Thank you for the kind review of this alternative version of how the Blake and Beazley family stories become one.

This chapter moves through the timescale in chunks, Thomas was not the same type of police surgeon as Lucien was, as we know from Matthew's remarks during the show so long cases are not relevant, making it a more domestic story.

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Nothing much of note happened over the next few months. Thomas explained all that was going on in Europe, it terrified her, the factions taking over. The situation in Singapore worried him more, if Europe descended into war, then the East, particularly Japan would become forceful - was how he put it.

"It's Lucien, Jean," he ran his hand over his increasingly sparse fair hair, "he and Mei Lin, he thinks she's expecting, what about the child?"

"From what you tell me about him," she soothed him, "and what Matthew said about him sticking up for the little man at school, against the bullies, he will make sure they will be alright. Somehow." Though she had no idea how.

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Singapore:

Captain Blake, while overjoyed at the prospect of fatherhood was almost as worried as his father. Being in the heart of Malaysia he felt every move, heard every utterance of dissent, rumour and conjecture, and he was concerned for the well being of his wife and unborn child. He had suggested he send her somewhere safer.

"Such as?" she had questioned, "I should be by your side, husband."

"By my side may well be in battle, darling," he held her close, "and that is not where I want my wife and child to be."

"You are over dramatising," she huffed, "nothing will happen."

He wasn't so sure, and wondered how easy it would be, should it become necessary, to get them both to safety, Australia, Ballarat, his father. Steady old reliable dad, but, he seemed to have softened. Lucien had thought he would be cut off without a shilling when he announced his marriage to a Chinese woman, but it would seem not. He knew his father had a new housekeeper, a Mrs Beazley, perhaps she was keeping him in line. Lucien imagined a stern, large woman, with a rolling pin permanently attached to her hand. He knew nothing about the woman and his father had not seen fit to enlighten him, save she was a good cook, kept the place spotless and organised his practice and his patients. Lucien made a mental note not to cross her, if ever they should meet.

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While Lucien was worrying about Mei Lin's safety, always insisting she be escorted when she went out for a walk, her father, his friend, Derek Alderton or a group of service wives, she was preparing for the birth of their baby. New nursery equipment, interviewing for a nanny which Lucien didn't understand, his mother had raised him, cooked, cleaned, painted and been a wife to his father, without a nanny, he thought Mei Lin should be the one to feed and clothe their child. But, she had been raised by a nanny and it would mean she would be able to attend the army functions without worrying who was going to look after the baby.

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Thomas was busy with an autopsy. A young man had been beaten to death and his body dumped into Lake Wendouree. That was all he could say. There was no readable identification in his wallet and nobody had reported a fair haired man missing. He mused about it at the lunch table with Jean.

"Wet paper, you say," Jean pursed her lips. "In a clump?"

"Stuck inside his wallet," Thomas nodded, "Bill daren't pull it out and if he did it would probably fall apart."

"Can I see it?" she asked, "maybe ..."

"I suppose it wouldn't do any harm, let me ring Bill and ask him to run it over."

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Senior Constable Bill Hobart had no idea why the doc would want the boy's wallet at home. Without a half decent Inspector at the helm he just shrugged his shoulders and headed over to the house.

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Jean put a slice of cake and a cup of tea in front of Bill and took the wallet out of the evidence bag. She held it between forefinger and thumb and looked round it. It was wet, slimy leather. She placed it on a newspaper and picked up the tweezers she usually used for makeup purposes and started to ease out a bundled of notes. She used the tweezers to separate two pound notes and a ten shilling note and lie them on the newspaper. Then she eased out the driving license - not an Australian one. It was a piece of paper, folded in two with blackletter script.

"Not an Australian," the doctor hummed, "German."

"Oh," Jean gasped, "Oh, don't tell me he was killed because of his country of birth, oh, doctor, that's awful."

"There have been murmurings," Thomas sighed, sadly. "Whatever the papers print is believed, and some will try to rid the town of a perceived threat. Jean," he reached over and patted her hand, "you've worked out the why, now it's up to Bill and the boys to work out the who." He turned to Mary who was sitting watching her mother with awe, "very clever, your mama, Sunny," he smiled, "very clever indeed."

"Yay! mama!" she clapped her little hands together.

"Yay, mama, indeed," Bill grinned. "Thanks, Jean," he stood up, "I'll get this down to the boss, and see if we can find out who was seen with him on the night he was killed."

