Jean tidied the desks and cleaned the blackboard. Coming back to teaching had definitely been the right thing to do.

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It had been hard work, gaining her teaching qualification while trying to run a farm and being pregnant, but she thought it would be worth it, in the end, and it was. She had always been careful with Christopher but that week she was home from college they weren't careful enough. She was grateful they allowed her to finish her studies and qualify, but she was at the end of the course. They had married quietly and settled to running the farm and the little girl was followed by two boys so she had her hands full. Married women didn't work, they kept house and raised the children and though she loved her children she did resent that. Still it was her own fault for being led by a boy she wasn't really in love with, and she didn't think he was in love with her. Marrying him before anyone knew about her slip up (not that there wasn't gossip about the birth of a child seven months after the wedding but Louise was a small baby so they just about got away with it) had saved her name but it wasn't a particularly happy marriage; he took her for granted and sometimes the only thing that kept her going was the sight of her children asleep in their beds at night. Would she have changed things? Yes, she would have liked to teach for maybe five years, then think about settling down, but she would never have not had the children; hindsight was a wonderful thing.

Then the war came, Christopher left to serve after another huge row and she had tried to keep going.

With her husband away, she couldn't manage the farm on her own, even though the children tried to help but they were young, Louise, her daughter, had just started school when war broke out, Christopher three and Jack was just walking. By the time she had received notice that her husband had been killed all her children were at school; and she had gone back into the classroom. Finding a post as a teacher wasn't too difficult, most of the men were away fighting and the women filled the spaces left.

For the two years until the end of the war, she taught and made a name for herself as a kind and gentle teacher, with a strong sense of right and wrong that she tried to pass onto her young students as well as her own children. Louise was about to head up to the grammar school, having passed her entrance exam, young Christopher worked hard and kept pace with his classmates but Jack … Jack was, in his mother's words, a little terror. He was unable to sit still in class, concentrate on his lessons; he was easily bored and frequently got into trouble. As both a parent and a teacher, Jean knew every child in each family was different; she decided Jack was a lot like his father and would need a different approach. He was sent to her classroom so often she asked the head teacher if she could have him there, permanently.

"He's bright, we both know that," she sighed, "so, being with the children two years ahead might stretch him and keep him from getting bored."

"Hm," Miss Cameron hummed, "I see your point, Jean, I often wonder how you cope at home."

"Oh, well as we still live on the farm, just don't run it as one, he gets to run off his surplus energy and wear himself out before bedtime." She shrugged. "He's rather like his father, Christopher couldn't be bothered with school, all he wanted to do was run a farm, he scraped his school certificate."

"Louise and young Christopher seem to have taken after you," Miss Cameron smiled. "Well, I'm prepared to give it a try, I can't send him home each time he misbehaves because you'd have to go with him, and I don't want to lose you, Jean."

"Oh, well, I'll take that," Jean nodded.

"In fact, dear, as you know Miss Granger is retiring as my deputy and I was wondering who to promote – how would you feel about it?"

"What about the other teachers, they've been here longer than me, I don't want to put noses out of joint?"

"You won't, you are well liked, by the staff and parents, no, I think you'd do very well in that position, you have life skills many of us who've only ever taught don't, and you are raising your own children."

"As long as nobody minds, yes, I'll take the promotion."

"Excellent."

The post came with a small rise in pay, but she still had her class to teach, so it wasn't much of a change, really.

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Jean was saddened to see Dr Thomas Blake had passed away. He wasn't her doctor but she had known him years ago through his son. She had flirted with Lucien Blake at school dances, most of the girls did, and he had taken her out, then he had left for Edinburgh to train as a doctor and she had left to train as a teacher. He had been kind, polite, and didn't go any further than she would let him, which was further than her mother would have considered proper, so she regarded him as rather respectful – but a very good kisser, even at that age.

She supposed he would come home to see to the house, from wherever he was now. She didn't even know if he was in Australia, the last she had heard was that he had been in a Japanese POW camp and he was estranged from his father. Dr Thomas had been angry with him for joining the army, everybody knew that, and even angrier when he married a Chinese girl, which Jean thought was sad, to fall out over that. Her parents hadn't been too pleased when she had married Christopher but they hadn't cut her off for it, and they had been good grandparents. She wondered if he had any children, Lucien, she thought would make a good, but slightly irresponsible, father.

