Geoffrey Nicholson passed the letter round the table. "Gentlemen," he looked from Patrick to Dr Michaels, "seems we have a situation on our hands. This isn't the first letter we've had about Orton."

Patrick scanned the letter and the signatures. "Dr Lawson … do you think she's stirring up trouble?"

"No, I think she's helping these nurses to feel safer in their jobs. She's worked in other hospitals, she's also well-educated and, if Orton did take it too far, she is married to a senior copper. Thing is, gentleman," Nicholson steepled his fingers and rested his elbows on the table, "if Orton really is upsetting the nurses we need to speak to him."

"But he's a good surgeon," Patrick frowned, "we can't afford to lose him."

"We can't afford to keep a surgeon who brings the profession into disrepute, Tyneman," Dr Michaels reasoned, "nurses are the backbone of any hospital …"

Heads nodded in agreement around the table.

"I vote we ask him to leave," Nicholson straightened his shoulders, "I don't like doing it but we're going to end up with nurses leaving and that won't help anyone, patients or doctors. Blake's a good surgeon, we could recruit him to do more."

"I agree," Dr Michaels slapped the table, "Orton goes." He turned to the secretary taking the minutes, "ask Orton to come up, please, Miss Sterling."

She left quite glad to perform this task, Orton had tried it on with her, or rather, he'd patted her backside as he passed her in the corridor once – and once was enough.

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Orton followed Miss Sterling unnecessarily closely to the boardroom. As he opened doors for her he put his hand on her shoulder, or between her shoulder blades … which earned him a glare from her, something he ignored.

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"Ah, Dr Orton," Nicholson looked up, "thank you, Miss Sterling." She stepped back to her seat and prepared to continue taking the minutes.

"Dr Orton," Nicholson passed over the letter, "care to explain this?"

Dr Orton scanned down the page and tossed it back onto the table. "So?" he shrugged.

"This is not the first time there has been a complaint about your behaviour with the nurses and other female staff here."

"They throw themselves at me."

"Ah, including Dr Lawson?"

"Who?"

"Senior pathologist? Was Dr Harvey?"

He shook his head.

Nicholson picked up a file and took out Alice's first letter, "the one you told it would be the only chance to, and I quote, 'get one up her'?"

Orton gulped, he knew Alice had complained but didn't realise she had been so detailed in her complaint.

"Crude, Orton, disrespectful, and Dr Lawson also tells us, in this letter, she was already engaged to Inspector Lawson when you made that distasteful remark. There are more, from her and from nurses who do not welcome your interest. You are a married man, Orton, what does your wife think of this, or do you tell her, as you have told us, that they 'throw themselves' at you?"

He remained silent.

"Ah, not told her, have you? Well, Dr Orton, we don't feel you have a place here, in our hospital. In lieu of notice we are prepared to offer you a week's wages; collect your personal belongings and I will supervise the collection of any patient notes in your office."

"You can't sack me!" he gasped.

"We can, we don't want to lose a good surgeon, but we also don't want to lose the legions of nurses that are threatening to protest outside the hospital which would also damage our reputation."

"They wouldn't."

"Oh, I very much think they would; we were remiss in taking your word over theirs that there was nothing in the complaints, and we will apologise to them later. For now, Dr Orton, you are dismissed to tidy your belongings."

They all stood up, Nicholson held out his hands, "keys, please."

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The letter to the nurses was duly typed up and a separate one to Alice, offering the board's apologies for not listening in the first place and assuring them that any future complaints about inappropriate behaviour would be looked into properly.

"Well," Alice hummed, "that saves us standing in the rain, if the weather report is anything to go by."

Jean laughed, "but you would have, anyway, wouldn't you?"

"Oh yes, we have umbrellas," she joined in the laughter, "should I apologise to Genevieve, after all she did those banners."

"Oh, I'm sure she'll think of something to do with them," Jean shrugged, "tea?"

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The murder of Father Moreton was solved by Constable Davies and Lucien, digging into the drafts of his sermons for the coming Sundays. There was one about murder, about taking someone's life as reparation for damaging another human being. It turned out that a friend of Jean's, and a patient of Thomas', had been savagely beaten by her husband over many years, leaving the woman reliant on crutches and a wheelchair to get around. The husband had been involved in a motor accident and while on the operating table had died. The surgeon, Dr Michaels, had done little to save the man as he had been the one to operate on his wife to save her life. Michaels had been afraid that the priest would use his confession as a sermon and had known of his allergy to certain bee stings. He had been the one to find the bees in a hive managed by a local apiarist, used his cigar to sedate the bees and taken some into a jar. He had thrown the jar into the confessional and pushed a pew up against it to stop Moreton leaving.

"All it took was some proper detecting," Lucien sighed, he had liked Dr Michaels, "but Munro, as usual, focussed on the easiest path. Anyone heard from Matthew?"

"No, but Charlie said Munro had been called to Melbourne. He called this morning," Jean shook her head.

"Alice?"

"Will be down later," Jean smiled, "so she said last night, anyway. She'll call if she changes her plans."

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"You had to draw attention to yourself," the Commissioner hissed to Munro as they waited to see the Minister. "Why couldn't you leave everything as it was in Ballarat or at least stop trying to take all the glory?"

Munro glared.

"… anyway, what have you got against Lawson?"

