He had never been to Ballarat, but as he stepped down from the train he felt he knew it, very well. He turned and waited for his companion to join him on the platform. She was of average height, dressed in a black dress and coat, her fashionably styled red hair showing beneath the brim of a black hat. He was similarly attired in a black suit, white shirt and tie, and the casual observer who assumed they were attending a funeral would have been correct in that assumption.

Rose looked round, nervously, it was the first time she had been back in twenty five years. She had done as her uncle had asked, kept in touch, usually including the latest in her light series of books set in a small town. He in his turn had written his own private review and updated her on the comings and goings in Ballarat, much of which she alluded to in the stories.

'Okay?' He asked.

'Yes, I think so.' She smiled and slipped her hand through the crook of his arm.

'Taxi?'

'Yes, Alice said to go to the cemetery as there isn't going to be a church service.' She led him across the station to the taxi rank, and they took the first cab on the rank. When she asked to be taken to the funeral the taxi driver turned with a sad look in his eyes,

'He'll be missed.'

'I'm sure he will.' She agreed and sat back, turning to the man who accompanied her, 'you would have liked him, you have a similar sense of humour.'

'So you keep telling me,' he patted her hand, his old fashioned courtesies she found endearing, born of him being almost ten years older than she.

They found the place, it wasn't difficult. Although it was a private funeral there were quite a lot of people there, but the close friends and his small family were standing closest to the grave. Rose wasn't quite sure how near she should go, she had been forgiven for what she had done, why she had left Ballarat, but she was still hesitant.

'Come on love,' he looked and smiled, sympathetically, he knew her story, she had been very honest when they had become close. He had said he wasn't looking to have hoards of children and it was her he wanted to marry. So Rose had married her publisher, Alan Saunders, and found she was happy with her lot.

She drew him with her to stand by Alice to wait for the casket. Alice looked up and nodded, a small smile creeping over her face.

'Thank you,' she whispered.

Rose reached out and squeezed her hand but didn't look round at the other mourners.

'Thank you,' she replied, just as quietly, 'for looking after him.'

Jean had looked up when the last two had arrived at the graveside and gasped. Alice had told her she had asked Rose to attend but was unsure as to whether she would, and there she was. Over the years Jean had reached out to Rose, at first with a Christmas card, then a letter with a little incident she might find amusing, then a birthday card, then they corresponded on a fairly regular basis. Now she could actually speak to her, face to face, perhaps say she was sorry for being so hard. She squeezed Lucien's hand and nodded in the author's direction.

'Oh,' he inhaled, 'she came.'

'Of course.'

The service was short and sweet, as Matthew had asked it should be, and it suited Alice to remember him with simplicity. There were no flowers, any money spent of flowers was to be donated to the new convalescent home. As the casket was lowered, Alice set one single red rose on the lid, 'His favourite, from our garden,' she told her.

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They headed back to the club, where a small back room had been set aside to toast Matthew Lawson, and where his friends and colleagues could reminisce about his life.

Alice introduced Paul, their adopted son. 'It's thanks to him we actually got married.' She laughed.

'Mum.' Paul teased.

Rose thought he was a good mix of the two, tall, well built, dark haired and he obviously adored his mother.

'Well, it is,' Alice insisted, 'they wouldn't let me adopt you if I was just living with your father.'

Alice was called away to talk to a police officer who had just arrived to pay his respects.

Rose asked Alan if he could point out any people he could recognise from her books,

'Well, that's obviously the doctor and his wife,' he pointed to Lucien and Jean, 'but the others, no. Perhaps they aren't here.'

'A lot aren't, a lot have grown up, been promoted, sadly passed.' She set her stories way back when she lived there so Ned, Bill, Cec and numerous others were no longer around.

'Rose,' she turned to a familiar voice, 'hello, dear. We are going back to our house later, with Alice and Paul, please come and join us.' It was Jean, holding out the final olive branch.

'Jean, that's very kind of you but...' Rose smiled.

'I know Alice will want you there, and so do I. The past is the past, Rose.' Jean touched her arm. 'Please.'

'In that case, we'd love to,' she looked up at Alan, 'wouldn't we?'

'I think it's a lovely invitation, Rose.' He smiled.

Rose turned back to Jean, 'This is Alan, my husband,' she indicated the man next to her.