"Now then, Jean," Dr Blake stood up, "I don't want to lose you to the police force, but, you are going to be in demand for solving some of their riddles."

"Don't worry, doctor," she laughed, "I'm quite happy here, but if you need any help ..."

"Right," he smiled, "best get ready for surgery, do I expect one or other of the Clasby ladies?"

"Nell, today," she nodded, "just a check up, so she says."

"Lovely," he patted Sunny's head, "she's in perfect health, you know, I think she's keeping an eye on one of us."

"Doctor!" Jean was shocked.

"Not in that way," he hastened to put her at her ease, "more to make sure neither of us are being targeted by the gossips."

Jean relaxed, visibly, "right, well, I do hear whispers, as you know, doctor, but they aren't too bad. Just mild inferences."

"You would tell me, wouldn't you?" he looked concerned, "if there were rumblings ..."

"I would," she agreed, "now, all your patient notes are on your desk ..."

"Then I shall go and see what we have."

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And so, life in Ballarat went on. The men who had beaten up the young German boy were found, boasting about it after another report in the paper about his country of birth. How they would like to get their hands on the 'bloody krauts' and show them how democracy worked. Bill and a couple of other coppers, one a sergeant Doug Ashby, hauled them in and said they would show them how democracy and justice worked in Australia and promptly had them charged with murder and sent to be tried in Melbourne.

"Can't have that kind of attitude here," Dr Blake grumbled one evening the following week.

"Quite," Jean nodded, glad that he saw things that way, as his daughter in law was Chinese.

"We are a young country Jean," he sipped his whisky, "built with the help of immigrants, those that have left their mother countries for a better life."

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Mary knew what birthdays were, now. A bright and inquisitive three year old she bounced into her mother's bedroom that morning and leapt onto the bed.

"Mama! Mama!" she pulled the covers down, "wake up!"

Jean turned and grinned, "boo!" she laughed and grabbed her daughter and tickled her.

"Happy birthday, darling Sunny," she kissed her, "how grown up you are."

"Breakfast, mama!" she tugged on her arm.

Jean stood and took her robe off the back of the door, pink candlewick, soft and comforting, she would wrap Mary up in it when she felt sad or tired.

"Come on then," she held out her hand, "wash, dress then pancakes this morning?"

"Yes please," Mary nodded emphatically, pancakes were her favourite.

Somehow the morning wash was completed more quickly than usual. Jean saw to Mary and sent her back to her room to dress, her clothes had been set out the night before, while she strip washed and cleaned her teeth.

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Dressed in a green day dress printed with white flowers, a white collar and short sleeves, her hair brushed and make-up lightly applied, Jean went to fetch her daughter and see if she needed any help.

Mary was sitting on the floor pulling on her socks, the buttons on her butter yellow dress fastened, adrift by one. Jean smiled, picked her up and sat her on the bed.

"Let's sort out these buttons, shall we?" she smiled and tidied her up, then brushed the chestnut curls and tied the front off her face with a ribbon bow. "Off you go," Jean patted her bottom and watched her trot out of the room and down the stairs.

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On the table in the kitchen were Mary's birthday gifts and cards, all wrapped in pretty paper.

"Now, you can open them while I make your pancakes and the doctor's bacon and eggs," Jean filled the kettle, "would you like hot chocolate this morning?"

"I'd like pancakes, Jean," a voice from the kitchen door floated over the sound of presents being unwrapped, "if it isn't too much trouble?"

"Good morning, Dr Blake," Jean turned from her task, "and of course you can have pancakes, can't he Sunny?"

"Good morning, doc-doc," Mary grinned up at him, "yes, you can."

"Happy birthday, miss," Thomas bent and kissed her cheek, "a whole three years old, quite the young lady."

"Thank you for my present, doc-doc," Mary smiled shyly, holding up a book of fairy tales with beautiful illustrations, "will you read it to me ... pleeease." She tipped her head and opened her blue-green eyes wide.

"At bedtime," he patted her cheek, "perhaps." She was the image of her mother, and got more like her every day, he was happy to note.

Jean had given her a baby doll, she had seen one when they were shopping and had gazed in the shop window every time they passed. It had moulded hair and blue eyes that closed when it was laid down. She wore a red gingham dress with white frills on the hem and sleeves, a white bonnet and white socks and shoes. Jean had also made a second outfit that was the same as the one Mary was wearing.