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Thomas Blake's housekeeper had kept the house warm and dry until Dr Lucien came home. He had sent a telegram informing her of his arrival and that he would be bringing his daughter home with him – could she see to their rooms and have some food in for them.

She set to making their beds and filling the fridge and cupboards on the day he was due.

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Lucien looked at the house from the taxi. Li, his daughter, was ten years old and an excited ten-year-old at that. She wanted to see his house, the studio where his mother had worked and the town he grew up in; she was more of an adventurer than he was.

"Oh, Pa, it's lovely!" she dived out of the car, "come on!"

He unfolded from the back seat and paid the fare. The driver smiled and helped him retrieve the luggage from the boot and noted that it was good a Blake was back in residence.

Lucien wasn't sure about that. His plan was to go through the estate, sell the house, pay off the housekeeper and find his way to somewhere that didn't remind him of an unhappy childhood.

Mrs Rathbone had heard the car draw up and opened the door.

"Major," she smiled, "welcome home."

"Oh," he cleared his throat.

"… and this must be Miss Blake, how nice to meet you," the smile disappeared, the expression on her face told him everything, Li was not what she expected, a half-Chinese child, in a respectable doctor's house? This was not right, she thought.

"Hello!" Li ignored, or didn't notice, the cold expression, "I'm Li, who're you?"

Mrs Rathbone raised her eyebrows and coughed, "Mrs Rathbone, your grandfather's housekeeper."

"A housekeeper! Pa, you said we'd need one." She grinned back at her father.

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It was an awkward evening. Lucien barely said a word, Li ran around finding places that interested her, effused over her bedroom and complimented Mrs Rathbone on the meal, clearing her plate.

After the meal, Mrs Rathbone washed up and when Lucien told her there was nothing else he needed, she retired to her room.

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"What's in here?" she asked the next morning, finding a locked door.

"Your grandmother's studio," Mrs Rathbone pursed her lips.

"Can I go in?"

"Your grandfather locked it up when she died."

"Hm," she frowned, "Pa said he had lovely times with my grandmother in there."

"That's as maybe, Miss," the housekeeper sniffed, children should be seen and not heard in her view, "but it is locked and I don't have the key."

There was an uneasy silence between the two until Mrs Rathbone informed her that breakfast was in the kitchen.

Li ate her oatmeal that reminded her of the orphanage, swallowed a glass of orange juice and waited for her father. When he wandered through, Mrs Rathbone set bacon and eggs in front of him, tea and toast.

"You eaten, Li?"

"Porridge," she nodded.

"Want some toast?"

"Please." She took a piece of toast and buttered it. "Pa?"

"Yes lovely?"

"Mrs Rathbone says she doesn't have the key to the studio …"

"… and you want to see?"

She nodded.

"Hm."

"Your father locked it …"

"I remember," he pushed his plate away, "it's been a long time, Mrs Rathbone …"

"Thirty years …"

He frowned. Thirty years was a long time to cut yourself off from love.

"I don't have the key." She huffed and glared at Li.

"Likely in either the study or the surgery," he hummed, "we'll find it, pet," he patted Li's hand.

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Jean had no idea Lucien Blake had returned until she bumped into Mrs Rathbone while shopping the following Saturday. She noticed the woman had a frustrated look about her.

"Mrs Rathbone," she smiled, "busy?"

"Major Blake has returned … and his daughter."

"Oh, I wondered if he would," she nodded when the butcher showed her a chicken for roasting. "I expect he will be arranging the funeral, now."

"A very quick affair, and the doctor being a Catholic – not right, Mrs Beazley, not right at all."

"Each to his own, Mrs Rathbone," she paid her bill.

"… and his daughter's half Chinese," the housekeeper added in a whisper.

"I believe his wife is Chinese," Jean thought she was unnecessarily harsh. "Is she here?"

"Dead, apparently," it sounded like she didn't believe that. "The child is ten years old, he's muttered something about school for her."

"Tell him we have room with us," Jean made to leave, "if he's a mind to send her to a small school. We have a number of children who have suffered because of the war."

"Right," Mrs Rathbone tipped her head, set her order and watched Jean leave. She didn't really approve of young married women working if they had children, even if they were widowed, but she might as well pass on the information, someone was bound to say something, they always did – in Ballarat.

