Jean was under no illusion what she had set herself up for when she offered to have Li the day of the funeral. Lucien would be forgetful, she thought, not on purpose, but he had always been curious, or at least he had been when she knew him years ago. Now Li was to study in the same class as Jack, she knew he would protect her, just because he had said he didn't see what her father not being Chinese mattered when they were in the car. He was a complicated little boy, hated anyone to be bullied because of who they were, but wild and difficult to keep steady. Maybe it would do both children good, one to see that they were valued and the other to value. Well, she had classes to teach, her own children to care for and feed, she didn't have time to dwell on the complications. She would see that Li was taken care of, if, or when, her father was distracted. She hoped he would find a housekeeper who would suit his needs.

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Life continued the way it always had in Jean's corner of Ballarat. Li was a frequent visitor as her father did more investigating the unnatural deaths that came to the police's attention.

"Matthew," she smiled as she passed the inspector one day, "how are you?"

"Hello, Jean, good to see you. I'm ok, thanks."

"And Alice?"

"Grand," he leant close and whispered in her ear, "we think …"

"Really?" she smiled, "oh that's wonderful!"

"Early days, yet," he grinned, "I just wish she liked her doctor. He treats her like a …" he struggled to find the right words.

"As if she doesn't know anything?"

"Yeah, she's probably more qualified than him."

"A wider set of qualifications," Jean agreed, "who's she with?"

"Dr King."

"Oh? I've never had any trouble with him."

Matthew shrugged, "well, she's on the lookout for another GP."

"What about Blake?"

"She works with him," he frowned, "she said it would be embarrassing to be examined by a close colleague – they get on well together."

"Just a thought."

"You see him, much?"

"I have Li often, after school."

"Sorry, probably my fault, but he's bloody good at being a police surgeon, if a bit wild in his theories."

Jean smiled. "I don't mind, she has a calming effect on Jack."

"Really?"

"Well, maybe not calming. He defends her, from the bullies. Jack doesn't like injustice."

He watched her walk down the street and went on his own way, back to the station.

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"Morning, Miss Cameron," she smiled as she watched Jack and Li head to their classroom.

"Ah, Mrs Beazley," Miss Cameron beckoned her into her office.

"Trouble?" Jean frowned.

"School inspection."

"Oh, alright," she sighed, "when?"

"Today."

"Today?!"

Miss Cameron nodded and sat down at her desk.

"They're here, aren't they?" Jean hummed.

"They are, and they are a grim lot."

"Oh, well I'd better get to class then," Jean bit her bottom lip, "no time to change anything …"

"Jean," Miss Cameron looked at her, "they have looked at the staff rota and noticed that you are the only married teacher here. I told them you trained before you married and that you came back to teaching after Christopher was killed in the Solomons, but, beware, they didn't seem to think that was a good reason to have a married woman with children on the staff."

This had always been a worry at the back of Jean's mind; that the Education Board would not take kindly to her teaching and raising children at the same time. She had always thought it a ridiculous rule, that a married woman should not be able to continue in their chosen career after marriage or after having children. True, time away after the birth would be nice, but she had been married to a farmer and a break after giving birth was not something she had had. As soon as she had been able Chirstopher had expected her to help out on the farm. She had managed the three weeks lying in period, just, but it had only meant she kept house and didn't do any of the heavy work on the land. Ah well, she had a job to do, a class to teach and there was little she could do about what would come out of this inspection. She knew she was a good teacher, liked and respected by the children and parents.

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She had seen the Inspectors as they had toured the school. There were three of them, two men of middling years, one corpulent and ruddy of face, the other skinny as a rake, pinched faced and grey looking. The woman with them was around her age and as sour as a lemon. Jean noted she wore no ring of any kind and was likely to be the one who disapproved most that she was married and keeping to her chosen career. By lunchtime she had delivered a maths lesson, an English lesson and supervised their break time. She had tended grazed knees and hurt feelings, managed to grab a cup of tea and a comfort break herself and caught young Sammy Evans teasing little girls from another class. She had reminded him that his little sister was in one of those classes and he wouldn't like it if some older boy teased her.

