While she thought she was looking forward to Christmas more than usual, Sylvia was also aware she needed to find something to at least show her appreciation of what the Blake household were doing for her. She decided to ask Mary as she had already bought her a gift. Nothing extravagant, a set of postcards from the gallery, showing the work of a variety of painters and a slim volume on the life of David Davies, who, unbeknownst to both girls had been known to Genevieve.
"You don't have to," Mary assured her.
"Oh but I must," Sylvia gasped, "I can't take the hospitality they offer without giving something back."
So the two girls had headed into town, as they had previously planned, and Mary had helped her friend choose something suitable. For Lucien she found a Swiss army penknife, as he was always investigating things she thought this might be useful, for Thomas a tie and for Jean a sweet little powder compact.
"What can I get Li?" she tucked her purse into her jacket pocket, "I don't know what she likes."
"She's pretty good at embroidery," Mary told her, "so perhaps we should go to the sewing shop mum uses. They may have something."
"Alright," Sylvia grinned, "this is so much nicer than trudging round Melbourne with mother."
Mary didn't know quite what to make of that remark, so kept quiet.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Alice Harvey was having much the same thoughts as Sylvia, that she should offer a gift to Jean ... to the household. It was so far away from anything she had experienced, and in the end she decided she had to ask Matthew.
"No worries, Alice," he smiled, "I have sorted it, hope you don't mind," he hastily continued, "some chocolates for Jean, whisky for Lucien and Thomas and sweets for the girls."
"Are you sure," she twisted her fingers together, "only ... well ..."
"Hey, don't worry," he soothed, "and we can go and help with preparing the veggies on Christmas Eve, then go to Midnight Mass together, with them ..."
"Have you done this before?" she raised a quizzical eyebrow.
"Before the war," he shrugged, "not much changes, not in this anyway."
"Oh," she mused.
"After my mother died, Jean insisted," he folded his arms, "Vera, my sister, has he r own family, in Melbourne, so ... well, I don't get much time off."
"I see ..." this was the first she had heard about any family. "your sister ..."
"Vera has a little girl, Rose," Matthew smiled and his face lit up at the thought of his niece, "the red haired tornado, Vera calls her, always on the go, never stops asking questions, writing stories ..."
"I thought .. from what Jean said ... about your mother being horrified at you having a pasty for your dinner ..."
"Yeah, well, Jean likes to remind me that good food is essential ... and let's be honest, Alice, she's a good cook."
"Hm," she smiled, "she is."
Matthew still didn't quite know what to make of Dr Harvey. Jean was right when she told Lucien he was smitten with her, and she could see it was going to be a long courtship. Perhaps, over Christmas, he could make some progress.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Alice was also unsure what Matthew wanted from her. She had never had an easy relationship with men. They only ever seemed to want one thing, and she had got tired of being used and abused. Her parents, disappointed that their second child had turned out to be another daughter, had largely neglected her, emotionally, ignored her when she complained a male relative was touching her intimately, and hadn't even bothered to try and make her stay at home when she told them, quite sharply, that she was going to university and she didn't care to consider marriage or children. So, for a man to seem to take her seriously as an intelligent woman, it was not something she had ever experienced; especially as he didn't seem to want to drag her off to bed and use her for his own pleasure. So she started to enjoy his attentions, the odd drink after work or at the end of a case, dinner, on her birthday, and the times he walked her back to her boarding house after a meal at Lucien Blake's house. He would give her a soft kiss to her cheek and wish her pleasant dreams, then go on his way.
She found herself daydreaming instead of reading her book in bed, wondering how it would be if Matthew and she ... no, it would never happen, they would always be just friends, good friends, but friends all the same.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Good shopping trip, girls?" Jean called out from the kitchen on hearing the door go.
"Yes, but we're starving now," Mary laughed, "we got some mistletoe."
"What on earth for?" Jean looked up the hall and frowned.
Mary was on the point of suggesting her and Uncle Lucien but stopped herself, it would be inappropriate for them, even if she and Li still harboured hopes, so she went for the more obvious.
"Uncle Matthew and Dr Harvey," she smirked, "you've got to admit it, mum," she held out the greenery, "he's got the hots for her."
