Ruth didn't sleep much, she just lay in the bed thinking what a wonderful family her daughter and son in law were missing out on. Amelia would have a good life here and if she could visit every so often she would be happy. She turned over and looked at the clock, Jean said Amelia was an early riser so she slipped out of bed, used the little bathroom and headed to the kitchen to set the kettle to boil for tea.

"Morning," Lucien smiled.

"Lucien," she gasped, "I thought you'd be with Jean and William."

"Jean's feeding William, I'm teaboy ... Matthew tells me it is a valuable job in these situations."

Ruth laughed and agreed. "Shall I get dressed and see to Amelia?"

He nodded and returned to preparing a tray of tea for himself and Jean.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Amelia was standing at the studio door pouting. Mama wouldn't open the door for her and she couldn't reach the handle because Papa had asked Uncle Bill to put it too high for her, after she walked in on them one morning. Luckily they weren't doing anything other than kissing.

"Hello," Ruth mused, "what have we here?"

"Mama," she sniffed and pointed at the door.

"Ok, well, we will go in, but first, how about a wash and clean clothes to meet your baby brother in, eh?"

"Baba?"

"He came last night," Ruth swung her up, "and I expect he'd like to meet a pretty little girl in her dungarees and ribbons."

Amelia huffed but let Ruth take her into the upstairs bathroom and help her wash and clean her teeth. Then took her back to her room to find her underwear and clean clothes for the day.

"There now, breakfast?" Ruth finished tying a bow in her hair.

"Mama!" Amelia stamped her little foot.

"Hey, young lady," Ruth squatted down in front of her, "you can go into mama if you are going to be good with the baby, ok? No poking."

"Ok, Gran'ma," her shoulders slumped, "now I go see baba?"

"Come on, then," Ruth held out her hand, "let's go see your brother."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Amelia," Jean opened her arms for the little girl, "come here, sweetheart, are you being good?"

Amelia ran over to the bed and scrambled up, wrapped her arms round Jean and cuddled close.

"Where baba?" she frowned.

"Ruth would you mind," Jean smiled, "William, Amelia, he is called William; he's very small and needs lots of looking after."

"Awh," Amelia stared at the tiny bundle in Jean's arms, she reached over and stroked his face and his little hand. "Willem," she giggled as he closed his tiny fist round her finger.

"I'll just go and fix some breakfast for Amelia, has Lucien seen to everything you need, Jean?" Ruth smiled at the sight and committed it to memory, she still painted occasionally.

"He's done tea, so far," Jean nodded at the tray.

"I bet you're hungry, though, how is he in the kitchen?"

"Not a place I usually give him free reign," Jean sighed, "so he could be burning the place down for all I know."

"Right, well I'll go and see what I can rustle up ..." she left mother and children to get acquainted.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Bugger," she heard Lucien hiss and saw him head to the sink with a cup in one hand and an eggshell in the other.

"Lucien, can I help?"

"I was going to fry some eggs to go with the bacon, but I keep breaking them," he raised the cup.

"Right, so you were going to throw them away? Come here, we can scramble them, add a couple more ... Amelia will eat eggs, yes?"

He nodded and watched as she got a pan down, tipped the three broken eggs into it and added three more, a piece of butter and some salt and pepper and set them over a low light.

"Keep moving them about the pan, I'll do some toast as well ..."

Between them they managed to set out a decent breakfast, a tray was set for Jean and Amelia would have hers with Ruth and Lucien in the kitchen.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ruth gave Amelia little things to do in the kitchen while she tidied away the pots and pans. Lucien was in the study calling Matthew and Alice to inform them of the arrival of his son. Then he was going to ring Christopher, he said he had a right to know he had a half brother and how proud of Jean he was.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Three times!" he stomped into the kitchen, "three bl ... blasted times he's put the phone down –as soon as I speak the phone get's slammed down! How on earth am I going to tell Jean Christopher won't speak to me?" Lucien slumped into a chair and put his head in his hands.

"Don't," Ruth rubbed his shoulders, "let me try and speak to Ruby," she soothed, "she does speak to me, well most of the time."

