Haven't we met somewhere before?

by NancyMay

A Matthew and Alice story, yet another imagining of her back story though with quite a bit of extra baggage than usual.

1. Chapter 1

After a supremely embarrassing start, Dr Lucien Blake and the new Pathology Registrar Dr Alice Harvey got along quite well in the morgue. She had a strong desire to get to the bottom of any mystery and how a person died was one of them. She worked hard, delved deep into the science and had a dry wit. She was, however, never seen by the police officers she sent their reports to, never appeared at the crime scene like Blake did, arrived at work on time and left on time, though if the case demanded it she would reappear after about an hour and continue until she had finished whatever needed doing. She never accepted invitations to dine with Lucien and Jean at the house, or to have a post case drink at the club; it was kind of him, she said, but she had to get home. It was as if she had a secret so deep, so dark that if she stayed after midnight she would turn into a pumpkin.

About three months or so after she arrived, Matthew was pacing the floor of the office wondering where his autopsy report was. He and Senior Sergeant Hobart, Sergeant Charlie Davies and Dr Blake had attended the scene of a death – a man had been found at the side of a lake by a group of boys out fishing. Blake quickly determined the man had been either beaten or run over, but how long ago and who he was needed to be ascertained.

"It's been twenty-four hours," Lawson grumbled and stomped around the office, "I'm going down to the morgue to find out what he's up to."

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He didn't knock he just walked straight in and blurted out his need.

"Where's Blake?" he snapped at the woman's back.

"At the scene," she didn't turn round. "No need to be rude."

"Sorry," he cleared his throat, "it's just that I was expecting an autopsy report on the mystery man."

There was a pause, a silence filled with electricity while she straightened her back and took a deep breath, then turned.

"We haven't finished." She had known this moment would come, that he would finally come down to retrieve information. Lucien talked about his old friend Matthew so often and when she realised who Matthew Lawson was she almost resigned and looked for another job, but Pathology Registrar posts were difficult to come by – especially for a woman.

Matthew stood with his mouth hanging open – the too thin but attractive young woman he had dated before the war with the determination to finish her studies, the girl he had admired for her grit and that determination had grown into a lovely woman, with just enough curves replacing the bones, glossy hair styled with waves and a subtle barely noticeable clip holding it just off her face and her bright blue eyes as defiant as ever – Alice Harvey, his first girlfriend had reappeared in his life and he couldn't form a word.

"I shall send it up when it is ready," she continued, defying him to argue. She had hoped he wouldn't recognise her, but with his eyes wide open and his mouth agape she knew he had. They hadn't argued, when he had left her all those years ago, he had left to go to serve in the war and she had immersed herself in her studies, qualified as a doctor, taken further qualifications in pathology and classics and all but forgotten – no, not forgotten – put him to the part of her mind that was reserved for the almost had – almost had a nice young man to talk to, to spend free time with and to have dinner with – the war had come and he had gone. They weren't dating enough for him to make promises of a return and possibly to see her again and he hadn't written and assumed she had gone on to marry, or work or both and all of a sudden he felt like the biggest cad in the whole of Australia.

For his part he hadn't even considered this would be the Alice of his early police career, there must be plenty of Alice Harveys in the world, why should this be her – now here he was, face to face with the one person he never thought he would see again. He found himself glancing to her left hand to see if there was a ring, there was the faintest of marks, as if one had been worn but no actual ring. Then he looked up at her face and went a faint shade of pink, closed his mouth and said, quite quietly, "Hello, Alice."

"Matthew," she hummed.

"Er," he cleared his throat, "you look well."

"So do you," she answered. "It took me a while to realise the 'Matthew' Dr Blake goes on about was you." She nearly said 'my Matthew', but stopped herself just in time, he was probably married anyway.

"Yeah, well, plenty of Matthews in the world," he shrugged though he well remembered her saying how she liked the name.

"And plenty of Alices," she countered.

'But only one of you,' he wanted to say, 'only one with the guts to make it in a man's world,' but all he did was give a little smile.

"Good to have you on the team," he nodded, "we need someone like you to keep us in check, especially Blake."

"He's a very good police surgeon," she folded her arms, "clever, understanding ..." she referred to the time he had touched her hand and she had jumped – she didn't know if Matthew knew this, that she wasn't too keen on being touched by a man, not these days, but that was what she meant. In fact she thought of Lucien Blake as a slightly annoying brother; she hadn't got a brother but he was what she imagined one would be like.

"Yeah, but does tend to go off on a tangent."

"Does he help you get your man, or woman?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, usually," he tipped his head in thought, "in fact he does."

"Well then," she shrugged, "what more do you need?"

"An autopsy report?" he raised both eyebrows, wondering if he dare ask her out, maybe for a coffee?

"It will be with you in due course, Superintendant," she nodded slightly.

"Thank you, and sorry for barging in," he made to open the door.

"I don't mind, as it's you," she hummed.

"Right, well, see you, then."

"Highly likely." She agreed.

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She leant her backside against the counter and twisted where a ring should have sat. That had gone, as well as certain parts of her old life, she was back to being Dr Alice Harvey, Pathologist. She hadn't told Lucien anything about why she had settled in Ballarat, or what she had left in Melbourne, nor what she had brought with her, but now she and Matthew had acknowledged each other and were apparently at least cordial then perhaps they could get along as colleagues. She pushed off the counter and set to work on her samples, the tests she was doing to determined how long the man had been dead – this involved flies and fly eggs. She hummed as she worked, a song from long ago.

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Matthew headed straight to the tea things in the office and thought as he poured himself a cup of the brew that resembled paint-stripper. He gave a little laugh to himself, 'Alice Harvey, who'd have thought ..." he hummed and found himself humming one of her favourite songs he hadn't thought of in ages - 'Heart and Soul.' .

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Neither Matthew or Alice told Blake they knew each other from long ago, it was none of his business; life continued on apace, they worked cases together, she continued to refuse the invitations until one day Matthew was driving past a quiet street on his way home and saw her car parked outside an unassuming bungalow. He didn't want to pry, to possibly embarrass her in front of a family member he knew nothing about but made note of the address just in case he ever had need of it. As he drove off a small boy, around the age of seven, he thought, careered round the corner and tripped up over his loose laces landing face down on the pavement. He skidded to a halt as the screams could be heard through the closed car windows and leapt out to see if he was seriously hurt.

"Hey, son," he touched his shoulder, "you ok? Can you get up?"

The boy's face was streaked with tears, his nose was scraped, his hands and knees were bleeding and coated with the tiny pieces of gravel and dirt usually found on the paved walkways. He shook his head and sniffed.

"What's your name, and where do you live?" Matthew helped him up and handed him his handkerchief.

"Alexander Matthew Harvey," he gulped, "people call me Alex."

"Well, Alex," Matthew smiled, "my name is Matthew too; shall I take you home?"

Alex tried to walk but his legs buckled underneath him.

"Steady on, lad," Matthew grabbed his arm, "here, lean on me. Your house?"

Alex pointed to the house he had surmised was Alice's and wondered who the boy was to her. He bore the same name, Harvey, but ... his mind offered up various scenarios, an abandoned wife, an unmarried mother, married a man with the same surname ... he could have gone on, but by this time they were at the front door and Alex was pushing it open, wincing as the wood pressed against his grazed hand.

"Something smells good," Matthew tried to ease the boy's tension.

"Mum's special," Alex hummed, "mince and veggies, potatoes and gravy all in the one pot."

Matthew recognised this as a 'stretch what you've got in the pantry' type of meal while noting he called the woman of the house 'mum'.

"She's gonna kill me," he sighed.

"It was an accident," Matthew soothed him, "could 'a happened to anyone."

"Alex?" Dr Harvey's voice called through from the kitchen, "where have you been I told ... Ma ... Superintendant," she gasped. Damn, now she would have to tell him what had happened since she last saw him.

"Tripped over on the pavement, Dr Harvey," Matthew kept it formal as she had done, "bit battered I'm afraid."

"Bet his shoelaces were untied," a little girl came through from the kitchen, she was how he expected a young Alice to look like, dark curls, dancing blue eyes and a cheeky grin, elfin and delicate in build.

Alice looked down at Alex's feet and raised an eyebrow but his injuries had to be tended to first.

"Kitchen, now, I'll get the first aid kit." She stepped aside and let Matthew help the boy into the kitchen and watched him lift him onto the table.

"D'you know my mum, sir?" Alex had sensed something between the grown-ups before him.

"I'm the Superintendant of Police round here," Matthew smiled, "your mum works on some of our cases."

