"He did what!" Genevieve shrieked, "did you report it?"

Thomas and Jean had told her what Clement had done while they were at the station.

"It's alright, Genevieve," Jean soothed, "I insisted we call Matthew. He took a statement and we tidied up the surgery. A constable accompanied Thomas to the hospital and the doors have been kept locked all day."

"But he wasn't arrested?"

"I worry it will only fire him up, Gen," Thomas took her hand, "but I did say that if he tries anything with you again they can lock him up and throw away the key."

"Right," Vivi leant on her case on the table, "I'm staying here until this is sorted out. I can apply for an order to have him stay away from you, no contact at all."

"If it comes to that, Vivi, but for now, let's have dinner," her mother sighed, "it's been a long day and I expect Li is hungry."

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They were subdued as they ate dinner; Lucien was fuming, Vivi was trying to work out what they could do to Clement that would keep him away from her mother and Jean was worried about the effect it could have on Li. She also worried Lucien would give in to his hot-headedness and do something stupid.

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While Genevieve put Li to bed, Vivi and Lucien tried to get Thomas to see what they considered sense. Have Clement charged with harassment at least, and warned off.

"No," Thomas shook his head, "the more we pander to his presence the more he will keep on."

"Father," Lucien paced the room, "maman says he has been after her since the day you brought her here, when I was a baby. He's not going to stop if you just ignore him."

"He's right, Pa," Vivi agreed, "Clement is determined he is better for her than you are. He doesn't love her, he wants to possess her, that much is obvious, but I don't understand why. You told us, when we were old enough to understand, that Ballarat viewed her with suspicion because she is foreign born and it took years for people to come to accept her; if she left you for him her name would be blackened and her life would be infinitely worse for it."

"Urgh!" Thomas groaned, "I know, but I don't think charging him with harassment will stop him."

"Look, why don't you, Vivi, and I go and see him tomorrow," Lucien stopped pacing, "we can threaten him with legal reparations and I promise to keep my fists to myself unless he starts something."

"Sounds like a good idea," she agreed. "Shall we just turn up?"

"Why not?"

Thomas sighed, it was no use arguing any more, they would do what they would do; though he blessed the day his wife had given him two strong children who fought for right.

"So, Pa," Vivi took out a notepad, "what can you tell us about Clement, that we don't already know?"

"Oh, well, not much I suppose," he hummed.

"Age?"

"Oh, yes well he's older than me, not by a lot …"

"Old enough to serve during the first war, and maybe the Boer War?" Lucien hazarded a guess, knowing his father had served at the end of the second Boer War and '14 – '18 as a medic.

"Oh he didn't serve," Thomas shook his head, "we didn't have to, you know, we were all volunteers – King and Country you know, at least '14 – '18. Rumour has it he panicked in training and ran like a scared cat."

"Ah," Lucien nodded, "so he picks on women …"

"He never married, now I know why," Thomas slumped in his chair.

"Yeah," Lucien mused softly, "well, maybe we'll drop remarks such as 'coward' …"

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Clement's surgery was at the opposite end of town to Thomas'. Set in a large house with splendid gardens and expensive looking furnishings inside with up to date magazines in the waiting room and fresh flowers. Thomas' surgery may not have had opulent furnishings, and sometimes the magazines were a little out of date, but Jean ensured the flowers were fresh, everywhere was clean and dust free and she occasionally offered tea to a particularly emotional patient. She was also warm and welcoming to the patients and had a smile for them as they left.

The greeting they got at Clement's surgery was cooler, to say the least, and they were told the doctor would see them when he had finished his booked appointments. Lucien and Vivi were left in the waiting room with the other patients. Neither recognised any of the others there, mainly women, Lucien noted, extremely well dressed – wealthy – and looking healthy. He wondered what they were there for. Vivi thought they were 'unwell', and there was money to be made treating 'unwell' wealthy women.

