This story is far too long to call a drabble really. But I got carried away. Thanks to miss ouiser for the idea.
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Jean used her finger to stir the buttons in the old tobacco tin. This always reminded her of childhood, when her mother would let her play with the buttons while she sewed. Now the tin was hers, and most of the buttons told a story.
She was looking for a plain shirt button to mend Lucien's shirt, and as she searched she glanced up at him fondly. He was sitting in the armchair, reading the newspaper, and for a moment he could have been his father. Jean thought of all the evenings she had sat sewing or knitting in this same room, but with Thomas Blake.
For the last decade of her life she had worked for the two doctors, and she laughed to herself at the thought. When she first came to this house she feared she would not last a month. Thomas Blake was serious and rather dour, and it was rare to see him smile in those early days.
She arrived at a difficult time in her life; young Christopher had just left home to join the army, and Jack was in Melbourne following his arrest and detention. Jean had had to sell the farm and find some sort of live in work for herself. For a farm wife, housekeeping was a job she had the skills for, and she had been grateful for the work.
However, the doctor was taciturn, and inclined to be critical if his meals were late or his shirts needed mending. They had not got off to a promising start as Jean tried to find her feet in her new role.
In time they reached an understanding. She came to realise the doctor was lonely and set in his ways. He came to appreciate her company and to enjoy her cooking. They rubbed along. Eventually they even became friends.
Now Jean's gaze alighted on a suitable button, one she recognised as coming from one of Thomas's shirts. Lucien wouldn't notice that it was very slightly different from the others on his shirt, and anyway, it would be hidden by his tie and waistcoat.
That was something the two men had in common, she thought. They both dressed smartly, preferring to wear a suit, though she had to admit she did far more mending of Lucien's clothing than she had for his father. Thomas may have been the police surgeon, but he never seemed to find it necessary to wade into lakes, climb over fences or chase criminals through fields.
And they both carried a certain sadness. Thomas Blake had lost his wife young and had been estranged from his son for years. When the old doctor first mentioned Lucien, Jean had been surprised to hear he even had a son. In the six months she had worked for him then, Thomas had not talked about his family at all, beyond saying that his wife was dead and her studio was to remain locked.
Over the coming years, all she knew of Lucien was that he took after his mother, and that he lived a mysterious and uncertain life somewhere in Asia. Later Thomas hinted that Lucien had made an 'unfortunate' marriage, and that he had not been back to Australia in many years.
When Thomas Blake became seriously ill, he gave Jean an address so she could write to Lucien, and he dictated letters for her to send. The final one resulted in Lucien's arrival, swiftly followed by his father's death.
She thought back to her first meeting with Lucien. It was hard to remember how surprised she had been. From Thomas's few hints on the matter, she had expected a tearaway son with an unsuitable wife. Instead, Lucien arrived dressed as smartly as his father, quite formal in his manner, and alone. First impressions could be so misleading!
Now, two years on, almost everything she had thought about him had proved wrong. Initially polite and even charming, Lucien could also be antagonistic and difficult, sometimes to the point of rudeness. He had arrived alone, but first his daughter and then his wife were found.
If she had thought she had made a difficult start with his father, that was nothing to the problems she had with Lucien in the early days. In character he was certainly unlike his father. He led an erratic life, full of unpredictability and adventure, which at first angered her, but later became part of the attraction. And of course he drank far too much and still suffered the after effects of the war. She suspected he always would.
So what would his father think of Lucien now? The almost respectable local GP, police surgeon and club member; but now divorced and about to remarry, and to Jean in particular. That might actually have pleased his father, she thought. She grinned to herself at the thought of the prodigal son marrying the widow from Ballarat.
Lucien turned to her now, looking curious. "What's amusing you so much, Jean," he asked playfully.
"I was thinking about your father, and what he would think of all this." She gestured at them both, and Lucien laughed.
"He would think you can do better than marry me, Jean, but I'm sure he'd think I've been lucky to find you."
"I think I was the lucky one, to find you both. If your father hadn't given me a job, I would never have met you."
Lucien nodded slowly. He still found it hard to forgive his father for sending him away, but maybe Jean was right. His father had done something good for him - he had found Jean for him, and he was grateful for that.
"Here's to Dad, then," he said, lifting his glass as if to toast him. "With thanks." And they drank to him together.