Amelia looked from one to the other, she had heard the name Christopher but all she knew was that whenever it was mentioned mama and papa got upset, especially mama. She crawled onto Lucien's lap and put her arms round him.

"Love 'oo, papa," she murmured into his ear and gave him a sloppy kiss.

"Oh sweetheart, I love you so much, so does mama, and William," he hugged her tight, "you are such a good girl, isn't she Grandma?"

Ruth smiled and agreed that she was, though she wondered why her granddaughter was the exact opposite of her daughter and son in law. Nurture versus nature? She went to the study and dialled the number. It rang three or four times before Christopher answered.

"What!" he bellowed.

"Christopher, it's Ruby's mother, may I speak to her, please." She heard him yell his wife's name then grunt that it was her mother on the phone.

"Mother?"

"Good morning, Ruby, dear," Ruth couldn't have been more pleasant on the phone, "I just thought you ought to know Jean has had a little boy, they've named him ..." but she didn't get to finish as the phone was put down on her too. The names that ran through her head were not in the least bit complimentary ones but she decided there and then to break her journey home in Adelaide and go and see them, armed with photographs of Amelia, William and Elizabeth and family portraits.

"Wretched bitch," she muttered to herself as she headed back to the kitchen.

"Any luck?" Lucien looked up.

"Told them, then the phone was put down on me as I was about to tell Ruby what the baby is called. I shall be dropping in on the way back."

"Willem," Amelia gave a definite nod of her little head, "baba called Willem."

"He is indeed," Lucien smiled, "a splendid name, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is, now, I see stocks are low so I wondered if it would be alright if Amelia and I went to do some shopping."

"That's kind of you, Ruth," Lucien smiled, "but you don't have to."

"Huh," she folded her arms, "and what are you going to have for dinner if I don't?"

"Well," he tipped his head, "I could go and get fish and chips?"

"That's for one day, Lucien," she smiled, "now, Amelia shall we go and get some shopping for mama, and maybe we can find a gift for William; what do you think about that?"

Amelia tipped her head and thought for a moment then decided that it would probably be fun to shop with Gran'ma.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ballarat was busy and Ruth was stopped by many recognising Amelia in the stroller. Though there were few people Ruth knew some of Lucien's patients had seen her on her last visit, and in the main they were the ones that commented. By the time they were heading home, word had got round that Mrs Blake had been safely delivered of a son and mother and child were doing well.

The groceries she couldn't carry were to be delivered later that morning, as was the order from the butcher's who while offering his congratulations, also let her know Jean's preferred cuts and amounts.

The last place they went was the toy shop, for a present for William, or two; one from Ruth and one from Amelia which she was allowed to choose.

"This one, Gran'ma," she picked up a small soft cat that William could cuddle when he was slightly older. Ruth chose a traditional teddy bear and also a pop-up book of fairy tales for Amelia. William would be cooed over and gazed at in the pram but she worried that Amelia would be overlooked and become jealous. She determined that as a big sister she should be recognised. The book could be read to her over and over again and those times would be just her and either Lucien or Jean.

"Come on, sweetheart, how about we go home now, eh? Lunch and see how William is getting on."

"Ok, Gran'ma," Amelia smiled, "and Iz-beff?"

"I don't know, darling, maybe Auntie Allie will come and see us," Ruth smiled.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ruth left Ballarat when William was about ten days old and Jean refused to stay in bed or inactive for any longer. Amelia had settled to being a big sister, Alice was a frequent visitor and really she had left the gallery in the hands of her very capable assistant for too long. She made plans to return soon and see how the children had grown.

"At least come in time for William and Elizabeth's christenings," Jean smiled, "after all they need their godmother, don't they?"

"Godmother?" Ruth gasped.

"Indeed," Alice looked up from settling Elizabeth in the pram, "we would like you to be Elizabeth's godmother ..."

"... and we would like you to be William's," Jean piped up.

"Goodness," she gasped, "well, I don't quite know what to say."

"Yes will do," Alice laughed.

"I truly have found a family with you, being over in Perth and only having the one, rather ungrateful, daughter I was beginning to feel a bit on my own."