Clement didn't come into the waiting room to call through his next patient, he had a bell, which Lucien thought less personal that his father poking his nose round the door and smiling as he called in his next patient. He made a mental note to be more like his father in this respect when he took surgeries. However, today this would be to their advantage – Clement wouldn't know who it was waiting for him.

Finally, they were rung through.

Clement looked up, prepared only to tell his patient to sit and tell him what the problem was.

"Oh, Young Blake," he grunted, "and Vivienne."

"That would be Miss Blake to you," Vivi lifted her head just enough, "and Major, Dr Blake."

"Still unwed then, Miss Blake. What can I do for you, your father not good enough?" he sneered.

"We have come to tell you to stay away from our mother, Mrs Genevieve Blake," Vivi unlocked her briefcase, "this letter, from Mrs Blake, politely asks that you desist from your harassment of her or she will be forced to take legal action."

It hadn't taken much to persuade Genevieve to have Jean type up a letter and lodge it with her lawyer, one Vivienne Blake, and make enough copies to go to the police, the court and for the files, which she also informed him had happened.

Clement scanned down the letter and frowned.

"Frankly," Lucien sighed, "we don't understand why you would try to take another man's wife when it would only damage the both of you. Mother's name would be blackened and we would make it known that you cuckolded our father.

"Your father is a weak man …"

"My father is a lot stronger than you could ever be," Lucien growled, "he served King and Country, twice, he didn't run from guns, and mud and the horrors of war and he has a proud and loving family …"

"With a chink in the house …" Clement turned his nose up.

Vivi put her hand on Lucien's arm.

"If you are referring to Li, she is my daughter," he leant on the desk, close to Clement's face, "and she is loved by her grandparents. Do not come near us again, Dr Clement, it will not go well for you."

Vivi would recall later that Clement looked scared at Lucien's perceived threat.

They left Clement re-reading the letter Vivi had given him and wondered if it would be enough.

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"I doubt that will be the end of it," Vivi mused as they drove home.

"No, but I wonder if he will change his target."

"You worried for Li?"

"Some, and father. He's not as physically strong as he was …"

"He's nearly seventy, Lucien, but he won't give in to Clement, not over ma." She agreed, "I can work from here, for a while, I have no ongoing cases, except this one; for now let's drop this last copy with the police and go home."

"Father will need the car for his rounds, I may go with him we can't use the police resources for his protection."

"Sounds like a good idea."

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For the next two days life was quiet. Jean shopped, cooked and cleaned, Thomas tended to his patients, Genevieve painted and let Li watch and help her mix colours, Lucien spent more time with his father than he could remember and the bond was strengthened through this, and Vivi relaxed and caught up with a couple of schoolfriends who surprisingly changed their GP.

"Something you said, Vivi?" Lucien raised an eyebrow at dinner.

She just shrugged and smiled.

Thomas went for a meeting with the Freemasons two nights after Vivi and Lucien's visit to Clement's surgery – unfortunately he couldn't be accompanied but Lucien drove him there and was there in good time to bring him home.

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"Ah, Blake," the Worshipful Master called him over, "Dr Clement has indicated your son and daughter paid him a most unnerving visit."

"Really, did he say why?" Thomas sipped his wine.

"He was vague, something about warning him away from the house."

"Ah, must be because he has been harassing my wife," Thomas hummed as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "And insulting our granddaughter."

"Harassing your wife?" the Worshipful Master gulped, "that is not the manner we conduct ourselves, in the Masons."

"He's been doing it since I brought Genevieve to Ballarat, forty odd years ago. Seems he's of a mind to take her from me. Genevieve is not of a mind to take him up on the offer."

"And your granddaughter?"

"My son, Lucien, served in Singapore and married a local lass, quite well to do, they had a daughter. Her mother, Mei Lin, was killed at the fall, Lucien has brought her home, he hopes to stay, make a life for them both here, and we are very pleased to have them."

"Oh," the Worshipful Master didn't quite know what to say.

