Jean and Lucien looked up and down Ballarat Station platform. They expected to see Charlie. Lucien had phoned him to ask him to collect the three of them when they got back from the clinic in Melbourne. Autumn was beginning to grizzle even though they had tried to time the journey in between feeds, but, typically, she was not going to adhere to their timetable!
'Let's head out to the front, he may be waiting there,' Lucien suggested, picking up their suitcases. Jean was carrying the baby and trying to soothe her.
Outside the station, they looked for a police car, but none could be seen. A car horn blared, and Lucien looked round. There was his Holden and a strangely familiar figure at the wheel. He touched Jean's arm, Autumn had been woken fully by the car horn and was demanding her bottle, and pointed to the car.
Jean smiled broadly in spite of being cross about the sudden noise, Mattie waved to them. Mattie was back in Ballarat! She got out of the car and ran to her dearest friends, her substitute parents, hugging Jean and flinging her arms round Lucien. She had the biggest smile on her open, lovely face.
'When did you get back?' Lucien asked, as he put the luggage in the boot of the car and Jean got into the back seat with her precious, screaming, bundle. Offering Autumn her finger wasn't doing the job, and happy as she was to see Mattie, she needed to get home and feed her daughter.
'Lucien...' Jean begged.
'Yesterday,' Mattie said as she started the car and headed home. 'I wrote but you must have gone to pick up Jean when the letter got to you. So I got Charlie to let me into the house. He gave me your car keys when you rang to say you needed picking up. My word, she's got a pair of lungs on her!'
'Yes she has,' agreed Jean, not adding 'just like her father!' She tried to ignore who Autumn's father was just for now, she'd try to reconcile herself to that fact one day, but not now, now she needed to concentrate on loving her daughter and giving her a good home.
Mattie swung the car into the drive and tooted the horn; well the baby was awake now so it didn't matter. Charlie opened the door and went to help them get out. Mattie went straight into the house with Jean and straight to the kitchen. She had taken the precaution of preparing a couple of bottles for Autumn and stored them in the fridge before she went to pick them up, so all she needed to do was put one in a jug of hot water and it would soon be ready. Not soon enough, but soon. Jean was grateful for her friend's foresight and it gave her time to look round the familiar room, so glad to be home. Mattie made tea while they waited for the bottle to come to the right temperature. No words were spoken, but an easy mood settled on them.
'Pass me that bottle, Mattie,' Jean pleaded, 'She's not going to wait any longer, and she'll just get colic if she doesn't get her milk!'
Mattie took the bottle out of the jug and tested the milk on her wrist. She passed the bottle to Jean who offered it to the baby. Silence, apart from the sound of sucking, fell. Now that Autumn was quiet Mattie held out her arms for the child, expertly taking her without disturbing the feeding frenzy, and Jean gratefully took a mouthful of tea. The trouble with bottle feeding was she didn't have a free hand to take a cup of tea at the same time. She'd fed her boys herself and became adept at feeding a baby and drinking a cup of tea without spilling it. She watched Mattie with her daughter and a brief thought went through her mind, 'it was about time Mattie thought about settling down', heavens she was thinking like Martin, that would never do. There was plenty of time, but when she did, Mattie would make a good mother. Jean hoped she'd make a better fist of it this time, and she sighed, almost imperceptibly, but enough for Mattie to notice.
Mattie looked up, 'Penny for them.' She said, softly. She had a good idea what Jean may be thinking of.
'Oh, it's nothing,' Jean smiled, wistfully, 'just hoping I make a better job of it this time round.'
'What? Motherhood?' Mattie questioned, 'You're a great mother, Autumn is a very lucky little girl.'
'Well I didn't do so well ...' Jean started to say,
'What? With Jack?' Mattie argued, 'he made his choices, maybe not the right ones, but it's not your fault. You were on your own, having to run the farm, keep two boys in check at a difficult time in their lives, heck, I'd have run for cover!'
Jean laughed at her, she always looked on the bright side of life, and if there wasn't one she shone a light with her optimism. And maybe she was right. She should stop worrying and get on with life, which looked like it might be rather good, after all!
'By the way, ' Mattie intruded on her thoughts, 'does Jack know that the baby's arrived?'
'Umm...I haven't told him,' she admitted, but then Charlie had wisely not given contact details to Jean, just in case she gave in to her maternal instincts and did something rash. 'Charlie might have, I haven't asked.'
'I'm sure he'd have asked you first,' Mattie handed Autumn back to her mother, 'he wouldn't do it without your say so.'
Jean pulled the baby to her shoulder and gently rubbed her back. Autumn obligingly burped and then snuggled into the gap between Jean's chin and chest and closed her eyes. Jean kissed the top of her hear and smiled, softly, loving that baby smell and softness of her skin. She really didn't want to think about it, just yet. She was sure he wouldn't really be bothered, after all he didn't even ask after Ruth when she came to live with her and Lucien.
'How does his money get to you?' Mattie was curious about the arrangement, she agreed with it but even so she thought Jean would have sent the information.