Munro didn't answer. Froggy Morgan would have him suddenly disappear if he told the reason. Better jail for corruption, his career in the force was over, he should never have allowed himself to get sucked in by promises of fast promotion. Maybe he could have been happy, like Lawson was, but he'd lost it all.

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Vivi listened to Jean tell her all that had happened while they were away.

"I don't think Orton will go quietly," she hummed down the phone, "but Alice and the others are prepared to fight him."

"I'm glad it didn't come to a protest," Vivi smiled at the thought, "Munro's arrived, the Minister is fuming and Matthew is confused. So'm I, to be honest, I don't really know what this is all about. On the surface it looks like an attempt to discredit Matthew, but why? He's a good copper, as far as I know there has never been any gripe against him, Bill says he's one of the best Inspectors he's ever worked under."

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"Socialising with Morgan!" the Minister stomped around his office, "what is God's name were you thinking? I suppose he promised you the earth if you promised him freedom from prosecution?"

The Commissioner didn't answer. He'd spent his time hiding evidence to keep Morgan out of jail and in doing so Morgan had paid him handsomely. Everyone in the police force knew Morgan was a gang boss but there was never enough to bring him in for questioning, of if there was, never anything to tie him to a crime, a murder, fraud, keeping a house of ill-repute, he always came out of it smelling of roses and nobody was brave enough to talk because if they did they ended up floating in the Yarra, or in the bay, or mysteriously disappearing. Crime, for Morgan, was a family business, handed down from his grandfather, through his father to him. In turn he would hand it to his sons when they were ready.

"And you, Munro," he rounded on the Inspector, "what has Lawson done to you? As far as I know, from reading personnel files, you and he have never met, never worked at the same stations until you went to Ballarat and started to undermine Lawson … I'm at a loss to understand it." He sat down and looked at the two men. "Well, both your careers are over, that's for sure, you will be charged with corruption in the first instance and a full investigation will be undertaken to determine what other crimes have been committed, and because I deem you a flight risk you will be held in the cells here, until I can get a court order."

To add insult to injury, the Minister had Bill and Matthew escort the two men to their, temporary, accommodation.

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"Such a mess," the Minister shook his head when Matthew and Bill reappeared in his office. "Munro could have been a good officer …"

"I suspect," Matthew hummed, "he's under Morgan's thumb, or being threatened by him."

"Indeed; so, Lawson, back to Ballarat with you, a clean slate as always and, you know, given you didn't give Munro a good going over for arresting your wife I think a promotion is in order. How do you think she'd feel being married to a Chief Inspector?"

"Oh, er, well, I think she'll be happy about that, but I hope she'll just be happy we can stay in Ballarat without a slew of tittle tattle following us around. Thank you."

"Well deserved. And you, Hobart, is it?"

"Sir, Sergeant Hobart."

"You escorted Miss Blake here, to keep her safe."

"Oh, Vivi doesn't need protecting, leastways she doesn't like to think she does," Bill smiled, "but I prefer my fiancée in one piece."

"Fiancée is it?" he raised an eyebrow, "well, you seem to be mentioned by Lawson quite a lot, saving kiddies, subduing knife-wielding murderers … Senior Sergeant would seem like a reasonable promotion, eh?"

Bill reddened and coughed, the Minister took that as acceptance.

Both men left think it was good to know the Minister had their backs and that he was human, after all.

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Froggy Morgan sat in his study grinding his teeth and shooting his revolver at the walls. Word had been got to him that the Commissioner and Munro were charged with corruption and arrested. He had no idea how loose tongued either man would be, how careless had they been. All Munro had to do was discredit that sanctimonious Matthew Lawson and the Commissioner had to see his name was kept out of the firing line. Somehow they had to be disposed of.

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"Perhaps we'll have enough peace and quiet to get married," Vivi slipped her hand into Bill's as the three of them boarded the train home.

"We could head to the registrar's office, they should still be open when we get back," Bill suggested.

"Alright," she agreed.

"Haven't you two set a date, yet?" Matthew gasped.

"Things happened, Boss," Bill shook his head, "we never seemed to get five minutes to even think about it."

"Right, well, set a date, let me know and I'll arrange for you to have some time off for a honeymoon – if you want one."

"Thanks, Matthew," Vivi smiled, "we'd appreciate that."

"Boss, don't suppose you'd agree to be my best man, would you?" Bill blurted out.

"I'd be honoured, Bill," he boarded the train behind them.

"We're asking Li to be a bridesmaid, but that's all," Vivi hummed, "just a small family wedding and we'd like Alice, and Isobel, to be there, as well."

"I look forward to it, so will she."

"Formal invitations will be sent out in due course."

"Lovely; before or after we sue Munro for wrongful arrest?"

"You want to?"

"Well, it's up to Alice, really," he frowned, "but she has every right, doesn't she?"

"Yes;" she agreed, "he stopped short of actually arresting me, probably because he knew I'd take him to the cleaners."

They chatted and dozed until the train drew in at Ballarat station, where they hailed a taxi to take Vivi and Bill to the Registrar's office and Matthew up to find his wife and child at home.

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Alice was in two minds as to whether or not she should sue Munro for wrongful arrest. Part of her thought she had provoked him but Jean said she'd have done the same, and Vivi did say she thought it was sad, that he should have found himself bending to the will of a known criminal.