"Oh, mama," Mary breathed, "my own baby. She's lovely, thank you." She slipped off her chair and went to wrap her arms round her mother's legs, "I love you mama."

Jean put down the whisk and picked her up, "I love you too, darling, very much," there were tears in her eyes as she hugged her tight and kissed her. "Now, back to the table with you," she set her down on her feet, "open the rest of your presents while I make these pancakes."

Mary did as she was told and opened a packet of her favourite sweets with five shillings taped it, from Agnes and Nell Clasby. The money would go in her money box that doc-doc had given her for Christmas and she may be allowed a sweetie later in the day, if she was well behaved.

Mary's friends were, for the most part, children of the doctor's patients and a couple had been invited to tea with her, to help her celebrate her special day. Dr Blake had insisted Jean do this, he said he didn't want Mary to be a solitary child and accepted it was difficult for Jean to use the house as she would have used her own, so she needed a little encouragement to feel comfortable when another woman, Ruth or Dorothy Turner, called. He was glad Mrs Turner felt she could come to Jean, her husband was a drunk and a wife beater, and though she hadn't been injured beyond repair she had suffered at his hand. She thought Jean was very brave to divorce Christopher, but as Jean noted he wasn't around to stop her. Privately she thought Dorothy should do the same, and maybe, given Christopher's tendency to get into fights when he had been to the pub, he might have turned on her, as the time went on. She had no regrets, not anymore, she had Mary, a good position and, for the most part, was well thought of in the town.

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Mary's little friends arrived bearing gifts for the birthday girl, a colouring book and some crayons and a ragdoll.

"Thank you," she smiled shyly, "now my baby can have a friend, too."

The children played happily in the garden until Jean took out a picnic tea of sandwiches and biscuits, jelly, and there was a cake with three candles on it. Jean had iced it in white and pink and written, 'Happy Birthday, Mary', on it if fine pink writing. She offered the children, milk, squash or water to drink.

Thomas came out into the garden in time to see Mary blow out her candles and make a wish. Jean poured him some tea and he accepted a piece of the cake.

"Just a small piece, though, Mary," he smiled, "I mustn't spoil my dinner."

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"You know, Jean," Thomas noted over dinner, after Mary had been put to bed, with her doll tucked in beside her, "she is so like you. You should be proud of the way she is growing."

"Thank you, Dr Blake," she smiled, blushing slightly, "I should be grateful she is such an easy child to raise, though I do worry that as she gets older certain traits will emerge."

"I wouldn't worry too much," he smiled, "I don't think that's going to happen, as long as you continue to love her, the way you do."

"Well, let's hope so, but I couldn't love her any more than I do."

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Jean read the paper before she passed it to the doctor, hoping there wouldn't be anything to upset him. He had had a bad bout of flu and she had had to cancel all his surgeries and tell the police that he wasn't available for duties as police surgeon. It had knocked him, sensing his own vulnerability, and worrying about Lucien and his wife, and the baby, due imminently. It disturbed her to see that there were air raid practices in Singapore, in case the Japanese launched an airborne attack. Thomas would worry even more, and there had been a letter that morning, from Singapore. He was sitting in the garden, reading a book and watching Mary play with her dolls. She heaved a sigh and took a tray of tea out, for both of them, and a glass of juice for her daughter.

She set the tray on the little table and he turned to her, a sad smile on his face. He lifted the letter that he had used as a bookmark that morning. He wanted to keep it close.

"Lucien," he shifted into a more comfortable position, "it's a girl. A little early and small, but both she and her mother are well."

"That's good news, doctor," she sat and poured his tea, "so now you're a grandfather."

"I am, aren't I?" his smile broadened, "I should write, is that the paper?"

"Yes," but she didn't pass it over, "Thomas ... Singapore ..."

"I know it's not good, Jean," he held his hand out, "Lucien has said as much, but he can't persuade Mei Lin to consider coming out to us, until things settle down."

"With the baby just born, should she travel?" Jean handed him the paper and put his cup where he could reach it.

"Not immediately, no," he agreed, "but as soon as she can. He is deeply worried about their safety." He put the paper down and sipped his tea. "Jean?" he put the cup down, "if he should be able to persuade her ... your workload ..."

"Don't worry about that, Dr Blake," she reached over and patted his hand, "we have the room, the little one will have a playmate ..."