'His boss sends it, half of his wages to us, half to Jack.' Jean said, 'I don't actually know where he ended up, just that he's out of state and working. Charlie gets regular reports and so far all good, well mostly. He seems to have trouble getting up in the morning. I believe they tip him out of his bunk and throw cold water over him.' At that she grinned, Jack had always been a lie-a-bed, she often had to drag the covers off him to get him up in time for school. She hadn't ever resorted to a bucket of cold water, though, tempting though it may have been!
'Nothing like you, then?' Mattie giggled, Jean was notorious for her early mornings and hatred of being made to stay in bed if she was even the slightest bit under the weather. She wondered if marriage had changed her, but decided that was NOT a question she should ask.
'No, very much like his father. Christopher, for a farmer, was bad at getting up, I used to push him out of bed some mornings.' Jean admitted.
'You don't mind the odd lie in these days, though, wife.' Lucien had heard the last part of the conversation, and decided to chip in. Jean flushed a bright red and Mattie burst out laughing, she had a fair idea why Jean didn't always get up at the crack of dawn these days, and it was nothing to do with needing rest!
The closest thing to Jean's hand was Autumn's empty bottle so she threw it at her grinning husband as she got up to put the baby down in her bassinet. He caught it in his hand, expertly stopping it from hitting him in the face. As she passed him he grabbed her arm and pulled her into a deep kiss, which, true to form, she didn't resist, even if it was in front of Mattie.
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That evening Jean and Lucien sat together in the living room. Charlie and Mattie had gone to their rooms, Autumn was sleeping so they had some time to themselves, time, which for a while would be short until routines had been set in place.
'Do you want a message sent to Jack?' Lucien had heard more of her conversation with Mattie than she realised.
'I don't know.' She had to admit this bothered her. Should she let him wait, should she ever tell him he had a daughter, should she tell him but not let him see her? So many questions kept running through her mind they almost made her dizzy. If Autumn had been hers and Lucien's she'd have shouted it from the rooftops, phoned both her boys to tell them the wonderful news, but this was different. She had told Mattie when the whole story had begun but she hadn't told her son, Christopher. Christopher had no idea his brother had got a girl in trouble, either time, he had no idea his mother and new husband were going to raise the baby as their own, any of it. She hadn't known how to tell him, so she didn't. She was also worried about Christopher's reaction. Lucien's had been bad enough, when he'd used his fist on Jack, and hers, hers when she found out that Ruth was only fifteen at the time, she had surprised herself. She had trouble forgiving herself for slapping him. Lucien had been shocked, she knew, but he had told her she had been right, because he saw something flash across Jack's face at the time, that something being, 'I'm not getting away with it this time.'
'Tell you what, 'Lucien had an idea how to get round the dilemma, 'why don't we ask Charlie to get a message to the farmer who Jack works for, and leave it to him to see if he thinks Jack deserves to know. Or even if he asks if he's heard anything. That way the information is there for him, it's part of him taking responsibility for what he has done.'
'What if he never asks?' Jean looked saddened by this thought.
'If he never asks then he is the one making that decision, Jean, even he might wonder. Thoughtless he may be but I don't think even Jack is that far removed from reality.' Lucien kissed the end of her nose, his new favourite spot.
Jean thought for a few minutes. What Lucien had suggested meant they wouldn't be keeping it from him, all he had to do was ask the question. And she hoped he was right about Jack perhaps having a tiny bit of sense. She sighed her assent to his proposal, and decided she didn't want to think about it anymore. She had a better idea...
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Queensland:
The farmer opened the letter from Ballarat police. He knew it would be about Beazley, he expected it, having been told what Jack's transgression was. He admitted he was a good looking boy, but that was no reason to take advantage of innocent young girls. Beazley wasn't the first such lad he'd had come through his hands and no doubt wouldn't be the last. Shame really, he was sure he had more going for him than toiling away on a remote farm. He was well educated, well he appeared to be, but lazy and should have made more of his life. He read the short letter from Senior Sergeant Davies; a baby girl, adopted by the local police surgeon and his wife. Baby well and a good size. Baby's mother well, too. Information to be made available to Jack Beazley if he asked. So even that was up to the boy, whether he wanted to know or not. The local police surgeon Davies had mentioned, he knew, was Beazley's mother's second husband. Davies had told him they were good people.
The farmer looked across the paddock, Beazley was repairing fences, driving the stakes into the ground with a sledgehammer. He'd developed some impressive muscles in his time there but only used them for work. Just as well, the farmer thought, he'd be a formidable opponent in a fight!
A month later:
'Beazley,' a voice in the darkness of the bunkhouse, 'you awake?'
'Yeah, why?' Jack answered. The new lad was so young, he had a strange accent.
'What you here for? I mean what did you do?' The voice asked.
'Got a girl into trouble.' He answered. 'Where you from?' he asked.
'London, me ma and da moved to Australia last year.' The lad replied.
'Well,' thought Jack, that explains the accent. 'What've you done?'
'Nicked stuff.' came the answer. 'Da said we had to be careful with our money, so I nicked some veg from the market.'
