Nobody knew how long Christopher would be away, things were intense he said in his letter and asked that, despite their differences, if anything should happen would Jean and Lucien please see that Dustin was safe and loved.
"I can't tell him these things, mum," he wrote, "all I can tell him is I love him, even if I'm not a very good father. I hope that when I get home I can come and see you and maybe we can talk. I don't know why Ruby took against you, or why I was stupid enough to let her break us apart, but I was and she did – hell I am rambling, waffling, but I hope you understand. Dustin had such a wonderful time with you and the rest of the family and it showed me just what I have cut out of his life. Thanks for not giving up on me, perhaps Jack will see the same one day. I will do my best to stay safe and come home as soon as I can.
Christopher."
Jean wept as she read the letter, the idea she would lose her son the same way she lost his father broke her heart; yet her heart was gladdened that he saw she still cared much for him and he had asked her and Lucien to care for Dustin until he came home. She would set aside the time to talk with him when he returned and she would happily have Dustin for all the holidays – after that they would see how best to move forward.
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Dustin's first birthday after finding his extended family was in the middle of a term. He had had cards and gifts from his father, grandparents, Amelia and William and the Lawson's and Grandmother Amory, he thought he was happy, he knew he was loved. Since his holiday most of the boys had stopped teasing him about his name, especially when he happened to mention his Great Uncle – Superintendant Matthew Lawson – was rather good at catching criminals, and that his grandfather was not only a doctor and police surgeon but he had served as a Major in the army – so really it would not go well if he was bullied, would it? So, here he sat in his dormitory with the other boys around him, staring at a huge box. He recognised the writing as his grandmother's and the post mark as that of Ballarat, so what else had she sent? It was marked 'fragile'.
"You don't suppose your granddad has sent an exploding experiment, do you?" Richard asked, eyes wide with anticipation.
"I don't think grandma would let him," he laughed.
Tentatively, with all eyes upon him he opened the lid.
"Wow!" he gasped, "oh my, we're in luck lads."
Packets of biscuits: shortbreads, jam drops, chocolate sandwich biscuits all around a large round, and extremely delicious looking chocolate cake.
"Did your grandma make that?" another boy whispered.
Dustin nodded – this was manna from heaven.
"She's an angel," another sighed.
"Lucky bugger," came from the back.
"Yeah, yeah I am," Dustin was moved to tears.
"So, you gonna cut it or display it?" Richard teased. "I'll go and get a knife, shall I?"
Dustin nodded.
While Richard rushed out of the room to get a knife, Dustin took out the biscuits and set them on his locker. They would be alright for a few days the cake demanded immediate attention.
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Eight boys sat around the dormitory ready to add their signatures to the thank you letter to Mrs Blake. Eight boys with full tummies and not a crumb to be found; all had agreed the cake was the best they had ever tasted and had the cheek to add their birthdays to the letter.
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Jean roared with laughter when she read the letter and showed it to Lucien.
"Well, someone knows a good thing when they see it," he smiled, "what are you going to do about that?"
"All names are on the calendar, I'm sure a gift of homemade biscuits will be perfectly acceptable." She folded the letter and tucked it in with all the special notes she had received over the years; first birthday cards from the children, Christmas cards from new friends, sentimental? Of course, but what's life without a little sentiment in it?
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Life continued; Amelia and William went to school, got into trouble and were rescued which Jean was never surprised at, William was Lucien's son and Amelia just seemed to have a bit of a wild side. She was always trying to help her friends out of a pickle which would get her into trouble but it was never anything too serious ... until one day when she and Elizabeth failed to return home.
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It had been a busy day, with the usual household chores and the surgery, then she had started dinner and William had come home – alone.
"Hey, William," she smoothed his wayward curls down, "is Amelia with you?" she looked around.
"Uh huh," he shook his head, "her and Elizabeth didn't find me so I came on my own." He looked quite proud of walking home alone.
"They know they are supposed to make sure you get home safely," she scowled, "now what are they up to?"
"Dunno," he shrugged, "maybe they got held back," he raised his eyebrows and smirked.
"School would have phoned," she set him a biscuit and glass of juice on the table, absent-mindedly.
Jean rang the school to ensure she hadn't missed something but the headmaster denied keeping the girls back, noting they had not got into trouble that day and there were no afterschool activities they should have told her about. She rang the Lawson house but there was no reply, so the girls hadn't stopped off there. This was worrying, neither Amelia or Elizabeth were known for wandering off, that was one thing they were not guilty of having been told after one particular case that they were not to go anywhere without telling one set of parents, and it was rule they stuck to.
Leaving William in the kitchen she headed to the surgery; Lucien should have just about finished and even if he wasn't this wasn't something that could wait. She knocked on the door and stepped in without waiting.
"Sorry to interrupt you, doctor, Mrs Simpson," she went round to his side of the desk, "the girls haven't come home."
"Pardon?" he gasped, "neither of them?"
She shook her head and bit her lip.
"Right, well," he turned back to his patient who he was thankfully just passing the time of day with, "Mrs Simpson, this prescription should help with your sleeping – or lack of ..." he smiled, "if it doesn't work in a week, come back and see me again."
"Thank you, Dr Blake," she smiled, "I'm sure this and your advice will work, now go and find that lovely daughter of yours – I do hope she's alright."
Amelia was well known to most of Lucien's patients and was generally well liked for her politeness to the adults and friendliness to the children.
Jean saw her out and apologised for interrupting.