"Mei Lin is used to a certain standard, staff ..." he pursed his lips, "it worries me she would treat you as a servant, and you are not a servant, you are my housekeeper, yes, and my receptionist and secretary, but you are not a servant."

"Calm down, Thomas," she was worried about him, he wasn't a young man and the current flu epidemic was a bad one, "we shall cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Well, I suppose so," he huffed, "and I better write, give my congratulations, and pass on the offer of a home ... if it is needed."

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Singapore:

Captain Blake cradled his newborn daughter and gazed at her with amazement. She was so tiny, a strip of black hair standing from her forehead to the nape of her neck, huge dark eyes that seemed to take half the space in her sweet little face. Mei Lin was sleeping after a long and hard labour, she had seen and held her baby then handed her to her father, telling him to chose her name.

He would write to his father to tell him and also that he was wondering if, at some point, Mei Lin and ... Li ... that was it, Li, could travel over and stay until the threat was over.

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"No!" Mei Lin snapped, "I am not going to Australia, I want to stay here, where my family are."

"Mei Lin," Lucien ran his hands through his hair, grateful that the nanny had taken Li out for a walk, "it is becoming more dangerous, here. Air raid practices ... the threat of an invasion ... I need to know you are safe, and Li, she relies on us to keep her safe."

"My father will keep us safe, there are shelters, and you are with the army," she huffed, "it is just posturing by the Japanese."

"Even some of the top brass are sending their families home," he reasoned, "I want you to go with them, before it is too late."

"Cowards," she hissed, "weak, I am staying here."

"Then I will send Li to my father and his housekeeper," he folded his arms, "if I can't persuade you to go, she will."

It was now Mei Lin realised she would have to bow to her husband's expectation. She had been raised to obey the man in the family, and though she had continued her affair with Derek Alderton, once she had recovered from Li's birth and after assuring him she was not his child, this was one thing she was not going to acquiesce to.

"Fine," she snapped and left the room, head held high, thinking he would not send such a young child away from her mother.

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Mr Chen had confided in his son in law that Mei Lin could be wilful and he doubted she would ever agree to move to Australia.

"Mr Chen, Fu," Lucien began, "you realise I am suggesting I take your granddaughter away from you, young as she is."

"Lucien, you are brave, strong, I was honoured when you chose my daughter for your wife, and I know she loves you, but," he sipped his jasmine tea, "she will have her way. Send Li, though how, I do not know, she is too young to travel alone."

"Thank you, for your support, Li will travel with another family on the last transport to Australia. They are Major Stanton's wife and her children, so I can trust them. They have said they will deliver Li to my father where she will be well cared for."

"Your father, he knows your wishes?"

"He suggested it, in a roundabout way, when Li was born, that there was a home for both of them, if it became necessary." Lucien reached into his pocket, "he sent a picture, so Li would know him as her grandfather, and one of his housekeeper, who, I have to admit, is not what I expected, so she would know these people are going to keep her safe and loved. I haven't had such a good relationship with my father for a long time, but, since before we married, when I told him I was in Singapore and in the army, we have corresponded, and mended some of the broken bridges."

As Lucien spoke Mr Chen nodded and listened, his business was not as good as it had been, he would not be able to protect his daughter and granddaughter if the Japanese did invade. He looked at the photographs, one of a kindly mature man, with sparking eyes, something had made him laugh when the picture was taken, and the woman, young, not what he would imagine a housekeeper would be, pretty for a western woman, but capable, something in her face told him she also had a smile, that she had held back in the photograph.

"You send Li," he said, cutting off Lucien's now rambling story of his younger years, "send her where she will be safe." He got up and went to a safe he hid behind a decorative plaque in the study of his westernised home, "here," he handed Lucien a bundle of Australian money, "send this with her, to help with her keep."

"Mr Chen," Lucien gasped, "that is not necessary."

"Lucien, it is a gift," he continued to hold out the cash, "it would be rude to refuse, and you are never rude."

Lucien took the money and bowed, not wanting to know why he had so much money that wasn't local currency.

"Don't worry," Mr Chen laughed, "it was always kept for you and Mei Lin, should you ever go over there."

"You are too kind," Lucien put the money in his inside pocket.

"I leave a legacy for my granddaughter," he chuckled, "but she gets it early. Such is life, Lucien."