"And we are very glad to have you," Lucien smiled. "Now, if you don't want to miss your flight ..."

There were hugs and kissed all round and she left feeling rather warm and fuzzy, a feeling she hoped would stay at least until she saw Christopher and Ruby in Adelaide.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Three hours later

Ruth stood on the step of the little base house, took a deep breath and knock. She waited and was just on the point of knocking again when Ruby answered.

"Mother," she grimaced.

"Ruby!" Ruth gasped, her daughter was cradling a baby, and not a newborn. "You didn't say."

"I didn't think you'd be interested, spending all your time with the Ballarat crowd as you do." Ruby sniffed but didn't ask her mother to step in.

"They are very nice people, Ruby, warm and inviting, and you and Christopher would be welcome." Ruth smiled, "and Amelia is doing well as a big sister to William. And I am interested."

"He's, I suppose, her uncle?" Ruby frowned, trying to work out the real family relationship.

"... and of course there is your Aunt Alice and her husband and child ..." Ruth continued, wondering when she would say something about the baby in her arms. "I am to be godmother to both babies."

"Huh, well, I don't care," Ruby stepped back. "We are fine without you or that ... parsimonious Jean Blake. Our son will grow up with all that he needs."

"So, a boy," Ruth realised that this was what they wanted, a boy child, someone to follow his father.

"Dustin Christopher Robert ..."

Ruth tried valiantly not to roll her eyes. "... named after your father and his ..."

"At least dad loved me," she snarled.

"And so do I;" Ruth sighed, "just because I set boundaries and your father let you do as you pleased does not mean I do not love you."

Ruby sneered and slammed the door in Ruth's face.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"... I see," Jean sniffed away a tear, "so we are to be denied our grandson, are we, Ruth?"

It had taken Ruth most of the flight from Adelaide to Perth to stop crying. She felt as if she had suffered a death in the family and had no idea how to deal with it.

"It would seem so, Jean," she blew her nose, "but I shall not give up, I was going to set up a trust fund for Amelia and I shall do so, as well as one for Dustin – maybe one day we will meet. I shall continue to break my journey between here and Ballarat, in Adelaide, and perhaps I shall get to see him. Again, thank you so much for welcoming me into your family ..."

"It is our pleasure, Ruth, and we look forward to seeing you soon."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As she grew Amelia knew nothing of the torment her real parents had put Jean and Lucien through. They gave her so much love without spoiling her and Ruth had been right when she said she would be the ringleader in any shenanigans.

Communication with Christopher stopped altogether, though both Jean and Lucien tried on high days and holidays, they sent cards for birthdays and Christmas but never received one in return, and Amelia never received a birthday card. Ruth became a regular visitor, Christmas, alternate birthdays and the Blakes and Lawsons visited her just as frequently.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Amelia was nine they found out that Ruby had passed away after an unsuccessful operation to remove an infected appendix. She had refused to see a doctor for a stomach ache and by the time she was taken to hospital it had burst and the ensuing infection had rampaged through her slim body and taken her within the week.

Ruth was devastated, Christopher didn't tell her, she found out from the neighbour when she made one of her futile visits. She was on her way from Ballarat and, as usual, had called to see if Ruby had relented and would see her and allow her to meet Dustin.

"Oh, hello," the neighbour watched her slowly walk back down the path when her knocking wasn't answered, "are you a friend?"

"I'm Ruby's mother, we are estranged but I still hope ..."

"Oh my dear, please, goodness, I am so very sorry ..." the neighbour stuttered and stammers, red-faced with embarrassment, "please, you'd better come inside."

"What's happened?" Ruth almost ran up the path next door, "tell me."

The neighbour showed her into her tidy home and had her sit down on a comfortable couch.

"Mrs ..."

"Amory."

"Mrs Amory, oh dear, how to tell you," she fluttered about the living room biting her lip, wringing her hands. "I'm very much afraid that Ruby has gone ..."

"Gone? You mean left him?"

"No, oh my dear," she sat down and took Ruth's hands in hers, "she was ill, appendicitis, I'm so sorry ... if she'd gone to the doctors ..."