"Don't worry dear," Mrs Simpson patted her hand, "the children are important and precious. I'm sure they've just got distracted."
"I hope that's all it is," Jean tried to smile, "but we have impressed upon them that they are to come straight home after school."
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"William came home by himself," Jean sat on the couch in the living room, "he said Amelia and Elizabeth weren't there when he got out of school."
"He probably dawdled out as usual," Lucien paced the floor, "but they always wait. School haven't kept them back?"
"No," she shook her head, "and they aren't at the Lawson house, I've already phoned. Alice and Matthew won't know, they were both working today."
"Right," he frowned, "let's not worry them just yet, I'm going over to the school to see if I can find anything. You ring their friends, after that, if we don't get anywhere we'll call Alice and Matthew and start a formal search."
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Lucien pulled the car up near the school and got out. All was quiet, the gates were closed, an empty sweet packet fluttered across the playground in the light breeze but that was all. He looked around the area, scanning the near distance for any sign of a ten year old and an eight year old girl but there was no one in sight.
He studied the ground, turning small stones with the toe of his show. He turned a few next to the gate; one particularly sharp one caught his eye. He picked it up in his handkerchief and studied it. It was almost as big as his palm, sharp –edged, different to the ones close by. The discolouring on one side had him examine it closely – it looked like dried blood, fairly fresh. He squatted down and looked at more of the gravel; it was small, light coloured whereas this stone that he held in his hand was darker and nothing like the surroundings. He took his search to the edges of the gate, to where the natural stone was, the undergrowth and the trees that stood around the school. There were more dark stones and in one spot he found a small pile and broken twigs, flattened grass and torn leaves. Someone had hidden here and targeted the girls, maybe some of the other children too. If that had been the case he imagined Amelia and Elizabeth chasing off whoever, protecting the other children, especially the smaller ones. This stone, the one he held, spoke of a direct hit and an injury.
He moved slowly, careful not to trample anymore signs of struggles or movement – remembering his army training. He passed broken low branches, stepped over footprints in the soil and disturbances in the fallen leaves and other detritus found in woods and forests. There was a piece of cloth caught on one of the low branches, he remembered what Amelia was wearing that morning and this looked like the colour of her dress – a light blue cotton. He had two options: continue to search on his own or go and tell Matthew and have him search with him, bringing a couple of constables might be a good idea as well. Jean would be pacing the floor by now, and as neither of the missing girls had come running up to tell him everything was alright he assumed that her ringing round their friends had yielded nothing.
"Amelia! Elizabeth!" he called as loud as he could then listened. He couldn't hear anything: no answering call or distant cry, no rustling in the undergrowth; he shouted again and again there was nothing. Marking a nearby tree with his tie he headed back to the car and drove into town to get Matthew.
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Earlier that day at the school gates:
"I wish William wouldn't dawdle," Amelia huffed, "I want to get home and try that new recipe mum found."
"What's it for?" Elizabeth was interested.
"She found it in one of Grandmother Blake's old recipe books – it's like a cakey sort of biscuit with a fruit puree filling. Gâteau Breton, dad said his mum used to make it for special occasions." Amelia shifted from one foot to another then shrieked out. "Ow!" she rubbed her hand over the back of her head.
"What?"
"Something hit me ..." she turned round and screamed again.
"Hey!" Elizabeth scowled, "you're bleeding," she touched her forehead. "Someone's throwing stones."
They both looked round but all the other children had left, it was just them waiting for William. Another stone and laughter had them run into the trees from where the stones had come from.
"Hey!" Elizabeth shouted, "Who's there?"
Another stone, larger than the others sailed through the air, struck Amelia and she went down.
"Mill!" Elizabeth went down on her knees, "Milli?" She shook her shoulders gently, "hey," then a curse behind her and her world went black.
"Now what," a boy hissed, "you went too far, Davey."
"It's the copper's kid and the doctor's," the boy referred to as Davey hissed, "he's the one that got my old man taken away."
"You're old man killed another fella, why are you so cut up about it," his friend hissed, "you're in a better place now, so ..."
"He's my dad," Davey grunted, "he wrote to me, it was a bar room brawl, and he didn't kill him, he fell and hit his head, dad did nothin' wrong."
"Come on, Davey, your dad hit you and your mum ..."
"I deserved it, he said so, so did she. Maybe it's time they found out what it was like when someone is took away from you." He began to drag Amelia further into the trees, "bring the other one."
"Davey," the other tugged him back, "let's just leave a note at the house."
"No, too late for that, bring her or I'll tell 'em it was your idea ..."
Further into the trees they stopped.
"This'll do," Davey grunted, "we'll tie 'em up here, gag 'em too – give us yer belt." He held his hand out.
"No, me keks'll fall down," his mate stepped back, "use yours."
Between them they propped the girls up against the tree and tied their hands together around the trunk with Davey's tie and a piece of string he had in his pocket, used the girls' cardigans as gags, stuffing part of the wool into their mouths and using the rest to hold them in place.
Davey stood back and surveyed his handy work.
"Come on, let's go to the hideout," he grabbed his mate's arm, "I nicked some beer from the kitchen."
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"We just hoped they had got distracted and were on their way," Lucien explained to Matthew and Alice, "but, I don't like what I found at the school gates."
"Right," Matthew had put aside his initial fears, panicking would do no one any good, "you two," he pointed to two constables, "up to the school; Bill you go with them. Take torches and ..." he swallowed, "best be armed, just in case."