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"I thought," she hummed, "I might offer the hand of friendship, the old hand …"

"Ah," Miss Cameron nodded understandingly, "you knew young Dr Blake?"

"Years ago," Jean admitted, "before either of us went on to our training. I suggested to his housekeeper that he might like to look at us to finish his daughter's education – before the grammar, or …"

"His housekeeper?"

"I bumped into Mrs Rathbone out shopping, at the weekend. She doesn't seem to approve of his daughter being half Chinese. We are more personal than some of the bigger schools."

"Well, you attend Dr Blake's funeral, perhaps you are right, it's been a tough time for a lot of us."

"Mrs Rathbone refers to him as Major Blake … I wonder which he prefers."

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Mrs Rathbone had tendered her resignation two days before Dr Thomas Blake's funeral. Lucien had arranged refreshments at the Colonist's Club, not wanting to put her to any trouble, but it wasn't that that made her decide to leave, it was him and his daughter. She would attend the funeral even if it wasn't a full mass; he'd told her he had no time for a God who abandoned his children.

While Lucien found Mrs Rathbone standoffish and disapproving of him and Li, he was surprised at her quick resignation. He would have to find someone else, to clean and do the laundry, if nothing else. She had passed on the suggestion by a Mrs Beazley that there was room for Li where she taught and he was going to see about that after the funeral, and about getting back his licence to practice medicine, at least make an attempt to put down roots. He'd been accosted by Miss Nell Clasby one day and told it would be good for Li to have a settled place. He knew that, he just wasn't sure about Ballarat being that place. Still she had been kind and smiled and patted Li's cheek.

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Jean watched him at the graveside. Tall, as she remembered him, well dressed, his hair tamed by some hair crème and a neatly trimmed beard. Beside him a young girl, straight black hair tied in a slightly untidy ponytail, her dress was plain blue, probably not bought for the occasion. She would speak to him, make herself known and offer her condolences, then head back to school.

She waited until there was a gap in the people wanting to speak to him before clearing her throat to alert him to her presence.

"Dr? Blake?" she wondered if it was 'doctor' or 'major' but he was out of uniform, so …

"What? Oh, yes …" he squinted, "… Jean?"

She gave him time to think.

"Jean Randall, well, who'd have thought it?" He was pleased he had remembered her.

"Jean Beazley, now, but yes," she smiled. "I'm sorry, about your father," she nodded towards the grave.

"Ah, yes, thank you," he grumbled, "this is my daughter, Li." He pulled the child forward.

"Hello, Li, how nice to meet you." She smiled and Lucien noticed it was a genuine smile.

Li smiled her greeting.

"You're not the Mrs Beazley who suggested a school for her, are you?"

"The very same," she nodded, "I teach at a small school …"

"Your husband …" he was about to ask what Mr Beazley thought of her working.

"The Solomons," she hummed, "three children to bring up and I did train to teach."

"My condolences. So, this school …?"

"Come up and see us," she took a diary out of her bag and wrote down the address. "we're quite friendly. Perhaps tomorrow, or the day after?"

Tomorrow, I suppose. Mid-morning?"

"Lovely," she smiled, "I'm glad you came home, doctor …"

"It used to be Lucien," he mused softly.

"See you tomorrow … Lucien."

"You will."

He watched her go and remembered the times they had flirted and laughed, and how she would tease him, toss her head and walk off with a particular sway. He thought she would be kind to Li and that was important.

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Li was bored. Her father was accosted by those he had known before he had left to go to Edinburgh and seen on his rare trips home, and they insisted on talking about his father and how they had apparently valued him as a doctor. Some were asking if he intended to set up a practice and carry on the good work and while he found it fussy and irritating he suffered it in silence. She wandered out of the function room and out to sit on the steps and watch the world go by. There were children with their mothers, so it must have been the end of the school day, people doing last minute shopping; nobody paid her any attention.

"Jack!" a mother shouted her son and a young boy around her age ran past, turned to look at her and skidded to a stop.

"What're you doin' there?" he glared at her.

"Nothing. Why are you running away from your mother?"

He shrugged.

"There you are," a hand grabbed his, "how often have I told you not to run off in town?"

The boy laughed.

"Hello, Mrs Beazley." Li caught her attention.

"Oh, Li, what are you doing there?"