"Seems Clement doesn't think having a half oriental child in the family is the right thing. He's lucky our daughter, Vivienne, was there at the meeting, Lucien will defend his family with all he has – I fear he may have thrashed him for the insult."

"And Vivienne?"

"A lawyer, she has served him with a letter from my wife warning him off."

Thomas put his wine glass down, it tasted odd.

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"You alright, father?" Lucien had watched him walk out of the hall with a stiffer gait than usual.

"Um, not feeling the best, my boy," Thomas had to admit, "legs feel stiff and it seems bright for this time of night."

"What've you had?"

"A sip of wine, it tasted odd so I didn't finish it."

Lucien watched him as he drove him home, he was concerned; Thomas seemed to be twitching, even going rigid at one time. He racked his brain for causes: stroke? Heart attack? Seizure? He settled on seizure, but how was it caused? That could be a stroke, but he didn't think so, his father didn't have the other obvious symptoms; poison was his only idea. He swung by the hospital by which time Thomas was struggling to breathe, he was going rigid and his eyes were wide and wild.

"Hey!" he shouted, "get me a stretcher!"

A face poked out of the door, "sir?"

"Dr Lucien Blake, I have a patient, my father, suspected poisoning!"

A stretcher suddenly appeared, and two ambos loaded Thomas onto it.

"What happened?"

"Not sure, he was with the masons and when I collected him he was stiff and complained that the lights were too bright for the time of day. I was going to take him home but he got worse, small seizures, rigidity, struggling to breathe …" Lucien followed the stretcher at speed. "I want bloods drawn, a drip set up, low light in his room and a small dose of sedative to calm him." Lucien barked his orders and no one seemed to argue.

"What's going on?" a man appeared, struck by Lucien's apparent authority and the activity round the bed they were now putting Thomas in. "Thomas?"

"Thomas Blake," Lucien stood back while the nurses undressed his father and the drip was set up with fluids running through it.

"Geoffrey Nicholson, you are?"

"Lucien, his son. I'm also a doctor newly returned. I have my licence to practice."

"Ah, yes," Nicholson nodded, "Thomas said as much yesterday when I saw him. Proud of you, he said."

"Yeah, well, if I don't get him through this that won't matter," Lucien scratched the back of his head.

"What are your thoughts?"

"Poisoning. Not a stroke, though there are some similar symptoms, nor heart, but the seizures and the sensitivity to bright light and breathing problems to me seems like a poisoning."

"Which one?"

"Well," Lucien rested his backside on the bed, "if the symptoms were stronger I'd say strychnine. He did say he had a sip of wine at the masons, but it didn't taste right so he didn't finish it."

"If that's so, it may have saved his life. What are your intentions?"

Lucien looked at him for a moment then realised Nicholson was prepared to listen to him.

"Very light sedation to control the seizures, flush it out of his system with a saline drip, low light and oxygen – though I might have to intubate and put him on a machine."

"I concur," Geoffrey nodded, "why don't you call your mother and update her while I start the treatment?"

"Oh, er …"

"I know, you don't know me, but I know your father and, as I said, he is proud of your achievements and trusts you. By that extension, I shall be happy to be your second in this, if it helps."

"Thank you," Lucien turned to go, "I have had bloods taken, I should like the pathologist to do the tests, a Dr Harvey, I believe?"

"Indeed, new to the hospital and comes highly recommended."

"Good."

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Genevieve gasped and sat down in a chair with a thud. "No!" she put her hand to her mouth.

"Here," Vivi took the receiver and motioned Jean to look after her mother. "Who is this?"

"Oh, jeez! Really?" she listened to Lucien recount what he had found at the Freemason's Hall and what he was doing for their father. "I'll call a taxi and bring ma down, she needs to be with him."

In the hospital Lucien agreed, though he would have preferred his mother not to see his father in this state.

Vivi turned to Jean. "Look after Li, please, Jean, pa's been poisoned, or so Lucien thinks. Something in his wine at the masons'."