"Sorry, Mrs Beazley," he drew circles with the toe of his shoe in the dust on the ground.

"It's not me you should be apologising to, Sammy, it's the girls you have teased, isn't it."

"S'ppose so," he sulked.

"Now, Sammy," she crouched down in front of him, "you think of Maggie, eh? What would you do to some boy who pulled her pigtails?"

"Thump 'em, Miss," he stuck his bottom lip out.

"And how would you feel if Connie's big brother, who is a lot bigger than you, thumped you?"

"Ok, Mrs Beazley," he looked into her soft grey eyes, "I won't do it again."

"Promise?"

"Promise," he agreed.

"Right, you little scamp, off you go and enjoy the rest of your playtime."

He ran off, grinning. All he needed was the guidance he didn't get at home, she thought, and though he may pull pigtails again and she would remind him again, he wasn't a bad little boy, not really.

The Inspectors watched her and each wondered why she hadn't given the boy a swift slap around the legs.

"Too soft," the woman muttered.

"Indeed," her companions agreed.

Jean would disagree, she believed that violence begat violence. Sammy didn't need, or deserve, a slap around the legs, he needed understanding.

She wasn't the only teacher who thought that way. Miss Cameron wasn't one for the cane, or the slipper, the teacher who taught the youngest pupils took her lead from Mrs Beazley and Miss Cameron, some of the other teachers still believe in the old fashioned 'spare the rod, spoil the child', but all in all the children were not afraid of the teachers and the parents were happy with this. However, the Inspectors didn't see it this way. They had been teachers, teachers of the old school who demanded discipline; silence in the class, no discussion, no laughter, no lovely stories at the end of the day, just lecturing day after day, slapped fingers for poor hand-writing and heaven help the child who was left-handed!

Despite the air of uncertainty in the school, Jean continued to teach as she always did, with gentle firmness, a smile and encouragement. She taught a geography lesson and art where she took the children out to the playground and asked them to draw the trees and flowers. The Inspectors considered art to be unnecessary and a waste of time. Jean said it helped the children to be more aware of their surroundings and notice things that happened in the day to day workings of the world. If she was to be dismissed for being married and a mother, she was going to go with her beliefs intact.

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It had been a week since the inspection of the school. She had placated Jack and Li but mentioned to Lucien that she didn't think she was likely to be kept on.

"But why the hell not?" he ran his hand over his head.

"Simply because married women do not work, they keep house and care for the family." She sighed and poured him some tea.

"Twaddle," he huffed.

"Hm," she shrugged.

"Well, it's ridiculous," he went on, "why shouldn't a married woman, with or without children, continue to work in whatever career they've chosen. As a farmer's wife you did that, didn't you?"

"Oh yes, no three week lying in for me, get up, after a week, clean the house, cook the meals, feed the baby … the only thing I managed that my doctor advised was keeping my husband off me for three months, it wasn't easy, Lucien …"

He reached over and covered her hand with his, he had no words to comfort her.

"Water under the bridge," she smiled softly.

"So, what will you do?"

"Truthfully, I have no idea," she decided to be frank with him. "I could tutor, for exams, I suppose …"

"How are you with accounts?"

"I ran a farm, Lucien …"

"I need someone to do my accounts, my current housekeeper is just that, a housekeeper, I don't seem to get round to the bills and receipts …" he tailed off sheepishly. "I'd pay you, obviously …"

"I don't want pity, Lucien …"

"It isn't pity, unless it's pity for me," he frowned, "truth is Jean, I need someone I can trust, and I trust you …"

She tipped her head and thought for a few minutes. It would help, with her finances, if she was turned out of the school, she could do them in the evenings …

"Alright," she smiled again, "bring me your receipts and the charges and I'll see to them. Do you have a typewriter?"

"Er yes," he chewed his bottom lip.

"Good, typewritten bills are so much more professional, aren't they?"

"Of course, I'll bring it up to you, unless you want to come down to the house and work there, regular hours …"

"Can I start by doing them here, I can do them in the evenings, after tutoring …"

"You think you'll get pupils?"

