At last I have got round to updating this story. Christmas, panto and the muse going walkabout have not helped. I hope it was worth waiting for.
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"She could have come here, Mary," Jean took her daughter aside, "you should not interfere in things that do not concern you."
Mary hung her head. After the initial idea had sunk in she realised she could have done something she shouldn't have. Sitting in Sylvia's room and talking about it she got more and more worried that Dr Harvey and Uncle Matthew's relationship was nothing to do with her. She decided to come clean and speak to her mother.
"I know, mum, and I'm sorry, but you know she won't come here because you have a lot to do with gran'pa and the house and surgery," Mary sniffed, "I just thought, well I suppose I didn't really ... but ..."
"Hm," Jean pursed her lips, "you are probably right about her not wanting to add to my workload, but still ..."
"Just seen Matthew," Lucien breezed in, "got a grin as wide as the ocean on his face," he looked from Jean to Mary, then back to Jean, "have I missed something?"
There was a pause, a loaded silence, then Mary spoke.
"I interfered," she could hardly look him in the eye, "me and Sylvia saw Dr Harvey in town. She was looking for a place to stay, she had to get out of her boarding house. I saw Uncle Matthew and told him and he said he'd see if she wanted to share his house ..." she trailed off.
"Ah," Lucien nodded sagely, "matchmaking, are we?"
Mary bit her lip to stop the tears falling.
"No worries pet," he squeezed her shoulder, "I think he's quite happy about it, and Alice wouldn't have agreed if she was unhappy about it."
"All the same, doctor," Jean hummed, "she is too young to understand. If it get's known that Alice is living with Matthew ..."
"Alice will give as good as she gets," Lucien shrugged. "Matthew won't take liberties, no, I don't think we should worry about it, but," he looked at Mary, "I shouldn't try matchmaking again, not for a while." He bent and kissed her cheek.
Which of course put paid to any ideas she may have had concerning her mother and the doctor.
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Matthew called up the stairs to Alice. They were due at the Blake's for a meal and to see in the New Year so he was waiting to escort her. They were going to walk, it was such a lovely evening but they were running a little behind hand.
"Coming!" she called down, taking a deep breath and putting the last touches to her makeup. She had admitted to Matthew, finally, that she was unsure, now that they shared the house, what Jean's reaction would be.
"I could say it's none of her business," he had shrugged, "but, I don't think she will have anything to say. You have your own room, she knows the size of the house."
"It's just I don't want to offend her," Alice sighed, "I have never had a female friend like her and I wouldn't want to lose that friendship over our sharing a house."
"That's not likely to happen," he assured her with a smile, "Jean will not judge us for that," he offered her his arm, "you know her story. Now, Dr Harvey, may I say you look particularly attractive this evening, shall we go and enjoy the festivities and bring in the New Year over a glass or two?"
She laughed and slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow; tomorrow would not just be a new day, but a whole new year as well and who knew what that held?
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The girls were allowed to stay up until midnight, even though Li was struggling to keep her eyes open.
"You can go up to bed, you know," her father whispered in her ear, "nobody will think any less of you."
"Oh no, papa," she yawned, "not this time. I'll stay up to see in the New Year with you."
He kissed the top of her head and hugged her. He couldn't be happier here, with his daughter and his father, Jean and Mary and his friends. This was so much better than the glittering parties he had attended in Singapore and the drunken whisky fuelled celebrations of Hogmanay in his university days. There was a warmth, a feeling that the future was bright, that there was a lot to look forward to.
Mary was sitting staring out over the garden. Matthew and Alice had been perfectly pleasant to her when they arrived, smiling and hugging her but she still felt a little uncomfortable. Matthew went over and sat next to her.
"Penny for them?" he asked.
"Hm? Oh, sorry, miles away," she tried a smile.
"It's ok, you know," he squeezed her hand, "Lucien told me you got into a bit of strife, for telling me Alice needed a home."
"I shouldn't have said anything," she sniffed, "it was wrong of me."
"No it wasn't," he smiled, "you knew I had room, that she stayed after midnight mass, because she was locked out, you saw a way of helping her, that's just the way you are, kind and helpful."