'Should've run faster,' Jack advised.
'Yeah, well, I didn't.'
'Beaz?' the lad questioned, 'how d'ye get a girl into trouble?'
'God, how old are you?' Jack gasped, he didn't want to give the boy the talk Blake had given him, half a year ago, seemed like half a lifetime.
'Fourteen,' the lad admitted.
Jack sighed, he messed up his life, now this kid was going to do the same, maybe it was time to straighten himself out.
'Don't ask. It just means she had my baby, and I didn't take care of her.' That was one heck of an admission, even to himself.
'What did she have?'
'Eh?'
'Boy or girl?'
It was then that Jack realised he'd never asked the boss if he'd heard anything from Ballarat. Ruth must have had the kid by now.
'Dunno.' he whispered, thinking he'd better ask, it was only right.
The following morning, for once Jack was up in good time to work. He took the new lad, now known as London, out with him to repair the fences. He had to let him ride his horse with him, the poor lad had no idea how to ride a horse; but he was light and Jack's horse was strong so two bodies were no problem. They passed the time working and occasionally talking about how they had come to be at the farm. Both were aware they were a disappointment to their respective families, Jack even more so when he thought of his mother and Lucien. She had taken a position as a housekeeper after selling the family farm, had slaved away to provide for him and his brother and all he had done was get arrested for firearms offences and get two girls pregnant. Not a great advert for Victorian males. London was a child, doing what he thought was the best for his family, but taking food without paying was a crime, and he knew it, even before he had done it. He had never been a fast runner and this had been his downfall.
It took a week of being in London's company before Jack found the courage to ask the boss if he had heard from Ballarat. Did he know what had happened to the girl he had impregnated.
'I had a letter over a month ago,' the boss informed him, 'I was waiting for you to ask me if I had any news. The baby is a girl, in good health and so his her mother. I have been told the baby had been adopted by the police surgeon and his wife; I believe you know them.'
Jack looked at his feet, ashamed. London had made him see he was not a good person, but maybe he could redeem himself in some way.
'Thanks, boss, ' Jack mumbled, 'just wanted to know.' He turned and sloped out of the house.
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A year later:
'Autumn!' Jean called as her daughter walked unsteadily towards the surgery. Lucien was dealing with patients and didn't want a one year old interrupting him. The red haired child turned at the sound of her mother's voice and promptly sat down. Turning while walking was not easy, she had found!. Jean scooped her up in her arms and the child wrapped her arms round her mother's neck. Jean kissed her curls. They hadn't disappeared when the baby hair had fallen, just reappeared, long red ringlets that Jean loved to tie with ribbons. Talk in Ballarat was that Autumn was Lucien's child, but Jean had never shown any sign of pregnancy so they couldn't work out who the mother was. Was it Jean or had Lucien been unfaithful and Jean had taken his child anyway, being too old to conceive herself. Such gossip was hurtful to Jean and she longed to tell them that Autumn was actually her granddaughter, Jack's daughter by Ruth Wilson. Lucien dissuaded her. Let them talk, he had said, telling them that Jean's son was the father might cause even more gossip. And bring Ruth into the gossip chain. He was right, in time Autumn was accepted as their daughter.
A knock at the door caused her to turn round. She was sure all the patients for the day's surgery had arrived so who could it be? So with Autumn on her hip she went to answer the door.
It was just as well that Autumn had her arms firmly round Jean's neck when the door opened; Jack stood there, just had he had done over a year ago.
'Jack,' Jean gasped, clutching her daughter even tighter.
'Mum.'
She moved aside to let him in. They went to the kitchen.
'How are you?' Jean asked, noticing he had developed muscles. He looked healthy.
'Well, and you?' Jack noticed she was apprehensive, but underneath that she was happy.
'The same. Busy, as always, Autumn keeps me on my toes.' She indicated the baby.
'She...'
'Yes, Jack,' Jean nodded.
There was a silence.
'I'm sorry, mum,' his looked down at his hands, 'I know now I've been an idiot, I've let you down and I've left you holding the baby, literally.'
Jean found Autumn's curls suddenly very interesting. She was unsure about her son's new found interest in his daughter.
'Jean,' Lucien's voice called through the house.
She sighed, 'Kitchen,' she called, as she got up to put the kettle on. Lucien stopped short at the kitchen door,
'Jack!' Lucien was astounded, how had he had the temerity to come back.
Jack stood up straightened his shoulders, and met Lucien eye to eye.
'Sir,' he said, quietly, and held out his hand, 'I don't believe I congratulated you on your marriage to my mother, and I am sorry. I have let both of you down and it took at fourteen year old immigrant to teach me that.'
Lucien looked the young man straight on, and shook his hand, he couldn't find the right words to say so said nothing.
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Jean curled into Lucien, satisfied, fulfilled. She was loved, she had a beautiful, but slightly flawed, family, didn't everybody; and life couldn't be better.
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This is the last chapter of this story, I wanted to redeem Jack, even if 'good looks don't put food on the table!' Sometimes it's the children that wake us up to what is right.