"Oh," he stared at him willing him to say more, "we like it here," he huffed.

"I'm quite fond of the old place too," Matthew grinned.

"Can we stay?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

"That's enough, Alex," Alice came back through with the first aid box, "the Superintendant does not need to know."

Matthew would like to have disagreed with her but he couldn't, now was not the time.

Alex kept drawing his leg away from his mother as she tried to clean it so Matthew grabbed hold of his ankle and told him to stay still or she might cut it off!

"No!" he shrieked.

"S'what my mother always told me," Matthew laughed, "then I wouldn't be able to hurt it again – what say you, Dr Harvey?"

"My mother had no such witticisms," she brought her lips together, "but, as you say, he wouldn't be able to hurt them again."

Matthew vaguely remembered her stories of a miserable upbringing, with parents who didn't care, regularly dealt out harsh punishments and used her and her younger sister as slaves until they were taken away by Welfare and lost in the system. They continued working, the silence punctuated by Alex's squeaks and squeals as she cleaned out the gravel and dirt.

"Right," she threw the used gauze in the bin, "down you get."

Alex obediently slipped off the table and went into the living room.

"So, Matthew," she lowered her voice, "what brings you to this neighbourhood?"

"Heading back from court in Bendigo," he handed her the first aid kit, "not trying to find you, it's the quickest route back to my place." He smiled softly.

"I see," she whispered, "thank you for helping Alex, he's always getting into scrapes. I suppose he was running because I told him not to be late for dinner."

"Yeah, he was," he watched her stir the pot on the stove before returning the first aid kit to wherever she had fetched it from.

"My name's Stella," the little girl reappeared, "what's yours?"

"Stella! Don't be cheeky!" Alice frowned.

"It's alright, when Alex introduced himself with his full handle I told him my name was Matthew ..."

"Is it?" Stella tipped her head to one side.

"Did you think I would say it is just to be nice?" Matthew smiled, "it is Matthew."

"Ok," she ran off back to the living room to do whatever torture to Alex she usually did. Matthew had a younger sister who used to torment him, he recognised the signs.

"Well ..." he was about to say he should go.

"Stay, if you want to, it's not much ..."

"Your special, Alex told me," he smiled, sensing it wasn't easy for her to invite him to a family meal.

"They like it, it's easy ..." she shrugged.

"But I shouldn't," he took a step forward, "your husband wouldn't ..."

"He's dead," she blurted out and sat down, "sorry, but he is ..."

"You don't have to say anything, Alice," Matthew stood facing her, "it's your business, not mine ... but if you really want me to stay, I would like that, very much."

"Do stay," she nodded and stood up, "it would be nice, good for the children to meet someone other than the sitter I hire when I have to go back to the morgue."

"Blake and I wondered why you would run off and then come back again," he took the cutlery she passed to him, thinking she would usually be doing this with just the children, "now I know."

"It's just the neighbour," she admitted, "but she's ok, she's kind to them and that's what matters, isn't it?"

"Sounds ideal," he agreed.

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Matthew enjoyed the meal, it was tasty, filling and reminded him of the times his own mother had stretched what she had in the pantry to feed him and his sister. The children were well mannered, chatty and ate all that was put before them. They told him they had settled well enough in school; Alex had made a few friends that he could muck about with and Stella was invited to tea by one or two of her classmates.

"I chose a small school for them." Alice wiped Stella's mouth, "I thought they might get lost in one of the bigger ones. Alex didn't like his school in Melbourne because it was big."

"I can understand that," he nodded, "big schools can be overwhelming."

"Which one did you go to?" Alex asked. "Was it here, in Ballarat?"

"It was," he smiled, "started at Macarthur Street, then went on to Ballarat West, it was a long time ago, Alex, I'm sure things have changed since then."

"We're at Newington," Alex took his plate to the sink, "want me to start, mum?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, thank you, love," she piled the rest of the plates and took them to the sink.

"Hey, Alex," Matthew stood up, "how about you and me give your mum the night off, I'll wash, you dry."

"But you're a visitor," Alex gasped.

"I do it at Dr Blake's, just to give Mrs Beazley a hand, the doc joins in too."

"Oh, well, alright then, if mum doesn't mind."

"Alex is right, you're a visitor," Alice tested the heat of the water.

Matthew just shrugged and smiled, "I only came in to help with the skinned knees, didn't expect to be invited to dine. I should help, as a thank you."

Rather than get into an argument, or even a discussion she let him set to washing the dishes and noticed how careful he was, how he made sure the plate was clean before rinsing off the soap and standing it in the rack for Alex to take and dry as best he could at seven years old. She scraped the leftovers into a dish and put it aside to finish cooling before she set it in the fridge; there wasn't much but she didn't like waste.

As Alex piled the clean plates on the table she put them away and set Stella to putting the cutlery in the drawer as she wanted to help, it was all rather nice, she thought, warm and what she had expected family life to be when she had married Carlo but, sweet and attentive as he was when he was courting her he changed when he put a ring on her finger.

He was an importer of Italian goods, this and that, sometimes foods sometimes cloth for the fashion houses and spent many hours out of the house and, having fought so hard for her independence, Alice continued to work in the pathology department of the hospital. She found her salary was useful to help keep her in the things she wanted, not that he kept her short but she did have to explain why she needed certain items and every penny she spent on the food they ate. Their house was rather large for a couple, given to them on the occasion of their wedding by his father who seemed not to be short of money, though Carlo was vague about how he came by it. Sometimes she worried she may have married into one of the Mafiosi families she heard about in the city. She managed to work through most of her first pregnancy and Carlo was delighted when she gave birth to a son, Alessandro Matteo Harvey-Benedetti. He allowed her to have a maid so she could continue to work even though he argued with his father about this – Italian wives should stay at home and look after the house and children.

"Well, papa," he shrugged, "Alice isn't Italian ..."

Papa Benedetti huffed, his son was an odd one, not what he thought the son of an Italian businessman should be and his choice of wife? Alice, Dr Alice, was not the prettiest woman he had seen, she was attractive at best, a bit on the snappy side, not brought up to do her man's bidding, and he thought she might be in charge in the home. Still, she had provided him with a grandson and young Alessandro would follow in the family tradition.

By the time Stella was born, huge cracks were appearing in the marriage. Carlo was rarely home, and once Alice caught with their daughter he was never in her bed. While she loved her children and determined they wouldn't have the upbringing she had had she regretted marrying Carlo and resigned herself to working to build up a reputation as a reliable and intuitive pathologist and saving enough for the day she knew she would end up raising the children alone.

As the years passed the tension between Papa Benedetti and his son became harder for her to bear – the arguments rang out through the house when Carlo was there, he would storm out and Papa blamed it on her, that she didn't give her husband what he wanted, by which she knew she wasn't good in bed, but for her, sex with Carlo had always been somewhat mechanical and no matter how hard she tried he seemed disinterested so she gave up and let him do whatever he was doing.

At first she thought he was seeing another woman, had a mistress, well that was fine, as long as she had the children and he didn't rub her face in it, she could manage and if Papa blamed her she just told him that perhaps he should ask where his son spent his nights because she was always waiting for him to come home.

Alessandro had started school, a prestigious Melbourne Boys Academy that he hated from the word go, when it finally came to a head. It was too big and he was too young for such a place, it was horribly strict, rigid rules and his Italian name meant he was bullied and beaten. Carlo picked his son up one day, an unusual occurrence but Alice was at the hospital and the maid was caring for Stella who was unwell with a cold. The car was not one Alessandro had seen before and there was another man in it, tall, very well dressed, reeking of cologne and far too friendly with his father all of which he told his mother when she put him to bed. Alice saw immediately what it was, she had seen the results in the morgue when she had gone to help the coroner in his work, Carlo was not interested in her because she was not good in bed, it was because she was a woman, Carlo preferred men. If she told Papa Carlo would be torn to pieces and she couldn't have that, whatever she felt about her husband he didn't deserve to be beaten to a pulp because of his sexual preference.

She kept his secret but made sure that if Stella was unwell and the maid couldn't pick Alessandro up from school she would collect him and take him home, then return to the hospital or the morgue to finish whatever she was in the middle of.

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"Dov'è Carlo?!" Papa Benedetti barged in to the house and bellowed.

"I don't know," she folded her arms, "perhaps he is at his club."

He charged past her and into the study. He proceeded to tear apart the desk looking for something. "Aha!" he waved a leather bound journal in the air triumphantly then opened it and poured over the contents. Alice had no idea what was written in it, some things, like personal diaries, were not for her to read, but it didn't seem Papa cared. He frowned at the pages, flicked forward and back, then threw it down and strode past her again and out of the door, slamming it shut.