Meanwhile, Orton had told his wife he was leaving Ballarat Hospital as he could no longer work with such vindictive women who hounded him daily. He twisted the truth to suit him without considering what her reaction would be. He had always told her he did not pursue the female staff, it was the other way round, and she continued to believe it; so Mrs Orton decided to teach these women a lesson, starting with Dr Lawson, nee Harvey. She phoned her.

"Dr Lawson," Alice lifted the receiver.

There followed a breathless, expletive loaded diatribe on women who pursue married men, who lead them on, women who trap men into marriage by getting pregnant …

"Wait a minute …" Alice managed to get a word in, "who is this?"

"May Orton, the wife of the man you've hounded out of his position," the speaker spat.

"Well, Mrs Orton, let me tell you a few home truths about your husband. He was the one who did the pursuing, and not just me, the younger, and sometimes newly qualified, theatre nurses, telling them they might get further in their careers if they slept with him. There were numerous complaints against him for his behaviour that hadn't been acted on because the board believed him, until those nurses and I decided a group attack might work better. Some of those nurses were considering leaving the job they loved because of him. As for trapping men into marriage – I assume you are referring to me and Inspector Lawson – we had been married over a year, well over a year, before our baby was born …"

"… you threatened him!" Mrs Orton shrieked.

"From my bed?" Alice hissed, "I was on bed rest, I haven't been near the hospital for over a year. Your husband preys on young, inexperienced women, Mrs Orton, the hospital are better off without him." She put the phone down and went to prepare Isobel's dinner feeling sorry for the woman, to have been taken in by the surgeon.

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Alice wasn't expecting anyone so when she heard the key turn in the lock she was instantly on her guard.

"Only me, love!" Matthew's voice floated through, "thought I'd surprise you."

She stood and stared open-mouthed, "Matthew?" she whispered, "oh, Matthew, you're home."

Suddenly she was in his arms, sobbing with relief as he soothed her and told her it was all over, they could go around the town with their heads held high, until a crash in the kitchen reminded her that she had left Isobel in the high chair with a bowl of pureed vegetables.

"Damn!" she hissed, wiping her face with her hand, "I should have moved that."

"Come on," he kissed her forehead, "let's you and I go and see to our daughter, we'll talk while she naps, eh?"

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"Isobel Jean Lawson!" Alice shrieked.

Isobel giggled and blew raspberries through the mess. She had taken the bowl her mother had left on the tray and obviously tipped it over her head before throwing it onto the floor. Pureed vegetables dripped down her cheeky little face and over her bib. Matthew howled with laughter which only served to have Isobel squish some in her hands and stuff it into her mouth and blow messy bubbles again.

"Stop laughing, Matthew," Alice huffed, "you'll only encourage her."

"Come on, let's clean the little madam up, I'll help."

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"Lucien called you a dick-head," she lay her head on his shoulder. They had cleaned and fed Isobel, then themselves; put the baby down for a nap and were now sitting on the couch talking about the last week or so.

"I am," he admitted.

"But you're our dick-head, or more specifically my dick-head."

"I'm sorry, love, you have no idea how sorry I am. I had hoped it would be cleared up in no time, but somehow the Commissioner managed to keep it going with ridiculous accusations of my incompetence. Then Munro arrested you, and nearly arrested Vivi …"

"… not his best move."

"… on either counts. Then this new constable got involved and it all crumbled round him, especially when Vivi and Bill arrived with all that proof I'd been keeping."

"Yeah," she looked up at him, "why did you do that?"

"Because I realised the Minister was getting a skewed idea of what was going on here. I had to keep the truth somewhere, Munro wasn't telling it but I have no idea why he wanted me out."

"Do you think it has something do with that Morgan chap?" she slipped her hand into his, "have you done something to him?"

"I have no idea, love. As far as I am concerned our paths have never crossed, but he has fingers in so many pies I might have arrested one of his lackeys, unbeknownst to me, and they would be too scared to point the finger. Anyone who does that mysteriously disappears or dies."

"It's all so confusing," she sighed.

"It is, and I am sorry love."

"Care to show me how sorry?" she smirked.

"How long will Trouble sleep?"

"Long enough."

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Bill and Vivi came out of the office with a date, finally, for their wedding. It was a lot easier knowing Matthew would give them the time off without any fuss, but they had a month to organise everything.

"So, I need a dress," Vivi hummed, "there's the catering to organise …"

"Not Jean?" he smirked.

"Only if she offers, but really I should get someone else, she will be a guest, after all."

"What about the Club? Food's good there, and there's a function room."

"True, Pa's a member, perhaps he can clear it with Cec," she agreed, "then flowers, that I might ask Jean to do. You going for uniform or a suit?"

"Whatever you want, love, I've no medals to show off so a suit might be better, in which case I'd better head to the tailor."

"Rings."

"Yeah, well, we could always pop into the jeweller's now, it's on our way."

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Matthew took a few days to be with his wife and daughter before returning to full duty. In that time, Alice confessed she had had an irate phone call from Orton's wife and if she did anything stupid she was going to sue Orton.

"I'm sure he's told his wife he was pursued," she hummed, "he doesn't sound like an attentive husband."

"They have children?"

"Three, I believe, I expect he wants his dinner on the table, the children silent and in bed when he gets home from the hospital, and her at his beck and call. He's a bully, Matthew, he bullied the nurses …"

"… you?"