"I hope so, some in Jack and Li's class …"

"You could tutor her, fill in the gaps before she takes the entrance exam to the grammar. I would like her to get in, Jean I don't really want her at Ballarat West …"

"You went there …"

"Yeah, but Matthew says Donald McAvoy is there, and he was a bully then, god knows what he's like now he's a master."

"I see," she hummed.

"Say, Jean, you know Matthew's wife, Alice?"

"Of course, not well though; but so do you, you work with her."

"True, but she's a bit … well more crusty than usual."

"Ah, well," Jean wondered if she was about to break a confidence, but if she did maybe it would help both of them – Alice and Lucien, that is. "Alice is pregnant, newly so, and her doctor is a bit of an old fossil, according to Matthew, seems he thinks he knows more than her … I suggested she find another GP. I suggested you," she gave a little laugh.

"I'd be happy to look after her," he sipped his tea.

"But she's worried, a little embarrassed, you and she are colleagues and some of the examinations are …"

"… intimate. I see," he tipped his head and thought, "I can separate one from the other, colleague, friend, patient, and I wouldn't have to examine her intimately if she didn't want me to."

"Well, you can sort it out between you, I'm not getting involved."

Lucien thought that was probably wise. He took his leave of her and took Li home, thinking it was good that she had agreed to do his accounts for him. She would be efficient, but huffed to himself when he realised they hadn't agreed how much he would pay her for the work.

"Pa?" Li frowned at his little huff.

"What? Oh, I've asked Mrs Beazley to do my accounts but I forgot to mention how much I should pay her. I'll do it tomorrow."

"Won't Mrs Henderson do them?"

"No, love, she doesn't think it's what housekeepers do."

"Well, at least you can trust Mrs Beazley to do them properly."

"I can, can't I," he grinned, "now let's see what Mrs H has left us for dinner."

Mrs Henderson's cooking was good, plain but good, they didn't starve but Li had whispered she overcooked the vegetables sometimes.

"And how does Mrs Beazley cook the vegetables?"

"You know how she cooks, Pa, nicely," Li smiled, "the carrots aren't all mushy and the cabbage still looks like cabbage."

Lucien had to agree with her, he had eaten Jean's cooking on the many occasions he had left Li there for too long after school and had been told to sit down and eat. The meals that Mrs Henderson had left had been taken up to Jean the following day and she had either reheated it or made it into something else. Nothing was wasted. Jean thought it was a product of being on rice and a few vegetables in the camp that had Lucien insist that food wasn't thrown away if it could be eaten one way or another.

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There was an air as she walked into the building that day. The familiar face at the desk was not there, there was no one there, but as she headed past the office that usually had Miss Cameron waiting there an unfamiliar figure darted out and stopped her.

"Mrs Beazley?"

"Yes," she straightened her back.

"You are not needed here, be on your way …"

She cleared her throat, "and Miss Cameron? What does she have to say about this?"

"Miss Cameron is no longer head of this school, I am." He sneered.

"You are?"

"Mr Howard, not that it matters to you."

"Oh it does, Mr Howard, it matters a great deal," she made to pass him, "if I am not needed I shall clear my desk."

He stepped in front of her, "you will go no further, Mrs Beazley. Please leave the building."

Jean didn't want to cause a scene, not in front of any children who were watching, so she huffed and returned the way she had come.

Jean sat in her car and wondered where she should go to next. Should she got to Miss Cameron or home?

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Miss Cameron wasn't home, a worry, but not a substantial worry, she had perhaps gone to seek out another school that may require her experience; Jean went home.

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The silence was deafening so she turned on the radio and stared out of the kitchen window; dilapidated barns, unused pasture and an old rusting tractor in the corner of the yard. The farm was not viable as a farm, the idea of tutoring students who were falling behind in their studies was the most appealing of all ideas she had, that and doing Lucien's accounts.

She looked at her accounts.

She owned the farm outright, she owed the rates and the phone bill which would leave her with enough for the next week's groceries, and that was it.

She needed a job.