"Boss," they chorused as Bill unlocked the gun safe.
"We'll be right behind you, I'm going to take you," he turned to Alice gripping her cane, face and knuckles white with terror, "up to Jean, you two can wait by the phone and support each other, ok?" It was rhetorical, he wasn't taking 'no' for an answer.
"Find her, Matthew," she gulped, a solitary tear making its way down her cheek.
"We will, love," he whispered, "now, come on, we have no time to waste."
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Jean and Alice stood with their arms around each other at the door, watching the car speed down the drive and listening to the roar of the engine as Matthew gunned it down the road. Jean knew the pain of waiting for a loved one to return; Christopher senior, young Christopher now, Jack – would he ever come home? – and now Amelia and Elizabeth; it never got any easier.
"Dad and Uncle Matthew'll find them mum," a small voice from behind them made them turn and head back into the house.
She put her free hand round her son and nodded, not able to speak.
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"This is as far as I got," Lucien indicated the tree with the scrap of Amelia's dress still caught on the broken branch and his tie.
"Right," Matthew looked at the ground for any disturbance and saw only what Lucien had seen earlier. "Fan out, lads, call their names and wait for answers. Amelia is wearing a blue cotton dress and ..." he looked at Lucien.
"Her favourite white cardi," Lucien looked upwards remembering how his daughter looked that morning, "her shoes are brown and she wears white socks.
"Elizabeth had a green check dress and green cardi, this morning, her socks are also white – or they were this morning – and her shoes are brown like Amelia's." Matthew stared off into the trees.
The search was slow, torches swung left and right and their names were called.
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At the tree Amelia had started to come round, her head ached and she felt sick but there was nothing she could do. She couldn't move or spit out the gag in her mouth so she couldn't answer the calls. She could feel Elizabeth's hands tied to hers and gave her a little squeeze feeling one in return, she gained strength from knowing her friend was alive and with her. She couldn't remember what happened apart from running into the trees to find out who was throwing stones at them. All they could do was wait.
Elizabeth was suffering as much as Amelia with a headache and feeling sick; she swallowed and sniffed. She had come round sooner than her friend as was relieved to finally feel a squeeze to her fingers. She grunted through the gag, trying to form words, to say Amelia's name.
Amelia grunted back, slightly louder. Elizabeth squeezed her fingers again but all they could do now was listen for the familiar voices.
Hobart yelled again, Amelia squeezed Elizabeth's finger and they grunted as loud as they could. It wasn't too loud and it hurt their throats but perhaps if he was near it would be enough; they grunted again, they knew people were looking for them.
Bill looked behind him at Blake and Lawson who were just close enough for him to signal silence, he yelled again, "Amelia, Elizabeth!" Again, he could just make out a grunting noise and perhaps a scrabbling in the leaves and small sticks that littered the forest floor. Bill pointed in front of him and the two other men made their way quickly towards them.
"If they're managing to make noises chances are they've been left," Blake whispered, "but best be on our guard."
They swept their torches in front of them until Bill suddenly ran forward. Just as his torch had swept to his left he saw them, or at least two arms tied together at the wrists on the side of a tree. Ignoring any fears he may have that someone may just be waiting to blow his brains out he yelled he could see them.
"Bill!" Blake spun round sending up a shower of dry leaves and dirt, "wait!"
But Bill Hobart was already on his knees cutting through the tie and the string with his penknife – not standard issue but he always carried it - and then pulling the gags down.
"It's ok, ladies," he smiled, "you're safe now, your dads are here, we've got you."
Amelia burst into tears as Lucien squatted down in front of her and stroked her cheek. He could see the cut on her forehead and slipped his hands to the back to feel a lump and the dried blood from another injury. He leant forward and kissed her forehead.
"Daddy," she hiccupped, "oh daddy."
"It's alright pet," he smiled, "we'll get you both checked out at the hospital then home to your mother's tender care. I must just check Elizabeth, won't be a mo'." He kissed her again then went round to the other side of the tree where Matthew was holding his daughter so tight she could barely breathe.
"Let me see, Matthew," he murmured gently, and drew his hand slowly over the back of Elizabeth's head, feeling a lump like Amelia's. "Same treatment for you, sweetie," he kissed the top of her head, "then your mother's care."
Matthew wrapped his jacket round her and lifted her into his arms.
"Daddy?" she sniffed.
"Tell me later, love," he kissed her, another of the many kisses he had peppered her face and head with, "you're safe, that's all that matters."
She nestled into his shoulder, safe and warm.
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Jean ran up the hall to the front door and wrenched it open.
"Mrs Blake," the constable had a smile on his face. "we've found them ..."
"Where?" Alice appeared behind Jean with William.
"Tied to a tree, they seem ok, the doc said you should go to the hospital ..."
Neither woman bothered with a coat; Jean just grabbed the keys from the hall table and slammed the door shut behind them. The constable opened the doors of his car and as they drove told them all he knew – where the girls were found and what state they were in.
"Bumped heads ..." the constable pulled into the car into the hospital car park.
Jean had stopped listening when she heard '... they're alive ...' that was all she needed to know. Alice had listened to how they were found, the condition they were in as well as the head injuries; she knew Lucien would tell her the truth about Elizabeth's injuries and any likely after effects.
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Lucien had run into the hospital carrying Amelia, closely followed by Matthew with Elizabeth in his arms demanding immediate x-rays for the girls, a nurse and a room to be made read for the both of them.