She shook her head, "and I bet he does the same to his wife. I actually feel sorry for her."

"Yeah, I get that. My father was a bully, it affects the kids too. I vowed never to be like him if I ever married."

"I can confirm you have kept that vow, lover." She kissed him lightly on the cheek.

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Alice was right about how Orton treated his wife and it was even worse for May now he was at home all day. He'd always liked a glass of whisky on his return at the end of each day, she had to have it poured and waiting for him, but now he drank the better part of a bottle at a time and without his wages she was having trouble making ends meet on the housekeeping he allowed her. Nothing she did was good enough, the children were loud – two of them were at school she only had a toddler at home – and they were scared of him. They barely knew him, anyway, and now stayed well out of his way. At the weekend she would take them out for long walks and picnics, even if the weather was poor, or to the church to help with the flowers; Father Emery didn't mind, and when they went home he would be passed out, drunk, either in his study or the living room. She would feed the children in the kitchen, bath them and then let them play quietly for a while in one of their bedrooms. She would prepare his meal, tell him it was in the dining room and leave him to it. Sometimes he would grab her arm and dig his fingers into the flesh, swear at her then push her away.

Where had it all gone wrong? She supposed it had been when their third baby had been born, a girl. He had just shrugged and taken little notice of the child. The older children were boys, he was the type of father who thought he should have boys to bring up, guide through medical school, because of course they would follow him into medicine. A girl would only cost him in an expensive wedding, fripperies, nothing useful. The more she thought about it the more she considered there might be something in what Dr Lawson had told her over the phone, that he was a lying cheat, a womaniser. But what should she do now?

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Vivi swirled round in the dress, "What do you think, Jean?"

"Lovely, the length is perfect, but navy blue?"

"Hm," Vivi stood in front of the mirror with her hands on her waist. The dress was above her ankles, just below mid-calf, the skirt full, a fitted bodice with a straight neckline and small slit opening. The sleeves were just past her elbows and the waist was nipped in with a wide belt – it was a weighty satin – navy blue satin. "You're right, lovely for dinner, or a cocktail party, but not as a wedding dress. A paler blue would be nicer, for my use, don't you think."

"Perhaps," Jean nodded, "come on, let's get you out of this one."

"I wonder if they could custom make one for me, in time, I do like it …"

"It's very different from what you usually wear, not your usual slim skirt."

"That's for being a lawyer, Jean, not a bride, but I know what you mean." She allowed Jean to help her out of the dress and put her own clothes back on. "Of course, I'd need gloves, evening gloves, I think – you know the type …"

"Aha," Jean nodded, "the ones you tuck the hands in, or you could have some custom made lace ones that don't cover your fingers, in whatever colour you choose for the dress."

"I could," Vivi nodded. "Thanks for coming with me, Jean, I'd probably have gone for this one and you and Ma would have tutted over it."

Jean just smiled her agreement.

The dressmaker was called to the shop floor and agreed she could make a similar dress in a different colour and would Miss Blake like to come and choose the one she preferred? Upstairs in the workroom?

Miss Blake thought that was an excellent idea and left Jean to look at dresses that would be suitable for Li, when they brought her over.

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Munro sat in his cell, solitary confinement for both him and the former Commissioner, knowing what he was about to do could see him die in mysterious circumstances if he was found out. He'd asked for paper, envelopes – large ones – and a pen, and sure that he could not do himself any damage with the items, the guards had supplied them. No questions were asked, though some wondered if he was about to write his confession, or his life story. He'd had time to think, and used the time wisely. Matthew Lawson was a good man, so was Lucien Blake and though they had all he had not, he did not find himself jealous; not now, just disappointed his life had taken this turn and for what? To keep a known criminal out of jail, to keep the Commissioner raking in bribes to fund his lifestyle, to further his own career that was now seen to be built on lies and the pain of others.

He wrote all he had to say and put it in an envelope addressed to Chief Inspector Matthew Lawson, Ballarat Police Station. Sending it like that would have it in Morgan's hands, he wasn't sure he could trust the guards, he didn't know if any were in the pay of Morgan, so he put it into another enveloped and just put 'LAWYER' on the front. He wrote another short letter, addressing it to Miss Elsie Waters, and asking her to pass the enclosed Last Will and Testament to the lawyer, who he did not name. If the envelope was opened he considered the guards would assume that was exactly what the second envelope held. He hoped Miss Blake's secretary was as bright as her employer and would pass the envelope to Vivi who would then pass it to Matthew. He addressed the second envelope to Elsie at Vivi's office, slipped everything inside it, sealed it and asked the guard to see that it was sent.

"Not sure how things are going to go," he shrugged offhandedly, "best get my affairs in order."

The guard shrugged and went to the post room. As Munro had surmised the envelope was opened but they went no further, it was his will and was to be sent to his lawyer, no need to investigate any further.

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"So, you want me to man the office while you're getting married, and for a week after?" Elsie looked at Vivi.

"You are coming, aren't you?" Vivi smiled.

"Too right," she laughed, "wouldn't miss it for the world, and thank you for the invite, I never expected …"

"You were part of my early cases here, Elsie, and it helped me really understand I could make a life for myself here. I didn't plan on finding someone special …"

"He's a good bloke, is Bill Hobart, Miss."