"Are you sure? Is Dr Harvey sure?"
"Alice?" Matthew called her over.
"Matthew," she smiled, "something I can do for you?" She too knew about Jean's reaction to Mary's so called interference.
"Not me, Mary," he nodded in the young girl's direction, "she thinks she did wrong, telling me you were about to be thrown out on your ear."
"No you didn't," Alice murmured, "I have a lovely room, somewhere to put my books, other than in a box under the bed, and a landlord that keeps the same crazy hours as I do. You did me a favour, I thank you."
"Oh, really," Mary began to brighten, "so, I wasn't interfering?"
"Not that I am aware of," Alice smiled, "just doing a good turn."
"Now, Miss Mary," Matthew stood and offered her his hand, "it's about to turn midnight come on and join the celebration."
They cheered and raised their glasses to the New Year, kissed and hugged ... then Mary realised her mother and Lucien were missing. She slipped out of the studio and through to the kitchen where she noticed the door was open. She peeked round the corner and smiled, it would appear she had no need to match-make this time ... Jean and Lucien were in their own little world ... and this time the kiss was deep and passionate. Mary ducked out of sight and headed back into the studio to hug Sylvia and offer to help Li, who had fallen into a light doze on the couch, to bed. They said goodnight to Thomas who was also heading to his room, after wishing all present a Happy New Year and not making any comment about two of the household who were missing.
"Where's papa?" the younger girl mumbled.
"In the sun room, talking to mum," Mary told the half truth, "I'll send him up," she helped her sister into her pyjamas and tucked her in. "Happy New Year, Li."
"Mmph," Li snuffled down and was immediately fast asleep.
"Where is he?" Sylvia whispered as they left the room.
"In the sun room," Mary answered honestly.
"Oh," Sylvia drew her brows together, sure and not sure what Mary was telling her.
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Jean and Lucien had no idea they had been seen, not that they had purposefully hidden away to kiss. Jean had gone to look at the sky; a clear night the stars like fairy lights strung overhead entranced her in some childish fashion.
"Beautiful," a soft, deep voice rumbled.
"Aren't they," she didn't turn round, just smiled into the distance.
"I meant you," he closed the gap between them and saw her blush.
"Lucien," she looked down, "you shouldn't say such things."
"Why not?" he was standing next to her now, looking out over the garden, "it's the truth."
"I'm your housekeeper," even she knew that was no reason for him not to compliment her, "just an ordinary woman."
"You, Jean Beazley," he turned and looked at her profile, "are not 'ordinary', you are quite astonishing in many ways. You are the glue that holds us together, the fuel that keeps the engine of this house running."
"Tosh," she huffed, "you'd manage perfectly well without me."
He put his forefinger under her chin and tipped her face so she was looking at him. Her eyes were wide deep pools of the most amazing blue green hue, and he was willing to drown in them.
"No, I wouldn't," he bent and kissed her very softly on the lips, much like he had done on Christmas night.
She couldn't help herself, she responded, parting her lips enough to let his tongue in, and took that final step over the cliff into the blessed oblivion of Lucien's love, which was how Mary found them - and left them.
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Jean blushed furiously as they broke apart, breathless but wanting more. She felt it was wholly inappropriate that she should be kissing her employer in any way, and certainly not as passionately as that.
Lucien, though he sensed her sudden discomfort, wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.
"Beautiful Jean," he murmured, desperate to tell how he really felt, but afraid she would run. "Thank you."
She pulled back, "what for?"
"For everything," he said simply, "for making this house a home, for being you, for looking after dad and me and Li, for making the nightmares seem less frightening ..."
"I ..." she muttered, "I just do my job."
"No you don't, Jean," he brushed a loose curl from her forehead, "you do much more than that, you give this house life."
"Lucien ..."
"Please, " he raised his hand, "I need to tell you this, but I don't want to frighten you so ... I love you Jean, I think I have done since the first time I met you ..."
"Lucien ..."