He relented and let nurses help the girls out of their dirty clothes, wash them and dress them in small gowns while he waited both for his wife to arrive and the x-rays to be processed. Matthew paced with him threatening all sorts of pain for whoever had hurt his little girl.
"Lucien!" Jean's voice stopped him. She was running up the corridor with his wife and William, "Lucien," she gasped.
"They're alright, both of them," he wrapped his arms round her and kissed her, "Elizabeth seems to have just the one head injury, our Amelia has two, one on her forehead and another at the back of her head. I don't think any of them are serious, and I hope they can come home tonight."
Matthew held Alice and stroked her head as she let silent tears fall, Elizabeth was more than just her daughter, she was the child she never thought she would want, the one she didn't know she needed until Amelia came along then she had arrived, a complete surprise; the very idea she could be taken away from her by some ne'er do well had hit her like a ten ton truck.
"What happened?" she sniffed, looking into Matthew's soft grey eyes.
"Don't know just yet," he hummed, "I haven't questioned them, not yet. That can wait. Blake has given them the once over and had x-rays done, we're waiting for them then he hopes they can both go home – with you two bein' doctors."
When the x-rays were delivered Lucien and Alice stared at them and decided both girls were the luckiest children in Ballarat. Neither had sustained real damage though Amelia had a small hairline fracture over her eyebrow. They went into the room where Jean and William now sat with Amelia and Matthew sat with Elizabeth. The girls looked pale and both had dark circles round their eyes, accentuated by the bright white bandage round their heads.
Alice went straight over to Elizabeth and kissed her forehead.
"'Lo, mum," Elizabeth croaked, "sorry."
"What are you sorry for," she held her hand, "I doubt you did this deliberately."
"Uh huh," her daughter cleared her throat, "someone threw stones at Amelia and they laughed so we ran after them – I guess we shouldn't have ..."
"It was a bit rash, love," Matthew smiled softly.
"But they kept throwing the stones, we didn't see who it was, they hid and then one threw a bigger stone and it knocked Amelia out. When I knelt down to see someone hit me over the back of the head."
"We didn't see who it was Uncle Matthew," Amelia sniffed, "we'd tell you if we did."
"You didn't hear their voices?" Lucien asked.
"No, daddy," Amelia frowned and winced, "just their laughing, but I think they were big boys, they sounded like big boys, they didn't have squeaky voices like William."
"I don't have a squeaky voice," William piped up crossly.
"I know what she means, son," Lucien laughed and ruffled his wavy hair. "Sounds like a couple of teenagers."
Matthew didn't know how they were going to find two teenagers who had abandoned his daughter and her friend in the woods. The only evidence would be the footprints and as he and the other officers plus Blake had trampled all over those ... there was the tie the girls had been bound with but that was a Ballarat West tie and hundreds of boys wore those. He grunted his annoyance; there would be some way to bring these lads to face the justice he decided they needed.
"I know that head injuries should stay in hospital for twenty-four hours," Lucien and Alice conferred, "but I'm thinking we should all decamp to our place, I've enough in the surgery should we need anything ..."
"Elizabeth can have the room Dustin uses," Jean looked across the room, "they'll be close to each other and not too far away from us."
"Jean," Alice sighed, "you don't have to ..."
"Yes, I do," she smiled, "the girls will worry about each other and at least we might be able to get some sleep." Jean did not plan on leaving her daughter alone in the hospital and she doubted Alice would leave Elizabeth, at least at their house they would have some comfort.
"Jean's right, love," Matthew put his arm across Alice's shoulders, "you won't leave Elizabeth and she won't leave Amelia – it's the best way."
So it was agreed that everyone should sleep at the Blake's house that night, in the morning they could see how the girls were and whether or not they should stay another day and night.
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The following day everyone was tired. None of the adults had got much sleep; Alice dozed in Matthew's arms then woke and went to check on Elizabeth, poking her nose into Amelia's room as well, Jean did the same when checking on Amelia and Lucien timed his sleep pattern to check on both of them regularly.
Matthew drove William to school and told him he would be collected by one of the adults he knew; mother, father, Auntie Alice or Uncle Matthew.
"Maybe one of my men, but that's all, lad, no one you don't know."
"Ok, Uncle Matthew," he slipped out of the car seat, "when can I walk home by myself again?"
"That's up to your parents, William," Matthew put on his best Chief Superintendant scowl, "but for now, until we find these boys and why they did what they did to your sister, this is how it will be."
"Yessir," William nodded with full understanding.
"Good lad," Matthew smiled, "now go learn stuff."
"Ok, see you later," William waved and Matthew watched him run into the playground.
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Two worried looking women were waiting for Matthew when he arrived at the station.
"Boss," Bill caught him as he entered the office, "these two ladies are missing sons."
"They are, are they," Matthew took of his cap and fingered the brim and peak, "this way ladies and tell me all. Hobart with me."
"Boss," he grabbed a notepad and made ready to take notes.
The two women followed him into an interview room and were offered seats at the table. Matthew observed for a moment, committing their appearance to memory. Both women were clean and tidy, if a little shabbily dressed. Neither wore much make-up as far as he could see, their hair was set firm with spray, he assumed, under their plain hats. The corner of one woman's bag was worn, scuffed like an old shoe and as for their shoes, well polished leather softened with age.
"Now ladies, when did your boys go missing?"
"Last evening, sir," one stammered, "our Davey and her Shane ..."
"Named after the film," the other confirmed what he suspected.