"I was bored. Pa's talking to people …"

"Oh, yes, I understand," Jean's face softened though she kept a tight hold on her errant son. "This is Jack, my youngest child, Jack, this is Li Blake."

"Hi," he grinned.

"Hello," Li half smiled back.

"Come on," Jean started up the steps, "let's go and tell you father you need him."

"Oh, no!" Li gasped, "don't do that!"

"Well, you can't sit out here on your own, someone's bound to move you on," she chivvied Li up the stairs and into the club.

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"Doctor," she touched his arm.

"Jean," he gasped.

"I found Li sitting on the steps," she gave him a 'look' that told him she wasn't impressed with his parenting.

"Oh," he blushed slightly, "sorry, so many people seem to want to tell me how much of a saint my father was …" his face said he didn't believe it.

"Hm," she sighed, "well, how about this. I'm heading home, I can take her with me …"

"Oh, er …"

"I know, it's been years …"

"I think I can trust you, Jean, even after all this time."

She tore another page out of her notebook and wrote down her address.

"I'll keep her safe," she passed him the paper and watched him slip it into his breast pocket.

He watched her go, taking Li by the hand while still holding tight of the boy's arm.

"See you've met Jean Beazley," Inspector Lawson appeared at his elbow.

"Matthew?" he gulped, "jeez, mate, what're you doin' here?"

"Got to see your father off, he was our police surgeon. Good to see you back," he shook his hand.

"I knew Jean, before I went to Edinburgh. She's taken my daughter to her house – I've got to learn to be a better father, I don't think she's impressed with finding Li on the club steps."

"Don't be too late going to collect her." Matthew warned, "how did you know her?"

"We dated, a little, nothing serious."

"Ah," he nodded wisely. "Well, good to see you back, Blake …"

Lucien thought for a moment, something Matthew said about a 'police surgeon'.

"Lawson, this police surgeon business…?"

"Come and see me at the station – we'll talk."

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Jean drove the two children up to her house, Jack could safely run off some excess energy and Louise might be entreated to amuse Li for a while.

"Mrs Beazley," Li shifted on the back seat of the old car, "this school you told Pa about …"

"Yes dear?"

"What's it like?"

"It's a prison," Jack shrieked, "they keep you tied to your desk while you work and beat you when …"

"That's enough, Jack," Jean warned, "if you behaved I wouldn't have to keep you in at playtime, and when have I ever beaten you? None of the teachers use the cane unless they absolutely have to."

"Do you get into trouble, Jack?" Li looked at him, "I used to, in the orphanage."

"You were in an orphanage?" he gasped.

"Pa was in a camp," she shrugged, it was so much a part of her it didn't bother her to talk about it, though she knew her father didn't talk about his time away from her, save that he missed her very much.

"Why did you get into trouble?" he frowned.

"I was too lively, I suppose …" she wasn't sure why she was beaten in the orphanage, but being half- Australian didn't help, "and Pa isn't Chinese."

"Dunno why that matters," Jack muttered.

Jean pulled up near the house and they got out. Li looked around; it was a little untidy, she thought, the house was old and rambling next to a barn.

"It used to be a farm," Jean told her, "but I can't run it on my own, so I went back to teaching. Juice?" She led the way into the kitchen, clean but a little shabby. There was an older girl at the table with books around her.

"Louise," she dropped her bag onto a chair, "this is Li, Dr Blake's daughter. He's a bit busy so she's come for a break."

Louise looked up and smiled, "right, I'll put these away and we can do something, play a game, or read, if you like."

"Oh, er, yes, ok," Li screwed her face up, "what kind of game?"

"Whatever you like, we've got cards, and a couple of board games that still have all their bits."

"I've never played board games, or cards."

"Right, well, how about a game of snap …"

"Boring …" Jack rolled his eyes.

"Go run round the field, you little pest," Louise huffed, "snap's easy for a first game. Just 'cos you always cheat – and lose."

Jack stuck his tongue out and headed for the door. Li thought he was a bit rude.

"Sorry about my brother," Louise took a pack of cards from the dresser, "he's a bit wild. Mum does her best but she says he needs a father's hand … dad died in the war."

"I'm sorry," Li looked down, "so did my mother."

Louise gave her arm a friendly squeeze, "right, so this is how you play snap."

Jean set glasses of orange juice on the table and some biscuits she had made that weekend, "help yourself, Li."