"No, wait," he was afraid she was going to run, "it's not like that, not infatuation, I promise," he gasped, "I would never hurt you, I don't want to do anything with you that you would regret or ... I'm not sure how to say this, I've seen things in my life, done things I shouldn't have, courted women, flirted and flattered, I know that, but I'm not that man, not anymore. I'm a country doctor who dabbles in police cases and comes home to a well prepared meal and family ... heck I'd even take the slippers and the dog. Jean, what I'm trying to say is will you let me, erm ... that is to say, can we ...?"
She smiled, she knew and she would let him court her, "... if your father doesn't mind, after all ..."
"... he'll be delighted," he pulled her close again and kissed her, "he loves you very much, and Mary, but I'm not doing it for him ..."
She giggled, "I know," she thought it was an odd sort of conversation to have with a new beau, "but, I'd like to keep it from the girls, for a while anyway, Mary doesn't need encouraging in the match-making role."
"True," he laughed, "but she hit the nail on the head with Matthew and Alice."
"Lucien, she's a child," Jean pursed her lips, "the age I was when I started noticing boys. Christopher and I dated, if you could call it that, from the age of fifteen, not that my parents knew." She looked down at her fingers, "I was kept on a tight leash, Lucien, perhaps that's why I strayed ... I don't know, the forbidden ... how do I protect her? She is the best mistake I could make but it hasn't been easy, and now, if she sees you and me ..."
"Does she know?"
"Yes," she told him how she had explained to Mary about her conception, "she knows she was a mistake but that I'm glad I made it, in a way, that said, I also told her I'd rather she didn't make the same mistake."
"And if she does?"
"I will still love her and support her," she smiled, "it would be hypocritical if I didn't, but that's nothing to do with it - she's my daughter."
"Quite," he nodded, a remarkable woman, indeed.
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Mary thought she'd keep what she had seen a secret, at least until her mother mentioned it. She wouldn't even tell Li, even though they had talked about it on occasion, but Li might forget it was not a subject that the town should know about, and she would keep an ear out for gossip.
She lay in her bed after Matthew and Alice had left, thinking. If; please; she prayed, if her mother and Lucien did get married would that make her a Blake? Would Uncle Lucien let her call him dad, or daddy or papa? It would be nice. She had, on occasion, nearly done so and she was sure he had noticed, smiling a little smile as she stumbled over her words and rephrased what she was saying. If she got married, when she was old enough and had fallen in love, would he walk her down the aisle of Sacred Heart and give her away? So many questions and ideas ran through her head, fairly making her dizzy, and they weren't officially courting. She love that word, 'courting', so sweet and old fashioned, but it was the right word for them. She couldn't imagine that Lucien would take her mother to bed (to do what married people did) before they were married, at least she hoped not, but then her mother wouldn't let him - would she? No, not this time, she had made that mistake before, she was no longer the wayward nineteen year old but a grown woman of nearly thirty three, which sounded positively ancient to the young girl.
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"Where were Jean and Lucien, at midnight?" Alice asked Matthew on the way home.
"Sun room," Matthew smiled, "didn't you notice the smug expression on Blake's face and the slightly guilty look on Jean's?"
"Not especially, Lucien has a tendency to look smug," she hummed, frowning, "and Jean had her back to me."
"Pretty sure they weren't just star gazing," he pushed the key into the lock.
"Matthew!" she gasped, "really?"
"Almost certain," he stood back and let her step in first, "I've been waiting for it to happen."
"Oh," she let him help her out of the light jacket she wore, "do they know about us?"
"As far as I know they think I am just your landlord," he smirked, "but they don't know about the benefits."
"Cheek!" she kicked off her shoes, "and what benefits might they be?"
They had spent the past couple of evenings, since Alice moved in, getting to know each other, which involved talking, leading to kissing and a fair bit of touching but no further. Alice still slept in her room and Matthew in his, so 'benefits' was pushing it a bit.
There were learning more about each other's pasts, Alice's less than loving home life, that had Matthew wincing at some of the things she told him and Matthew's tales of his father gambling and drinking away his wages leaving his mother to feed the children as best she could while not eating herself filled her heart with sorrow, but somehow she understood that it had made Matthew the man he was.