"Yeah," the first woman huffed obviously unimpressed at the choice, "well, they went off after school, said they was goin' fishin' but never came home. They weren't at the place they like to fish nor any other of their hangouts but I reckoned they'd come home when they wanted feeding."
"But they didn't?" Matthew raised an eyebrow.
"No sir, they did not," Davey's mother huffed. "we're worried, they might be hurt, lyin' in a ditch somewhere ..." her eyes widened with fear.
"Quite, well let's hope not, eh? Is there anything missing from the house, money, food ..."
"Four bottles of beer," Davey's mother frowned, "our Davey's a bit of a tearaway, too much like his father in the way of likin' a beer and him only sixteen. It was his dad that got him into drinking – just the half bottle on a Saturday mind, not reg'lar – but his dad, well you put him away for killing that man at the pub ..." she bit her lip, "Alfred Dawson? Mind I don't approve but Davey's a big lad and I can't fight him ..."
Matthew and Bill saw the situation for what it was. He did remember the Dawson case, and he also had had a feeling then that Dawson was a wife beater and possibly beat his son too – now it would seem the boy took after his father and threatened his mother. She wasn't a big woman, all skin and bone and looked older than she probably was – the signs of a hard life and a rough marriage.
From what the women said as the discussion continued Davey was the leader and Shane just trailed in his wake. Neither had been in trouble with the police but were quite often in strife at school for fighting or disrespectful behaviour to the staff. Bill took down their preferred loitering spots and noted there was one quite close to the school the boss' daughter attended – he had a feeling.
"Right, ladies," Matthew stood and smiled, offering his hand he assured them that every effort would be made to find their errant progeny and bring them home in one piece – he mentioned nothing about the girls experience the previous night.
After the ladies had left Bill had a quick conversation with Matthew and set off with a couple of burly constables; Matthew, meanwhile, started to look through the files pertaining to the Dawson case. He read through the autopsy report that told him the victim had been subject to a prolonged beating outside the pub and that he had died from a bleed to the brain caused by repeatedly having his head struck against the doorway to the back of the building. The statements told of a disagreement over a place at the bar; Dawson claimed he had been pushed aside but everyone else said he was doing the shoving – it all boiled down to a childish disagreement, Matthew decided and because of drink a man lost his life. Dawson was locked up in a cell in Melbourne so Matthew thought he would ring the warden and see how the land lay. Did he have visitors, letters or other communication with his wife or son?
Letters only, it appeared. His wife had not visited him and Davey had been turned away at the gate as it was not a visiting day when he turned up.
"Can't let 'em in willy-nilly, Chief Superintendant," the warden grumbled, "not a train station y'know."
"Quite," Matthew agreed.
"He does write to the lad, though," he continued, "proclaiming his innocence, the man fell ..."
"Several times, according to my police surgeon," Matthew muttered. "Well, that's all I want to know," he sighed, "I think I know what's going on. Thanks for your time."
"No worries, you have a good day."
Matthew thought it would be a good day if he found the boys, returned them to their home and gave them a good stern talking to about retribution – divine or legal.
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Amelia and Elizabeth were having a relaxing, treat filled day with their mothers. They had a lazy breakfast of whatever they wanted, were allowed to laze around the garden, read if their heads let them, listen to music on the gramophone and doze when they needed to.
Matthew called over at lunchtime to take down their statements, though Alice said he timed it for then in the hopes of a nice lunch, he grinned, kissed her and sat at the kitchen table.
The girls had no more to say than they told him yesterday, they went to see who was throwing stones at them while they waited for William to 'get his skates on', went into the wooded area and heard laughing – two boys, they thought, older than them, but they didn't see them. Amelia was knocked out by a heavier stone and Elizabeth was hit on the back of the head when she bent down to see how badly hurt she was. When they woke up they were tied to the tree and gagged and that was it.
Lucien joined them for lunch after surgery and the four of them sat down to a freshly made ham and egg flan, salad and strawberries for dessert.
"All my patients send their love to you two," he smiled, "glad to hear you are back with us and will be alright."
"That's kind of them," Amelia noted.
"On the whole, sweetie," he took a large slice of flan, "people are kind and generous. It's only the minority that are prone to be unkind."
"It took me a long time to see that," Alice mused, "but I'm glad I did, finally."
"Did you always think people were bad, mum?" Elizabeth tipped her head.
"For a long time, dear, yes," Alice admitted, "I didn't have as nice a childhood as I hope you are having ..."
"I'm having a great time," Elizabeth smiled, "thank you for having me."
Matthew laughed; even she knew that she was the ultimate surprise for her mother.
"You were a lovely surprise," Alice grinned back.
Jean got up to answer the door, all Lucien's patients had attended their appointments but it was just Bill Hobart to say that the boys had been found, in a little shed-like affair not far from where the girls were found, though in the opposite direction. They had been sleeping off the beer Davey had taken from the kitchen at his home and easily admitted to him that they had been the ones to throw stones.
"It wasn't supposed to go that far," Shane whined, "just a few stones then run off. But that one, the one that belongs to the doctor, came after us and it kinda got out of hand."
Bill had also lifted a basket of sweets and treats left on the doorstep and said he thought this was for the 'little misses'. The card indicated it was from all Lucien's patients to help the girls recover. Jean looked at the abundance of sugar and just thought it would make them sick – but it was a kind thought and they could find their own ways of saying 'thank you'.