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Li had already begun to babble, 'papa' more than 'maman', 'nan' for the nanny and Lucien adored her, but he had to let her go. How had nearly a year gone by, with the threat of invasion, the sudden air raid warnings to keep the population on their toes and the manoeuvres, the exercises, to keep the troops on their toes, now he had to let her go, before it was too late. Mei Lin still refused to go, they argued too often and he wondered why she wouldn't see sense, go somewhere safe, take care of their daughter, he even said he would pay for the nanny to go.

"Did you actually want her?" he threw at her one evening, "did you ever want a child?"

"You did," she snapped back, "so I give you what you want, you are my husband, it is my duty."

"Duty be damned, Mei Lin!" he roared, "she is not a commodity you can bargain with, she is our daughter!"

Stalemate.

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Lucien's infrequent letters over Li's first few months told his father nothing of the battles he was having with Mei Lin. He reported Li's firsts, her first smile, the way she reached out for him when he went to her, her giggles, the way her eyes had turned lighter, more like his.

"You would say it is the dominant gene, father," he noted in one of his letters, "it marks her as different, as having western heritage, but they are so clear and knowing, I never thought I would love a child as much as I love Li."

Jean started an album for Thomas, and one for herself for Mary, all the photographs that had been taken were stored in a box, so if she was going to do this for Thomas, why not for herself. She smiled at the differences between the two girls as she dated the pictures, with the ages underneath.

"This is so kind of you, Jean," the doctor poured over the book one evening, "now I can see her progress, there is a look of Lucien about her, mainly the eyes."

"Cheeky, if you don't mind me saying so," Jean agreed, "and her hair is beautiful, so dark."

"Such a contrast," he nodded, "but I do wish she and her mother were over here. It gets more and more frightening, I'm sure they are not safe."

"It's been a year since they started the air raid warnings, hasn't it?" she mused, ruefully.

"Yes, and, as you know, Lucien has not been able to persuade his wife to come to us, but Li, he is worried about her safety."

Jean had thought about this, "if she could be got over to us ... sorry Thomas, it is a silly idea ..."

"Jean, none of your ideas are silly."

"Right, well ..."

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The telegram arrived as Jean was baking bread. Thomas was out at the hospital, Mary was playing in the living room, it was a perfectly normal, usual day.

"SENDING LI WITH MRS STANTON AND CHILDREN STOP ARRIVING MONDAY STOP LUCIEN STOP"

It didn't say what time, or how many children Mrs Stanton would have with her, other than the almost year old Li Blake, or who Mrs Stanton was. Jean tipped the boy and mentally chided herself for reading the doctor's post. But he had said all telegrams were to be opened immediately in case ... and this was 'in case.'

"Mary!" she called into the house, "want to help mama? I'm going to sort out the bedrooms."

"Mama?" Mary poked her nose round the living room door, "what bedrooms?"

"Well, darling," she squatted down in front of her, "there is going to be a little girl staying here for a while, so ... I thought maybe I should move you into the other bedroom and put the cot in there for her. You could share, and maybe you could make friends with her, make her feel at home."

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When Thomas arrived home after his rounds at the hospital, expecting Jean to be in the kitchen, perhaps baking or preparing lunch all he could hear was noises from the upstairs, giggles from Mary and the scraping of furniture. What on earth was she doing? He noticed the telegram propped up on the table and went to read it. Li? on her way, without her mother. Good lord, what was he thinking? He left the paper on the table and went to see how Jean was organising, because he was sure that was what she was doing, organising a place for his granddaughter.

"Here, mama," Mary was holding out one of the soft toys she had had as a baby, "for the little girl."

"Her name is Li, sweetheart," Jean smiled and took the toy, "and that is so kind of you."

"Jean?" Thomas' voice stopped her.

"Oh, Dr Blake, is it that time already?" she pushed a stray lock of hair off her face, "I'm sorry, I'll get you some lunch."

"No, it can wait, what ..." he waved his hand over the scene.

"You saw the telegram?"

He nodded.

"I thought that the girls could share, Li would not be on her own when she woke in the mornings ..."

"... and this room is bigger than the other," he smiled, "excellent idea, thank you. What have you got left to do?"

"Just put Mary's clothes in this chest, some of her things for Li, I don't know how much Mrs Stanton will be able to bring, as she has her children as well ..." she watched for a reaction, that she was intending on dressing his granddaughter in second hand clothes.

He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his hands through his hair, "I wouldn't know what to do, about that, about what she would need."

