's eyes," she laughed, "Jean Beazley, your father's housekeeper." She held out her hand, "well, come in, we've been expecting you."
Lucien stepped into the hall and was struck by the lightness, in spite of the dark wood, it was light. There were flowers on the hall table, just as his mother had placed them, his father's coat and hat hung on the stand with other coats no doubt belonging to this woman and Li, one was definitely for a younger woman, a teenager perhaps – which is what Li was.
"Shall I take your suitcase?" she raised one eyebrow, "your room is all ready for you. I had the trunk put there too."
"It arrived?" he seemed to have lost the power of speech.
"About four days ago," she nodded.
"Jean?" Li poked her nose round the kitchen door as it seemed it wasn't Alderton back again, "oh, oh! Father!" She ran up the hall and launched herself at Lucien who dropped his suitcase in order to catch his daughter and keep his footing.
"It is you," he breathed, "you are here."
She nodded, her smile was so wide she couldn't speak.
Jean lifted his suitcase and took it though to his room, she had things to do, dinner was already underway so she needed to do a few more vegetables to accommodate the extra mouth. She nodded to Thomas as he poked his nose out of the study.
"Lucien?" he whispered.
She smiled, "yes, it's him."
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Lucien set his daughter down on her feet, "Oh my," he gasped, "you have grown into such a lovely young lady."
Li took his hand and took him to the living room.
Neither knew what to say to the other so they just sat there looking at each other.
"Lucien?" Thomas stepped into the room.
He stood up sharply, ready to shout, to rail at his father for all the hurt he thought he had caused, but all he saw was a sad old man, greyer than he remembered, lined and a little bent with age.
"Isn't it wonderful, Grandfather?" Li jumped up and went to pull him over to the couch, "now we are together."
The two men looked at each other, Li looked from one to the other and sighed.
"Grandfather has been so very kind to me, father," she squeezed his hand, "and Jean – Mrs Beazley."
"Hm? They have, have they?"
"Oh please, don't say you're angry, father, they have kept me safe and worked to find you and let you know, because you didn't read Grandfather's letters, the last one told you I was here," she folded her arms and frowned at him.
"There is a lot to tell you, son," Thomas approached the couch, "a lot you don't know, but that is not for now, now is for eating, I smell dinner, and getting to know each other after all these years."
Jean cleared her voice behind them, "Dinner will be in fifteen minutes," she hummed, "perhaps you would like to freshen up after your journey, Major."
He turned and stared at her, she folded her arms, he looked back at Li – two women with their arms folded – he sighed and nodded.
"Lucien," he hummed, "or, if you must Dr Blake."
As he left the room Li moved over to Jean, "We have a battle on our hands, Jean," she sighed.
Jean put her arms round her, "It will work out in the end. They have their demons to work through; your father is angry, your grandfather is sorry but I won't let you be caught up in the middle."
"Are men always like this?"
"A lot of the time," Jean laughed, "most times a few beers and a punch up in the pub sorts it, but I don't see that with those two."
"Gosh I hope not!" Li gasped, "maybe the few beers?"
"I'll be sure to leave some out, then," she gave her a little hug, "care to finish the table for me?"
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Lucien stood at the bottom of the stairs and decided that his old bedroom was probably the one set for him, unless he had been consigned to upstairs. Two of those rooms were in use, one would be Li's and the other he assumed was the young, but formidable, housekeeper's. He wasn't sure about her, Li had obviously bonded with her, she seemed sure of herself yet knew her place in the household. He hung his jacket in the wardrobe and removed his tie, opened his collar and ran his finger between it and his neck. If dinner was being cooked where was the smell of over boiled vegetables he remembered or the faint tang in the air of a burnt offering? Something smelt good. He headed to the dining room but as the table was not laid there he followed his nose to the kitchen.
His father was pulling the cork from a bottle of wine, Li was placing a bowl of roast potatoes on the table where also sat bowls of carrots, peas and green beans. Jean placed a roast chicken in front of Thomas' place and passed Li a gravy boat.
"Ah, there you are," Jean smiled, "sit down, you must be hungry."
Li pulled a chair out for him and he sat down, still a little stunned. From what he could see this Jean woman was in charge, yet he remembered his father giving the orders the last time he was home. Then there was Mrs Sumpter, a large fearsome woman who had a tendency to slap the rolling pin into her hand if she thought things weren't right.
"This looks good, Jean," Thomas rubbed his hands together and lifted the carving knife, "leg, Lucien?"
"What, er, yes, thank you," he coughed, it was all so bloody normal.
"We've waited for this for so long, father," Li smiled and passed him the potatoes, "and we can't wait to hear what you have to tell us, but you can't do that on an empty stomach."