Alice sighed and picked up the book, now open she felt she could at least glance at what her husband had written. Some was in Italian, most in English but it boiled down to Carlo effectively apologising to Alice for marrying her, saying she deserved someone better, someone who really loved her and not someone who was trying to cover up who he truly was – it was illegal what he did with other men and his father would kill him if he found out. Now he did know, he would probably still blame Alice, but Carlo was the one who would come off worst. She looked at the journal and rang the police.

"I think there's trouble down at the Italian club on Lygon Street," she absentmindedly tapped the desk. When asked how she knew she just informed them that her father-in-law was on his way down there to challenge her husband about his living arrangements.

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The police dodged a chair as it flew out of a window, took out their truncheons and waded in to try and stop the riot. Inside women were screaming, bottles, glasses, furniture and the odd body flew past the officers as fists and guns were used. Two men lay dead in one corner, one draped over the other, an older man was standing threatening a young man with a revolver shouting something in Italian that sounded like curses. The younger man was pleading, calling him 'Papa', almost begging for his life.

"Is why you chose a woman who works," Benedetti hissed, "why you no chose a pretty woman?"

"Alice is a good woman," Carlo implored, "she has given you grandchildren, is what you wanted, no?"

"You disgust me," Benedetti spat on the floor, "you no son of mine," and he pulled the trigger. As he did so the man Alessandro had met in the car dived in front of Carlo but the bullet when through both of them.

So Alice was now a widow, her father-in-law in prison awaiting the hangman's noose and the rest of the Benedetti clan were against her. The house was taken from her, access to any money Carlo had was denied her and she found herself wondering what to do next. She had had few friends before she married and fewer afterwards but there was one lady who she had met years ago who occasionally popped round to see how she was doing. She went to see her, explained what had happened and said she was, at times, afraid for her life.

"I'm sure they are part of one of the Mafiosi here," she moved her teacup around in the saucer, "I think I should get out of Melbourne, cover my traces, but how?"

"It is still very soon after Carlo's death, Alice dear," Mrs Collins soothed, "why not come here for a few days, we have the room, I shall speak to Miss Fisher and see what ideas she has."

"Thank you, Dot," she sighed, "are you sure about having us here?"

"Of course I am; now go and get whatever things you still have, and the children and I'll get your room ready. Anything that won't store upstairs will go in the garage."

Which was how she came to be in Ballarat as the Pathology Registrar; the post had been found for her by another friend who had heard that the regular police surgeon was out of the country, so she would be taking his duties until he returned then she would work in the lab, Miss Fisher had suggested she anglicise Alessandro's name and he became Alexander Matthew, the Benedetti was dropped and Harvey kept – all was done quite legally and above board.

All of this she knew that at some point she would end up explaining to Matthew but she still worried that the Benedetti's would come after her and didn't want anyone else involved. Not even her friends who had helped her knew her exact address and what they did know would take more than a few threats from an Italian thug for them to divulge.

"Doctor?" Matthew frowned, she seemed to have gone off somewhere.

"Sorry, Superintendant," she shook her head, "in my own world. Now, Stella, bedtime." She turned to her daughter.

"Mummy, can't I stay up a bit longer?" Stella tipped her head and opened her bright blue eyes wide.

"It's already past your bedtime," Alice lifted her up, "bed now and I'll read to you."

Stella pouted then brightened as she had a thought. "Can Mr Lawson read to me, please?" she drew the last word out and opened her eyes even wider, if that was at all possible and Matthew found it hard not to laugh.

"Now, Stella, Mr Lawson is here as a guest ..."

"It's ok, I'll read to her," he smiled, "I used to read to my niece, Rose. You put her to bed and I'll read a couple of pages ... honestly, doctor, it's no bother."

"Are you familiar with Winnie the Pooh?" she raised an eyebrow.

"It's been a while, I'm sure it will come back to me."

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"Right," Matthew sat on the edge of the bed, "Chapter seven, In which Kanga and Baby Roo come to the Forest, and Piglet has a bath." He shifted and looked at her eagerly awaiting his version of new friends for Pooh Bear and his companions. "Nobody seemed to know where they came from, but there they were in the Forest: Kanga and Baby Roo. When Pooh asked Christopher Robin, 'How did they come here?' Christopher Robin said, 'In the Usual Way, if you know what I mean, Pooh,' and Pooh, who didn't, said 'Oh!'"

"What is the usual way, Mr Lawson?" Stella screwed up her pretty little face.

"Er," he cleared his throat wondering what Alice's answer to that would be, "well, I suppose he means that it is the magic of the Hundred Acre Wood."

"Oh," she settled back on her pillow. Matthew thought she was no wiser than Pooh. "Then he nodded his head twice and said, 'In the Usual Way. Ah!' Then he went to call upon his friend Piglet to see what he thought about it ..." he continued to read about the plot to kidnap Baby Roo and get Kanga and her baby out of the wood until Stella's eyes closed and she fell asleep. He marked the place Alice would have to start from the following night, straightened the covers and kissed her softly on the forehead. "Sweet dreams, little Star," he whispered.

He wandered out towards the living room but found that empty. He looked around towards the other rooms and decided that he wouldn't disturb her putting Alex to bed; the boy would be full of questions that he didn't want to answer until he knew more of Alice's history after he had gone to war. She didn't know how much he regretted not writing to her but when he was younger where girls were concerned he was a bit of a coward. He'd come home wiser and stronger and prepared to take a few more chances, though that hadn't led to marriage, just a few flings. Alice had married, was now a widow but from the way she told him her husband was dead he didn't think it had been a happy marriage though her children were lovely; Stella was so sweet and cheeky and Alex, well he thought he was more relaxed than he had been, just the comment about him not liking his school in Melbourne because of the size and that he had mates to muck about with now, he seemed happy.

"Oh," Alice stopped behind him, "she's asleep then?"

"Fast off," he nodded, "Alex?"

"Wants you to say goodnight," she blushed.

"No worries," he grinned and poked his nose into the room she had just come from. "Night, lad," he smiled, "sleep well."

"Thank you for helping me, Mr Lawson," Alex yawned.

"My pleasure, but I suggest you tie your laces in future."

"Ok," he turned over and snuggled down under his bedclothes.

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"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"What for?"

"Stella and Alex."

"Why on earth would you apologise?" They were sitting in the living room on her small couch, "there's nothing wrong with having kids, and I don't mind reading a bedtime story, I used to enjoy reading to Rose. Maybe they miss their father?"

"Unlikely, he was hardly around at bedtime, at all after Stella was born ..." she turned away, not meaning to give him an insight into the disaster that was her marriage.

"You don't have to tell me," he murmured softly and touched her hand.

"He was Italian," she kept her back to him now she had started she knew she had to finish but it was easier if she didn't look at him. "His father, Papa Benedetti, didn't like me, didn't like that I carried on working even after Alex was born – said it was my fault Carlo stayed away from home and my bed, but it wasn't. Carlo was charming before we got married then seemed not to be interested in me. It was only when he picked Alex up from school one day that I had it confirmed – it wasn't that I wasn't 'exciting' - he preferred men. He married me to keep his father off his back." She had stood and closed the door to prevent the children hearing but remained with her forehead pressed against the door. "I think that the Benedettis were, maybe still are, involved in Mafiosi activities, but Carlo was just an importer of Italian goods and spent his time at his club with his lovers. Papa Benedetti killed them both when he found out."

"Alice ..." he stood up and went to stand a little closer, "it wasn't your fault."

"I know," her shoulders slumped, "there are a couple of people who know, in Melbourne, who helped me when the Benedettis cut me off from Carlo's money, helped me change our names back to 'Harvey' and anglicise Alessandro to Alexander. I was scared, still am, that they may come after me; Papa Benedetti is awaiting the hangman's noose ... but I don't want to leave Ballarat, nobody knows me here, except you, Alex is happy for once in his short life, everything I have done is legal, Matthew, I think the only thing that Carlo did that was wrong in the eyes of the law was love the wrong person."

"Alice, promise me one thing," he touched her shoulder and moved her round to face him, "if you get worried about anything you will tell me, please, and pass the same message to Alex too."

"Why would I do that?" she gasped.

"Because I hope you consider me a friend, our past meeting besides," he smiled, "I will never forgive myself if you or the children get hurt. We look after our own, Alice, and, if you ever get stuck for a sitter have you considered asking Jean, Blake's housekeeper?"

"I don't know her?"