He teased her about her lack of cooking skills and she suggested he teach her. In return she promised to show him more of the science that accompanied his cases, so he would know what she and Blake were talking about.
They had known each other since before Lucien came back, but until she had had to change the autopsy report that had Matthew asking Lucien to find a way to take over, she had kept herself to herself and almost hidden herself away in the morgue or the hospital laboratories. Once he had noticed her he couldn't stop noticing her. She was everywhere he went in the hospital - they passed in corridors, exchanged nods in greeting and the discussions in the morgue became deeper, even if Lucien was there. It was as if a higher being had decided that Matthew should have someone to love, and now they shared a house. No, not a house - a home.
"Honestly?" he asked.
"Honestly," she hummed.
"Well," he took a deep breath, "I just like it that you are here, in this house, my house ... that we can spend evenings together ..."
"Really?" her eyes widened, "you like spending time with me?"
"Er, yeah," he blushed; it took a lot to make Matthew Lawson blush.
"Well, that's good, because I like spending time with you," and now it was her turn to blush.
"Oh, well, that's good then," he laughed and help out his hand, "in that case, Dr Harvey, may I wish you a Happy New Year, properly?"
"In what way would that be, Inspector Lawson?"
"Something like this," he pulled her towards him and ...
"Happy New Year, Matthew," she murmured, slightly breathless and a little pink.
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Mary and Sylvia started back at school, a year older and hopefully slightly wiser. Their closest friends were waiting for them at the front of school eager to see how Sylvia had survived being at the Blake's for Christmas and how Mary's eye was.
"That's fine," she smiled, "all clear, according to the specialist in Melbourne."
Sylvia hung back, wondering what kind of reception she would get, if the whole story had got round the town.
Christine and Sheila, the two other girls who had supported Mary over the turpentine incident, had met up during the Christmas holidays and vowed that they would support Sylvia, after all it wasn't her fault her mother was 'interstate'.
Christine put her arm around her waist and pulled her into the group, smiling.
"So," she laughed, "how was Christmas at Mary's?"
"It was lovely," she mumbled, "really nice, fun. Everyone is really kind ... " she inhaled "I wish all my Christmases had been like it." She blushed.
"She's going to stay with us," Mary reached over and squeezed her hand, "and we're glad to have you."
"Thanks, Mary." Sylvia thought that with these friends and the support of Mary's family she might survive the next few weeks, until term break, then she knew her living arrangements were to be reassessed. She rather hoped, if Mrs Beazley and Dr Blake didn't mind, that she could stay right where she was.
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Mary watched her mother and the doctor for signs they were actually courting and had not just given in to the merriment of the time, when she had seen them kissing in the sunroom. For the next couple of weeks all her attempts to catch them in something more than a professional discussion were for nothing. Jean carried on doing what she always did, running the house and seeing to the practice, Lucien continued attending police cases, suspicious and not so suspicious deaths, seeing his patients and they both kept an eye on gran'pa. It was most frustrating. All she wanted was a little sign.
Jean was aware of her daughter, watching, and it unnerved her. She put her concerns to Lucien one evening, while they were sitting with their drinks. Thomas and the girls were in bed so she felt she could talk to him, freely.
"Mary's watching us," she looked at him over the rim of her sherry glass.
"I'd noticed," he smirked.
"I told you," she sighed, "we need to keep it low, after ..."
"She gave Matthew the push he needed, to see Alice as more than a colleague." Lucien put his glass down and moved to join her on the couch. "We don't need that push, do we?"
"No, well I don't think so," she slipped closer and put her head on his shoulder, "it's just ... she's a romantic, at that age where everything is as it is in the movies or books."
"It will never be like that, Jean," he slipped his arm round her shoulders, "I want it to be better, more real, you deserve that. I can do the flowers, the chocolates, the sweet words, but I want it to be deeper than that, between us ... hell ... I'm not explaining myself very well, am I?"
"I think I understand," she stared into the fireplace, "you don't want to rush things, which is good, because rushing things didn't work for me, and, well, I don't know about you and Mei Lin ..."