"Dear heaven," Jean crossed herself, "is he alright?"

"Not sure, yet, Lucien and Nicholson are doing all they can."

"Geoffrey Nicholson's a good man," Jean nodded.

"I'll just call a taxi …"

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By the time Genevieve and Vivi arrived at Thomas' bedside he was intubated and a machine was breathing for him. Dr Harvey had been called away from her book and nightly whisky to perform the tests on his blood to see what it was that had caused the seizures, and Lucien and Nicholson were considering other options.

"I don't think the dose was very high," Lucien paced the floor, "maybe because he didn't finish his wine."

"You think that's how it was administered?" Nicholson had considered the very same thing.

"I don't see any other way, he said it didn't taste right."

"We need to get hold of his glass and the wine, I'm a mason, I'll go down and get it."

"Nicholson," Lucien grabbed his arm, "don't let Clement see you do it."

"Jock Clement?"

Lucien nodded, "he's been trying to get mother to leave father for him, and lately has become quite threatening."

"I admit he does tend to feel entitled to some things," he frowned, "but another man's wife is out of order. I'll go via the kitchen."

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The Warden's wife, who usually cleaned the glasses and tidied up the hall, was late arriving that night, which was fortunate. Nicholson was able to collect all the glasses included a rather full one that he imagined was Thomas'. He found a box, set them all carefully, making sure that the full one was unlikely to spill all of its contents and headed out via the back door.

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"Dr Harvey," he stood at the lab door.

"Yes," she turned round, rumour had it she didn't suffer fools gladly.

"Can you test these, in particular the wine in the full glass. We believe it may contain the poison given to Dr Blake." He put the box on the counter. "I doubt there's any in the bottle but there was this one glass," he lifted the full one, "Dr Blake told his son it didn't taste right so he didn't finish it."

"Oh, right. Wouldn't that be a case for the police?"

"If you find evidence of poisoning we shall call them," he nodded.

"I'll let you know as soon as I do. How is he, Dr Blake?"

"Um, well he's being helped to breathe. As he didn't have more than a sip we are hopeful he will recover."

"Good, strychnine poisoning is an awful thing."

He left her to her testing and headed back to the ward to see how his colleague was faring.

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Genevieve was sitting by Thomas' bed, holding his hand and murmuring to him. His seizures were under control, Lucien had told her, but only time would tell.

"We are sure he ingested little of the poison, maman," he has said, "but all we can do is wait."

"Who would do such a thing, Lucien?" she asked tearfully.

"We'll find out."

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Dr Harvey frowned at her results. There was enough strychnine in the glass to kill Dr Blake, none in the bottle and no residue in any of the other glasses. This was targeted; she headed to the ward to pass on her findings and suggest they call the police.

"Excuse me," she peered into the darkened room, "I have the results you asked for, Dr Blake."

"Ah, Dr Harvey," he stepped towards her, and scanned down her report. "As I thought;" he looked at her, "we need to call the police."

"I thought the same," she said softly. "Shall I …?"

"What, oh yes. Thank you. Is he on the night shift?"

"Doctor, is that something I would know?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Perhaps," he gave a half smile, "he's my oldest friend, here …"

"He said … at the station."

"Hm, oh, yes."

"I shall call him, for you," she hummed, "you have things to do here."

"I don't think he took a fatal dose."

"Not if he only had a sip, and if he is strong."

"As an ox, usually." Lucien couldn't remember his father ever falling ill.

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Thomas remained in the hospital for two weeks, while the police endeavoured to find out what had happened that night. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that it was Clement who had poured the wine and passed the glasses around. He denied it, of course, and said that it was the Warden's job or the woman who came in to do such tasks. That told Matthew and Bill Hobart that he thought women were there to serve men, but the Warden was counting the wine bottles in the cellar at the time and his wife, who did the cleaning and waiting on, was late arriving.