"… someone special enough to settle down with, but …" she shrugged, "… there you go, I did. I trust you to look after things while I'm away and if you are unsure about anything talk to Lawson."

"Will do. Anything else?"

"No, I'll just deal with the post and let you know if I need you."

"Ok, that's a big 'un, though, with the jail name on it."

"Hm, well I'm not about to take on any cases for three weeks or so, but any that can wait will have to, you can explain why."

Elsie left. She had been surprised to see an envelope come to her, directly from the jail and then the instruction to pass the enclosed to 'the lawyer', it intrigued her, but she was sure Miss Blake would let her know if there was anything exciting in it.

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Vivi, too, was intrigued. The only residents of Melbourne jail she knew were Munro and the Commissioner, but she didn't expect either to write to her, or send their will to her, for safe keeping, she assumed. She slit the envelope open to find another one inside that. It was like a children's party game. Open a layer and pass it on. She pulled it out to find it was addressed to Matthew, very formally. She sighed, stood up, pulled on her jacket and headed out.

"Just going to see Lawson, Elsie, seems someone wanted him to have something and … well, it looks like whoever was afraid it wouldn't actually get to him without subterfuge."

"Oh, right. See you later."

"I'll let you know what it's all about," Vivi grinned.

Elsie blushed.

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"Miss Blake, to what do we owe this pleasure?" Matthew grinned.

"Your post, Chief Inspector."

"Changed jobs, Vivi?" he took the envelope she offered.

"Huh," she tossed her head, "it came from the jail, to Elsie, then to me, now it's your turn to open an envelope."

"Hm," he frowned, and ran his hands over it, feeling for wires, lumps or bumps that would worry him, but all he felt was a normal envelope. He slipped his penknife into it and sliced the top open. "No, it's for me." He pulled out the top sheet, "it's from Munro."

"Really?" she sat down ready to be enlightened.

"Bloody hell," he hissed, scanning down the page, "it's an apology, and the why he tried to discredit me."

"Morgan?" she hazarded a guess.

"Aha," he nodded, reading further down, "seems he did Morgan a favour a few years ago, big enough for Morgan to hold it over him, a favour that could see him drummed out of the force. Oh, he covered up a shooting. Lad found shot on Morgan's grounds; he's got a big place on Mornington Peninsula; seems one of Morgan's sons was messing about with a revolver, can't have been more that seventeen, he says, but he should have been charged. The gun was stolen, and he and the boy had been arguing over it, then apparently he threatened the lad who started to run away, he fired, got him between the shoulder blades. Murder whichever way you look at it. Anyway, Morgan said the dead lad had no family, no one would grieve, so if they just buried him out in the wilds, no one would know and he'd put in a good word with the Commissioner for him. Munro fell for it, and Morgan has held that over him ever since."

"I still fail to see what you have to do with it."

"Hm," he read further, "ah, blimey, that was a time ago, I barely remember it."

"What?"

"I arrested his other son," Matthew sat back and looked up at the ceiling. "He'd beaten his girlfriend up, for talking to another young man, beat up the other fella too. The girl had severe bruising, face, broken cheekbone, bruised belly, the other boy had his back broken. We were called in by the hospital, the lad was prepared to tell all, he'd never play footie again, professional too, so he might as well point the finger."

"So you arrested him?"

Matthew nodded, "and I refused to take a bribe. See, Vivi, you know my father was a bully and beat up mum on occasion, well, I don't like that, never did, never will, so there was no way I was going to sweep that under the carpet. Morgan's son got five years, I think, I do know he was jailed."

"Where does Morgan's wife fit in, the mother of those boys?"

"Heck, Vivi, nobody ever sees her, if she's still alive, he usually has some pretty little tart on his arm. Why?"

"Just wondered if she had anything to say about her sons' behaviour."

"I doubt she'd dare to."

"Well, Chief," she stood up, "I'll leave you to read the rest of it."

"It's the details of all Morgan's activities since he first got his hands on Munro."

"Munro's in a lot of danger, if that gets out."

"Yeah, he knows," he waved the letter, "he says if he'd just done his job as he should have done, maybe he'd have been happy, like me."

"Sad."

"That I'm happy?" he raised an eyebrow.

"No, that's wonderful, sad that he sees what he's missed out on."

"Yeah."

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As Matthew read through the pages of Munro's surprisingly neat script he realised that this was enough to convict Morgan of fraud, murder, assaults, drug running, keeping a house of ill-repute, bribery, obtaining money with menaces … the list was endless. It put Munro's life in considerable danger, and it gave reason to why he tried to discredit Matthew. It wasn't him, it was Morgan, all because he arrested and charged his younger son with assault, grievous bodily harm. The boy got a jail sentence, the boy who's back he broke got a life sentence - in a wheelchair for the rest of his life, a promising career cut short …

Matthew also considered his life might be in danger, too, and his family, this time he had to share his fears and find a way to protect those he held dearest.

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"Do we know how Munro is?" Jean asked as they sat around the kitchen table with Munro's statement in front of them.

Lucien looked at her.

"Hey," she huffed, "he wasn't a good copper, and you can see why, he got in too deep, made mistakes, we all do. I don't wish him dead, just an appropriate punishment. So …?"