"Mary!" Jean gasped, "such a way to speak about your elders," though she did agree. She would have to watch Mary now she was becoming a young woman and was a little less childish in her thoughts.
"Sorry," Mary calmed down.
"Alright, you can hang it over the front door," Jean sighed "but be careful what you say in front of them."
"We've got enough for the studio doorway too," she held up another piece.
"What's that?" Lucien appeared around the corner, "oh, mistletoe, eh? Great idea, girls, with so many lovely girls in the house it won't go to waste," he winked.
Mary giggled, Sylvia blushed beetroot red and Jean huffed and glared at him.
"That's quite enough of that, doctor," she scolded, "but you could help them put it up."
"Er, right," he scratched his head.
"Oh really," she rolled her eyes, "in the garage, there's a small toolkit. Get the little hammer and a couple of small nails ... and the step ladder." She wondered what the state of his thumbs would be after he had finished, or the woodwork, for that matter.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Ice for his thumb solved the problem of a bashed fingernail. As she wrapped it round the sore digit he watched her. She had that look on her face mothers had when their naughty child had been up to no good.
"Who would have done it if I hadn't?" he mumbled, wondering if Bill or Matthew did things like that for her, still.
"Me," she shrugged, and looked at him, "what?" he had raised his eyebrows at the image of Jean wielding a hammer, "Lucien," she sighed, "if I can drive a tractor I can surely hit a small nail into a door frame."
"Of course," he smiled, "I was forgetting." She was so slight, and far too pretty to do such things, in his mind, and he would conveniently forget how strong and capable she actually was.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"I'm afraid I'm not very domesticated," Alice whispered to Matthew as they arrived to help prepare the vegetables for the next day, "I never cook, I'm not sure I can."
"Can you set a table?" he raised his hand to knock on the door.
"Yes," she nodded slowly.
"Why don't you offer to help one of the girls to do that, then," he smiled and squeezed her hand, "anything you do will be appreciated."
"Right," she didn't pull her hand away, which he saw as progress.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Jean had soon worked out that Alice would be uncomfortable with some kind of cooking activity, something she had once said over dinner, about a boarding house suiting her because she didn't have to cook, so she had suggested to Mary that she ask Alice to help with the table and show her how to fold the napkins.
"Don't make it too complicated, love," she whispered.
"Ok," Mary thought for a moment, "I need the iron."
"Mary," Jean warned.
"It's not complicated," Mary huffed, "she'll get the hang of it, she's an intelligent woman."
Jean gave her a side-long look but let her take the iron and ironing board into the dining room where Lucien had put the extra leaf in the dining table to extend it to accommodate all who would be sharing their Christmas lunch.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
It had become less exhausting, over time, being around people who treated her as some part of a rather disjointed family, but by the time Matthew had escorted Alice to the door of her boarding house she was feeling relaxed and strangely warm. She had quickly 'got the hang' of folding the napkins with Mary and had enjoyed the young girl's company. It had been years since she had attended church for any reason, but Midnight Mass was oddly uplifting. She herself had a good contralto, Jean's sweet soprano and Lucien's lyrical tenor blended well with it, and she was surprised to find Matthew's voice was deep and rich, and in tune. She hadn't thought of him as a singer, before.
"Well," he took her hand, "I'll bid you good morning, Alice," he kissed her cheek, "before your landlady sees me off with a flea in my ear."
"And you, Matthew," she returned the kiss, to his cheek, which surprised him, "thank you, for introducing me to Christmas as it should be, I think I shall enjoy tomorrow."
"I'm sure you will," he watched her turn to open the door as he always did, and he would wait until she had closed it behind her, just to be certain in his mind that she was safe.
She pushed, but the door didn't open. She turned the handle again and pushed a little harder.
"Damn," she hissed, "she's locked me out. I told her I was going to the service tonight ... now what?"
"Doesn't she give out a front door key?" he tried the door.
"No, we have to be in by ten," she blushed, "but it was the only place I could find when I came here. It's a bit restricting but I'm never late, even when we go out for dinner."
"I have a spare room," he wondered how she would take this offer, "or I could take you to the Blake's."
"I can't disturb them," she ran her hands through her hair.
"My place then," he offered her his arm.
"Matthew," she whispered, "I can't, what will people say?"