"If I remember rightly," one of the masons hummed in his interview, "Clement actually passed Dr Blake his glass and said something to the effect of letting bygones be bygones – no idea what he was talking about, mind you."

Matthew had a very good idea what he was talking about but he wasn't there to spread gossip.

Neville Franklin was the last to be interviewed. He was junior to Clement, a businessman with hopes of taking a Magistrate's position in the town, it would not do his case much good if he lied about what he had seen and heard.

"Recently," Franklin hummed, "Clement had been angry with Blake about something, but he wouldn't say anything other than he was in the way. I don't see how, they practice different areas of medicine … I can't see Clement wanting Blake's practice. Oh!" he had a sudden thought, "he asked me if something could be done with the amount of migrants coming in, something about Chinese children taking over the schools. Don't see what he was talking about, he has no children, that I know of, and he has never shown any interest in schools before."

"Did you know Dr Thomas has a granddaughter whose mother was Chinese?"

"Really, is that his son's girl?"

"Dr Lucien Blake has returned from Singapore and brought his daughter with him, they hope to put down roots here."

"That must please Mrs Blake."

"Yes, it pleases both of them."

"Good, family is important, Inspector, keeps us steady." Franklin sat back in the chair, considering his next comment. "You know, Inspector, Clement seemed to be interested in Mrs Blake. I mean he always wanted to talk to her at dinners and dances, I presumed about art – she is an artist. I don't want to spread gossip …"

"Of course not, Mr Franklin. Thank you for coming in," Matthew stood up and offered his hand, "I'm sure we shall get to the bottom of this in due course."

"How is Thomas?"

"Holding his own, his son is overseeing his treatment."

"Good, good."

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Somehow, Matthew managed to get warrants to search the homes and businesses of Clement, Franklin, the Warden and others who were at the meeting that night.

"You are looking for strychnine, in particular. Take anything that may indicate any one of these men wants Dr Thomas out of the way, for whatever reason."

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Genevieve was by Thomas' side for most of the day, unless Vivi and Jean could persuade her to go home to eat and rest.

"Eat, yes," she sighed, "rest? Not until he is home."

"I'll stay for a while, ma," Vivi touched her shoulder, "if there's any change I'll call you." She thought she could have a frank discussion with her brother, ask questions their mother was afraid to ask.

"He's got a way to go, Vivi," Lucien swept his hand over his head, "and I don't know what the full effect will have on him until he comes round properly."

"You mean when you take him off the sedation."

"Yes, which I am planning on doing while maman is out of the room. We have to let him reject the breathing tube but be ready to put him under again. His tremors have all but stopped. If Jean can keep her away for an hour or two …"

"Let me call the house," Vivi stood up, "maybe she can persuade ma to have a shower, a good meal and maybe a nap."

"Good luck to her with that," Lucien muttered, ruefully.

Vivi smiled.

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"Actually, she's in the shower at the moment," Jean spoke low down the phone, "then there is a meal for her to have and some time with Li, that should give you enough space. Call back when she can come down again."

"Jean," Li appeared at her side, "how is grandpapa?"

"Coming along, sweetheart, your papa is looking after him."

"Will he be alright?" Li chewed her bottom lip, to have found her family then to lose part of them would hurt her more than words could say.

"We are hopeful he will come home. We don't know what effect the poison will have on him, but your papa and Dr Harvey don't believe he had enough to do serious damage."

"Who did this?"

"Inspector Lawson and his men are looking into it. They will find out and whoever it was will be dealt with by the law," Jean put her arm round her, "now, can you keep your grandmother occupied for a while after lunch?"

"Ok, is papa doing clever things?"

"Yes."

Li was satisfied with this, she trusted her father to do everything he could to help her grandfather and she would do anything they asked of her to help, and if that meant keeping her grandmother occupied for a while – well she could come up with something.

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Genevieve felt refreshed after her shower; she restyled her hair, dressed and applied her customary light makeup and headed to the kitchen for lunch.