"Actually," Matthew smiled, "I phoned the jail. He's in solitary for his own safety, but that doesn't mean Morgan hasn't got men on the inside. His life is in danger, there's no doubt about that, but I don't know what we can do about it. I shall phone every day, just to check."

"And what reason will you give for your concern?" Alice frowned.

"Making sure he is fit for his trial. Jails aren't pleasant places, they're not meant to be, and he has to be kept safe when he does appear. God knows how we'll do that."

"So, what's your next move?" Lucien lifted one of the sheets of paper, "wow!"

"Quite, well, only us know about this statement, and I want to keep it that way. I'm asking Davies to dig out all the files from central archive on these crimes Munro details. We'll take it from there."

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Vivi and Bill's wedding was an oasis of delight in the middle of a desert of investigation into Froggy Morgan. Somehow they managed to keep the two things separate and they were married at the town hall with a reception at the Colonist's Club. Cec Drury was happy to arrange a band, catering, which Jean supervised, and had the room decorated with flowers to lighten the dark décor. Vivi had her dress made in a pale blue satin, just as she wanted it, complete with matching fingerless lace gloves and Li's dress echoed the style in a darker blue. They both looked lovely and Lucien couldn't have been prouder of his eldest child.

Nobody mentioned Froggy Morgan. The children were allowed to toddle round sampling sweet treats, Thomas kept his speech mercifully short but amusing, Matthew said how he'd known Bill for many a year, and that he was a good man. He was sure Vivi would match him in wits and they would have a long and happy life together. He also mentioned that he felt that the Blake, Lawson and now Hobart families were actually just one big family and how proud he was to be a part of it and to welcome Bill into it.

They had had trouble deciding on a honeymoon location; before the trouble with Munro they had thought of Sorrento but it was a bit close to where Morgan had his estate so they eventually decided to drive along the coast road as far as Lorne, stopping along the way for one night, where they had booked into a hotel. They left contact details with Lucien and Matthew just in case things happened.

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Matthew kept his ear out for anything happening to Munro while reading through the piles of files Davies had unearthed from the archives. Some were too old to do anything about but others were cases that had never been properly solved. Morgan's younger son had disappeared and he wondered if he had cut ties with his father after seeing the conditions inside a jail. Of course his treatment wouldn't have been kind and he knew of men that came out of prison changed for the better, or even more afraid of something that not everyone could put a finger on. Lucien said that he had met a young man that had been assaulted, sexually and, and now could not bear to be touched by another man, not even to shake hands. Could the youngest Morgan be like that? He didn't know. The older son was known to manage one of his father's enterprises, that of illegal imports but nothing so far had been connected with him for certainty.

Otherwise, life went on.

Véro and Pierre finally took their leave, with Genevieve and Thomas travelling to Melbourne with them and seeing them off on the flight home. They had been away far longer than anticipated but had enjoyed finding more family than they had expected. They included the Lawson's in that and, of course, Bill.

Genevieve and Thomas thought that one day, if Thomas actually retired, they might return the visit, leave everything to Lucien and Jean for a while.

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Alice had no more calls from May Orton and she began to wonder what happened to her. The nurses who had joined her in getting the surgeon removed would pass the time of day with her if they saw her in town and let her know if there was any more trouble with touchy-feely doctors. If there was, they said, they would just mention their friendship with the pathologist and it stopped.

She was shopping in the market, choosing fruit for Isobel, when she was stopped by a soft touch on her arm.

"It is Dr Lawson, isn't it?" the woman looked expectantly at her, almost hopeful.

"Yes?" Alice was wary.

"Sorry, I hoped it was; May Orton."

Alice was immediately on her guard.

"I'm glad I've seen you," Mrs Orton reddened, "I wanted to apologise, for what I said."

"Oh, er," Alice cleared her throat.

"I was wrong, you were right. I see that now. I'm leaving for Horsham soon, my parents have enough room for me and the children." She seemed to melt into the crowd so Alice didn't have time to ask what had changed her mind, but maybe what she had thought about Orton was true – he bullied his wife and children and she had had enough. Silently she wished her well and continued her shopping.

She met up with Jean and the two younger children and they began to herd them home.

"Thomas will have let Millie and Peter have anything they want," she smiled, "he's a push over with them."

"I've noticed," she agreed, "but surely Genevieve will curb that?"

"No, she's as bad, but she said she was going to be in the studio. She wants to tidy it out, get rid of anything she can't use. She paints much less these days, but I suppose that's due to the arthritis in her hands that she denies she has."

"She has doctors for a husband and a son, she won't get away with that."

"She tries."

They walked on, occasionally stopping to pick up something one of the children threw out of the stroller, Jennifer carried a little toy bear everywhere but sometimes Jacob would take it and throw it.

"Monkey," Jean shook her head, "now, keep hold of it, Jen." She passed the toy over and looked up at Alice who had come to a full stop and had a look of abject fear on her face.

"Now, ladies," a man's voice grunted, "this way please."

She stood up and saw the man had a gun pressed into Alice's back; they had no choice but to do as he said. He urged them on to a small van and told them to get in, with the children. Wordlessly they complied.

Jean had watched him, studied his face. He wasn't young, maybe younger than Thomas but older than either of their husbands. She thought she recognised him, but it wasn't until he pushed his hat back that she realised Froggy Morgan had kidnapped them. Apparently he didn't trust his men to do this job, and kidnapping two women and children, should be child's play, shouldn't it?