Ruth gasped and pulled her hands back and put them over her face, Ruby, dead?

"When?" she gulped.

"About five weeks ago," the woman hummed, "I must get you some tea." She leapt up and ran into the kitchen where Ruth could hear her putting the kettle on and clattering cups and saucers. She waited, too stunned to do anything else, but she had so many questions; where was Christopher, what about Dustin?

The woman, Mrs Walker, let her weep and answered as many questions as she could, where Ruby was buried, what Christopher was doing and where Dustin was.

"You can easily find her grave, dear," she smiled gently, "I'll walk you over is a short while, shall I? Good."

"Christopher and Dustin?"

"Christopher is overseas, Dustin is in a boarding school," Mrs Walker hummed. "Apparently it's best for the boy to have a settled place. Christopher goes to see him when he is home."

"How is he, my grandson?"

"Such a sweet little boy, but so sad ... when she was alive he had everything he wanted, toys, trips out, smart clothes ..."

"Did she love him?"

"Love him, well I suppose so, why?"

"What I mean is did she hug him? Did you see her wrap her arms around him and really love him? Does Christopher?"

Mrs Walker frowned, thinking they were odd questions for a grandmother to ask.

"As I said, we were estranged, I don't know why, I don't know what I did, but Christopher cut himself off from his own mother – we are friends, Mrs Blake and I and her family – at the same time."

"Dustin stood by his father at the graveside ..."

Ruth understood this to mean that he stood there, he was not held by the hand or had a comforting hand put on his shoulder and now he was at boarding school; didn't Dr Blake's own father do something like that after his wife died.

"I don't suppose you know which school he's at, do you?"

"St Joseph's. It's a nice school, not too big ..."

"Thank you, thank you for your time and your kindness. I would like to go to her grave and I shall write to Christopher, I'm sure the army will forward my letter on."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The grave looked small; it was tidy, the headstone was neat and declared it was Ruby Beazley, nee Amory, wife to Christopher and mother to Dustin – no mention of Amelia which hurt Ruth and she had trouble stopping unpleasant thoughts entering her mind. She left a pretty bunch of flowers with a card and went to see if she could find a hotel for the night. She would write to Christopher and tell him how sorry she was to hear of Ruby's death, to offer any help he might want and also to ask if she might write to Dustin at school. She felt it only right she should ask his permission first. She would leave her letter at the base, and enclose one to Dustin introducing herself as Grandma Amory and telling him all about his Grandma Blake and her family. He was only seven years old, he needed to know that there were more people out there that loved him even though they had not met him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Christopher scanned the letter from his mother in law and threw it in the waste-basket. Her letter to Dustin was not read, it was burnt in the little fire in his office; Ruby had told him in no uncertain terms that her mother was not to have anything to do with their son, nor was Jean. Blindly he had loved Ruby, never asking why Ruth had been such a bad mother, never understanding that Ruby needed to be helped to know that Ruth had loved her and was only trying to set her on a sensible road. Blindly he now followed her instructions to never allow Dustin to meet his grandmothers or his step grandfather, and the older sister he had in Ballarat.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After a couple of months and many letters from both Ruth and Jean that were never answered, both women knew they would have to do something about Dustin. They wrote, separately, to Dustin at his school, sending the letters enclosed in one to the head teacher. They explained who they were, why they were writing and begging for any news of their grandson.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The head teacher was disconcerted by the letters he received, but rather than talk to Captain Beazley he decided first to discover anything he could about Dr and Mrs Blake of Mycroft Avenue, Ballarat, and Mrs Ruth Amory of Amory's Art Gallery, Museum Street, Perth. It wasn't difficult, all he did was contact the police stations in each city and ask for any information they had on the families.

Of course he found nothing but good about both families. How Mrs Amory ran a successful art gallery and was herself an artist. There were no complaints from her assistants that she had employed over the years; or anyone who lived in the area. She had no convictions for driving offences – in fact a model citizen. Dr Blake was of course lauded by Chief Superintendant Matthew Lawson at Ballarat Police Station, his war service was quoted; his term as a police surgeon and the hospital also gave him a good reference including his radical operations such as the saving of a colleague's leg. No mention of his renegade tendencies in the early years of his return to his home town, or his drinking and upsetting of the British High Commissioner over the handling of the Singapore incident during WW2 was made.