Li was setting the table, Jean was cutting slices of a quiche and there was salad and fresh bread – even now, Genevieve wondered how Jean found time to make bread on a regular basis as well as her other bakes and duties as a receptionist for the practice.

"Ah, Madame," Jean turned and smiled, "how are you feeling?"

"Refreshed," she sat down, "thank you. This looks lovely, I find I am hungrier than I thought I would be."

"Li has been helping in the kitchen," Jean passed the place of quiche to the child, "she is doing well."

"Ah good, Vivi was never much interested in cooking," she sighed, "eating yes, cooking – ah well."

"Papa says he can burn water," Li laughed.

"Your papa can keep himself going, cherie," Genevieve shook her head, "at least with bacon and eggs, toast."

"We shall plate some up to go down with you later, for Lucien and Vivi."

"Of course, that will be good."

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After they had eaten, Jean shooed them out of the kitchen and said she would clean up then plate up the meals.

"Perhaps you could entertain your grandmother while I see to all that," Jean suggested.

"Alright," Li had been thinking about this and the one thing her father had promised her was to teach her how to play the piano, but so far he hadn't had time. So, perhaps grandmother could show her a few things. She lifted the lid on the keys and tentatively play a few notes.

"Do you play, Li? Your papa didn't say so."

"No, not yet, anyway. I remember papa used to play when I was small and he said I should have lessons when I was old enough. Am I old enough?"

"Of course, you could have started at six or seven, but I suppose things got in the way of that."

"They did … would you show me, he said you taught him at first. While Jean is in the kitchen …" she tipped her head very like her father used to do as a child, when asking for something.

Genevieve thought it would help pass the time while she waited for Jean to sort out the food to be taken down to the hospital.

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Jean smiled as she worked in the kitchen, taking her time to prepare two attractive plates of food and a bowl of fruit, which she placed in a basket. She washed and dried the pots and put them away. Cleaned the counter tops and the table and then called the hospital. Her call was put through to the ward.

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"Ah, Mrs Beazley," Sister hummed, "I wondered how long you would be able to keep Mrs Blake occupied. Miss Blake said you would try. Dr Blake says his mother can come down when she's ready. Dr Thomas is awake."

"Lovely," Jean breathed a sigh of relief, "I shall call a taxi and have her down to you soon."

"I shall inform the doctor."

"Marvellous," Lucien nodded, "my father is anxious to assure her he is none the worse for his experience …"

"Really?" Sister raised her eyebrows.

"Ah, yes, Sister, but you know how we doctors are as patients."

"Hm, yes, so…?"

"He has a small tremor in one hand and he still doesn't like too much light. This may improve over time, or it may not, we shall see. However, he remembers exactly what happened that night and will be speaking to Inspector Lawson later today."

"Good, I can't for the life of me think why anyone should wish to harm your father, Dr Blake, he is the most respectful and kind person around here."

"Nice to know, I shall endeavour to keep up the family tradition." He smiled, "thank you for your kindness to him over these two weeks."

"My pleasure, doctor."

Lucien returned to his father's room and smiled.

"Father?"

"Ah," Thomas croaked, "son, how am I?"

"How do you feel?"

"Exhausted," he cleared his throat, "my hand …" he looked down at the offending limb.

"Yeah, that might be a result of the poison," Lucien stood at the end of the bed, "how do you feel about the light?"

"It's about right, I think. I remember light hurting my eyes. What poison?"

"Strychnine," there was no hiding the truth from him, and why should he?

"Why?"

"We have a theory?"

"Clement? He handed me my wine, the one that tasted odd. It would be a good way to get me out of the way of his pursuing your mother."

"I don't think she would consider him even after years of widowhood, father," Lucien patted his hand, "in fact I think he is the last man she would look at. He just wanted you dead because he hates you for having what he could never have."

"Gen …?"