Matthew and Lucien decided they would both go and interview the two miscreants and perhaps deliver a lecture on hurting people that have done you no harm – or something like that. Alice asked Lucien to hold Matthew back if he got too angry.
"He was ready to give them the same treatment last night," she whispered, "I don't want my husband locked up for grievous bodily harm to a teenager."
"I'm afraid I thought on much the same lines," Lucien shrugged into his jacket, "these boys need a strong warning, what they did was wrong, we could have lost our girls, Alice ..." he squeezed her arm.
"But we didn't, thank god; I'm not saying go easy on them, just don't go too far."
"We won't," he smiled, "we have you and Jean to come home to ... we have family."
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Bill had done everything by the book; the boys' mothers had been alerted and had arrived at the station where the boys were kept in two different interview rooms. Shane's mother had clipped him over the back of his head when she heard he was to be questioned in connection with the disappearance of Chief Superintendant Lawson and Dr Blake's daughters and that he had already admitted to Senior Sergeant Hobart that it was them that had hit the girls and tied them to a tree.
"It was Davey's idea," he snivelled, "he said they should see how it felt to have someone took away from them – 'cos of his dad."
"Davey Dawson's dad is a bludger, and you know it," she clipped him again, "now I like Aggie Dawson, if she hadn't fell wrong with Davey then she might a' met a better man ... Alf Dawson is a murderer and don't you let Davey tell you any different ..." she gave him another slap just because.
In the other room Mrs Dawson was just shaking her head sadly, "Oh Davey, what did you do?"
"Shut up, you slag," he growled back, "why do you think, eh?"
Matthew grabbed his arm and threw him down into a chair, "You show a bit of respect to your mother, boy," he snapped, "she's the one that puts food on your table and sees you have clothes to wear."
Davey sat with a mutinous look on his face but said no more.
Matthew offered his mother a seat and sat opposite them. He didn't expect her to defend her son; she just seemed too disappointed to bother.
"Now, Davey, about the two girls you threw stones at ..."
He shrugged and folded his arms.
"... why? Two girls much younger than you who were just waiting to walk one's brother home, doing nothing to you ..."
"You don't know that," he spat.
"... doing nothing to you but you see fit to throw stones at them. I bet you didn't expect them to chase after you."
Davey shrugged his shoulders again and continued to glower at the floor.
"Weren't doin' no harm," he muttered.
"The first stone cut Amelia Blake's forehead," Matthew leant forward over the table, "the second hit the back of her head, I don't call that 'doing no harm', do you? However, why didn't you just run away, why did you wait until they were far enough into the trees to start again and this time, knock Miss Blake out ...?" his voice had got louder.
Mrs Dawson gasped, "Oh Davey" she bit her lip.
"You and her dad put mine in jail," he snapped, "now you know how it feels to lose someone."
"Your father killed a man," Matthew slapped the table.
"He fell, hit his head, dad said so," Davey clung to the lie his father had told him in his later letter.
"According to the autopsy report, the one Dr Blake wrote about his injuries, Derek Webber died from multiple blows to his head, so you are saying he fell multiple times?"
Davey swallowed and bit his lip. "Dad said he fell when they was havin' a tussle."
Matthew sighed, it was obvious Davey believed his father.
"Oh Davey," his mother's voice trembled, "you know your dad has a temper ... you've seen him hit me."
"You deserve it," he narrowed his eyes, "dad should have a decent meal after work, not what you make."
"If your dad gave me some housekeeping maybe I would, most of his wages goes to the pub ..."
"Dad works hard," Davey persisted.
"What does your dad do, Davey?" Matthew asked.
"He's a ganger on the railways," he picked his nails and chewed a piece off, spitting it onto the floor.
Matthew stood up and went to the door, "Constable!" he bellowed.
"Sir," the youngest, greenest recruit skidded to a halt in front of him.
"Fetch me a broom."
"Sir," he ran off to find a broom somewhere in the station and returned with the required implement and a dustpan and small brush to lift whatever rubbish was collected.
"Here, boy," Matthew handed the broom to the boy who Hobart had hauled out of the chair and was now holding by the collar. Mrs Dawson wondered for a moment what the Chief Superintendant was going to do with the broom and was faintly relieved to see him shove it into Davey's hand and tell him to start sweeping ...
"... and not just the part you spat on," he growled.
At first Davey barely tickled the floor with the brush until Bill told him to put his back into it; that he wanted to be able to eat his lunch off the floor when he was finished – Matthew wondered if they should bring in a mop too.
It seemed to take forever for the boy to sweep to Matthew's exacting standards, Mrs Dawson was invited for a cup of tea in the main office so she didn't have to dance round Davey's haphazard swinging of the long handled-brush.
Bill took the equipment off him and pushed him back down into his seat, "Don't apply for a job as a cleaner lad," he advised him.
"Your father may have earned a good wage but he didn't give much to your mother," Matthew continued the interview, "seemed to have little idea of how much food costs. He murdered the man he was fighting with, all over a space at the bar, childish, ridiculous but no more than I would expect from some drunken wife-beater."
"He fell," Davey sulked.
Matthew huffed and opened the file in front of him, he didn't usually do this but perhaps it would explain to the boy why his father was in prison.