"Looking back, it was a bit rushed, the courtship," he inhaled and let out the breath slowly, "in a way I was bamboozled. She was eager, I was not her first, it seemed ... I don't know. I suppose I was a means to an end, someone who was in the right place at the right time, and of the right social strata. But, there is one thing I am absolutely sure of, if I hadn't married her we wouldn't have had Li, and I would never have met you ... and that would be just terrible ... for me."
"And me," she whispered.
"Really? You mean ?"
"I do, I mean, I'm glad you came home," she stuttered afraid she was being too forward or obvious, "your father ... Li ... missed you."
"And you, Jean?"
"You forget, doctor, I only met you when you came home. Your father read your letters out loud ..."
"What did you think?"
"I knew you would come back, even when you wrote from the camp," she shifted to face him, "I thought you were strong, determined; that you would do everything in your power to help others. You were honest, in your letters, when you told of the happenings in Singapore and you sounded angry with your wife, that she wouldn't come over with Li."
"I was," he sighed, "Mei Lin was sleeping with my best friend ..."
Jean gasped.
"Sorry, perhaps I shouldn't have told you, but she was. The part that Li knows, that she was in the hospital when it was overrun, is true, but most of our marriage I won't tell her about." He reached for his drink and took a mouthful, "I was angry with Derek, too, I saved his life in the camp, even though he told me to leave him, but I didn't want him to die, because then he wouldn't feel the pain I did, I wanted him to live and suffer - was that wrong? Should I have let him go, would that have been right?" He ran his hand through his hair making it stand up in all directions. It made Jean smile, he looked like a lost little boy.
"You are a doctor," she reached over and touched his knee, "you save people, Lucien, you don't kill them, and in spite of what that man did to you, you would not let him die, just because you could. You did the right thing."
"I don't think he will ever forgive me," Lucien mused.
"That's his problem, Lucien, not yours," and the tone of her voice told him it was no longer up for discussion.
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And so life went on, though it irked the doctor that he couldn't court Jean properly. He couldn't take her for dinner in town, the occasional bunch of flowers was looked on as making amends for some mistake he had made and annoyed Jean, and her turning up at the station with biscuits for the officers was just Jean being Jean. Nobody turned a hair that it was when the doctor was heavily involved in a case she would bring more than biscuits and in one case, even a clean shirt.
"You've not been home for two days, doctor," she huffed, handing him the garment, "the girls are worried, and so am I," she added in a whisper.
Lucien pulled her down the stairs to a quiet corner, "we have to get this person, Jean," he hissed, "or nobody will be safe."
"You're a doctor not a police officer," she urged, "why do you have to stay?"
"We are uncovering evidence all the time," he handed her his jacket and waistcoat and slipped into a side room to change his shirt, "it's like a big puzzle," he came out again, tying his tie, "once Alice and I have put the pieces together we should have everything to point us to the gunman and maybe even his reasons."
She watched him replace his waistcoat and jacket, "so Alice has been here for two days as well?" she raised her eyebrows.
"Just about, though she did nip home to change, and Matthew made her take a couple of hours off to re-charge her batteries."
"But not you?" she drew her brows together.
"I can do all-nighters, Jean," he smiled and touched her arm, "I'll be home soon, we're close." He bent his head and kissed her softly thinking he had to make it up to her somehow.
"What is so different about this case, Lucien?" she continued probing, "I thought it was a single shooting."
"The slug we pulled from the dead man's chest was from a high powered sniper rifle. We can't even say who the victim is, he had no ID on him."
"Can I see him, I know most round here?"
"Jean ..."
"Lucien, if I can tell you who he is it might make it easier, may even make sense ... you don't usually mind me taking an interest."
He studied her; so often in the past she had offered a little nugget of information, an idea, sometimes off the cuff, and it was true, she was Ballarat born and bred.
"Come on then," he took her elbow, "over to the morgue."
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Jean looked at the man Lucien wheeled out of the fridge. A little older and with less hair but she recognised him, anyway.