"On her way down, Vivi sent her home to shower and eat and rest."

"How long …?"

"Two weeks, she's been at your side every day. We persuaded her to sleep at home but I don't think she got much sleep. I wouldn't have."

"Ah," Thomas sighed.

"And here she is," Lucien turned as the door opened, "maman, bonjour."

"Luci … Thomas!" she almost ran to his bedside, "you are awake!" She bent to kiss him.

"Gen," he croaked, "yes, I'm here, none the worse …"

"Father," Lucien warned, "we need to make sure about that."

"Pah," he waved his hand and his wife laughed. "I expect you are just as bad when you are in hospital, Lucien; you doctors are all the same."

"Nevertheless, you had a near miss. If you'd drunk more of the wine …" he let the mere idea hang in the air.

"Do you remember anything, mon cher?"

"Everything," he squeezed her hand, "and I shall tell all to the Inspector." But he declined to say anything more.

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Matthew sat and listened as Thomas told him all that had happened that night; how Clement had opened and poured the wine, how he had handed round glasses instead of offering the tray, which was not quite right – he thought.

"And you thought it tasted odd." Matthew paused, his pen in the air.

"Bitter," Thomas agreed.

"Your thoughts?"

"Strychnine tastes bitter," he nodded, "and from what I experienced and what my doctor tells me, my symptoms are consistent with strychnine poisoning."

"He has said as much," Matthew nodded. "Well, Dr Thomas, I shall have this statement typed up and brought over for your signature."

"I'm hoping to be out for Sunday lunch," Thomas managed to wink.

"Ah, yes, well Alice and I don't want to cause any bother."

"Jean is doing the cooking, all I shall do is sit in a chair and be lord and master in my own home," he laughed.

Matthew thought Thomas was much like his old self and said he would talk to Jean and Genevieve before committing himself and his fiancée to the invitation.

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With Thomas' statement, evidence collected from Clement's surgery in the form of strychnine, and the statements of all the other masons that were present on that night, Matthew and Bill Hobart drove over to the surgery and formally arrested Dr Jock Clement on a charge of attempted murder by poisoning.

"Rubbish!" he folded his arms as Matthew read out the charge, "why should I try to poison my old friend?"

"Perhaps because you had designs on his wife," Matthew took out his handcuffs.

Clement tried to bluster his way out of that but couldn't deny there was strychnine in his surgery. It was for rat poison, he claimed.

"Rats in your surgery?" Matthew gasped, "well, I don't think your patients would be happy about that, very much a health hazard, Hobart, when we get back call public health, will you?"

"Boss," Bill grunted in his customary fashion.

Clement blustered on about not the surgery per se, but Matthew had already put the cuffs on him and was escorting him out of the building.

His housekeeper/receptionist watched with narrowed eyes and folded arms, "and we don't have rats!" she called after him, before grabbing her coat and handbag and leaving – for good.

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Clement was sent to Melbourne for trial and peace descended on the house. Thomas was allowed home in time for lunch on Sunday and Matthew and Alice agreed to attend. Li was overjoyed to have him back and paid great attention to his needs where she could, fetching drinks for him, reading to him and having him teach her how to play chess.

Lucien took over the surgery until such time as Thomas felt ready to return to work, but some of his older patients did ask if they could visit him.

Nell and Agnes Clasby called and said they always thought Clement was a 'wrong 'un'.

"So it would seem," Lucien smiled. "But all is well now, maman can go about her daily business without being harassed and I have to undo all the false prescriptions he has given to ladies of a certain age."

"Heavens!" Nell gasped, "he wasn't giving them strychnine too, was he?"

"I don't believe so, he was recommending hysterectomies for some, a pick-me-up for others that contained nothing but sugar water, alcohol and flavouring, and a sedative or sleeping drug for others."

"Some of them are addicted?" Agnes pursed her lips.

"Some it's true." He nodded, "others have been referred to maman, and we are thinking of setting up a group session for those who are struggling for one reason or another."