"I think a dozen spare nappies would be useful, I've used most of Mary's for cloths ..." she put her hands in her apron pocket.

"Whatever you think you need," he sighed, "go and get."

"I think I'll get those when she arrives," she smiled gently, "there are enough for a day or two, and if I were to be seen buying nappies ..." she left the inference hanging and watched his expression turn to one of horror.

"Jean, I never thought, forgive me," he gasped at his stupidity, "I would never put you in such a position."

He was relieved to hear her laugh.

"Now," she finished putting the things away, "what about the Stantons? I have no idea when they are arriving."

"Can you cope, if we ask them to stop over?" he let Mary climb up onto his knee, "I mean, after such a journey ..."

"The guest room, perhaps your son's room for the children ... if you don't mind."

"No, that sounds like a good idea ... can I do anything?"

"Let's have lunch, you have a heavy surgery today, I shall see to the rooms then."

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"Two roasts today?" Thomas' eyebrows rose as he surveyed the amount of food on the table - ham, chicken, potatoes, vegetables; fresh from the garden; and cakes and biscuits cooling on the side.

"Cold cuts for tomorrow," Jean took the white wine from the fridge and handed it to him to remove the cork, "with the visitors arriving sometime I thought it would be easier. I can pick salad things from the garden and children always eat cakes and biscuits."

"Christopher was an idiot, to leave someone as smart as you," he smiled, and raised the bottle before pouring her a glass, "you deserve this."

She blushed, "yes, well," she shrugged and started to serve the dinner.

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Singapore:

"Don't worry, Captain," Mrs Stanton reassured him, "Mrs Blake ... I shall be sure to pass on your messages to your father. Li will be well looked after and the 'gift' will be safe."

"Thank you Mrs Stanton," they both nodded, Mei Lin stroked her daughter's head, "be good for grandpapa," she murmured, suddenly realising it was actually happening, Lucien was separating her from Li. Her father had said it was for the best and had tried to insist she also leave. But, to the last, she refused.

Li looked up from her seat in the stroller and smiled. Lucien swallowed the lump in his throat, who knew how long it would be before he saw her again? He hoped the housekeeper, Mrs Beazley would be kind to her, Li was such a little dot and he had no idea if she had experience of raising children.

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Jean was unable to leave the house, though she had encouraged the doctor to carry on his duties.

"Thomas, it could be evening before they arrive," she passed him his hat, "and you have patients to see, and don't you have the paper work from the last autopsy to finish?"

Mary lifted his medical bag with both hands, "doc-doc," she smiled, "here's your bag."

"I feel as if I am being organised," he laughed.

"You will brood and pace the floor," Jean opened the door and handed him the car keys to the new Riley on the drive, "this will keep your mind occupied, and I have sausage rolls to make."

He shook his head and smiled as he left, perhaps she was right, he was already worried enough. He would telegram Lucien as soon as they arrived to reassure him.

She busied herself in the kitchen, with Mary helping make the sausage rolls and then picking ripened tomatoes from the garden and lettuce for the beginnings of a salad.

They were just thinking of having a spot of lunch, though Mary had nibbled while they baked, when there was a knock at the door.

Jean took her apron off and draped it over a chair , smoothed down her skirt and headed up the hall. Just before she opened the door she took a deep breath. She opened the door to see a very tired looking woman, with two little boys and a little girl on her hip. The taxi driver was taking the suitcases and folded stroller from the car before heading back into town, he waved to Jean and smiled at Mary. Jean smiled back and turned her attention to the visitors.

"Mrs Stanton," she held out her hand, "welcome, I'm Jean Beazley, Dr Blake's housekeeper, please, come in."

Mrs Stanton took her hand and sighed with relief, it had not been an easy journey.

"Mrs Beazley, Captain Blake sent me ..."

"I know," she touched the woman's shoulder sympathetically, "let's get you in, freshened up and fed, we can talk then." Jean's voice was low and soft, soothing. "Mary, why don't you show the boys where they can wash their hands and faces," she turned back to Mrs Stanton, "this is my daughter, Mary, she's three."

"Hello, Mary," Mrs Stanton smiled, "so nice to meet you, Captain ..."

"I know, but I shall explain all in the fullness of time," Jean ushered her into the kitchen while Mary shyly took the two boys upstairs.