"It's about time all of you met Jean Beazley, fiercely protective and anyone who can keep Blake in line (for the most part) is not going to be a push-over for any eye-tie thug that tries to hurt you." They sat facing each other now, "honestly Alice, I was such a coward when I didn't write to you, I should have, even if it was just as a friend."

"I missed you," she whispered, "I wondered if you were alright, but I didn't know if I should write to you even if I would have found it difficult finding you."

"What a pair, eh?" he teased. "Well, best be off before the neighbours start gossiping," he stood up, "thank you for dinner. Next time you are invited up to the Blake's just tell him you will have to bring your children. He'll stand there with his mouth open ..."

"Like you did that day in the morgue?"

He cleared his throat, "yeah, but anyway, tell him you will have to bring Alex and Stella and for once he might actually warn Jean she has small ones to cater for."

"It won't be difficult, if they can endure my cooking they can eat anything," she laughed.

"I enjoyed that, took me way back to my mother's cooking."

"I have a very limited repertoire," she blushed.

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Matthew thought long and hard about what Alice had told him about the Benedettis and decided he might up the patrols round her area, not presenting too much of a presence but enough to keep her safe. He kept her secret, such as it was, had dinner there once more a few weeks later at her invitation – actually it was Stella's – she wanted him to read to her again – and life went on at its usual pace.

They had dealt with a couple of cases, two assaults that required the services of a police surgeon to detail the injuries. The men who were beaten up just said it was no one they knew, had an accent they couldn't place and they asked for a 'Signora Benedetti'. Matthew said nothing to Alice and Lucien wasn't party to that information, but went along her road talking to the neighbours, asking if they had seen any strangers around, Italian, and if they were asking about the residents.

"Oh yes, sir," a couple of busybodies nodded their heads, "asking if we knew of a lady with two children named Aless ... Alessan ..."

"Alessandro?" Matthew suggested.

"That was it, odd sort of name, and Stella," she frowned.

"Hmm," Matthew mused. "And what were these gentlemen like?"

"Oh very personable, for foreigners," the other folded her arms, "well dressed, said they were looking for a relative. Well we said we didn't know of a boy with that peculiar name but the lady that lives at number one oh seven has a little girl called Stella."

Matthew grunted and frowned, it would seem Alice's recent past was about to catch up with her. He left them and headed back to the station.

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On his way back Matthew mused on how to keep Alice and the children safe. Their house had been pointed out quite innocently by the neighbours but where else could she go? He thought at first of Blake's house but there was only one room left – the guest room which had been Thomas Blake's room. His own house was big enough – three bedrooms – it had been the family house but his mother now lived with his sister, Vera, in Melbourne and he rattled around on his own. He could drive her to work each day and the children to school – he began to formulate a plan.

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"Matthew!" she yelled, "I can't!"

They were in the morgue office, alone, and he had presented his idea to her on the basis that the Benedettis were around.

"Look, Alice," he folded his arms, "from what I have found out I am sure that it's them and they are looking for you. Who else knows of Signora Benedetti? If you stay at my house there will always be a police presence – me – and the children can be driven to school and collected. I'm hopefully offering safe haven, nothing more, until we can apprehend these men."

"I should have gone out of state," she sniffed.

"Why, you have a home here; going out of state is not always easy. It will be fine ..."

"And the neighbours?"

"They talk about me because I am a single man living alone, Alice, this will just change the topic. I could say you were a relative, if Alex and Stella can be persuaded to call me Uncle Matthew?"

"That won't be hard, Alex wondered if he could, and that's after two dinners and a game of cricket in the back garden," she sighed, "oh Matthew ..."

"Alice, it will be fine, I just want to keep you safe, I'd do so for any of the residents, but you do have a special place in my heart .." there, he'd said it, "you mean quite a bit to me, so do those two little monkeys of yours."

"You are so kind, Matthew," she smiled softly, "to take care of me. I've become so used to looking out for myself and the children that it's not easy for me to accept, so please forgive my brusque-ness. How do you want to do this? I mean if they are watching my house they will see me leaving with suitcases ..."

"I thought about that and how about you drive home, now, as if you are on a half day. I'll park in the back lane, I won't be seen arriving, and you can load the things into my car and leave that way. Perhaps if you engage your neighbours in conversation for a few minutes they won't make their move."

"They are probably after Alex, anyway, bring him up in the family business."

"Yeah, that could be right, but you said Carlo was just an importer." He helped her into her coat.

"Yes, quite innocent from what I could see, and in spite of everything he was kind, he didn't hit me or the children, he was just absent most of the time. In the journal that Papa found he apologised for marrying me, said I deserved someone who cared, and not someone like him, trying to hide who he was. It was as if he knew that he would be found out ..." she lifted her handbag and keys and followed him out of the morgue.

"Okay?" he asked as she slipped into her car. "Remember, when you get inside your house lock the front door. "Don't try to pack too neatly, in fact if you just grab stuff out of the wardrobes and dressers it will look like you've done a flit."

She had a brief thought that Matthew had a bit of the spy about him, but maybe he just read a lot.

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True to his word Matthew was at the back of her house just before she arrived. She had spoken to her neighbour and said she had the afternoon off, it was quiet in the labs.

"Nice to have a bit of time to yourself," the neighbour smiled.

"So rare, I think I'll put my feet up and read with a cuppa," Alice nodded and stepped into her house. Immediately she was locking the door and heading to her bedroom where she lifted everything out of her wardrobe and took them to the kitchen. She let Matthew in and he started to take her things out to his car, laying her clothes tidily on the back seat. She put her folded clothes, jumpers and underwear, nightwear and her toiletries into a suitcase and shut it, sliding it out of her room where he could grab it. She repeated the same actions in the children's rooms, making sure to take the books they were having read, their cuddly toys from the beds and added a couple of extra books in case they were there for a long time – though she doubted it, Matthew and his men didn't hang about when they were looking for criminals.

"That everything?" he looked round the kitchen.

"Best take the milk and butter from the fridge," she passed him anything that would spoil if left.

He looked around for something to put the groceries in and she kicked a basket over to him, from under the side counter.

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In spite of the round-about way he drove to his house she realised he wasn't so far away.

"So, here we are," he pulled into the drive of a bungalow, "it's not much ..."

"It's charming," she smiled, admiring the tidy garden, clean paintwork and shiny windows.

"Three bedrooms, I thought, if it's ok with you, that Stella could have the study. It's small but there is a bed in there that mum used to use if I had a mate – usually Lucien – stay over; it's at the back and looks out over the garden." He unlocked the front door and stepped back so she could see inside.

A tidy hall went between the bedrooms and living spaces. It was clean and tidy, as she thought it would be; Matthew didn't seem the type to live in a mess.

"Here," he pushed open one door, "You take this room, Alex here and Stella in here, you might have to help me give it a quick sort out."

They set to putting things away and making up the bed in the study for Stella. Matthew took out any files he had and they moved the small desk into an alcove in the living room.

"There," Matthew stood back in the doorway of Stella's room, "d'ye think she'll like it?"

"I think she will love it, she loves to look out over our garden, such that it is, now she can gaze out all she likes. Her room doesn't look over the garden, it looks onto the drive." She smiled, thinking how sweet that he should be concerned for Stella's needs.

"As long as she doesn't forget to sleep," he frowned.

"She sleeps well, when she's tired she's out like a light usually."

"Good, well, if I remember rightly, school will be out shortly, best go pick 'em up."

"Oh, yes," she drew her lips in, "my car is back at my house."

"That might be a flaw in my plan," he shrugged, "but I'll drive you over, and if need be you can always borrow my car. Leaving yours will make it look like you've fled by train or bus."

"Do you really think all this is necessary?" She followed him out and into his car.

"I hope not, but it never hurts to be careful, does it?" He pulled away from the kerb.

She sat next to him and mused on the generosity of this man, Ballarat was lucky to have him, she was lucky to have found him again after all these years and while she thought they could never be more than friends he would be the best of friends.

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"Mum!" Alex barrelled up to her, "mum, can we go to the fireworks on Saturday night, please?"

"Fireworks?" she frowned.

"Yeah, my mates are all goin', a bonfire, barbi a real big party, can we mum, please?" He looked so eager and he never asked for any such treat.

"We'll see," she needed to ask Matthew if he thought it would be safe, but first, "let's get Stella and we have to talk."

Stella was really excited to be riding in Mr Lawson's car and asked so many questions, did he have a siren, did he have flashing lights? He laughed and said that as this was his personal car, sadly he didn't but one day he would take her for a ride in a police car if that's what she really wanted.