"Who's to know?" he smiled, "I'm offering a room for the night, Alice. I promise not to ... er ... well, you know," it was his turn to blush.
She stood thinking; she couldn't sit on the doorstep until her landlady unlocked the door at six in the morning. She was cross that she had been locked out. Surely the woman knew that Midnight Mass meant just that, 'Midnight', and by which token she would be late back.
"God knows what she," she nodded her head to the door, "will think when I come back to change."
"Come on, doctor," he offered her his arm, again, "let's go home."
She didn't really have a choice, and she knew she could trust Matthew.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
He unlocked the door and flicked on the hall light. In the sudden bright light Alice blinked. She took in the tidy coat stand, with a pair of shoes underneath, the ones he wore with his uniform, the jacket of which was hung on a hanger on the stand. He took her jacket and hung it up for her then escorted her down to the living room.
"Erm," he grunted, "kitchen's through there ... do you want a cuppa?" He thought he should offer.
"No, no thank you," she hesitated, "it's a bit late."
"Right, well, this way," he took her upstairs," you can have this room, I'll just get some sheets, bathroom's there," he pointed further down the landing.
"Thank you," she headed in that direction, to use the lavatory and rinse her mouth out ...
"Should be a new toothbrush in the cabinet," he called after her, "help yourself!"
He fetched two sheets and pillow cases and set to making up the bed. As he did so he wondered what she would sleep in; her clothes, her underwear, nothing! The wrong thought, he realised as his body began to react in the way he'd rather it didn't. He shook himself and made himself think of something else completely, it wouldn't do for her to come back to the room and see an unmistakable bulge in his trousers.
She returned just as he decided one of his pyjama tops might be an idea for emergency nightwear. He smiled shyly and she returned the look equally so. She had removed her makeup and cleaned her teeth, and he thought she looked rather nice. She always was pretty, to him, but tonight she had a vulnerability he hadn't seen in a woman since Jean had been abandoned by Christopher.
"I, er," he cleared his throat, "thought, perhaps," he pointed to the nightwear, "that is ..."
"Thank you, Matthew," she could sense his embarrassment, "that is most kind of you."
"Right, well, I'll say good night, then," he made to pass her and leave the room.
"Goodnight, Matthew," she whispered, "sleep well."
"You too."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
She lay in the bed, in his pyjama top and had the sudden urge to giggle. What a ridiculous situation, she thought. Then she wondered, did he rattle around in this house all by himself, day after day? She knew it was the family home, he had said so on one occasion, when they were discussing where they lived. She looked around the room, it had obviously been Vera's when she was younger. There were the touches one would expect in a young girls room, flowered paper on the walls, a dressing table and mirror with a little tray for things like hair pins. She heard Matthew's bedroom door shut and knew she wouldn't see him until the morning.
She turned off the light and settled down, drifting off quickly and sleeping soundly, unusually for her.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Mary and Li jumped up at first light, first running down to wake Sylvia then to leap onto Jean's bed and greet her with cries of "Happy Christmas, mum, mama, Mrs Beazley!" Sylvia had no choice but to join in as Mary had her firmly by the hand. Jean sat up and laughed, embracing each one and bestowing Christmas greetings on them.
"Please don't do this to gran'pa," she laughed, "it won't do him any good."
"Can I do it to papa?" Li shuffled off the bed, "and can Mary come too?"
"And Sylvia," Mary teased, "all for one ..!"
"... and one for all!" the other two squealed and they ran out of the room to leap onto Lucien. Sylvia was so caught up in the joy it didn't occur to her that it was not something her mother would deem proper - her daughter greeting friends with loud squeals and leapings upon beds.
Jean laughed again and stretched. She would get up and start the day, breakfast, presents, lunch; so much to do and it would be done with a heart full of joy and love. Their newly expanded family and friends would meet and share the festive fun and love. Li had asked Father Christmas for her papa every year since she had learned to write her letter, now she had him and so much more. Mary had never asked for such a thing, just for peace and perhaps a new book, she wasn't materialistic in the slightest but Jean and Thomas had always tried to surprise her.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
As the Blake household were rising, drinking their first cups of tea, bathing and dressing ready for breakfast, Alice was pushing her dark hair out of her eyes and answering Matthew's knock on the door.
"Morning, Alice," he tentatively peered round the door, "thought you might like a cuppa."