"That's Gordon Wellaway," she sighed, "he lived above the bookseller's shop with his parents when I knew him. They left Ballarat half way through the war, Gordon joined up, I think, his parents ... I don't know. I don't even know why they left."
"Any other family?"
"I don't know," she pulled the sheet over his face, "I didn't know him that well, bit of a loner."
"Wouldn't Matthew know him, or Bill?"
"Unlikely," she shrugged, "as I said he was something of a loner, he didn't socialise with any of us."
"Well at least we know who he is now, Jean, thank you," he pushed the trolley back and closed the door. "We can look into army records, put out a call - you say he lived over the bookseller's?"
"Ah ha," she nodded, "it's still there. They aren't though."
"No, but there may be something that tells us where he went, or what regiment he joined."
"Maybe."
"I'll be home soon, Jean," he smiled and kissed her on the cheek.
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Mary noticed her mother was distracted over dinner. She had assured both girls that Lucien was fine, as was Uncle Matthew, but the case they were working on was difficult, and they understood. Thomas reminded the girls that Lucien tended to do more than your average police surgeon and was probably, even as he spoke, digging deep into the dead man's past.
This was the third dinner Lucien had missed, thereby the third evening she would not sit by his side in the studio after everyone else had gone to bed, and Jean was feeling it - lonely. She couldn't remember the last time she felt this lonely. Perhaps it was because she didn't have time to feel that way before, but these days life had begun to go smoothly and she had time to relax more. That, and she had a feeling this case was more than it appeared - for once Jean was worried.
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Mary helped her wash up, while Thomas sat with Li in the study and listened to her practice her French.
"Are you ok, mum?"' she asked.
"Yes, fine, why?" Jean didn't turn her head, just kept her eyes fixed on the plate she was cleaning.
"You were rather quiet at dinner," Mary continued, "distracted."
"Oh, it's nothing," she laughed half heartedly.
"It's Uncle Lucien, isn't it? This case ..."
"Mary ..." Jean wanted to tell her it was nothing to worry about, Uncle Lucien was well able to take care of himself, but found herself stuck for words. "... he is determined to find out why this man was killed. He knows who it is now, I identified the body for him ..."
"You went to the morgue?" Mary gasped.
"I've lived here all my life I just wondered if he was someone I might have known, from the past ... and he was, someone from my early years."
"That's got to help. hasn't it?"
"I hope so, it gives him something to work with, anyway."
"It still worries you, though, doesn't it?" her daughter stopped drying the plate she was holding, "that he could get hurt."
"I worry about all of them, in these kind of cases, Mary," Jean leant on the edge of the sink, "only one man has died but they don't know why or who killed him and have no idea where to go from here."
"Well, as you say, they now know who he was, so perhaps things will come together."
"Let's hope so, now, these dishes won't wash themselves ..."
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They had found nothing at the old flat above the shop. It was now empty, used more for storage than anything. They had even lifted some of the floor boards in what was the smallest bedroom, assuming it was Gordon's when he was young. They were back to scratching their heads.
"There must be something out at the site," Lucien growled, looking over the map on Matthew's desk, "I want to go back out there."
"Doc," Bill tried to reason with him, "we've scoured the place with a fine toothed comb, there's nothing there."
"Dammit!" he slammed his hand down on the desk, "there has to be something!"
"Blake!" Matthew glared at him.
"It was a single shot, from a high powered rifle," Lucien paced the room, his thumb and forefinger to his forehead, "so, given the way he lay, when he was found we need to trace a line back to where a shot could have been fired from."
Having no other ideas they would have to try it. Matthew held out little hope but at this stage of the game ...
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Gordon Wellaway's body had been found outside the town, in full sight of the road but not on the verge. There was very little in the way of vegetation or cover for anyone so Lucien wondered how the sniper had concealed himself. He had Bill, who was of a similar height to Wellaway, lie on the ground using the crime photographs as reference, then, working on the way he was twisted had him stand again with his back to the road. Shielding his eyes against the sun he scanned the area.
"There," he pointed in the direction of a small building in the distance.
"It's a heck of a way away," Matthew grumbled.