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In the dim light of the back of the van, Jean squinted at her watch. It was past lunchtime, Thomas and Genevieve would be worried. She judged that they had been travelling long enough to be nearly at Melbourne, for that was the road they had been on when they were stopped. The children were hungry and crying, all Morgan did was to tell them to 'shut up'. Jean wished she'd picked up the bag of bananas from the stroller. Alice had had such foresight; she had sneaked a packet of plain biscuits into the pocket of her coat as she lifted Isobel out of the pram. She opened it and passed one each to the babies and offered one to Jean.

"Best," she whispered, "don't want either of us fainting from lack of food."

"What does he want us for?" Jean whispered back.

"I suspect to get at Matthew, at least. He couldn't take one of us without the other. Someone will have found the prams by now and alerted them."

"Thomas and Genevieve will have done that when I didn't get back from shopping for lunch."

"All hell will have broken loose."

They stopped and heard him get out of the front.

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The house was large and well maintained though they didn't see any staff as they were pushed forward and up the stairs. He opened a door and pushed them inside.

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The room had a large bed that they put the babies on. Alice had a look around for any other means of escape and found a door which led to a bathroom. She decided to take care of her needs and see what there was there that would be of any use. Towels might make substitute nappies, Isobel needed changing and she was sure Jacob and Jennifer would too. She pushed the small window open but there was no way either of them could climb down carrying a baby, and Jean had two to carry. She forgot that idea immediately.

"Right," she came out of the bathroom carrying the small hand towels she had found, "these'll do for nappies, I suppose …"

"I wonder if he'll give us something for the babies, at least. They won't last on a packet of biscuits." Jean held out her hand for a towel.

"Starving us won't do him any good. He won't have anything to bargain with."

"Do you really think he'll let us live?" Jean bit her lip to stop the tears falling.

"You mean because we know who he is? You have a point, but I'd rather not dwell on it," Alice sat down and started to undress Isobel.

"Hang on," Jean held up her hand to quiet her, "I hear voices."

Jean went to the door and put her ear to it.

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"Dad! You brought Lawson's wife? Here?"

"And her friend, Lawson is going to pay for what he did to you."

"For God's sake, dad, that was years ago." There was a pause and footsteps that seemed to be pacing the landing. "That's why you sent Will to Ballarat, isn't it? To bring Lawson down? Jeez, that's one hell of a grudge, I was the one sent to prison and I don't carry that grudge."

"All Lawson had to do was give you the chance to leave for a while. Your brother was going to silence the footie player."

"And he screwed that up, didn't he? Now they're both in wheelchairs."

"And what did that do to your mother?"

"No, dad, you did that to mum. You drove her to the bottle; she wanted to leave Melbourne, find somewhere that wouldn't remind her of the hurt, but you insisted on staying even though you have businesses in Sydney and Bris – we could have gone to either, she'd have been happy and able to look after Dan … "

"You always were weak!" Morgan yelled. "Lawson will pay!"

There was the sound of stomping footsteps going off into the distance, then the sound of the key in the lock.

"Mrs Lawson?" a face peered round the door.

Alice had a vase in her hand ready to brain whoever it was, Jean held her hand up.

"Mrs Lawson, I'm Joe Morgan," he stepped into the room and held his hands up, "please, hear me out, we don't have much time."

"I heard you," Jean stepped forward. "I'm Jean Blake, Matthew Lawson is my husband's best friend. This is Dr Lawson," she indicated Alice, "what do you want?"

"What you want, you out of here and home." He closed the door behind him and locked it. "Dad's off his rocker, I'm sure you've noticed. Old fashioned gangster, can't let go of the old ways; bribin' coppers, fingers in too many pies, but that's by the by. I see he even brought your babes with you. What do you need, for now?"

"Food, milk," Alice eyed him suspiciously. "They can only eat soft mashed things …"

"Right," he nodded. "I'll see to that." He turned to go.

"No salt," Alice added quickly, "they shouldn't have salt."

He waved, unlocked the door and left.

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"Jean?"

"He argued with his father," she went to sit down with the children on the bed, "seems he doesn't agree with what his father has been doing, including trying to silence the footie player he beat up, the one Matthew had him sent to prison for. He doesn't seem to bear a grudge, it's all Froggy's doing."

"Oh, you trust him?"

"Don't think we have much choice, at the moment."

"No, don't suppose we do."

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Matthew was stomping about the town, all his men were scouring Ballarat for any sign of Jean and Alice, and the babies. Thomas had phoned to see if they had dropped in to see him before coming home because they were a bit late for lunch. When Matthew confirmed he hadn't seen them, Thomas drove down the road to where he found the abandoned stroller and pram, his heart lurched, this was not what he wanted to tell Matthew or Lucien.

The pram and stroller, and the shopping, were taken up to the house where Genevieve was giving the two older children their lunch and telling them that maman had gone on an errand, it was all she could think of.

"Who would do this?" she hissed to Lucien.

"Well, our guess is it is something to do with Munro and the Commissioner," he hummed, "Matthew is going through the files Charlie got him; he's fairly sure it's because Munro never discredited him and Morgan still hasn't forgiven him for having his boy sent to jail."

"So you think it's something to do with this Froggy Morgan person?"