"Oh, er, yes, thank you," she sat up and arranged the covers decently over her hips and ensured the pyjama top, that was far too big for her, wasn't showing too much flesh. "Good morning."
"Did you sleep alright?" he stepped in and placed a cup of tea on the cabinet next to the bed.
"Actually," she smiled, "I slept very well, for a change."
"Oh, well, that's good," he wasn't sure how to take this. "Now," he retreated to the chair, "how do you want to work things today? I mean," he hurried on, "your landlady, erm ..."
She slowly sipped the tea, "well," she mused, "I need to go and change, pick up your present ..."
"We are due at the Blake's for twelve," he sat forward, elbows on knees and fingers intertwined.
"Well, I'd better go back and ..."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Mary greeted Matthew and Alice with a huge smile on her face and a loud '"Happy Christmas!" and all Alice's annoyance at her landlady disappeared. Matthew gave her a big hug, and Li and even Sylvia was drawn into an embrace. Jean poked her nose round the corner and grinned, it looked like Mary was holding them to ransom under the mistletoe. Jean knew they were unlikely to oblige just then, poor Alice looked a bit nonplussed at the noise and the greeting and was perhaps half a step behind Matthew.
"Dr Harvey," Mary must have read her thoughts, "Happy Christmas, it's lovely that you have come to spend the day with us."
"Thank you, Mary," she smiled a small, but warm, smile, "the same to you, and it's so nice of you to invite me."
"You're a friend of the family, doctor," Mary smiled, "of course you're invited."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Sherries and whiskies were poured, Thomas was allowed one small measure that he savoured, knowing he was lucky to be able to share this day with his long lost son. More presents were opened and thanks were given. The girls seemed as delighted with the small tokens from Matthew and Alice, as they were with the gifts from their close family. Jean had bought Mary a watch, she said it was to save her constantly checking the town hall clock for the time, for when she was out with friends and had a time to be home. Mary was thrilled; a small round dial, gold, on a brown leather strap; it sat proudly on her wrist.
Lucien kissed Jean's cheek, under the mistletoe quite by accident, in thanks for the pen she had given him. She blushed but returned the kiss as a thank you for the sewing box he had given her. He did admit he had some help in filling it.
"It's lovely, Lucien," she smiled, "now I won't prick my finger every time I look for a reel of thread."
"Good," he whispered, taking her hand and turning it over, as if checking for pin pricks.
Everybody else was too busy laughing and admiring each other's gifts to notice the exchange.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Dinner was hugely enjoyed by everyone, Jean was congratulated on the feast and toasted with wine and lemonade. Everyone ate well, even Thomas whose appetite had been suppressed of late, but although his portion was smaller than Matthew or Lucien's, he cleared his plate and even had room for dessert, which was Pavlova, with lots of fresh fruit and cream, though Jean had been a little less generous with the cream this year.
"That, Jean," Lucien leant back in his chair and sighed, "was stupendous! I shan't need to eat for at least a month."
"Is that so, doctor," she blushed at the compliment, "so, you don't want a chocolate truffle with your coffee?" she pouted.
"Oh, really?" he sat forward, "not ..."
"She makes them every year," Thomas smiled, a little sadly, "just the way your maman used to."
"Not even the best chocolatiers in Paris could make them like she did," he looked a little wistful.
The remains of the dessert, plates and cutlery was cleared from the table and piled in the kitchen, while Jean prepared coffee and tea, and Mary set the truffles on a small basket woven by Li from raffia, and lined with a fine muslin cloth.
Alice appeared at Jean's elbow.
"Is there anything I can help with?" she murmured, emboldened by the happy warm feeling that had settled over her.
"Oh, Dr Harvey," Jean jumped slightly, "would you take the cups and saucers through, please.
"Of course, and please, call me Alice, not a day to be so formal, is it."
"Only if you call me Jean," the so called smiled back, "and you're right, this is family."
Alice smiled and thought she might have a talk with her new friend, at some time - about 'family'.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Lucien took a truffle and stared at it. He licked the cocoa dust off and bit into it, savouring the dark, almost bitter taste, the smooth creamy centre that melted on his tongue and closed his eyes in reverence. Jean watched him, a strange tug in her lower abdomen. There was a speck of chocolate on his lower lip and she wondered what it would be like to kiss it away, taste the chocolate on him, on his tongue.