'Lovely to meet you, Alan,' Jean smiled, 'I wish is it was under more happy circumstances.'

'Mrs Blake,' he took her hand, gently, 'so do I. Rose has told me so much about you, aside from what she writes.'

'Please, call me Jean.'

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Rose had refused offers of a lift up to the Blake's she wanted to walk with Alan, show him some of the places he only knew through her books. As she turned into the drive, she took a deep breath. The last time she had been here she hadn't so much walked as staggered, near death. Well, here goes, she thought, it can't be worse than then.

The front looked the same as she remembered it, the porch had the familiar hanging baskets, the paint was fresh and bright, the polished knocker glinted in the low winter sun. Gone was the Holden Lucien used to drive, in its place was a bright red mini and a sedate Ford. Rose decided the mini was Jean's and the Ford, the doctor's car. There again, Amelia, Jean's granddaughter, was a doctor and was taking over the practice, though Lucien still worked part time, the mini might be hers.

'You know,' said Alan, with a smile, 'if you'd asked me to find you based on your descriptions in the books, this is where I would have found you.'

'Really?' She looked surprised, 'is it that obvious?'

'Now it is,' he laughed, 'now I see through your eyes.'

She looked at him,

'...and I like what I see.'

'They're good people, Alan,' she sighed, 'I was the one who messed up.'

'But if you hadn't,' he stopped and looked at her, 'I would never have met you, so, really, my dear Rose, I'm rather glad you did.' He bent to her and kissed her lightly on the lips.

As she knocked she was taken back twenty five years, to the bright sound of,

'I'll get it,'

and her face broke into a huge smile.

Apart from Jean, Alice was one of the first to greet her, then Lucien. He held her in a fierce hug, as if he never wanted to let her go.

'God, it's good to see you,' he finally loosened his hold, 'you look well, healthy.'

'Dr Blake...'

'It used to be Lucien,' he tipped his head to the side.

'Lucien,' she held back the tears, 'I have missed you, I have missed this...' she looked round. 'You haven't changed a bit.'

'Rubbish, I'm an old man.'

'You, Lucien Radcliffe Blake, will never be old.' She laughed, a signal for the celebration of Matthew Lawson's life to begin. There was laughter at the reminisces of his life, tales from Lucien of their times as boys, but there was one guest who kept quiet, slightly apart.

'I'm sorry,' Rose approached him, 'I hurt you, I was reckless with your feelings, too self important. There is only one thing I can say, sorry, and thank you for being who you are. I have followed your career and am so happy that you found someone who could give you what I never could have.'

Charlie nodded, 'Perhaps it was meant to be, that we parted. I'm glad you are here, Matthew was a special person.'

'He was, wasn't he?' Rose grinned. 'Now, tell me about your family, I know you are now a Superintendant, well done you, but...'

'Oh, no,' he smiled, 'you're not putting me in one of your novels.'

'You're already there, you dolt!' She threw back her head and laughed, 'who else would I model the caring, eager but slightly desperate policeman on?'

He shook his head and widened his smile, 'well...' they sat on the couch, Rose was relieved to see that Jean had updated the furnishings, and Charlie told her about his wife, who was unable to attend, their children, four, two of each, his home in Melbourne and his secret habit of reading each of her novels.

When all the guests had gone but Alice and Paul, Rose and Alan, Lucien poured the evening drinks,

'Nothing has changed, Lucien.' Rose teased.

'And why should it, so...' Lucien turned to Alice, '..it's Thursday evening, and we promised.'

'Of course,' she took out a copy of Rose's latest book, 'now, where were we?'

Rose watched as Jean and Lucien snuggled together on the couch, Paul sat on the floor, Amelia next to him, which left the chairs for her and Alan. Alice looked at her then nodded towards a chair. They sat, each taking a chair and Alice opened the book and started to read.

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Rose lay next to her husband in the hotel bedroom,

'I had no idea,' she smiled, 'that they did that.'

'I think it was lovely,' Alan pulled her close, 'to read your books every week, out loud.'

'I have to admit I was a bit embarrassed.' She whispered.

'They love you ,Rose,' he murmured, 'I think you will be welcome anytime you want to come to see them, Jean said as much.'

'Maybe I will.'

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This had got to be the shortest epilogue/chapter I have written. But I wanted 'closure' for Rose and for her to be finally accepted by Jean.

Thank you for reading my story.