"This," he pointed to the photograph of a head – the side of it completely caved in, a deep 'V' shape splitting the side of the skull open. Matthew was glad the photograph was in black and white, colour would have been even more sickening, "was the result of Mr Webber's 'fall', that dent in the side of his head is half way into his brain, do you understand, boy?" he glared at him, "do you not see that this would not happen with a fall, or even a slight push into a wall; your father repeatedly bashed his head against the corner of the doorway behind the pub – murder, simple murder. Now, what have Amelia Blake and Elizabeth Lawson done to you?" he was leaning over the boy now, menacingly.
Davey decided to say no more; he still didn't believe his father did this to Webber, he couldn't believe he would do such a thing, it made him feel sick.
Matthew had had enough of facing this little toe-rag and asked Bill to take him down to a cell to think while he talked to his mate.
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Shane had been waiting nervously with his mother in the other interview room. Mrs Wilson had been giving him the benefit of her wisdom, about hanging around with boys who thought it was alright to throw stones at little girls then leave them tied to a tree.
"Honestly, Shane, I thought I raised you better," she folded her arms and frowned at him. "You could've stopped him."
"Mum," he stuttered, "you know what he's like, he'd a' given me a pastin' if I'd tried."
"So why go around with him? Stand up for yourself son, or those he picks on – you follow him like a lap dog." She scolded. "And why didn't you go and let the doctor or the Chief know, eh? Could a' got yourself out of a lot of trouble, well, whatever punishment you get you take it like a man, you understand?"
"Yes, mum," he muttered.
The door opened and Chief Superintendant strode in and Mrs Wilson nudged her son into standing up.
"Sorry, guv," he gulped, "for your daughter."
Matthew stopped in mid-step.
"I didn't know how far Davey was goin' to go. He said he just wanted to scare her."
Matthew continued to the table and sat down, indicating the mother and son should take the chairs opposite him.
"Well, Shane," he hummed, "I ask you why you didn't stop him."
"Chief ..."
"'s'ok mum, like you said, I should take responsibility." He touched her arm, "it's like this, Chief Superintendant, Davey is what my mum would call 'strong willed', he bullies – I suppose you would say – anyone who doesn't follow him. Some of us follow 'cos we don't want a beatin'. We've been mates for all our lives and when his dad was in town he was ok, thumped a few, got cheeky with the teachers and the head sent him home some times, but ... well his dad thumped him and I guess he thought that was how you got along. I know what we did was wrong and I could have stopped him, or sent you a note, but the beer went to my head and I fell asleep. I'm glad your girl and the doctor's is ok, that you found them, but I'm sorry I didn't do more."
Shane took a deep breath and sat down.
Matthew folded his hands together on the table and thought. The boy had had time to think – not a bad thing – and to listen to his mother for he was sure that she had given him a stern talking too, the way she pursed her lips and sat with her handbag clutched on her lap. Mrs Wilson, he thought, didn't take any messing about.
"Covering your own back, then, lad?"
"Some, sir," he nodded, "I was stupid, I wanted to stay in one piece."
"Hm," Matthew tapped his finger ends together, "you know, son, the best way to see your mate right is to stand your ground; it isn't easy, you stand the chance of an argument, but you are doing him a favour. Tough love."
"Yessir," Shane nodded. "I did tell him he'd gone too far, that he was in a better place now his dad was in jail – he said his dad hadn't killed the man it was an accident."
"Sorry, Shane," Matthew shook his head sadly, "it was murder, and you are right, he is in a better place now, but he has to understand that."
"I see sir, I think," Shane frowned, "Davey isn't a bad lad, not really, but his dad ..."
"Alf Dawson is not a good father," Mrs Wilson chipped in. "My husband is gone, but he was kind to Shane and taught him right from wrong. He also told him the best way to help someone onto the right path was to show them, but as Shane says, Davey is a bully, like his father. Whatever punishment you hand out to Shane, he deserves it and he will take it like the man his father was."
"Well, Shane, Mrs Wilson," he looked from one to the other, "aiding a kidnapping is a jail-able offence you know."
Shane gulped.
"But I don't think that's what you deserve, to be locked up with men like Alf Dawson and one or two others I know of. I'm going to ask that you be taken down to my cells while I think on what to do with the both of you."
"Yes sir," Shane bit his bottom lip.
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"So," Lucien tapped the desk, "you have a soft spot for Shane?"
"Not as such, he's a good lad lead astray ..." Matthew sighed, "come on, Blake, how many times did you try to lead me astray at that age?"
"Yeah, but with girls and not kidnapping them for an ulterior motive, I never did that, Matthew, I just wanted you to live a little, sow a few wild oats that was all."
Matthew tipped his head and thought about the times they dated girls, went to dances in order to find a girl and though he went as far as kissing, maybe petting, he didn't take as many to bed, or to the back seat of his father's car, as Lucien. Maybe Lucien had lived more than he had, they had both served in the war though he had not suffered prison camp, or torture, but he had had his moments – he was just careful not to leave a line of illegitimate offspring in his wake – he had no idea if Blake had any other children other than Li or William – he hoped not.
"Yeah, I know," he sighed, "I guess knowing what I knew about my father I didn't want to become that man, the one that abandoned women he bedded when they got caught. I know, somewhere I have half siblings, my father was a ... a ... jeez Blake, he was a rat, he was unfaithful to my mother, who he only married because I was on the way!"
"Lawson? Matthew, I'm sorry, I never knew ... "
"Well, it's not something to crow about, is it?" Matthew snarled.
"No, but," Lucien put his hand on his friend's shoulder, "your father gave me the best friend I could ever have had. You were with me when my mother died, you didn't give up on me when I was shipped out to Melbourne and you were here when I came back – both times, thank you, Matthew."