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Matthew tapped him on the shoulder.

"Blake," he muttered, "best go and get your girl. Jean's got enough to do with her kids. The youngest is a little tearaway …"

"That the one she had with her?"

"Yeah, Jack. He's ten."

"Same age as Li."

"Ah." he nodded knowingly.

"Jean says they have space for her at the school she teaches at. Is it a good school?"

"She's one of the best, they're kind, specially to those kids that lost someone in the war."

"You? I don't see anyone with you."

"She's working in the morgue. Alice. She worked with your father on autopsies. She'll give up work if we have kids, but so far we haven't been blessed."

"Sorry."

"No, it's ok, we've got time, yet, and we were never in any hurry, 'specially with me in North Africa."

"You served?"

Matthew nodded, "we married just before I left, so as I say, we've got time."

"Risky, marrying then."

"That's what we said, but she was prepared to take that risk."

"Strong woman, then?"

"You bet." Matthew grinned, his face told Lucien that he was very much in love with this Alice.

"I lost my wife at the fall - of Singapore. Li ended up in an orphanage, I ended up in a camp."

"Sorry, mate. Your father did say something, he was worried but decided to be more curmudgeonly than usual."

"Typical."

"True."

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Lucien pulled his father's ancient Riley onto the Beazley farm and pulled up next to Jean's equally ancient Austin 7 and turned off the engine. He looked round the space, up at the old farmhouse – a one storey building that could do with some serious work, but the roof looked water-tight and all the windows were intact.

He'd thought of her, as she'd walked away from the graveside, as much as he could at the time, and had wondered about how life had panned out for her. It seemed not as well as it should have. While Jean hadn't been in his thoughts constantly over the years, some things would bring her to mind, a laugh would remind him of her, a certain sway of the hips by a woman as she walked away, but he had married someone else and it wasn't right that he should think on a past flirtation, not then, but now … hm? He had been blessed with a long memory, for places and things, music and words and girls, women he had dated, some he had bedded – like Monika, too eager, and too clingy after he had had sex with her in her parent's summer house. There was Annie who had been his first tumble, others who had let him take them on the back seat of his father's car (the one he was sitting in now) or in a field or on a couch somewhere but Jean … it had never been any more than a kiss and some heavy petting that promised of more … he wondered what Mr Beazley was like that had her plight her troth to him. Jealous? No, it was water under the bridge, he had left the country, he couldn't expect her to wait, though he had written a couple of times. Now here he was to collect his daughter by another woman and he wasn't sure if he had loved Mei Lin as much as he desired Jean, but was desire the same as love? He shook his head and got out of the car.

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Li had hesitated, at first, when asked to join the family at the table for dinner. Jean suggested her father may be tied up with people wanting to offer their condolences on the death of his father, and there was plenty to go round.

"Mum always seems to be able to feed an army," her eldest son, Christopher, laughed. He had been at Scouts and only arrived as dinner was being set out.

"This is Li, Christopher," his mother nodded over to her, "Dr Blake's daughter. He's a bit tied up."

"Yeah?"

"At the funeral wake, for his father," she reminded him.

"Of course," he passed her the bread and sat down.

Jean ladled the stew into dishes. It was loaded with potatoes and vegetables and some chicken. She cut slices of the crusty bread and told them all to 'dig in'.

Li took a little amount on her spoon, she had had some suspect meals in her time, though food had become more interesting and plentiful since her father had found her and at the first taste Mrs Rathbone's dinners paled into insignificance. She immediately 'dug in' and finished her dish almost as quickly as Jack, who shovelled his dinner in as if someone was going to take it off him. She followed the others lead and wiped her plate with a piece of bread and told Jean it was one of the nicest meals she had ever had.

"I doubt that, dear, but thank you, anyway."

"No, really, Mrs Beazley, that was delicious."

"Mum's a good cook," Louise finished her dish and took it to the sink, Li followed as did the boys.

"There's fruit for dessert, or cake," Jean reached for a tin and a bowl. "Help yourselves."

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Lucien knocked on the door, judging the kitchen to be where he would find the family, and his daughter. He hoped he hadn't put Jean to too much trouble, it had been a kindness he hadn't expected.

"Jean," he smiled when she opened the door, "I … er … I hope I haven't taken advantage …"

She thought he looked embarrassed.