"And why don't you call me, Uncle Matthew, seems very formal to hear Mr Lawson all the time."

Stella bounced up and down with glee until her mother told her to sit still.

"Why are we here?" Alex looked at the unfamiliar house they had pulled up outside.

"We are staying with Mr ... er Uncle Matthew for a while," Alice stuttered, "we'll explain in side."

Alex was aware that they had left Melbourne in a bit of a hurry, he knew how his father had died, but not why, and he knew it was his grandfather that had shot him. Listening on the stairs to his mother talk to Mrs Collins and the glamorous lady that helped them find a new place to live and helped get him an easier name to live with had given him more information about why things happened the way they did. He wasn't unhappy, he liked Ballarat and he wanted to stay, he'd told Uncle Matthew that they first day they had met so he hoped that this would secure his life here.

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"I like your house Uncle Matthew," Stella grinned up at him, "thank you for letting us stay."

"Why thank you, little Star," he smiled gently at her, "and you are most welcome. Now, would you like to see where you will sleep?"

"Yes please," she slipped her hand into his.

Alice watched them head down the hall to the little study bedroom and put her arm round her son, standing beside her. They had explained why they were there, and that it was just to be sure they were safe and until the Italians were gone. Alex understood as much as a seven year old could but he felt that if anyone could keep them safe it was Uncle Matthew.

"You'll be in this room," Alice pushed open another door, "your things need putting away, do you want some help?"

"Thanks, mum," he nodded and sat on the bed. "We won't have to move away, will we?" he fingered the edge of the blanket.

"Uncle Matthew plans to see that we can stay here for as long as we want, forever if that works for us ... in Ballarat, I mean. Your father wasn't a bad man, Alex, he just didn't do what his father expected of him; he married the wrong woman, someone who wasn't going to stay home and keep house, he spent a lot of time at his club and not at home and I don't think he did the things in business his father thought he should do."

"Mum you're clever," Alex accepted his pyjamas and put them under the pillow, "you do good work, Uncle Matthew says you help with cases and that's important because that means bad people don't get to keep doin' bad things. And in the hospital, didn't you find out why that girl kept gettin' sick?"

"I did, her parents kept feeding her the wrong things even though they knew she shouldn't have them, even after I had worked it out."

"Why did they do that, mum? Why would they hurt their little girl, you wouldn't do it to Stella?"

"I don't know that was handed over to the doctors." She smiled and passed him some things to put away, "come on, let's get this done, then we can talk about Saturday. If Uncle Matthew thinks it's safe I don't see why we can't go."

He instantly brightened up and the room was sorted in no time.

Standing in the hall they could hear giggling coming from Stella's room. Peering in Alice could see Matthew being very dramatic over putting Stella's underwear away with his eyes closed.

"Oh for goodness sake," she reached round him and took the pile of knickers off him, "what on earth are you doing?"

"Ladies things, Alice, I mean ..." he grinned.

"Matthew, she's five, I'm sure it doesn't matter," she slid the pile into the drawer, "now, Stella, are you teasing Uncle Matthew?"

Stella giggled and bounced on the bed.

"Well," he shrugged, "if it's ok for me to see little Star's under-things, do you want any help, Alice?" he winked.

"Really," she huffed and pushed him gently, "finish here, I can manage." She tossed her head and flounced out hiding the laugh threatening to burst from her.

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Alice opened the refrigerator for the milk. Matthew had put the kettle on, poured the children some orange juice and they were going to sit down and talk about Saturday. She noticed there was little there for meal that night and wondered how Matthew fared for meals, usually.

"You really think we can go, Uncle Matthew?" Alex gasped, "even with ..." he nodded towards the front door.

"Should be ok," Matthew shrugged, "there'll be lots of folk around, any trouble will be noticed and I'll introduce you to some people who you can trust."

"Like who?" Stella knelt on the floor before him.

"Oh, whoever's there, really, coppers on my team, local folk – Cec Drury will have a bar goin', you can trust him, runs the Colonist's Club in town ..." he shrugged, "now, I am going to introduce you to some people you can always trust to keep you safe, some that may have to pick you up from school if me or your mum aren't available. Let's get these things washed and off we go."

They were curious and excited all at once, sure that these people they were about to meet were friends of Uncle Matthew and possibly of their mother too. Alex washed the cups and glasses and set them on the drainer.

"That'll do, lad," Matthew ruffled his hair, "they'll be dry by the time we get back."

"You're taking us to Lucien's, aren't you?" Alice sighed. She still hadn't plucked up the courage to accept an offer to dine at his house but now she felt as if Matthew was engineering this.

"No time to shop and I was due to eat with them tonight," he grinned, "Jean says it's no problem to feed another three. She always makes enough for the entire office anyway. Nurse O'Brien will be there and Sergeant Davies has taken up lodgings there, otherwise that could have been your billet instead of my place."

"I suppose they have to meet them sometime," she sighed.

"Why is it a problem, Alice? You are a widow with two children doing her best to keep body and soul together. Jean doesn't have a problem with that, neither does anyone else."

"It isn't a problem, as such, it's just ..." she threw her hands up, "I don't know, Matthew, I never thought about it until I realised it was you, the man I met years ago, who was the Superintendant around here, then I don't know why, I guess I just didn't want you to know I made such a mistake marrying Carlo."

"You didn't make a mistake, you said he didn't hurt you, physically, and there are lots of men like him who marry and have children before finding out who they really are. You have two lovely children, he gave you that, at least; take it, and treasure them, the rest will fall into place in time."

"I guess I've spent so long looking after myself, and latterly the children, even when I was married, that to trust someone, a man, is hard. Letting someone make a decision, any decision on my behalf ..."

"You let me, for this, you let me find a way to keep you safe ..."

"You're different," she ran her hands through her hair, "including the gap for the war and such things, you are the only man I have known and trusted for the longest time ... god I'm not making sense ..."

"Yes you are," he smiled and held her by the upper arms, turning her to face him, "you are scared but you don't have to do this on your own, Alice, you have friends who will stand by you and support you and the children – and one of them is me." He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers, "now, come and meet some more, eh?"

His touch was soft, his words gave her hope and maybe, she thought, just maybe this was the best move she had made in her life and here was where she was meant to be.

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Matthew knocked and stood back as he waited for the door to be opened.

"It's very nicely kept," Alice observed quietly.

"Jean's doing," he hummed, "with it being the surgery an' all she wants to present a professional picture."

"She does that alright," Alice agreed.

"Matthew!" a woman with a pretty face and a bright smile stood in front of them. "And you must be Dr Harvey," she held out her hand to Alice, "come on in, all of you, we don't stand on ceremony here."

Alice shook her hand without thinking really as Matthew introduced her to Mrs Beazley and she was ushered into the pleasantly cool hallway. Lucien appeared a little further on into the house grinning and opening his arms in welcome. The children followed their mother and looked around until Matthew drew them forward and introduced them. Jean noticed how gentle, how fatherly he was and remembered when he talked about them it was with love coupled with his admiration for Alice; she also noticed how he kept one eye on Dr Harvey – there was something there, she was sure of it.

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Lucien took the children into the living room and entertained them by playing the piano and telling them stories of Uncle Matthew as a child. Matthew grimaced when he heard the one about them staying out all night and trying their hand at prospecting.

"Of course we found nothing," he sulked, "only that Uncle Matthew doesn't like creepy crawlies."

"Stella doesn't like spiders, doctor," Alex told him, "she runs away from them."

"You don't need to worry about them, Stella," he chucked her under the chin, "remember you are far bigger than they are."

"The make funny noises when they run across the floor," she pouted.

"Ok, maybe they do, just put your fingers in your ears," he smiled. "Want to see an experiment?"

"An experiment?" Alex raised his eyebrows, "what kind of experiment?"

"One that goes bang?" Lucien grinned, "too near dinner time for one that smells bad."

"Ooh, yes please, doctor," the boy nodded eagerly. "Come on Stella."

Stella didn't look too enthusiastic so Lucien suggested she might like to help Mrs Beazley in the kitchen with her mother.

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Jean just rolled her eyes when Alex told her what the doctor was going to do but she welcomed Stella into the kitchen and gave her some strawberries to remove the hull from.

"This is Nurse O'Brien, Stella," Alice introduced her to another young woman sitting at the table; "she lodges with Dr Blake and Mrs Beazley."

Mattie smiled softly and remarked that she liked the colour of Stella's dress – a pale blue green colour.

"Mummy chose it," the child smiled shyly.

"She has good taste," Mattie nodded.

There was a loud bang from somewhere in the house.