Matthew cleared his throat in embarrassment, "well, what do I do with these two?"
"You're the copper, Matthew," Lucien grinned.
"Bloody hell, Blake, they're kids ..."
"...like we were kids?"
He tipped his head, "I want to let Shane off, but he should have some kind of punishment, he didn't stop Davey Dawson but he seems genuinely remorseful and I don't want him spending time in a jail – hell he could meet men like Alfred Dawson," his eyebrows hit his hairline at the thought.
"How about," Lucien let his eyes wander round the room, "he does some work in the community, something in the gardens, sweeping, tending to the grass under supervision of course, litter clearing ..." he raised his shoulders, "I'm sure some local business could use a gopher."
"Hmm, maybe," Matthew sighed, "it would be a better idea. What about Davey?"
"Matthew, I'm your police surgeon and my daughter was an injured party, so was yours." Blake pushed away from the desk.
"I know, and a darn good reader of people, so ... what do I do?"
"I don't know, you don't want him to go to jail in Melbourne, or even to any kind of jail, so, same as Shane but he sleeps in your cells."
"This isn't a hotel, Blake, and we aren't set up to have anyone for more than a night sleeping off excess booze – and we don't serve food."
"No, but it would keep him off the streets, I could ask Jean to see to his breakfast and food – though it wouldn't be her usual – something plain, sustaining but not exciting?"
"Wouldn't it be a good idea if you talked to Jean first?" Matthew repressed the urge to grin; how many times had Lucien volunteered Jean's services without her knowing.
Lucien coughed, " ahem, you could be right."
"Look, Blake," Matthew returned to business, "these boy did something reprehensible, they hurt two girls, for one of them it was deliberate, a determined act to get back at the people he thought had set the world against him the other was scared, too scared to push his own values forward. Shane knows what happened was wrong, Davey – well I'm not so sure. He still believes his father did nothing wrong, and I even showed him the pictures of Webber's head ..."
Blake shuddered, he had seen it first hand for a boy of sixteen to see it even in a photograph ...
"... I know," he held his hands up, "but I thought I could shock him into seeing the truth. I still hate the thought of him ending up in a jail on a charge of kidnap with a load of thugs and murderers. It's not going to end well, especially as it was children he kidnapped. So, what do I do with him? Refrom school?"
"Reform school would take him to Melbourne. He's sixteen though, Matthew, due to leave school anyway – nothing to stop him walking out of whichever school and into god knows where or what. If you go through the courts you will have to send Shane too, a detention centre is the least you could expect."
"I could make a recommendation about Shane," Matthew relaxed back in his chair, I do want them, particularly Davey, to see there are consequences. Davey's going to be a hard nut to crack."
They worked through various scenarios of what they could do but in the end it was inevitable – they would charge Davey with kidnap and Shane with aiding in a kidnap and Matthew would make a recommendation for Shane to be handed down a light sentence of some kind of community service and to present himself at the station daily for a period of time determined by the judge.
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"Shane was wrong to do what he did, Chief Superintendant," Mrs Wilson lifted her bag, "he has to face the consequences. He's not a bad lad, not usually, but he shouldn't have done what he did. You do your job, sir, Shane will learn."
Matthew thought she was remarkably sanguine about the situation and hoped the in the future her son would not be appearing in his station on the wrong side of the law.
Mrs Dawson was much more worried for her son. She agreed he too should face the consequences but her worry was that he would end up behind bars.
"I'm hoping for a detention centre rather than prison, Mrs Dawson," Matthew sighed, "but I can't promise anything. Your son broke the law, it has nothing to do with it being my daughter or Dr Blake's, kidnap is kidnap, and this was the kidnap of children. Miss Blake is ten years old, my daughter only eight ..."
"I know, and he has to face up to his wrong-doin', but if he goes into a jail he's not going to come out any better, is he? His dad's in there for life."
"His father murdered a man, Mrs Dawson," Matthew reminded her, "he deserves his sentence ..."
"I know, and I'm well rid of him, but I don't want Davey to go down the same way, you know? Try and keep him out of a place like that, Mr Lawson, please."
Matthew told her he couldn't make any promises but he hoped Davey would learn his lesson from this and try and stay on the straight and narrow.
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Davey showed no remorse when he appeared in court to answer the charges of kidnap and even though the judge was mindful of his age his attitude saw him sentenced to time in prison. Shane said much the same as he had said to Matthew in the interview, how sorry he was, how he knew it was wrong but he was afraid of getting beaten up by Davey – another thing that went against Davey. Shane was given a short detention in a centre to be followed by daily visits to the police station in Ballarat and a year of serving the community wherever he could be found work. His saving was a letter from Amelia and Elizabeth saying that they had met Shane and accepted his apology and that he had been kind enough to bring them both sweets and flowers by way of saying how sorry he was.
"He is sorry, daddy," Amelia yawned one evening, "but the other boy is still mean, and he was mean to Shane."
"Yes, love, I know, but if anyone throws stones at you again, don't go running after them, will you?"
"No, daddy, I won't."
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Matthew and Alice had a similar conversation with Elizabeth and she agreed that if anything like that ever happened again they would scream and shout as loud as they could.
"Good, they should hear you in Bendigo then, sweetheart," he laughed.
"Probably even as far as Melbourne, darling," Alice lay her head on his shoulder and he slipped his arm round her waist as they watched their daughter fall asleep.
"Yeah," he murmured softly.