In the end the head teacher decided that he would inform Captain Beazley that he had allowed Dustin to read the letters and make up his own young mind if he wanted to correspond with his grandmothers.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Dear Grandmother Amory," the letter started in uncertain handwriting, "the head master has passed on your letter to me. Thank you for writing, mother never spoke about you and I am sorry you had a falling out. Father never says anything. I am well but I am sad, please keep writing, I would love to see one of your paintings. I have had a letter from Grandmother Blake and I will write to her as well.

Love from

Dustin."

Ruth was over the moon to receive such a letter, Dustin sounded lonely, he said he was sad and sorry she had fallen out with Ruby. She also noted that he referred to his parents as mother and father which, for a seven year old, sounded rather formal.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In Ballarat, Jean had also received a letter from Dustin.

"Dear Grandmother and Grandfather Blake," again the handwriting was uncertain, "thank you for writing to me, it was very kind. Father does not speak of you, neither did mother but you sound nice, and I would like to meet Amelia and William. I am sad about mother and I miss her. Some of the boys at school call me 'Dustbin', and I hate it. I would love to read more of your letters and hear about the things Amelia and her friends get up to.

Love from

Dustin."

Jean showed the letter to Lucien and Alice and Matthew and they all agreed that she should write to him but be ready to receive angry letters or messages from Christopher for interfering.

"I suppose so," her shoulders slumped, "but it is a battle we must fight. Dustin needs to know there are more family that will be there for him. With Christopher away so much, doing heaven knows what, then he needs someone who can be there for him. I hope that someday we can rebuild our relationship – he is, and always will be my son, and just like Jack I will never abandon him."

Lucien put his arms around her and kissed her temple, "Nearly ten years, love, and still you won't give up?"

"Of course not," she huffed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Christopher considered removing his son from the school but in all truth what would he do if he did so? He couldn't tell Dustin not to write to his grandmothers and the head teacher suggested that whatever beef he had with his mother and mother in law should not be put on the young lad's shoulders.

"Spending all his holidays here, Captain," he sighed, "is not good for him, to be on his own for so much of the time. True, he has friends who invite him over, but for the whole of Christmas? Is that fair, on Dustin or the family?"

Christopher supposed it wasn't really and his differences with his mother had largely been fuelled by Ruby's failure to bond with Amelia and to insist she go to Adelaide to be their nanny. He said he would think it over.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Christopher didn't write to Jean or Ruth but he did tell Dustin he could if he wished to do so.

"And can I go and see them, father?" he stood in front of Christopher on one visit, hopeful that he wouldn't spend the upcoming term break at school.

"I don't know, Dustin," he patted his shoulder, "it would take some organising."

"I could go by train, father," he insisted, his mother had always given in to his requests but Christopher wasn't so sure about this idea.

"It's a long trip, boy."

"I know," he agreed, "a whole day, but Richard does it when he goes to his aunt ..." Richard was his closest friend.

"Maybe when you're a bit older."

Dustin sensed that it was no use continuing this conversation this time; he would try again at the next holiday.

He spent the holiday in Adelaide seeing his father when his duties allowed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Dear father," Dustin wrote.

"I know you don't think I'm big enough to travel all the way to Ballarat on my own, but Richard is going half the way at the next holiday, I thought I could go with him so far and do the last bit on my own. I'm eight, now, quite big enough. Please say yes, I don't mind using the allowance I have saved to pay for the ticket.

Your son

Dustin."

Christopher read the letter and sighed. He would be in Vietnam when Dustin was on holiday and would not be able to see him. But if he allowed Dustin to go to Ballarat, then he would have to write to his mother and tell her to expect him and when to pick him up from the station. He would think about it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dustin was rather like his mother in many ways, one being his impatience. When he received no immediate reply from his father he wrote a short note to Grandmother Blake and asked if it would be alright if he went to see them for part of the holiday.