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Jobs for married women with children to raise, no matter how old, were hard to come by. She did Lucien's accounts for which he paid a fair wage, she tutored Li in English and literature, which he paid more for, but it wasn't enough, not really. She put a notice in the newsagents' window advertising her services as a tutor for exams and children who were struggling in their studies, charges to be agreed.

The reports from the parents whose children she used to teach were not favourable, there were also whispers or the school losing pupils at an alarming rate. Jack had been expelled, but before that he had been in the corridor outside her old classroom and been caught by the new teacher.

"Boy!"

"Sir?" he skidded to a halt, his mother had told him to be on his best behaviour and that she loved him.

"You know where the furnace is?"

"Yessir," he gulped.

"Burn these." The teacher handed him a bundle of cards and pictures. "Hop to it!"

"Sir." He ran off, but not to the furnace, he found Li and they hid in a corner of the yard and looked at the papers.

"These are your mother's," Li help up a card, "from the children, you can't burn them!"

"I aren't going to," he growled, "but I need somewhere to hide them 'til home time."

"Here," she held open a bag, "this is mine …"

"It ain't big enough," he looked at the bag that had held her lunch – school dinners had gone down recently.

"What won't fit will go in coat pockets, Jack, your mum should have these."

So they had done their best, which was just about good enough, and handed them over when she had gone to collect them from school that day.

"Mrs Beazley!" Mr Howard shouted across the playground, "you are not welcome on these premises!"

"I'm collecting Li Blake," she stood her ground.

"And why would you collect Dr Blake's daughter?"

"He has asked me to, he's busy."

"Well he hasn't informed the school, be off with you!"

Parents turned and frowned, most of them liked her, especially Mrs Evans who knew she kept Sammy out of trouble.

"Into the car, Jack," she bent to her son, "wait for me there."

"Mum?"

"Go, son, I'll be fine."

She watched him leave and waited for Li. When Dr Blake's daughter came running out towards her she was grabbed by the arm and yanked back by Mr Howard.

"Ow!"

"You will wait for your father!" he glared down at her.

"Mrs Beazley takes me home," she twisted but wasn't able to escape.

"Without his written permission you will stay here, until he appears."

"But …"Li tried to explain, she was rewarded with a slap to the back of her head.

Jean winced, Lucien would be very, very angry. She watched as Li was dragged, yes dragged not escorted, back into the school building.

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"Mum?" Jack frowned as she got into the car, "where's Li?"

"Mr Howard wouldn't let her come with us, Jack, because the doctor hasn't given written permission."

"What're you going to do?"

"Find Dr Blake," she pulled away from the kerb, "and I will oversee your lessons until you sit your exams. You aren't going back there, Jack."

"Er, mum," he felt this was going to be a lot easier than he had thought, "I have a letter, I've been expelled."

"You read it?" she tutted.

"Sorry."

"Jack, you are clever, I love you, this is not the school for you, not anymore; however, why have they expelled you?"

"Insubordination."

"Oh, gave lip did you?"

"No, mum, not at all, I did as you asked, unless they know I've got all those cards and drawings from your desk. I was supposed to put them in the furnace, me and Li saved them – we thought you'd like that."

"Oh love," she sniffed, "that is the sweetest thing, thank you."

"Love you, mum, I really do."

"I know son," she pulled into the drive at Dr Blake's residence, "you are so kind."

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Mrs Henderson huffed as she stomped up the hall to the front door. She had placed a notice stating that there was no surgery that day and still someone came.

"Yes?" she glared.

"Is Dr Blake in?" Jean smiled.

"No, off with the coppers," she snarled.

"Thank you, I'll call at the station," Jean stepped back and thought she could do a much better job than that, a smile and an apology would be so much nicer. No wonder Lucien spent so much time at her farm.

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"Out at a crime scene with Inspector Lawson," Senior Sergeant Hobart smirked.

"That would be?"

"Oh, er, why?"

"His daughter is being kept at school until he collects her."

"Thought you did that," Hobart grunted.

"Usually I do, but the head won't have me on the school grounds," she hissed.