"All we can think of at the moment. A kidnapping usually means a ransom so phone calls are being monitored. Nobody saw anything in town other than Mrs Orton talking to Alice, apparently quite pleasantly, though one of the constables has been up to the house. Where father found the stroller is a bit on the quiet side, road out to Melbourne."

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Morgan was going to make them sweat before making the call with his demands. All he wanted was for Matthew to resign as a copper and make a statement declaring he was unfit for the post. Then he could have his wife back and the child – simple, in his mind.

Joe had been trying to get out of the 'family business' for some time, almost the length of time since he had been released from prison. The things he liked doing were not the things he had been brought up to consider as a career choice – he liked music, his mother had engaged a music tutor when he was young and though the tutor had left under strange circumstances he had continued playing the saxophone and thought forming or playing in a jazz band was more to his taste that importing illegal substances and having people disappear. Defying his father would be dangerous, he wasn't averse to killing or maiming family members, and the mental pain he had visited on his wife when he refused to move out of Melbourne and continued to be seen around with some frilly little tart on his arm was, in his eyes, the height of disloyalty. He determined to get Dr Lawson and Mrs Blake safely away from the house and back to Ballarat and then give himself up to Chief Inspector Lawson and spill the beans in return for safe transport to somewhere well away from his father's reach.

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Froggy Morgan had no choice but to leave the house and attend the function in the city. He would have to leave his captives in the care of his son, and though he didn't completely trust him, he also assumed he was too afraid of him to do anything against his father's wishes.

"You can keep them fed," he grunted as he admired his appearance in the mirror. "No engaging them in conversation …" he pulled the phone out of its socket and locked it in the cabinet in the study. Joe would not be able to make any foolish phone calls.

Joe watched him get into the car and drive off then went to attend to his mother and brother. Seeing them fed and settled for the evening, with the help of an extra dose of their sleeping medications – illegally procured from a chemist Froggy had under his thumb, he went up to where the captives were.

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"Right, ladies," he slipped into the room, "here's the jig. I get you out of here and back home, and you get your husband to help me get out of Victoria. I'll tell all about my father …"

"Why?" Alice frowned and stared at him.

"Because I am sick of this life, Dr Lawson. I did wrong and I was punished - rightly so. I don't hold anything against your husband, he did his job and it helped me see that this wasn't right. I lost the girl I thought was for me, a lad lost his career and Dan, in the end also lost the use of his legs when he went to finish off the footie player to stop him talking. I want out. I want to play my sax and stop looking over my shoulder."

"What about your mother, and brother?" Jean asked.

"They will truthfully say they know nothing, I've given them sleeping meds. Maybe, if all goes how I want you could get mum some help, and Dan, if he wants it."

"So, how do we get out?" Alice stood with her arms folded.

"Dad's gone out with some tart. The van you were brought in is in the drive but I have my own car, and the keys. You'll all fit it."

"Can we ring Matthew, to tell him we're on our way?" She picked up Isobel.

"Dad's locked the only phone away, he does that, when he goes out. He doesn't trust me so we have to get a move on. If we pass a phone box once we're out of the city maybe we can stop and you can make that call."

As Jean had said, they had no choice but to trust him and after what Jean had heard it seemed reasonable; but Alice would fight to the death to keep Isobel safe and Jean would do the same for her babies.

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Joe had an ordinary car, nothing that would cause anyone to take a second look. He had already stowed his belongings and his beloved saxophone in the boot – he was not coming back. He had put blankets on the back seat for the babies and Jean and Alice settled in. He drove quietly out of a back gate and sensibly along the roads of the city until they were heading out towards Rockbank.

"Sing out if you see a phone box," Joe called from the front. "I'll pull over so one of you can make a call."

"Which house?" Alice whispered to Jean.

"Ours; let's face it we all congregate there in times of strife."

"True," Alice nodded, "here's to hoping they'll take a reverse charge."

"They will," Jean assured her, "it would only be family that would do that."

"There!" Alice suddenly called out, "stop here!"

Joe pulled over and she got out, leaving her daughter on his lap. He wasn't quite sure what to do with the dozing infant but thought he might like one, one day.

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"Dr Blake," Lucien picked up the phone, frazzled from the day's worries. "A reverse charge?"

"That'll be one of our wives," Matthew hissed.

"Of course, put it through," he waited while the connection was made. "Hello?" A pause. "Alice! God, where are you, are you alright, Jean, is she …?"

"Take a breath, Lucien," Alice almost laughed. "we're ok and on the way back. Long story but we aren't hurt or damaged in the slightest. Morgan's son is driving us back, we should be home in a couple of hours. Tell Matthew he isn't to arrest him."

"Right," Lucien frowned.

"Must go, see you soon," she smiled, "tell Matthew … well, you know …" she blushed in the dark.

"Yeah, 'spect he'd tell you the same."

Matthew was on tenterhooks as he listened.

"They're ok, on the way back." Blake heaved a sigh of relief. "Morgan's son is driving them back, couple of hours, Alice says. She sends her love."

"Morgan's son?" Matthew gasped.

"Yeah, and you're not to arrest him."

"Why not?"

"She didn't say."

"Oh."

"She'll have her reasons."

"Always does," he mused, greatly relieved. "Jeez, Blake, what's goin' on?"

"Search me, old friend. We'll have to wait and see."

Waiting was not easy.