"Why your mother?"

"She's been there, though she says she sailed through it and was glad not to have to worry about having another child. She is, she says, happy with the two she has, and having looked at her notes I can see why, but that is confidential."

In fact, it was while looking through Genevieve's notes he discovered she had had four pregnancies but lost two mid-term and the two she managed to bring to term – himself and Vivi – were problematic, so it was understandable she didn't want that worry again.

"And how does she feel about that?"

"What? Leading a group session, oh," he shrugged, "she does it all with her customary charm, tea and Jean's biscuits and cakes."

They smiled, it was characteristic of the Blake family to look after others.

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Jean asked Lucien to put the extension into the dining table, to accommodate everyone. Li set the places and Thomas chose the wines that would be served.

"Smells delicious, Jean," Lucien hovered near the kitchen door, "you don't need a taster do you?" he added hopefully.

"Oh for heavens' sake," she laughed, "come on, you can sample the gravy."

He had quite a turn of speed when asked to try one of her dishes and was beside her in a flash. Li was watching and laughed.

"Oh," he rolled his eyes, "that is something else."

"I'll serve that, then," she put the spoon in the sink.

"The table looks lovely, Jean," Genevieve poked her nose in, "Lucien will you chill the white wine and open the red."

"Father trusts me?"

"Silly boy," his mother put the bottles on the table and shook her head.

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Alice was more comfortable with attending Sunday lunch with the Blake family. Having met Thomas and Lucien, seen Genevieve and been introduced in the hospital corridor, the only person she hadn't met was Jean. Everyone spoke fondly of the housekeeper, so fondly she didn't sound like an employee. So, here she was, standing on the doorstep with Matthew waiting for the door to be opened.

"Matthew!" Jean smiled and stepped aside, "and Dr Harvey, welcome."

"Hello Jean," Matthew grinned, "this is Alice, Alice meet Jean, best cook in Ballarat."

Jean shook her head, "ignore him, Alice," she offered her hand to the doctor, "come on in."

"Something smells good," Matthew sniffed.

"Lamb, requested by Dr Lucien," she closed the door, "apparently it's his favourite."

"Lovely, partial to it myself."

"You, Matthew Lawson, will eat anything, unless you have changed." She turned to Alice, "seriously, Alice, when he was a child if anything was left on someone else's plate he'd take it."

"Yeah, well, dad never left mum enough for the groceries," he grimaced, "drank or gambled it away."

Jean squeezed his arm, "all in the past, Matthew, we're all in better places now."

Alice watched this interaction and decided she was safe, and these people might become friends over time.

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Conversation was lively and avoided the topic of poisoning and recent hospital stays. They talked of art and music, their early days of their respective careers and Alice learnt a lot more about them, as they did about her.

When the meal was over, Lucien declared it the finest feast he had ever eaten, Jean told him not to be so daft. Alice wondered about such familiarity with her boss but thought she would talk to Matthew later. She did agree, however, on his review of the meal and in truth her sweet tooth hitherto unknown to her, was educated on the delights of apple pie with custard, or cream, or both if you were Li!

"Right, coffee or tea in the lounge," Jean stood up and started to clear the dishes, "while I wash up."

"Oh know you don't Jean," Lucien stood up and took the dishes off her, "me and Matthew will wash, you've done enough for the day."

"Lucien!" she gasped, it was her job to cook and clean.

"I insist," he stared her down, "what say you, Matthew, old friend?"

"Heartily agree, mate," Matthew stood and took some empty glasses.

"I think I could stand to do some drying up," Thomas decided her didn't want to be left out of this new found family – one of love and friendship.

"You can sit to do some," Lucien agreed, having no recollection of his father doing any kind of domestic task in the past.

"Deal," Thomas stood up, took up his cane and pottered through into the kitchen. He looked back and grinned at his wife's shocked expression, "well, what are you waiting for. Ladies, to the lounge!"