"... I can travel half the way with my friend Richard, he gets off at Horsham. Father is away in Vietnam and there will be no one else here." He wrote.

"What do you think, Lucien?" Jean asked the evening she received his letter. She had waited until Amelia and William were in bed before she broached the subject.

"I think it's quite obvious that Dustin is going over his father's head," Lucien hummed, "that he may have asked his father but I doubt he has had a reply yet. Why don't you ring the school in the morning, find out about this Richard he is thinking of travelling with and take it from there. Horsham is not too much of a distance to drive. We could pick him up from there, unless you think it is a good idea for him to travel alone – would you let William?"

"I don't know," Jean shook her head, "I don't think he's quite ready for a long journey like that; I think it's a good idea to ring the school and maybe drive over to Horsham, or take the train that far ..."

"Car would be easier, we could go the day before and stay the night then we would be fresh for driving back. Do we take our two though?"

"Amelia and William in the car for three hours?" she shook her head, "perhaps Alice would like a change of scenery."

"This is hardly a change of scenery," Lucien laughed, "but, yeah, why not, it wouldn't be the first time we've all been together."

So they laid plans to see if it would be possible to have Dustin stay for the holiday, and thought that this may be the way to have Christopher rejoin the family.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Dustin hasn't received a letter back from his father yet," the headmaster sighed, "but then the post between here and Vietnam is slow. I see no reason why he shouldn't see you this break, Richard is used to travelling to his aunt's by train and I have no worries about him taking care of Dustin. We put him with a guard for the journey. He looks forward to your letters and those of Mrs Amory very much and the antics of your children have his friends in stitches. How do you cope, Mrs Blake?" He laughed, Dustin read his letters to his dormitory and as time had worn on he felt less lonely.

"Oh we cope," she smiled, "they do get into scrapes but so far they haven't been too wild." She thought of all the times Elizabeth had kept her two out of serious trouble. "Well if you think it would work, I shall try and telegram Dustin's father. What day do you anticipate the boys travelling?"

"The Friday they break up," he checked the timetable, "we usually put Richard on the early train and he arrives in Horsham at lunchtime – one thirty."

"Lovely," Jean noted this down in the diary by the phone, "we thought we would drive over the day before and stay overnight, then we can take Dustin straight from the station and bring him to our home."

"An excellent plan, if I may say so, Mrs Blake."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Christopher telegrammed Jean and said he had no objection to his son spending this break with them, and a letter with his dietary requirements would follow.

"Dietary requirements?" Lucien grimaced, "I'll phone the school and find out if he has any intolerances."

"He's never said anything in his letters," she sighed, "it's probably not too many sweet things or puddings."

"Right, I'll check anyhow."

Jean was right, Captain Beazley didn't like his son having sweets, the food at school, which Dustin surprisingly hadn't complained about, was varied and the headmaster gave Dr Blake a run-down of the kind of meals he ate during the course of a typical week.

"Sounds lovely," Lucien commented, "a lot better that when I was at boarding school. My wife is a good cook and our own children are not fed on lots of sweets or chocolate but they are allowed them as treats."

"I'm sure there won't be any problem, Dr Blake," the headmaster hummed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was difficult to explain who Dustin was to Amelia and William. They both now knew that the Christopher that had upset their mother when they were younger was her eldest son from her first marriage, which meant they had to tell them that Jean had been married to a farmer before the war and had two sons. However, when Amelia tried to work out who she was to Dustin they had to tell her that actually she was his elder sister. Rather than placing the heavy burden of abandonment on her shoulders they just said that Ruby, her mother, was unwell after her birth and had asked Jean to care for her.

"So you are really my Grandma?" she screwed her pretty little face up as she processed this.

"I am," Jean nodded and pulled her into a hug, "but you have always been my little girl, my daughter. I'm sorry sweetheart, we would have told you when you were older and able to understand, but with Dustin coming to stay ..."

"Why did they keep him?" She frowned.

"Ruby was better when he was born, and because we had argued when you were born they didn't tell us about him."