"Lucien!" Jean shouted through, "what are you doing!?" She leant backwards to see if there were flames or part of the house missing but it was just a cloud of smoke coming from the region of the study.

"He said he was going to do an experiment that goes bang," Stella gasped.

"Typical," Jean rolled her eyes, "are you ok, sweetheart?"

She nodded and went back to taking the hulls from the strawberries, "I just didn't think it was going to be that big a bang."

"At least it wasn't one that makes a dreadful smell," Mattie observed, wrinkling her nose.

"No, he said it was too near dinner time," Stella sighed.

"Well, at least he considered that for a change," Matthew pinched a strawberry.

"Hey, Uncle Matthew!" Stella turned and glared at him, "you're not supposed to do that."

Jean laughed at the little girl's glare but she was happy to see Alice just shake her head as if this was entirely normal. Matthew had said he had eaten with the little family in recent times and it just cemented the idea that there was something between the reserved pathologist and the thoroughly decent man that she knew Matthew Lawson to be.

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Dinner was a lively meal, the children ate well which helped Alice relax; she had told Matthew on several occasions her cooking wasn't up to much but he insisted that it was perfectly fine, tasty and filling. He knew she had a reasonable income but had to factor in the rent for her bungalow, clothing the children as well as feeding them and things that she would need, herself; all that would take up her money and being left without the wherewithal to keep them, as she nearly had been, frightened her – and he knew this. He was also aware that if the children appeared to be poorly clothed or underfed – neglected – she would be fighting off Welfare. To see her accept the hospitality Jean and Lucien offered her soothed him, he knew that whatever happened she and the children would be safe between himself and the residents of seven Mycroft Avenue, Alice, Alex and Stella would be supported.

As Jean cleared away the plates in readiness for dessert, Alex offered to help wash up.

"You're a guest, Alex," she smiled.

"So was Uncle Matthew the first time, he washed up," he shrugged.

"He's like that," she passed him a plate, "but not tonight, maybe another night, if you come again."

"I'd like that. D'ye think the doctor would do some more experiments for me?"

"Try and stop him," she laughed, "now, I thought fruit and ice cream, as it's warm. Stella has hulled so many strawberries and ice cream would go rather nicely, don't you think?"

"Ooh, lovely," Stella's eyes widened, she had come out of her shell as the meal had gone on, so many people had brought out a hidden shyness not usually associated with Alice's daughter, she had got quieter when Charlie Davies had arrived from his shift at the police station and Alice had wondered if it was certain men she was wary of. Charlie had the look of a friend of Carlo's, and Lucien had a beard like Papa Benedetti, though she seemed to have forgiven him for that. She was only five years old, a lot had happened in her short life and not all of it good.

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Lucien insisted he, Charlie and Matthew wash the pots and gave Alice and Jean chance to talk in the living room while the children ran around in the garden.

"You've got two lovely children, Dr Harvey," Jean smiled.

"Thank you, I must admit they are good, helpful around the house." She blushed.

"I understand how hard it is, my husband was killed in the Solomons, I had two boys to raise, it wasn't easy. We had a farm, hard work." Jean smiled, "why don't you call me Jean, after all Matthew does, so does Mattie – I'm still working on Charlie."

"Alice," Alice whispered, "my name is Alice, and thank you, I'm afraid I'm not very good at the social niceties, people haven't always been kind to me."

"Lucien thinks very highly of you," Jean patted her hand, "so does Matthew, but you met Matthew some time ago, I believe."

"Yes, before the war, we dated, well kind of, nothing serious."

"And now?" Jean raised an eyebrow.

"Goodness!" she hissed, "we're friends that's all, he's been good enough to take us in because some members of my late husband's family may be around ..." she wondered how much Jean knew.

"He said, and if you need me to collect the children from school at any time, just ring, I will be very happy to do so."

"That's very kind of you, Matthew said I was to trust you ..."

"Good of him," Jean shrugged, "and you can, and anything else you need – don't be afraid to ask."

"Thank you, Jean."

They continued to talk, telling each other of their lives before Lucien and Matthew, and in Alice's case a lot about her marriage, until Matthew called through that it was past the children's bedtime.

"Right!" she stood up, "thank you, Jean, for a lovely meal and a lovely evening, and thank you for listening."

"You listened to me, too, remember, and all offers stand for as long as necessary, and even after that," Jean smiled and squeezed her hand, a gesture she was becoming more comfortable with.

"And if there's anything I can do for you, please ask."

"I will, now get these two rapscallions off to bed, Stella is asleep on her feet, which if I know children, she will deny."

"Oh yes, but once she's asleep that will be it until the morning."

"Lovely."

"Thank you for a lovely dinner, Mrs Beazley," Alex offered his hand.

"You are most welcome, Alex, I'm glad you enjoyed it."

Stella thanked her by wrapping her arms round her and mumbling into her skirt.

"Goodnight, Stella, sweetheart," she stroked her head and looked at Matthew who reached over and lifted the little girl into his arms.

"Come on, little Star," he whispered, "time for bed."

Stella yawned and snuggled into his shoulder; Jean smiled and mused on what she had observed that evening.

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Alice's confidence in Matthew and his men's ability to find and apprehend or send packing the Benedettis was rewarded the following week. It was obvious, when all was dealt with, that they had been following Alice and whoever she was with. Jean had collected them from school one day and they had dined with her and Lucien, then Alice had gone to collect them the following day. She waited as was her habit outside the school gates with the other mothers, though not engaging in conversation. Alex, as usual, waited for Stella to leave her classroom and took her hand to walk through the playground to their mother – two shots rang out which had the required effect of all the other mothers scattering and screaming, grabbing their own children and running down the street. Three men ran towards her, waving their guns in the air, pointing them towards the sky and shouting in Italian. One made a grab for Alex, who kicked back at him, another pushed Alice over, kicking her out of the way and grabbed for Stella. Both children and Alice screamed, a teacher ran out of the school and shouted, only to have a shot fired at him, sending a shower of dust and gravel up just by his feet. He fled back into the school and Alice prayed he would phone the police. It was an audacious and unsubtle attempt to kidnap the children, the Benedettis must have sent minions to do the task, someone who couldn't be linked to them unless Alice spoke up.

Alice got up, ignoring the pain from the grazes and cuts, still hanging on to Stella while Alex hung onto her. The children kicked, Stella cried, Alex shouted, Alice pushed and thumped whoever came near her until the sirens were heard and Matthew and several officers arrived, pouring out of the cars and racing to catch the would be kidnappers. As they were marched back to the cars in handcuffs Stella kicked one of them as only an angry five year old can, right in the shin, which caused him the hop and shout in pain.

"Take 'em in, Hobart!" Matthew yelled, "lock 'em up until I get there." He turned to Alice and the children and wrapped his arms round them. "Are you alright?" he breathed, searching for injuries and finding only tears and a few grazes.

"I think so," Alice sniffed.

"Did you know them?"

She shook her head, "no not any one of the Benedettis."

"Good, now I'm going to take you to Blake, he's at home, I'll collect you later."

"We'll be alright," she swallowed.

"No, you won't," he shook his head and gave her a little reassuring smile, "you're shaking, in no fit state to drive and I have to go and interview these three ne'er do wells. Jean will offer tea and sympathy and Lucien will take a look at your cuts and grazes."

As they drove over to the house he saw she was deep in thought, then she looked at him, "Matthew, why did they wait until today? Saturday at the fireworks would have been easier, wouldn't it? Or even yesterday when Jean picked them up?"

"Good question," he nodded, "maybe it was because today you weren't with a group, you were on your own, a large group of women isn't going to be much of a match for macho eye-ties."

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Saturday's fireworks and bonfire had been lovely. The children loved the bright lights, sparkles and Stella wasn't bothered by the loud noises because she expected them. Matthew had driven them down to the field and they had had food from the barbeque, drinks from Cec Drury's bar where he had been introduced to the new family and agreed that he was always willing to help should he be needed. Alex had met up with his mates and though always within sight of his mother and Uncle Matthew he was allowed some freedom to roam. They had left when Stella had fallen asleep on Alice's lap as they sat and watched the final display. Matthew, as usual, had lifted her up and carried her to the car and Alice mused that he had been more of a father in the short time since they had met up than Carlo had been in the seven years since Alex was born. As they had walked to the car, Matthew had murmured to a few of his officers as they passed that they could stand down and he would see them on their next shift.

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Jean opened the door and gasped. "Goodness!" she stepped aside to let Matthew carry Stella in and Alice and Alex to follow. "Lucien!"