"Not at all," she smiled and stepped aside, "come in."

"Pa!" Li ran over to him, "oh, Pa, I've had such a lovely time, do we have to leave?"

"Well sweetheart," he kissed the top of her head, "we shouldn't overstay …"

"Please," Jean put her hand on Li's shoulder, "surely you have time for a cuppa?"

"That's very kind … but I ought to see to her dinner."

"I've had dinner, Pa," she tugged his hand, "Mrs Beazley invited me to eat with them, it was delicious."

"Oh, Jean, you didn't have to …" again he felt inadequate as a parent.

"Enough to go around," she shrugged, "have you eaten?"

"Er, well there was a buffet …"

"And …?"

"Maybe a little."

"Sit," she pushed him towards the table, "there's some left. Not restaurant standard …"

"Jean …"

"Sit, Lucien," her voice softened, "by the time you get back all you'll do is make a sandwich …"

"I can cook, y'know," he huffed.

"I'm sure you can, but there is food here and it will save you the bother." She ladled some of the stew from the pot on the stove and pushed the bowl in front of him.

Lucien was tired, tired of people telling how they missed his father, how his father had worried about him, about how good he was, but the only person who asked how he was was – no one.

Jean looked at him and saw in him what others must have seen in her when she had been told Christopher was dead. While the marriage was not the happiest, she did not wish him dead and she was saddened at his unnecessary passing. She sat opposite him and watched him eat. Over his shoulder she could see Li and Louise had resumed their game of snap and Christopher was now joining in. She introduced them then turned to him.

"How are you?" she asked softly.

"Hm?" he stopped, his spoon half way to his mouth.

"Nobody knows what to say, so they prattle on about how they missed the deceased, but nobody asked how you are."

"Dad and I, well we didn't see eye to eye."

"I know, Lucien, but, how are you?"

He took the mouthful and thought about it. Truthfully he hadn't given his own feelings much thought. He had spent the time since the war ended finding Li, trying to reconnect with the child he adored, and then trying to keep her safe and see her well fed and dressed appropriately before being told his father had died and the estate needed seeing to. Thomas had made a will, and having no other relative he cared for, he had left everything to his errant son, in the hope he would make some use of the house and practice. So here he was, back in Ballarat.

"I don't know," he answered truthfully, a surprise to him, usually he would gloss over such ideas and get on with something else, something that would help him ignore his own emotions.

"If there's anything I can do," she reached across the table and touched his hand, "let me know."

"You could help me find a new housekeeper," he blurted out, "Mrs Rathbone quit."

"Oh, why?"

"Not sure, but," he leaned over so as not to be overheard, "I don't think she approved of me bringing Li with me."

"She's your daughter, what else would you do with her"? Jean whispered back.

"She's …"

"… sweet …"

"… she had a Chinese mother."

"So?"

"Why are you so kind?"

"Pardon?"

"Why are you so kind?" he insisted.

"Oh, because I don't want to be one of those other people who judge without knowing the full story, because I've been on the receiving end."

"You always were," he wondered how to sum her up, "… you always were generous."

"No, I'm just me."

He smiled, "you're also a darned good cook."

"I do my best."

"Well that was very tasty," he pushed the empty bowl away.

"Thank you, tea?"

He nodded his agreement and watched her as she boiled the kettle and warmed the pot. It all seemed so easy, being here, with her.

"There's an agency in town," she turned, "to find you a housekeeper."

"Oh …"

"I couldn't recommend someone, Lucien. I know there are housekeepers looking for work but I don't know if they are what you want, what your requirements are …"

"Clean and cook, maybe take the calls …" he frowned.

"Calls?"

"For the surgery, I thought, maybe I'd start practicing again, well people have asked."

She looked at him; he'd hurried away to study and taken his time coming home, but then he had a good reason for being delayed.

"Put all those years of study to good use," she put the teapot on the table and two cups. " But you must do what is right for you and Li. Milk?"

"No milk, thank you. There's nothing else I can do and I suppose raising children costs …"

"Some," she agreed, "they have this awful habit of growing out of their clothes and shoes."

"I've noticed." He sipped the tea. "I've opened up mother's studio."

"Was it locked?"

He nodded. "Li was curious, it seemed …"

"… easier, with her there?"

"I think so. There was a lot of dust, and old paint, unfinished paintings – there's one of Miss Agnes Clasby …" he watched for her reaction.