There was a silence as Jean waited for a reaction and Amelia took in the information. That Jean and Lucien weren't her parents that she had a father who was in the army.

"If Ruby had been able to look after me would I have gone to a boarding school like Dustin?"

"Probably," Jean agreed, shuddering at the thought.

"Mum?"

"Yes love."

"Can I still call you mum, and dad – dad?"

"Oh my darling daughter, of course you can, and I'm so happy you want to. We love you so much."

"I love you too, mum. What do I call him, y'know, Christopher?"

"How about you call him Christopher."

They sat for a while, Jean's arms round Amelia until they decided that they better get on with dinner.

"Want to help?"

"Yes please."

Amelia had helped her in the kitchen almost since the day she started walking and it was her favourite place to be – just her and Jean, her mother.

Jean was under no illusion that this was the end of the matter, Amelia would need lots of reassurance that she was wanted and loved, that she was their daughter. She was a confident child, bright, fearless and, according to Ruth, nothing like Ruby.

"It's the way you have brought her up, Jean," Ruth had said one visit.

"I do my best." Jean had smiled.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I hope Christopher doesn't think he has a claim on Amelia," Jean sighed that night, when she and Lucien were in bed.

"I'll fight him tooth and nail for her," he kissed her, "she's our daughter and no judge in the country would allow him control over her, not after nearly ten years."

"Hope so," she yawned.

"Tired?"

"Well, now that you mention it ..." she giggled, "not really."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They arrived in Horsham in time to freshen up before dinner. Alice, Matthew and Elizabeth had moved over to the Blake's house for the night, to look after Amelia and William. It was easier that way, they still lived in the little bungalow Matthew had when he married the pathologist. The two bedrooms were enough as they had not added to their family neither by design or happenstance.

"What are you expecting?" Lucien asked as they perused the menu.

"Of Dustin? Well, as we have only one photograph, sent by his headmaster, a young Christopher, in looks that is. Otherwise a small boy smartly dressed with good manners but probably not good at sharing; I don't think Christopher spoils him but I have a feeling Ruby may have done."

"Hm," he nodded, "well, we shall see. Amelia will knock any stuffiness out of him."

"Lucien, really," she chided, "from his letters he's not stuffy, I think he's lost – his father's always away, he takes him to 'improving places' when he does see him, he never writes of games of footie in the park or ice cream treats on the beach ..."

"I'm too old to play footie ..."

"You kick a ball about with William and his mates, you can get Dustin to join in. If I'm treating ours to an ice cream in the gardens he shall have one too." She nodded her head emphatically.

"As you will, my dear," he grinned.

"I suppose I was lucky," he suddenly observed.

"Lucky?"

"Hm," he nodded, "I got to go home every holiday and while dad wasn't much for hugs and such like I did at least have a break from school and had my mates here to run around with."

"I suppose you were, and I suppose you got up to no good, too," she smiled.

"A bit of apple scrumping, making dens round the lake, knocking on doors and running away ..." he grinned, Jean rolled her eyes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After a good night's sleep and the excellent ministrations of her husband, Jean felt quite ready to face whatever the day threw at her, though she hoped it would be easy to pick up Dustin at the station. They had armed themselves with a large cardboard sign with his name on it and hoped to stand in plain sight of the passengers alighting from the train from Adelaide.

They paid the bill at the hotel and headed into Horsham for a stroll, taking in the Botanical Gardens and the Art Gallery and then decided that as it was a pleasant day, they would buy some things for a makeshift picnic and go and sit by the lake for a while.

"It's a rather nice place," Jean sat back on the bench, "pleasant."

"Hm, if we brought Dustin back this far we could bring the children for a couple of days. Assuming it wasn't right at the end of the holidays." Lucien agreed.

"Or we bring them with us to collect him? Even though I didn't fancy a three hour trip in the car with Amelia and William constantly asking are we there yet?" she laughed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You ok, Dusty?" Richard watched his friend pick at his nails.

"Hm? Yeah, I think so;" he looked up, "they sound so nice in the letters Grandmother Blake writes but my Grandfather works with the police."