"And I need to hear your story, love," he smiled, "but you're right, not on an empty stomach, and this looks lovely ..."
"Quite a change from the last time you were here, eh?" Thomas grinned.
"Where did you spring from Mrs Beazley?" Lucien passed the potatoes to her and took the carrots from Li as the vegetables went round the table.
"It's a long story, Dr Blake, but I applied for the post a few years ago ..."
"But how did you persuade my father to employ you, as a housekeeper ...?"
"... and receptionist," Thomas added. "She came for her interview, I brought her in here, told her to do something and she made tea, cleaning the table, the tray and setting a bowl of hot water ready before she sat with me. A good cuppa, too, Lucien; I gave her a page of accounts to do and she told me my housekeeper was spending too much money on groceries, checked the bin, told me it was wasteful ... she's organised me, the surgery, cut the household bills by half and we are better fed than ever ..."
Lucien took a bite of a potato and nodded, it was crisp on the outside and fluffy on the inside, in fact – perfect, as was the rest of the meal.
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Lucien pushed his plate out of the way and lifted his glass, "I saw Derek Alderton at the station," he hummed and watched for a reaction.
"You didn't speak to him, did you?" Thomas frowned.
"No, actually, given we didn't part on great terms I avoided him, he seemed to be looking for someone." Lucien heard Li sigh with relief. "You always liked Uncle Derek," hummed.
"You won't like what we have found out, Lucien," Thomas fingered the stem of his wineglass, "why you couldn't find Li ..."
"Did he have something to do with it?" he glowered.
"We are sure, from what our sources have told us, that he was moving Li around ostensibly for her safety ..."
"Where were you last, Li?" Lucien frowned, it seemed a bit too obvious.
"Shanghai," she sighed.
"I was sent there, on a mission, I was told you had been seen there, but no one had heard of you, no one I was given the name of, anyway. What happened then?"
"A man from the consulate came to see me, which was how things were done," she sipped her drink, "a man would come with travel documents, money and an address and I would go there until he came again. This time the man was different, and he was nervous, he gave me a travel permit, money, a passport and an address – this address – and told me to get out of China and come to my family."
"It worked?" his eyebrows shot up.
"It was actually very easy," she nodded, "the money was just enough for food, all I had was what I stood up in, and the fare was steerage, but that was ok, nobody notices steerage passengers. Jean has been so kind, father, bought me clothes ..."
"... with your grandfather's money ..." Jean reminded her.
"True, but you have also altered things that didn't quite fit, and shown me how to do that for myself."
"We have kept her here, Lucien," Thomas continued the story, "only out in the garden and the only person in Ballarat that knows of her existence is Matthew Lawson. It was him that had the connections to find out what was going on, and even he won't tell us who they are. We thought Alderton had something to do with it when he showed up and told us to stop looking for you, that you were busy and had no time for family, for finding your daughter. We knew then that something was afoot, you would always have time for your child."
Lucien stood up and pinched the bridge of his nose as he paced around the table.
"Has he called again?" he wheeled round and lent on the table.
"Once, during surgery; I told him your father was busy and if he wanted to see him he should make a formal appointment," Jean blushed.
"What did he say to that?"
"I don't know, I shut the door."
Lucien looked at her and blinked. She was dainty, pretty and obviously had a spine of steel.
"Bloody hell!" he breathed.
"Lucien!"
"Father!"
"Sorry," it was his turn to blush.
"Apology accepted, Dr Blake," Jean smiled, "I was married to a farmer, I've heard worse."
"Your husband?"
"The Solomons ..."
"My condolences, Mrs Beazley, it can't have been easy."
She tipped her head and smiled again.
"He hasn't been back?"
They all shook their heads.
"Hm," he sat down and took a large swallow of the wine, "I made it look like I'd fallen overboard, just before we docked at Cairns. I came by train, changing direction every two to three stations, maybe he's found out about that. That aside," he slapped the table making everyone jump, "he used you as a pawn in his little game," he grabbed Li's hand and kissed it, "that is unforgiveable."
"On that we are all agreed," Jean nodded firmly and started to clear away the dirty plates. "Now, before we discuss retribution ..." they all looked at her, "oh, come on," she huffed, "don't tell me you are just going to let this lie? He should be punished, I mean what kind of a spy uses a child and then is so bad at it the child escapes and so does his ... his... agent?"
"Sorry, Lucien," Thomas shrugged, "I told her she should try Jane Austen instead of Helen MacInnes."
"Read spy literature?" Lucien laughed, "she should write it."
"Why thank you, doctor," she gave a little bow, "now, anyone for fruit pie and custard?"
"Apple pie?" Lucien looked hopeful.
"Apples off the tree," she smiled, seemed she'd got the measure of the man already.
He picked up his spoon and looked expectantly at her.