"Good rifle, good sniper ..." Blake shrugged and stepped out in the lead.
"Wait!" Matthew grabbed his shoulder, "what if he's still there?"
"We'll soon find out," Lucien pulled away and carried on, but Matthew noticed he didn't walk in a straight line. He told Bill to do the same and to keep a distance between himself and Blake.
"Smaller targets, Bill," he muttered.
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They had gone far enough to see that the building appeared to be a shed, tin roof one door and a window, or space for one, anyway. Lucien stopped wishing he had brought some binoculars with him.
"That'll be where the shot came from," he turned back to speak to Matthew and as he did so a shot rang out and dust flew up a few feet in front of him.
"Bloody hell!" he jumped.
"Blake!"
"If he wanted to kill me he would have done so," Lucien regained his composure and wondered, briefly, how much he would tell Jean, when, and if, he got home in one piece.
"You don't think Wellaway's murder was just to get you, do you?" Matthew stared at him.
"I bloody hope not," he grunted, "I would prefer a knock at the door."
"Who have you upset?"
"Since when, Matthew," Lucien shoved his hands in his pockets, aware they were all right in the line of fire, "since I came back or before?"
Matthew didn't think he had upset anyone lately, since his return, that much they would want to kill him and take another, presumably innocent, life to bring him out into the open to do so.
"I suppose we have to get to this drongo to find out."
Lucien turned back to face the shed had held his hands up in surrender, which Matthew and Bill both knew was not his intention. Matthew nodded to Bill to have his gun ready, out of his shoulder holster, and to widen the space between them. His idea was that they would try to go to the side and round the back of the building while the shooter was concentrating on keeping the doctor in his sights. Assuming there was only one.
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In the shed the sniper continued to train his sight on Dr Blake, the other two he would deal with in time, they were only local coppers, with no knowledge of army tactics, or so he thought, and even if they did, as long as he took Blake with him he didn't care. His aim was not to shoot Blake outright, but to make him understand why he had to die. A grudge born for a lifetime.
"You!" Lucien called out, "you in there! I'm unarmed!"
His call was met with silence.
"Well," Lucien hummed to himself, "either you don't believe me, in which case you are ex-army, or you really want me - face to face." He slowly advanced, wondering what Jean would do if she were there, or what she would say. She'd be cross, like she was when he ripped his suit trousers climbing a fence, or when he waded into Lake Wendouree to retrieve a body. He liked that, that she would chastise him for such actions, Mei Lin would not have bothered, they had staff to deal with things like that, he thought he preferred Jean for that, it showed she cared, was deeper than she seemed. Smart too, smarter than he was, or ever could be.
Lucien was at the front of the shed now. The rifle swung, indicating he was to enter.
He did so.
"You took your time, I thought you were cleverer than that," a voice grumbled from the darkness, a voice he remembered.
"Derek Alderton," Lucien lowered his arms, "well, well, well, what do you want?"
"You never loved her."
"Mei Lin? I did, so did you." Lucien's eyes began to adjust to the low light. "I knew, Derek, knew for a long time. What I don't understand is why you didn't propose before I did."
"You were a Major before me," Alderton grunted, "Old man Chen, he wouldn't accept anything less. You were also a gifted linguist, socially above me ..."
"Reverse snobbery, Derek?" Lucien folded his arms, "now, what is this all about, surely not Mei Lin?"
"You were supposed to keep her safe," Alderton growled.
"And if she had come to Ballarat, with Li, she would have been, but she wouldn't," Lucien reasoned, "probably because of you, because she wanted to stay where she could have both of us. Killing me won't bring her back, all it will do is leave a ten year old an orphan "
"Why did you let her work in the hospital, out in the open ...?"
"Surprising as it may seem, she wanted to. We, you and I, were both engaged in our duties, she was bored."
"It was dangerous."
"For god's sake, Derek! the house was razed to the ground, she wouldn't have stood a chance there, either! We can't change the past, bring back those we loved, all we can do is make the future a better one for those who made it to live in. Put the rifle down, Derek, let me take you in and see if we can't ..."