"Done somethin' wrong?"

"What? No, of course not, unless you count adding salt to Scribbins' puddin', and Grandfather won't know about that, will he?" Dustin shrugged, "but what if he's strict, what if he has rules?"

"I bet they're great. Your Grandmother said he does experiments in the study when he's on a case and makes horrible smells – he sounds amazin'" his eyes shone with wonder, hoping one day he would be invited to stay. His aunt was very nice, and she was a good cook but she didn't play footie or take him to cricket matches and she definitely didn't do smelly experiments in the study – in fact she didn't have a study! "And everybody has rules of some sort."

"Well, I'm stuck with it, now," Dustin sighed.

"You'll be right, mate," Richard thumped his shoulder gently.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As luck would have it, Richard's aunt had spotted the card for Dustin and gone to introduce herself to Dr and Mrs Blake.

"Richard did say his friend was to stay with his new found grandparents," she smiled, "he says Dustin gets teased a lot for his name and frequently says his mother should have let him use one of his other names."

"Robert would be nice," Jean hummed, "it's a nice name and Rob or Bobby are good short versions."

Lucien noted she did not suggest 'Christopher', but perhaps that was a step too far. "Well, I think that's up to his father, Jean," he smiled, "don't you think?"

"Of course, and it was his mother's decision to name him after her father."

The train arriving stopped any further conversation as they all looked out for their charges tumbling from the carriage.

"Ah," Miss Johnston smiled, "there's Richard, and I assume that's Dustin with him."

The two boys stood looking around until Richard spotted his aunt and waved.

"There you go," he nudged his friend, "seems they've met my aunt."

Dustin took a deep breath and gave a wave, not quite as broad as Richard's but it wasn't too nervous.

"Come on," Richard dragged him towards the adults, "your grandmother doesn't look as if she eats young boys!"

At that distance Dustin saw a slim woman with brown hair that was streaked with a little grey, the man she stood next to was tall and his beard was grey, his hair was hidden under a fedora and he wore a smart suit.

"Richard, dear," Miss Johnston smiled and ruffled his auburn waves, "this needs cutting."

"Hello Aunt Kate, yeah, it does," he grinned.

"You can go to the barber's this holiday," she smiled.

"Ok, this is Dustin," he introduced his friend.

"Hello, Dustin, nice to meet you." She held out her hand.

"Miss," Dustin shook her hand politely.

"But you are not here to meet me, Dustin," she turned her eyes to Jean and Lucien.

"No Miss, though I am glad to have met you," he smiled and turned to Lucien, "sir?"

"Hello, Dustin," Lucien smiled, "and granddad will do, if you've a mind ... this is your grandmother."

Jean smiled gently at him and offered her hand. "Dustin, it's so lovely to meet you at last, you have a look of your father when he was your age."

Dustin took her hand, noticing it was soft and her smile was warm; he had the urge to wrap his arms round her and hold on for the love he so desperately craved, but stilled it. He didn't know how she would feel about that, his mother hadn't been a cuddly sort and his father only occasionally put his arm on his shoulders.

"It's very kind of you to let me come and stay," his voice was small and quavering.

"Nonsense, Dustin," Jean smiled, "we are looking forward to it, Amelia and William have no doubt planned plenty of things to do. As the weather is so nice at the moment we may take a picnic down to the lake, would you like that?"

"It sounds lovely," he smiled tentatively, he couldn't remember ever going on a picnic, Christopher always took him to a cafe or a restaurant and his mother didn't like mess. From what his friends said picnics could be messy, sitting on a blanket on the ground eating sandwiches and cake.

"Well, best be off, good to have met you, Miss Johnston and you too, Richard, perhaps you would like to join Dustin one holiday, if your aunt doesn't mind," Lucien held his hand out to Richard's aunt.

"I think we can come to some arrangement, Dr Blake," she smiled, in the short time she had had with Dustin's grandparents she had formed the opinion that they were good and kind people and perhaps holidaying with other children would be nicer for Richard than staying with her, "and perhaps Dustin can join Richard one time."

"Lovely," Jean agreed.