"Good, son?" Thomas asked, softly.
"Magnifique," he murmured, "vraiment merveilleux." He opened his eyes and smiled, "truly wonderful," he translated, rightly assuming Jean did not speak French.
"Thank you, Lucien," she blinked herself out of her daydream.
The others likewise tried the truffles and agreed they were delightful but it was Lucien's praise that meant the most to Jean.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
After lunch (and washing up) they played parlour games, charades, and The Minister's cat. Mary, Li and Sylvia were very good at charades, knowing more of the newer books and films, Jean was almost as good as Lucien at The Minister's cat and it was universally held that it was a draw between them.
Nobody really wanted much to eat after the feast they had enjoyed earlier so Jean put out cake, gingerbreads and biscuits and tea for people to help themselves to and they settled to listening to Mary and Lucien play the piano until tiredness prompted Thomas to bid everyone a goodnight, and to thank them for making this a Christmas to remember.
Lucien stood up and went to him, holding out his hands.
"Dad, Happy Christmas, it's one I never thought to see and I am so glad I came home."
"So am I son," Thomas gripped his hands, "so am I."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Mary, Li and Sylvia also decided that enough was enough, and they should leave the, hopefully, courting couples alone. They kissed each one goodnight and thanked them for the gifts they had been so kind as to give them.
"Sylvia seems to have settled in," Matthew observed, leaning back in his chair, "you always make the lost sheep welcome, Jean."
"There's been plenty to take her mind off her home life," Jean refused Lucien's offer of a sherry, "no doubt there will be storms to weather as time goes on."
"So ..." Alice mused.
"Long term fostering," Lucien put in, "unless she decides to move on, though we can't find a record of any other relatives."
"Oh," she seemed lost in thought for a moment, "your family seems to be growing, then."
"Indeed it does," Jean smiled.
There was a pause, a silence as Alice processed this. Jean seemed so content, so happy to have family around her, young girls; daughters?; growing up under her care, why hadn't her parents given her the same love?
"Come on, Alice," Matthew suddenly broke the silence, "time to get you back before you get locked out, again."
Alice blushed and Matthew realised what he had said.
"Alice?" Jean asked.
"I was locked out of the boarding house last night," Alice huffed, "I told her I was going to Midnight Mass and assumed she would understand I would be late back. She locked the door."
"Goodness, " Jean gasped, "you should have come here."
"No, I didn't want to disturb you," she reddened, "I found alternative accommodation."
"I see," Jean looked at Matthew who was looking at his fingers and she knew he had taken her in, to that large house of his, "well, as long as you were safe."
"I was," Alice drew herself up, "but I better get back ..."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Matthew stood at the front door and hugged Jean, thanking her for a lovely day, and shook Lucien's hand.
"Glad you're back, old friend," he grinned, "this has certainly been a Christmas to remember."
"It has, hasn't it," Lucien grinned back, "and I am so very glad to be home."
Alice accepted an embrace from Jean and also from Lucien, though she was a little stiff about that one. She had only just got used to Matthew touching her. Lucien understood and took no offence. He and Jean stood side by side as their guests walked, arm in arm, down the drive and into Ballarat.
He closed the door and looked up to where he had hung the sprig of mistletoe a few days ago, it was gone.
"Ha, the devil," he laughed.
"What?"
"Matthew," he pointed, "he's pinched the mistletoe."
Jean giggled, he noticed, had noticed all day, in fact, she had a lovely musical giggle, girlish and free.
"He deserves it," she smiled, "I'm glad he and she have found each other."
"Yeah, me too," he turned and headed down the hallway, "join me, in the studio, Jean."
Jean frowned, what did he want. It had been a good day, everything had gone well. She shrugged, perhaps he wanted to say how much he liked the truffles.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
He was standing, nervously, in front of the fireplace, his hands behind his back.
"Lucien?" she advanced towards him, stopping by the couch.
"Jean," he swallowed, "Jean, a few days ago, well nearly a week, I suppose, you lost something, something very dear to you ..." the words came out in something of a rush, "... so ..." he pulled his hands to the front and held out a small gift wrapped package. It was rectangular, not much longer than his hand, "... for you."