"Can't what!?" Alderton yelled, "neither of us are leaving here alive, Blake!"
"Drop it!" Matthew's voice cut through the air, "now!"
Alderton turned and in that millisecond Lucien took advantage and launched himself at his former friend. He barrelled into him, the rifle fell to the ground firing off a shot as it did and the two men landed in a tangled heap. Somewhere Lucien felt the burning of a bullet as he struggled with Derek, the pounding of boots on the old floorboards echoed and suddenly he felt himself being lifted off his adversary.
"Got him, Bill?!" Matthew shouted.
"Got him, boss!" and the sound of handcuffs closing accompanied Bill's satisfied growl.
As Matthew hauled Lucien up the doctor let out a yell.
"You hit?!"
"Arm," he gasped, clutching his left hand over his right upper arm, "bloody hell," he ground out between gritted teeth.
"Can't see a damn thing in here," Matthew hissed, "let's get you outside and have a gander."
Outside Matthew took a closer look at Lucien's arm.
"Through and through, doc," he murmured, "here," he pulled out his handkerchief and ripped the jacket sleeve from the bullet hole. He wrapped his handkerchief round the arm over the wound and rolled the sleeve over it. He secured it with his tie then used Lucien's tie to fashion a sling.
"Right, let's get back," Matthew kept his gun trained on Alderton, while Bill frog-marched him and carried the rifle.
Nothing was said on the trek back to the car, Lucien wondered what had brought Derek to conclude he had to kill him over Mei Lin's death. They had spoken in the camp but not much, he had not even told him he knew Derek was sleeping with his wife. Thinking about why Derek had clearly gone over the edge kept his mind off the stinging and grinding ache in his arm. Jean was not going to be pleased, not pleased at all.
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Mary watched the patrol car fly by. She thought she had seen Uncle Lucien in the front seat, but it went by at such speed ...
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They took Alderton up to the interview room and handcuffed him to a chair. Lucien, by now was dizzy with the pain from the wound to his arm, slumped into a chair on the opposite side of the table. Knowing he would want to be in on the interview, Matthew asked one of the junior constables to ask Dr Harvey if she would kindly attend the station and bring a first aid kit with her. As the young man left he whispered that he should suggest she also bring a local anaesthetic and stitching equipment. The constable raised his eyebrows, but his was not to reason why.
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Across in the hospital lab, Dr Harvey was writing up some notes on an autopsy she had performed, and concluded that death was due to cirrhosis of the liver. The patient had been a heavy drinker since leaving the army and had effectively drunk himself to death. She was sorry that it had come to this, no-one should feel that drowning their sorrows was the only way to forget the horrors of war. She lifted the phone almost absent-mindedly and listened to the stuttering of the young constable.
"Stitches?" she tutted, "why on earth ...?"
"Dunno, the Inspector just said anaesthetic and stitches," he shrugged.
"I'll be right there." She put the phone down and collected the equipment she needed wondering if it was Matthew or Lucien or Bill who needed medical attention; perhaps it was the suspect. "Well," she muttered to herself, "I suppose I'll find out soon enough."
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"Ah, Dr Harvey," Matthew smiled, "good. Dr Blake here has a bullet wound to the arm - through and through."
He sounded matter of fact as he waved in Lucien's direction.
"Dr Blake," she huffed, "I don't know what your father is going to say, or your daughter for that matter," she didn't add that Jean was unlikely to be able to repair the jacket.
"Er, right ..." he hummed and swallowed.
"Let me take a look," she stepped towards him and undid the tie Matthew had used. It was now soaked in blood, dried and stiff. Carefully, she removed the rest of the dressing, patently ignoring the gasps of pain Lucien emitted.
It didn't take her long to anaesthetise, stitch up and dress Lucien's arm, then have him rest it in a proper sling. Now the interview could start in earnest.
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"Now, Major Alderton," Matthew started, pen ready to take down any notes, "I do not believe you would shoot a man in cold blood just to get Dr Blake to come to you, so you could kill him, over the sad demise of his wife, Mei Lin. So, what's the real story?"
Alderton sat with his arms folded and said nothing.