"Jean?" Blake turned the corner from the surgery, "bloody hell," he hissed, "surgery, now."

Lucien examined all of them after Matthew headed back to the station to start the interviews and set out the charges.

Alex had a few bruises, mainly from being grabbed and held tightly, Stella was unharmed but Alice needed more treatment for the cuts and grazes and the foot shaped mark on her back. Jean took the children to the kitchen for milk and biscuits while Lucien examined and cleaned and dressed her grazes that needed it. She held her head high, refusing to cry not from the pain but from the fright she had just had.

"There," he soothed, "that should do it, though it will smart for a few days and you need to have the dressings changed daily, just to be sure it stays clean."

"Thank you," she managed to gulp.

Sensing her reluctance to let her emotions run free, and knowing her as he did, Lucien patted her uninjured shoulder and told her to head to the kitchen where Jean would be spoiling her children and there would be tea ... "unless you would prefer a whisky?" he raised an eyebrow, it was a serious offer.

"Um," she sniffed.

"Why not, you've had a helluva shock, nobody would begrudge you a quick tipple, eh? As your doctor I prescribe it." He escorted her to the living room and poured her a decent measure of whisky and watched her while she sipped it then gulped it down and handed him the glass back.

"Thank you."

"Right, now tea," he allowed her to precede him into the kitchen where Alex and Stella sat eating freshly baked shortbread and drinking cold milk. They looked none the worse for their experiences but all three adults thought nightmares and clinging might be the reactions.

Alex had told Jean all about the incident and that the police had arrived in the nick of time.

"They did, Mrs Beazley," he nodded, "and mum was so brave and so strong, she wasn't going to let go until Uncle Matthew got there."

Jean poured Alice a cup of tea and smiled. "You know, Alex, we mothers will fight tooth and claw for our children, no matter what they have done or may do."

"Never get between a mama bear and her cubs," Lucien took a biscuit, "it never goes well."

Stella slipped off her chair and climbed onto her mother's lap, snuggling close she closed her eyes and fell asleep, all the adrenalin now wrung out of her, she was exhausted. Alice put her arms tightly round her daughter and kissed the top of her head as Alex went to stand next to her.

"You ok, mum?" he whispered.

"A bit battered," she smiled, "but I'll be alright, I've had worse."

"Well, I must get on with dinner, want to help, Alex?" Jean stood up and straightened her apron.

"Oh," Alice looked surprised.

"You are staying, no arguments. Matthew may be late and you are in no state to start worrying about feeding these two – and yourself." Jean turned the oven on and went to retrieve a large piece of pork from the fridge.

"I'll help, Mrs Beazley," Alex smiled, it was usually only Uncle Matthew that could organise his mother.

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Matthew arrived as they were starting to eat dessert. He wasn't in the best of moods, angry at the rubbish the would-be kidnappers had spouted and that they wouldn't give up who had sent them. A lawyer had quickly turned up to represent all three of them which also bothered him and he decided Alice and the children would have to stay longer at his house. If an Italian lawyer could be found that fast then chances were more were watching her come and go. He had spent time on the phone talking to a contact in Melbourne who had had dealings with the Camorra before and asked if it was possible the Benedetti family were connected to them.

"Highly likely," his contact agreed, "though it is not a name I am familiar with. I shall make inquiries and get back to you."

Unfortunately for the men in his custody he was unable to find a judge to arrange bail for them so they were spending the night in his cells, a thing he was supremely glad for. He was sure it would make Alice feel a lot safer, too.

Truthfully, she admitted she was too tired to care. All she wanted was to get the children into bed and lock the doors on the world that was trying to hurt her. Matthew ate his dinner, Alex helped wash up and they were quite quickly on their way home.

Alice apologised to Jean, feeling her manners needed some revising but Jean said she understood quite well and she wasn't to worry.

"I shall see you soon, Alice, and you two, too," she smiled at the children, "you've had a big shock today and I wouldn't expect you to be sociable."

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Alice wouldn't let Matthew put either of the children to bed; she had to be sure they were settled in their beds, that the windows were locked and no one could get in and take them away. When she had finished, and was sure they were quite happy, and in Stella's case, fast asleep she joined Matthew in the living room where he had poured her a large whisky.

"You need this, and frankly, so do I," he handed her the glass.

"I'm putting you to so much trouble," she slumped onto the couch and took a sip of the whisky.

"This is no trouble," he waved his hand around, "trouble is trying to work out who kidnapped your children and possibly murdered you. Alice, please, listen. You and the kids mean a lot to me, but I am not asking for anything from you except your friendship if that's all there is, that is fine. Nobody, no girl I have ever met, has ever meant as much to me as you do. I was a fool back then, before the war, I should have written ..."

"So should I ..."

He shrugged.

"I should have tried to find you when I came back, instead of carrying on as if we had never met. Truth is, since we found each other, down in the morgue, I realise I have never forgotten you, you were always there in the back of my mind, I was always comparing other women to you I just didn't know it." He blushed, it was a speech he had played over in his mind recently, but not one he considered actually delivering.

"Matthew," she gasped, "I have never had a friend like you, perhaps being a friend is the better start, Carlo and I were not friends – we were friendly, we got along until we married and then we just lived together, produced two children but we were never a couple. It took a long time for me to realise that, maybe not until I knew what kind of man he was ... what his father did was wrong, I would never wish that on him not even knowing I wasn't the right person for him, we could have quietly divorced and I would still have moved away, or we could have stayed married and he could have lived his life and maybe I could have taken a lover – though between working and caring for the children and keeping up the pretence when was I going to have time for that." She sat against the back of the couch and took another drink.

"I love you, Alice," he said simply.

"I know, so what are we going to do about it?" she smiled.

"Now, you are going to your bed, and I am going to mine," he stood up and held out his hand for her, "tomorrow is another day, and a lot to do."

She was glad he didn't jump on her and start taking advantage – kissing and touching – just held out his hand and smiled.

She stood in front of him and leant forward enough to plant a light kiss to his cheek. "Good night, Matthew."

"Good night, Alice," he stroked her cheek and kissed the tip of her nose, "sleep well."

"You too."

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She didn't sleep well ... she didn't sleep at all. She lay in bed and cried for all she could have lost. In the end she decided a cup of tea might soothe her or at least ground her.

The kettle started to come to the boil, she set the teapot on the side and warmed it them put in just the one spoon of tea before pouring the boiling water in.

"Alice?" Matthew appeared in the kitchen.

She whirled round, "Sorry ..."

"Couldn't sleep?"

She shook her head. He noticed her bottom lip was trembling – she was close to tears, tears she thought had run out of.

"Hey," he opened his arms, "c'm'ere." And she did, weeping into his shoulder as he held her tight and murmured soothingly.

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He manoeuvred her to her room and lay her down on the bed, sliding next to her. "Shh," he whispered, "it's ok, I won't let anyone hurt you."

She snuffled and sobbed into his pyjama top until, eventually she fell asleep.

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Her sleep was dreamless and she only woke when she heard Matthew whistling a familiar tune in the kitchen. It was early but he would have to get to the station and see what they were to do with the three men in the cells, try and find out who had sent them.

She slipped out of bed and pulled her robe on, snuck up behind him and put her arms around his waist, resting her head against his back.

"Mornin'," he didn't turn round just carried on making tea.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"No worries," he grinned to himself.

They sat at the table drinking tea and planning the day. They would go about their business as usual. When the children were taken to school, Alice would talk to the headmaster and insist that the children were collected from his office by one of four people only: herself, Jean Beazley, Dr Lucien Blake or Superintendant Matthew Lawson.

That done, Matthew would drive her to the hospital where she was to work in the lab unless Lucien called her down to the morgue.

"Well," she stood up, "better get going then, do you want the bathroom first?"

"Ok, then you and the kids can have it while I make breakfast."

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Alice set Alex to clean his teeth and dress while she went to wake Stella. She pushed open the bedroom door to see her daughter sitting in bed staring in terror at the window. She turned her head to see the shadow of a man on the curtains diligently cutting the putty away from the frame, not taking any notice of what was going on in the bedroom. She put her finger to her lips, and looked across the hall to the kitchen. Something must have alerted Matthew, or he had just turned at an opportune moment but he saw her point in the direction of the window wall in Stella's room. He nodded, turned the light off under the frying pan and tiptoed out of the kitchen door and round to that part of the building. His choice of weapon, he thought, was strangely feminine, a rolling pin that still sat on the side even after his mother had gone to live in Melbourne.

"Can I help you?" he asked calmly, "only there is a door."