"Lucien," she whispered, "you have already given me a gift."
"I know, one I purchased before ... please, take it ..." he was losing the power of speech.
She took the gift as if it was about to explode and turned it round in her hand.
She unwrapped it, and gasped as she saw the familiar sign of the jewellers in town. What had he bought her? She opened it and staggered backwards onto the couch. It was the most perfect tiny silver cross on a chain. Absolutely plain except for a little pressed curl at each end.
"Lucien," she put her hand to her mouth, "it's too much." Her eyes shone with tears.
"Nothing is too much for you, Jean," he stepped forward and took the necklace out of the box and fastened it round her neck, "there ... lovely."
She stood up, suddenly and ran out of the studio. Lucien watched in horror, had he really offended her? He looked down the hall and relaxed; she was standing in front of the mirror there and looking at the cross, a little smile on her pretty face. She turned and went a little pink at being discovered admiring herself wearing the cross. She supposed she should have been cross? offended? embarrassed? Whatever she should have been feeling was crowded out by a glow, a warmth - that he should do something like this for her, his housekeeper, try and mend something that was broken. He had, in so many ways, and she would treasure this gift knowing it wasn't just from him but also so that she would remember her father, still.
"Thank you," she smiled, a little shyly, "it's beautiful," she advance towards him, "I missed wearing the other one."
"It was special, and I know this one doesn't have the same meaning ..."
"... it has one very similar, though, Lucien," she whispered, "for which I thank you."
They were standing in the doorway to the studio, directly under the mistletoe and there was an electrical charge in the air. Lucien bent towards her, slowly, giving her ample time to move, but she didn't. Instead she raised her hands and held his forearms, tilting her head just enough to let him brush her lips with his. His beard was surprisingly soft as it brushed against her skin and it tickled a little. A unique experience for her, she didn't remember even a bewhiskered elderly relative kissing her. She had to admit, only to herself, she rather liked it.
He felt, rather than heard, the little sigh as he broke the slight contact. Emboldened he tried for a second, longer kiss and she let him. Though it wasn't a deep kiss, she didn't part her lips to let his tongue in, she wanted to, but was afraid he would find the action too forward in one of her station in life, in his house. He rested his forehead against hers and smiled.
"Happy Christmas, Jean," he whispered.
"And to you, Lucien, welcome home."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The week between Christmas and New Year seemed to fly by. The girls went out to meet their friends some days, Lucien, Alice and Matthew were on duty as deaths by fair means or foul are no respectors of festive occasions. Fortunately there were no murders and really all Lucien ended up doing was patching up drunks in the cells and small children who came to his surgery after eating too much chocolate.
In the quiet times he and Jean continued to get to know each other. He already knew how she took her tea, and would make her a cuppa if she was busy in the sun room or doing some household chore. They relaxed around each other, he was no longer reticent about hugging her, though he did try to do so away from the eyes of the girls, to spare her blushes and their questions. They both continued to see that Thomas behaved himself and presented a united front over his diet and exercise regime. He was encouraged to potter around the garden, take a little walk and so he didn't go, in his words, 'stir crazy', Lucien took him down to the Colonists Club where Thomas proposed his membership, and Cec Drury, who had known him since he was a boy, seconded it. The Member's Committee couldn't see how they could refuse especially as he had Michael Tyneman's backing too. Patrick had huffed about them letting in all sorts these days but he was firmly put in his place by his father. Lucien wasn't sure he wanted to be part of such a group but Thomas insisted it would be good for his standing in the town.
"You never know what you might learn," he murmured, "especially as you seem to have a penchant for sticking your nose into other people's business when you are involved in a case with Matthew."
"You may have a point there, dad," he smiled, "now, let's go home, Jean will wipe the floor with both of us if we are late for dinner."
"Hmm..." Thomas had a little glint in his eye, "you've grown rather fond of her, haven't you, son?"
"Oh, is it that obvious?" Lucien had the good grace to blush a little, "you don't mind? I mean, if I did decide to court her ..."
"Why should I mind?" Thomas took his cane and pushed himself off his stool at the bar, "she's a perfectly lovely girl, god fearing, well mannered and polite ... and an exceptional cook."
"Would you have minded if I had found her before her husband? When she was, in her words, a simple farm girl?"