"Bloody hell, Jean," Hobart relented, "what kind of a dickhead is he?"

Jean raised an eyebrow but Bill Hobart knew her well and when he winked she laughed.

"The out of town kind, Bill. So I need him to collect Li or she's going to be there all night."

"I'll radio ahead, Jean," he smiled, "give us a mo'"

He returned with a wide grin on his face, "jeez, that head teacher's going to get a strip torn off him. He says to meet him at the school."

"Thanks, Bill."

"No worries."

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Lucien had beaten her to the school, a lift from Matthew in a police car, but he was waiting for her, he wanted her to go inside with him.

"Wait here, Jack. So, Lucien," she smiled, "what now?"

"Well, first I'm going to collect my daughter, take her off the school roll and tell Mr high and mighty Howard that he isn't fit to polish your boots."

"Oh, no, Lucien, don't do that," she touched his arm. "What will you do with Li if you take her from here?" Silly question, she thought, she knew exactly what he was going to do.

"I'd like you to teach her, Jean, until she takes her exams, of course I will pay you extra for that, let me know what your wages were when you taught full-time."

"You're already paying me to do your accounts and to tutor her," she reminded him, "you'll have no money left at this rate."

He didn't think he paid her enough for either of those tasks but they had looked at what she would get if she worked in an office and she would only take that. He was sure it wasn't enough, why else would she post an advert in the newsagent's window. He paid Mrs Henderson five pounds a week, a generous wage for what she did, Jean did more but would only accept four pounds for both tasks. He could afford more.

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"Here's the office," she stopped outside a room, "Mr Howard should be in there."

He knocked and went straight in. "Howard!" he bellowed, "why are you holding my daughter!"

Jean could just see past Lucien as Howard jumped up and scattered papers from his desk onto the floor.

"Who're you?" he blustered.

"Dr Lucien Blake, now where is Li?"

"Um, she's in her classroom."

Lucien glowered and towered over Howard, "alone?"

"Er, yes, all the staff have left for the day, but I had to stay because you are late collecting her." He began to get a little braver.

"Mrs Beazley collects Li, always has done," Blake growled, "why wasn't she allowed to today?"

"We have no written record of this arrangement, and Mrs Beazley is not welcome at this school."

"Sacked for being a widow with children, eh?"

"Married women should tend to the home."

"And widows?" he turned to Jean, "would you mind fetching Li, Mrs Beazley while I discuss the appalling lack of common sense that appears to be Mr Howard's raison d'etre …"

"Dr Blake," she smiled, "it would be my pleasure."

She could hear Lucien give vent to his feelings on the way the school was now run, the lack of consideration to the feelings and circumstances of the staff, and the sacking of good teachers for no other reason than they have a family.

"Do I hear Pa?" Li slipped her hand into Jean's.

"I do believe he isn't impressed with Mr Howard." Jean nodded. "He's planning on taking you out of this school and having me teach you until you take the entrance exam for the grammar."

"How wonderful!" Li grinned, "there are so few children left in my class and I shall miss Jack, this way we can learn together."

"That's kind of you, Li dear, I know you are friends."

"Oh yes."

"… and I shall be withdrawing Li from this school, I have engaged a private tutor for her." Lucien turned on his heel and almost collided with Jean as she came towards the office.

"Li, sweetheart," he grinned.

"Hello, Pa," she hugged him, "are we going home now?"

"We most certainly are, lovely girl, home to dinner and maybe a short science lesson."

"Oh goody," she clapped her hands, "does this mean explosions in the study?"

Jean gasped.

"Only small ones, Mrs Beazley," he laughed.

"Well, as you appear to have been brought up by a police officer, doctor, perhaps I can offer you a lift?"

"Poor Jack, sitting in the car waiting," he hummed, "I hope he's alright."

"He's probably up to no good," Jean sighed.

"He's up that tree, Mrs Beazley," Li pointed to a figure high in a sturdy oak tree.

She shook her head and waved at him. "Jack! Jack!"

"Hello mum!" he swung down, branch by branch. "Hey Li, you got released."