"Does Miss Clasby know?"

He shook his head, "I haven't said anything."

"She might want it."

"They were great friends, her and maman …"

Jean sipped her tea. "Is it clean, now?"

"Mrs Rathbone," he set his empty cup down, "but me and Li sorted maman's things."

Jean thought that was something to do with trust.

"Jean, thank you, for your kindness to Li - and me – but we really must go." He stood up.

"Any time, Lucien," she smiled.

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She watched them leave and sighed. It had been so easy to invite him in, to give him some food and it was easy to say she would help.

"He's nice, mum," Louise came up behind her.

"Hm?"

"Dr Blake, he seems nice."

"I knew him years ago, before I married your father, he always was … nice."

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The following morning, Jean dropped Louise and Christopher at the Grammar School and carried on with Jack to their school. He'd outgrown her class but the one he was in now seemed to suit him. Miss Archer was tough but fair and he seemed to buckle down to his studies. Jean knew he was more than able to pass the exam at the end of the following year but it was whether or not he would keep it up that worried her.

She went to see Miss Cameron to warn her that Dr Lucien Blake may pay them a visit with his daughter, to check the suitability of the school.

"Oh, that will be nice, Jean," she smiled, "what age is she?"

"Ten, same as Jack so I'm guessing his class, and she has met him."

"Really?"

"Yesterday, she was sitting on the steps of the club while her father was at the wake." Jean told her what had happened and how she had taken Li under her wing for the evening.

"You are so kind, Jean, most would have left her there, or sent her inside."

"To be with a lot of people she had never met ignoring her and going on about how Dr Thomas was highly regarded in the town?"

"He was."

"I know, but she's still only a child, Miss Cameron."

"And how is Dr Blake?"

"Truthfully?"

She nodded.

"I think he's a bit lost and probably thinks I don't think much of his parenting."

"Do you?"

"I suppose he does his best, but a lot of the day to day things of bringing up a daughter would have been left to his wife. Li was in an orphanage during the war while he was in a POW camp."

"He told you this?"

"Li did. She said she used to get into trouble for being too lively. She seems a sweet child, and with lovely manners."

"Well, I look forward to meeting Dr Blake, today."

"I have a feeling it will be Li that reminds him to come," she gave a small laugh.

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"Come on, Pa," Li urged, "we have to go and see the school, where Mrs Beazley teaches."

She had grilled him the previous evening on how he knew Mrs Beazley. He had told her as much as he thought she should know. That it had been before he left to train as a doctor, they had been friends, he said, nothing more, and she had been content with that, he hoped.

Now he was driving her up to the school, and again he would see Jean.

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The school was almost rambling, he thought, as if it had stared out small then grown, a bit added here, a bit added there, all, he supposed to accommodate the growing number of pupils over the years. There was a good sized playground and grassed area that showed signs of play, of footie, running, skipping – all things he barely remembered.

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Inside they were greeted politely and Miss Cameron took them into her office to find out more about Li and what her father wanted for her.

She looked at the doctor and agreed with what Jean had said, that he was a little lost. Li's dress was clean, as were her socks and her shoes, though they could do with a polish. Her hair had been brushed, probably by herself, she was ten after all, but it was untidily tied up, strands had escaped the lop-sided bow she had tied.

She explained that they believed every child was an individual and was supported and encouraged.

"Now," she stood up, "shall we have a look around and you can see what you think. Miss Archer teaches the class that Li would be in, should you like her to stay. She's firm, but fair."

Lucien cleared his throat and held out his hand for Li.

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Having seen everything Miss Cameron thought they needed to see, they returned to the office and she asked Lucien if he thought this school would do for his daughter.

"Most of our students go on to the Grammar School," she smiled, "and those that don't still get a good education."

"What do you think, Li?" Lucien turned to his daughter, "would you like to come here?"

"Would I still be able to see Mrs Beazley, when I'm not at school?"

"Well," he hummed, "I expect so. Any particular reason?"

"She's nice, and I like Louise."

Deep down Lucien thought it might be a good idea if she was able to see Jean – as a friend – mainly because he might be caught up in surgery, or at the hospital with a patient and perhaps he could ring through …

"I should speak to her, first, lovely," he smiled, "it's only polite."

"Ok," she smiled, "I think I'd like to come here."