"Farm girl she may have been, son, but never simple," Thomas accepted his helping hand down the stairs, "I don't know, honestly. Now I would say no, it would not have mattered, after all I defied my family to marry a French woman."
"Yes, indeed," he mused.
"Mind you don't hurt her, son, please," Thomas stopped and looked at him, "I mean it, Jean means a lot to me. In some ways she's the daughter I never had. I was there when she was born, delivered Mary for her ... she's been through enough without you breaking her heart."
"I have no intention of breaking her heart," Lucien said firmly, "ever."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Alice, meanwhile, was pondering what to do next. she had had a blazing row with her landlady about the goodnight kisses Matthew planted on her cheek. It was perhaps just as well they had found somewhere to put the mistletoe to use on Christmas night where they couldn't be seen, because the kiss was certainly not as chaste as usual. In fact there had been a few others at his house when she had called round to pass him an autopsy report. It wasn't strictly necessary for him to see the report immediately, but she had finished for the day and it was too nice to go home to her boarding house.
So she had knocked on the door, been invited in and had stayed for a cuppa, a chat and a rather long time kissing on the couch. More than kissing, and, although they hadn't made love they had come very close.
Perhaps she should have repaired her lipstick, checked that her hair was as neatly styled as it had been when she left for work that morning, but, unfortunately her lipstick was worn away, most of it was on Matthew somewhere or another, and her hair looked a little as if she had been out in a breeze, just the wrong side of tidy. But she didn't and the damn woman noticed. She told Alice, in no uncertain terms, that she kept a proper house, that she expected all her guests to be respectable and not to expect to be able to come in at all times of the day and night without so much as a by your leave. Men were not allowed on the premises.
"What are you insinuating?" Alice gasped, Matthew had never set foot over the front step.
"You know perfectly well miss," she sniffed, "the goings on at my front door at night."
"Pardon?" Alice didn't think a kiss on the cheek counted as 'goings on'.
"You and that man," the landlady folded her arms.
Alice touched her cheek, unconsciously, where Matthew usually bestowed his kiss.
"Precisely."
"I don't think it's anything to do with you," Alice tipped her chin defiantly, "he doesn't come into the house."
"It is everything to do with me, missy," she retaliated.
Being called 'missy' was enough to tip Alice over the edge.
"You are not my mother," she snapped, "and I am not doing anything illegal or wrong."
"I think, Dr Harvey; why a woman would want to do what you do I don't know, not right, not right at all; it might be better if you seek lodgings elsewhere."
"Don't worry, I will," Alice pushed past her and stormed up the stairs to think over her next move.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Nearly New Year's eve and she still hadn't found somewhere else to live. She was just coming out of Connolly's Hotel, again no room, when Mary came giggling past with Sylvia.
"Hello, Dr Harvey," she smiled at her, then noticed Alice was not in the least bit happy, "everything alright?"
"Oh, hello Mary, Sylvia," Alice sighed, "not really. I'm trying to find somewhere else to live, my current lodgings don't really suit me."
"Where have you tried?"
"Just about everywhere," Alice's shoulders sagged.
"Come and have a cuppa, we were just going to," Mary suggested, "maybe we can think of something."
As Mary was Ballarat born and bred, Alice could see the logic in this, and she could do with a cup of tea.
Mary listed everywhere she knew that took in boarders.
"The trouble is, Mary," Alice sipped her tea, "I've tried them all, and those that aren't full are wary about having a single female in a house where single men also stay."
"What about renting a house, on your own," Sylvia suggested.
"It had crossed my mind," Alice admitted, "but that takes time, time I haven't got. The witch wants me out by New Year's eve.
Mary was staring out of the window, deep in thought. Suddenly she got up and excused herself.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"I don't know if she'll accept the offer, Mary," Matthew pulled her to where they couldn't be seen by Alice or Sylvia, who assumed she had gone to visit the lavatory.
"I'd suggest ours, but I know she wouldn't accept," Mary sighed, "with gran'pa recovering mum has a lot to do."
"Yeah, right," he mused, "I'll talk to her, she hasn't said anything, though."