Visitors washed and dressed and sitting at the table in the kitchen, Li in Mary's high chair, which had been her father's, next to Mrs Stanton, now fortified with a cup of tea Jean set out lunch for them all.

"The doctor is on his rounds," she explained Thomas' absence , "he will be home directly, but we don't need to wait."

The boys, Ben and Arthur, tucked in with no hesitation and Mary joined them. Li, obviously tired and tearful was persuaded to nibble on some of the vegetables, fruit and cold chicken.

"She's cried most of the time," Mrs Stanton sighed, "mainly for her papa, I think you will have trouble with her."

"She has been sent away from all she knows, and those who love her," Jean nodded, passing the plate of cold meats to her, "we shall weather the storm, we have to, for her sake. The Captain doesn't want to hear stories of her not eating, or crying at night. I have set the cot up for her in a room with Mary, I thought it might help."

"Perhaps," she replied. "My boys have been very good with her, even though their sleep has been disturbed."

"Well, perhaps they will sleep better here, if they don't mind sharing a bed."

"They'll be fine, it is very good of you to put us up."

"We couldn't just take Li and send you on your way ..." she tipped her head to a noise from the hall, "ah, that sounds like Dr Blake," she stood up and excused herself, "please, carry on."

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Thomas hung his hat and coat up and slid his bag to one side. As he turned to head towards the kitchen he noticed a folded up stroller and suitcases tucked in the corner. So, the visitors had arrived.

"Dr Blake," Jean's voice alerted him to her presence, "good rounds."

"Yes, thank you Jean," he smiled, "I see we have company."

"Mrs Stanton and her boys, and Li. They are having lunch in the kitchen, it's been a trying journey, by all accounts," she walked with him towards the kitchen.

As they entered Mrs Stanton and the boys made to stand up,

"No, please," Dr Blake motioned them to remain seated, "carry on, I shall squeeze here, next to Mary." He pulled out a chair and sat down, smiling at the little girl as she passed him a plate of meat. "Thank you, sweetie."

He looked round the table and nodded to the boys, "come on lads," he chivvied, "eat up, I know Mrs Beazley has been making cakes and biscuits for afterwards." He watched Jean, across the table, encouraging Li to drink some milk, but the baby was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open. Jean put the cup down and lifted her gently out of the chair.

"Come on, little one," she soothed, stroking her back, "let's get you changed and settled for a nap." Li mewled and hiccupped, into her shoulder, "shh," Jean kissed her, "it' alright, see over there," she turned her to look at Thomas, "that's grandpapa, you papa has asked him to look after you for a while, and me, and we love you and will keep you safe," she slowly danced round the table to the doctor and bent so he could stroke her hair.

"It's all a bit much for her," he murmured, "and she's too young to understand."

"Lucien talked about you a lot, to her," Mrs Stanton watched them, "how she would get to meet you, soon."

"I just wish Mei Lin would have come with her," he sighed, "for her safety."

"She was adamant that she would be safe in Singapore. Lucien is very worried, but he can't force her, Mei Lin is strong minded ... but that's for later, perhaps when the children have gone to bed?"

Both Jean and Thomas could see Mrs Stanton had quite a lot to tell that was not for the ears of young ones and only nodded.

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Jean crept down the stairs, Li's dirty clothes in her hands. There would be other things, in her suitcase, that would need washing, but for now, soak the nappy and put the rest in the laundry basket.

"She's asleep, for now," Jean whispered to the doctor.

"Good, she looked exhausted," Thomas looked up from his patient notes, "are you sure about this, Jean? It's not going to be easy."

"The best things never are, doctor," she smiled and left him to surgery.

Mrs Stanton took herself off for a nap, at Jean's insistence, the poor woman looked worn out, and Mary took the boys out into the garden to run around and play in the fresh air.

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Li woke after a couple of hours and set up a whimpering and wailing call for papa and nan. Jean went up to her, and hoped she could calm her enough not to cause the remaining patients to talk in the town, or offer suggestions as to how to settle her. Some had been told the doctor's granddaughter was coming to stay so that if Jean took her out in the pram there would be less gossip.

Jean changed her, soothed her and sang to her, just as she had with Mary, it seemed to settle her a little.

"Come on, Li," Jean settled her on her hip, "how about some milk, eh?"

The little girl sniffed and snuggled against her shoulder, she played with her collar, rubbing the soft fabric with her tiny fingers, as Jean took her downstairs.