The man dropped his knife and stared at Matthew, partially dressed in a police uniform and wielding a rolling pin. He turned to flee thinking he could outrun the older man. Matthew didn't move, he didn't start to run, he just sent the pin flying through the air and it hit the man on the back of the head sending him sprawling on the well tended border and squashing the plants there. Matthew strolled over and pulled one of his hands behind his back, hauled him up and frog-marched him into the house.

"Alex, lad," he called to the boy standing watching with his mouth open, "could you get my handcuffs from my dresser then call the station."

Wordlessly, almost in shock, Alex did as he was bid then went into the living room where Matthew sat with the inept intruder.

"That's Roberto," he shoved his hands in his trouser pockets, "dad's baby brother. Grandpapa said he would never amount to much."

"Strange time to attempt an abduction," Matthew hummed, "usually best done in the dead of night."

Roberto pouted like a child.

"Seems your father may have been right." Matthew continued, "how did you find them?"

"Your friend, she told me," he seemed to relish the idea that a friend had given them away, but Matthew somehow knew it was unlikely. The only woman that knew where Alice and the children were living was Jean and she would die rather than give away that information.

"I doubt that," he shook his head, "So, the truth."

Roberto kept his mouth shut this time.

"How's Stella?" Matthew looked up at Alex.

"Ok, I think, mum's helping her to wash and she's had to strip the bed, sorry."

"Nothing to apologise for, lad," he smiled, "these things happen."

Alice appeared at the door with a tearful Stella who flung herself at Matthew and sobbed she was sorry about the bed.

"Hey, little Star," he kissed the top of her head, "that's what the washing machine is for. Don't you worry about a thing."

"So, Roberto," Alice folded her arms, "what are you doing?"

"We take your children then when Papa is released you get them back."

"Papa is in jail because he shot your brother and another man, and how likely is it that Alex and Stella will be returned to me if he is released, eh?" she glared at him.

"Carlo," he spat, "he wasn't a man."

"Oddly, I think he was more of a man than you will ever be. He followed his own path with no apologies, no kowtowing to your father, no subversive activities – the only thing he did wrong was to love the wrong person," she stepped forward, "and you will never have my children, nor will any member of the Camorra or the Mafiosi or whatever sect you ally yourselves to. You are pathetic, a bumbling apology for a criminal."

Matthew turned away and smiled, this was the Alice he remembered, the one who stood up for herself the one no one took for granted. Whatever their relationship may turn out to be he would never underestimate Dr Alice Harvey. However, he still needed to know how on earth Roberto had found them.

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The previous night at Mycroft Avenue, just after midnight:

"You are the strongest woman I know," Lucien stroked Jean's cheek, "that man is lucky to escape with his manhood intact. Are you alright, really?"

"I'm fine," she jutted her chin defiantly, "no one threatens the people I care for ..."

"Jean, he hit you," Lucien stepped closer, suddenly aware he could have lost her, suddenly aware she was more to him than a housekeeper.

She ran her fingers over the emerging bruise on the side of her head and inhaled deeply.

"He won't get them, not through me, Lucien," she whispered.

"He didn't try," he pulled her close, not even sure she would appreciate the comfort he was offering.

"No, he was a bit wet, wasn't he?"

"Yeah," he mumbled into her hair.

She buried her head in his chest, the way she had done when Jack left, then they had been interrupted by the phone, their almost kiss derailed with a ring and another case. Then they had been in the sunroom, now they were in the living room holding each other close and breathing heavily from the shock of fending off a young man demanding to know where Signora Benedetti was.

Lucien stroked her head and kissed it over and over again until she lifted her face to him and let him kiss the bruise, then her eyelids, then her nose and finally her mouth. She had thought she was about to die as the man had held a knife to her throat, she needed this to ground her, to remind her she was alive so she let Lucien's tongue explore her mouth, his hands roam over her body pull her flush against him, push off her pink dressing gown and dip his head to nuzzle at her neck. She groaned and lifted her head as one of his hands slid under her pyjama top and began to massage her breasts. She wanted this, she needed it, it had been so long and propriety be damned she didn't care, no one would know.

They moved together to his bedroom and fell onto his bed, pushing pyjamas off until they were naked and rutting like wild animals. Lucien pounded into her, she gave as much as she got, biting his shoulder to dull the screams of her climaxing and he buried his face in the pillow as he came with a roar.

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Lucien awoke to an empty bed and the ringing of the telephone. Jean appeared at his door, fully dressed, perfectly coiffure and made up as usual and he wondered if it had all been a dream.

"Matthew needs you at the station," she raised an eyebrow at the state of the bed and gave a little knowing smile. "A young man tried to get into the house through Stella's window ..."

"She is alright?" He shot out of bed, totally naked.

"She's fine, a little shocked, but the man needs a head wound tending to. Apparently Matthew threw his mother's rolling pin at him and got him on the back of his head."

"All that cricket practice must have paid off," he smirked at the raised eyebrow as she tried to keep her eyes on his face. He stepped past her to the door and grabbed his robe, "best get dressed then."

"Quite," she cleared her throat and left the room.

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"Maybe we should have called," Jean poured him a cup of tea, "even though we didn't tell him anything."

Lucien swallowed the hot brew and nodded, "so how did he find them?"

"There must be someone else that is also following them." Jean sat down, "Lucien is Ballarat overrun by the Camorra or whatever they call themselves?"

"I don't think so, I think it is just those who somehow believe that Alex is their property and not a child, a person with feelings. Not following the party line for these kinds of groups is sacrilege. I would rather you didn't go wandering round town alone today, Jean," he lifted the car keys from by the phone, "why don't you drive me down to the station and do any shopping you need to do. I'd feel happier knowing you have a way of getting out of trouble quickly."

"I do need a few things, and I need to pay the rates and the phone bill today, so, yes; just let me get my bag and basket ..." she took off her apron and folded it neatly over the back of the chair.

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Jean accompanied Lucien into Matthew's office where she asked if Alice was alright and they admitted that Roberto had paid them a visit last night.

"Time?" Matthew held his pen over the notebook.

"Just after midnight," Jean blushed remembering what had happened after that.

"He must have been wandering round for a while, it was just as I was making breakfast that he was trying to get into Stella, so I doubt you gave him any hint." Matthew made a note of the time and the fact that he had held a knife to Jean's throat.

"You ok, Jean?" he leant forward on the desk.

"Fine, thank you, Matthew ..."

"She gave him a good kicking where it hurts," Lucien grinned.

"Right, you'd best check that then, Blake," he grumbled. "Alice is in the labs if you need her, Blake, the kids are at school who have been told that they will be collected from the head's office by one of you two, me or her and no one else." He slapped his hands on the desk and stood up. "Davies, escort Mrs Beazley to her car, Blake, with me," he stalked out of the office and down the corridor.

"Mrs Beazley," Charlie stood up and offered her his arm.

She batted his arm good-naturedly and they left.

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The rest of the day passed in blissful normality. Jean avoided confession fearing Father Morton may never speak to her again if she confessed to the comfort she had taken from Lucien the previous night and she had nothing else to confess to; she did her shopping, paid the bills and went home to the chores and getting surgery ready.

Lucien checked Roberto Benedetti and proclaimed him fit enough to stay in the cell until such time as he was charged and sent to wherever to answer in court.

Matthew sent the case notes to a judge with the application for bail from the lawyer; bail was refused as they were all deemed a flight risk so the lawyer said he would have to return to Melbourne to confer with his superiors. Matthew watched him board the train then went back to the office to phone his contact and suggest the man was watched.

"I have no idea who his superiors are, but I suspect it isn't the top bloke in his firm," he huffed. His contact agreed and said he would send someone in plain clothes to follow him and report back.

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Two days passed and Matthew wondered where the shady lawyer had got to. He had expected him back the following day so when his contact phoned he was eager to know what he had found out.

"I see, well, we shall have to deal with them from this end, though I doubt they will get a lawyer to represent them here. The young lad assaulted our police surgeon's housekeeper and she is well respected in these parts, and the other three tried to kidnap two kids so that doesn't go down well, they also assaulted the Pathology Registrar from the hospital. Apparently they planned to use the kids as bargaining power to get Eduardo Benedetti released from prison."

His contact said that was unlikely to happen and anyway Benedetti had died the previous day from a massive heart attack.

"Divine justice?"

"There should be no more from this, Lawson, have them charged with attempted kidnap and assault and that will be case closed."

"Right," Matthew put the phone down and frowned – Alice and the children would move back to her house and he was going to miss them. But he couldn't lie to her just to keep her there; that would be selfish.

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