Mary rolled her eyes.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Matthew gave her a couple of minutes to return to the table and continue her conversation, the subject had turned to the fun they had had on Christmas day and they were just laughing at a word Matthew had used in The Minister's Cat when he appeared. He made it look like he was just passing and had noticed them.
"Ready for a cuppa myself," he smiled, "mind if I join you?"
"Pull up a seat, Uncle Matthew," Mary laughed, Alice went a little pink, as she so often did when he joined a group she was in.
His tea was brought over and they spent a little longer together before Mary looked at her watch and pretended she and Sylvia would be late back for something.
"Sorry, we'll have to leave you," she went to the counter and paid the bill, Jean had given her enough change for a little treat, so she treated Sylvia, Matthew and Alice. She waved good bye and Sylvia and she scooted out of the cafe.
"What are we going to be late for?" Sylvia whispered.
"Nothing," Mary smirked, "but Uncle Matthew has the hots for the doctor and she needs a place to live."
"Mary!" Sylvia looked shocked, "you mean they should live together? But they're not married."
"Uncle Matthew has a big house, plenty of room for two," Mary linked arms with her friend, "I'm not suggesting anything else, Sylvia. Why shouldn't they share a house, mum shares gran'pa's and Uncle Lucien's."
Put like that, Sylvia thought that she was probably right. in spite of what her mother used to say about Mrs Beazley, which she now knew was not true in the slightest.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
It took some work, to get the reason for Alice's worry out of her, but Matthew had learned a few interrogation techniques during his years in the force.
"You should have said," he whispered, "you know I have room."
"There'll be talk, Matthew," she muttered back, "it's hard enough for me, being a woman I'm not expected to be working as a pathologist, I should be chained to the sink with a hoard of wailing children at my feet."
Matthew spluttered at the very thought and she glared at him. She was right, and he acknowledged this but he did have three bedrooms.
"... and there's a study you can put all your books in, you said they live in a box under your bed."
She remembered telling him she her landlady had gone in to change the bed and had told her that the books she kept on the shelves were not suitable for a young lady. He had wondered how private it was, living in a boarding house.
"It isn't," she had grumbled, "but at the same time she was supposed to be changing the bed, not looking at my reading material."
"So," he sighed, "what's it to be? If she wants you out by New Year ... "
Her shoulders dropped, he was right.
"I'll even put a lock on the bedroom door, if you want," he teased.
She smiled, he was trying to make it easy for her, and why not? They were both adults, and her landlady had men staying, it was no different really, was it? She straightened and nodded.
"Alright," she finally agreed, "but you don't need to bother with the lock, remember, I'm a doctor, I know just how to hurt you."
He blanched, then smiled, Alice didn't often make jokes.
She would help with the running costs, she insisted, "I don't want to be a kept woman," she told him, "that would not be good for either of our reputations."
They arranged that, when he finished his shift, he would go over to the boarding house and help her move her things.
"Are you trying to make it worse?" she raised her eyebrows.
"I shall arrive in uniform, she's never seen that," he shrugged, "and help you carry the boxes; though I know you are perfectly capable of doing it yourself; but it will be quicker with two."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Alice had paid the last of her rent and had all the boxes on her bed when Inspector Lawson arrived at the house, asking to speak to Dr Harvey. The landlady scowled, now the police were after her. She didn't recognise Matthew as the man who regularly kissed her lodger goodnight. She showed him in.
"Her room?" he looked up the stairs.
"Oh, er, yes," she indicated he should follow her.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
She stood outside the bedroom door trying to listen to the conversation inside, but they kept their voices especially low.
"So," he whispered, after kissing her gently on the cheek, "this all you have?"
"It's enough," she smiled, returning the kiss then wiping the lipstick off his cheek with her thumb.
They had a few more words, about how to appear before the dragon, or the 'witch' as Alice called her, and decided they would carry the boxes down to Alice's car and if his hands wandered at any time she would offer no objection.
On the last trip up the stairs they held hands. They walked back down the stairs, he carrying her last case and his free arm around her waist. The witch's eyes nearly fell out of her head when, after stowing the case in the car, Inspector Lawson kissed Dr Harvey firmly on the lips. He got into the passenger seat noting that Alice did not blush, she got behind the wheel and drove off, what the witch thought was anyone's guess, but it probably wasn't complimentary.
Alice, for once, didn't care, and neither did Matthew.