"Pa gave Mr Howard both barrels," she laughed.

"Li," Jean tutted.

"'bout time," Jack laughed.

"We're going to take Dr Blake home then I'll see what I can rustle up for our dinner," she unlocked the car.

"I expect Mrs Henderson will have left us something …"

"Why don't we share with Mrs Beazley?" Li shuffled into the car.

"… just what I was thinking," he grinned, "so, Mrs Beazley, how about you eat with us, tonight, for a change?"

"Louise and Christopher are up at the farm, Dr Blake …"

"Well, we'll just have to take it up there, then, won't we?"

"it's fine," Jean shook her head.

"I insist."

Jean wondered what Mrs Henderson would have left this time, and why did she leave so much for just two people? She watched him head into his house.

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"You run these two up," he turned, "I'll bring whatever in my car, so I can bring Li home," and he was gone.

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He found a roast chicken, now almost cold, as were the boiled potatoes, carrots and swede, gravy had solidified in the gravy boat. He found a box big enough to take all the dishes and a bottle of wine. He intended to negotiate wages with Jean and he thought he might need some Dutch courage, or she might need softening up, though he was planning on being generous.

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Christopher and Louise had made a pot of tea, and settled to their homework while they waited for Jean to get back from collecting Jack and Li.

"They're a bit late," Louise murmured.

"Jack's probably got into trouble again," her brother frowned.

"Shall we start dinner, there's some sausages in the fridge?"

"I'll boost the stove," he stood up and went to tip some fuel into the old stove that also heated their water. "We can't expect things to be the way they have been, over the past years while she's been teaching, maybe I should get a Saturday job to help out."

"I could too," she closed her books and put them ready for the next day. "The Inspectors are mad to sack her, and Miss Cameron. Lots of families are pulling their kids from that school and enrolling them elsewhere. Dorothy Jones' mum has moved her little brother."

"So has Ted Moreton's," he closed the door, "it's a bloody mess Lou …"

"Hey, there's the car, best mind your language," she laughed.

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"… so that's what's going to happen," Jean had explained what had happened at school and how Lucien had asked her to tutor Li until she moved up.

"Most of the teachers have left, or just disappeared," Li added, "Miss Archer's leaving, says she's going into the city, there's a school there that have taken her on."

"She told you that?" Jean raised an eyebrow.

"Aha," Li nodded, "she said she wanted us to know because otherwise we'd be left wondering … and worrying."

Lucien followed Li in at that moment so anymore talk of what was going on in the school was put away and dinner was sorted.

Jean heated up some fat and sliced the potatoes, frying them until they were crispy, she heated the carrots and swede with some butter and pepper and had Lucien mash them together. Together with the sliced chicken and the reheated gravy it was a good meal, tasty and filling.

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After dinner, Jean and Lucien sent the children out to walk in the cool evening air while they washed up the pots and settled down to discuss what he was prepared to pay her. He poured her some wine, she didn't have any pretty glasses so they drank out of tumblers and sat on her old couch. She thought later how pleasant it was, how right.

"So, Jean," he cleared his throat, "with you doin' my accounts and now teachin' Li full time I thought ten pounds a week might cover it."

"Ten?!" she gasped, "that's way more than I earned at the school."

"You are doing more than teach, though, Jean, you are doing my accounts …"

"I know, but Lucien," she stood up and went to stand by the fireplace, "it's too much."

He shrugged. "It will give you enough to save, for a rainy day, and cover the times you feed us."

"But, Lucien …"

"What, you're worth every penny. I'm not short of money, Jean, I have my legacy from my grandparents, my back pay …"

"Enough," she put her hand up, "I don't need to know, it's not for me to know …"

"Please, Jean, accept the offer, I want you to be comfortable …" he knew he wasn't explaining himself well, but it was the best he could do. He couldn't very well tell her the house needed work and the car would need attention but as a farmer's wife she could probably strip down the engine – nothing would surprise him with Jean Beazley.

In the end, after a half-hearted argument in which Jean agreed to the offer but insisted he did not add anything to it if he asked her to do anything else.