Jean was stunned at how well it worked.

Lucien brought Li up to the house each morning and once a week, surgery and police surgeon duties permitting, he had Jack join Li in a science lesson. Jean would drive her son down and while Lucien made small explosions and dreadful smells in the study she filed his notes, typed his accounts and sent out bills to his patients, and did an inventory of his medicines and surgical equipment. On those days Christopher and Louise would walk from the Grammar school and they would eat together in the kitchen there.

Mrs Henderson wasn't sure what to make of it. She was there to cook and clean, that was what a housekeeper did, not accounts, not teaching – those children should have been in a proper school – there had to be a good reason Mrs Beazley had been sacked so why did Dr Blake allow her to teach his daughter and why had the boy been expelled? In the end she decided the doctor had designs on the teacher. Calling her 'Jean' and her addressing him by his given name might have had something to do with that – such familiarity.

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"Morning," Jean smiled as Lucien walked into her kitchen, her post in his hand.

"New job, Lucien?" she teased.

"Caught the postie as he was starting up the drive," he dropped the two or three envelopes on the table. "Bills and a letter."

She raised an eyebrow and picked up the letter.

"Oh, Miss Cameron," she opened it quickly and scanned down the single page, "she's alright," she breathed a sigh of relief.

"You were worried? You should have said, I could have had Matthew do a check," he touched her arm.

"She wasn't at her house when I went to see her, seems she was arranging a post in New South Wales. Not a headship, but she's alright, that's the main thing."

"She was your friend, Jean …"

"She was very good to me, Lucien, allowed me to have Jack in my class until he outgrew it, she was kind to the children and staff alike."

Does she say why she left?"

"Maybe she'll write more, there's an address I can write to, it'll be nice to keep in touch."

"Hm, right, do your two want a lift down to the Grammar?"

"Thanks, doc," Christopher grabbed his bag before Jean could answer for them, Louise was right behind him.

"The weather is set to be wet," Lucien shrugged.

"I'll pick them up later and bring Li over to you at the same time."

"Mrs H will be in, if I'm not," he tossed his car keys in the air and headed off.

"Right, you two, maths quiz first …"

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"Good work, today," Jean grinned at them, "I've managed to get some old exam papers for you to have a go at … I still have contacts."

Jack rolled his eyes, "shame those contacts couldn't have got you another post, mum."

"There is still the problem of me raising a family, Jack," she sighed, "not a problem for me, I wouldn't have it any other way, but as a married woman I'm supposed to keep house and mind the children."

"Don't know how you're supposed to do that without a husband bringing home the bacon," he grumbled.

Jean patted his shoulder, "you are wise beyond your years, my son."

"Seems blo … er obvious to me."

'Poor boy,' she thought, 'all you've seen is me struggle without your father.'

"Right, let's go and get the others and take you home, Li. The weather's even less promising than forecast."

The rain had been on and off all day, light showers, but now it was raining solidly and the wind had started up. She wanted to get Li home and close her own home against the storm.

She left Jack reading a comic, promising she would be back as soon as possible.

He waved from his seat and turned another page. He had become so much calmer, with the exciting science lessons from Dr Blake, the male role model he needed so she had no worries about leaving him for half an hour.

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Li ducked into the porch and let herself into the house, turning and waving, giving a thumbs up to say Mrs Henderson was there. It was all Jean needed and she set off quickly down the drive.

"This weather, mum, it's biblical," Louise grumbled from the back seat.

"I know," Jean ploughed through a puddle that covered the road and hid a large hole in the surface.

"Urgh!" Christopher put his hand on the dashboard, "that's not good."

"I'm not stopping, even if we have a flat," Jean growled, "we haven't far to go."

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Jack was staring out of the window, watching the rain pour out of the sky and form a small river down the drive. The wind blew the old oak tree by the barn, whipping the leaves off and breaking small branches. He shivered.

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"Close the door!" Jean kicked off her wet shoes and draped her sodden coat over a chair; she'd parked as close to the kitchen door as she could but even so they were soaked when they launched themselves into the kitchen.

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The storm continued through the evening; they ate their meal, washed up and played a few card games until Jean suggested they go to bed.

"It won't be easy to sleep," she pulled her cardigan around her, "but the wood is outside so the fire won't last much longer."

"I should've brought some in," Jack muttered.

"It's alright, mate," Christopher clapped him on the shoulder, "you weren't to know, none of us expected it to come down like this."

The lights flickered.

"Bed," Jean huffed, "while you can still see where you're going."

She remembered how a storm like this would play out, lights would go, the electricity, maybe a few tiles would come loose … it would be alright, in the end … she hoped.

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Surprisingly they all managed to fall asleep, though the sleep was fitful and there was much tossing and turning. Jean heard some roof tiles slip and pulled the blankets further up over her shoulders, they would need fixing, now she was glad Lucien overpaid her. There was nothing she could do, right at this moment, it would be suicidal to try and get onto the roof, all she could do was hope the rain didn't get into the house. She must have dozed off for a while but suddenly in the darkness the unmistakable creak, groan and tearing of a tree from the ground woke her and then the crash as the old oak tree broke through the roof and ceiling, bringing plaster, tiles and finally a large branch down on top of her.

The blankets and eiderdown provided some cushioning but she was pinned to the bed and in some pain.

"Mum! Mum!" Christopher banged on her bedroom door and tried to push it open, but it was blocked by the ceiling and tree. "Mum!"

"Christopher!" she managed to call out, trying not to sound as if she was hurt, "are you three alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're okay!" he looked at his siblings, tears down Louise's face and sheer terror on Jack's.

"I'm stuck!" she called back, "call the fire station!"

He lifted the receiver and rattled the cradle, the line was dead.

"Chris?" Louise touched his arm.

"Pack up for us," he grabbed her arms and squinted in the gloom at her, "we'll be taken somewhere, I'm going for help, the phone's dead."

"Chris, how?"

"The car, I can drive it enough to get to the doc's."

"Why him?"

"He's closest." And he was gone, grabbing the car keys from where Jean always left them on the dresser.

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"Christopher's gone for help," Louise called to her mother, "he said we've to pack."

"Do; you can't stay here, we can't stay here," Jean called back, wincing as a stabbing pain went through her calf. She worried about Christopher cycling to the nearest house for help, it sounded too wild for safety, Louise didn't tell her he was going to drive, at nearly thirteen he shouldn't have been, he'd only put the car in the barn a couple of times and under supervision by Jean.

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Christopher knew the basics of driving a car, adrenalin did the rest. He had no idea if his mother was hurt, how badly, and where they would go. He skidded to a halt on Lucien's drive and leapt out of the car.

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"Coming!" Lucien shouted, shrugging on his robe and wondering who on earth was out on a night like this and banging on his door, "go back to bed, Li," he patted her hand as he passed her.

"Pa?" she followed him, far too much like him, Jean had muttered once.

"Christopher!" he gasped as he opened the door and the boy fell through.

"It's mum, she's trapped. The tree came down onto the house and through her bedroom ceiling. The phones out …" he grabbed Lucien's arm, "I didn't know who else to go to."

"How?"

"I drove, mum'll kill me."

"I'm sure she won't." Lucien pulled him into the kitchen and checked his phone. "Good, I have a line," he spoke quickly into the receiver, saying just what Christopher has told him.

"The fireys are on their way, lad," he patted his shoulder. "I'm going to throw some togs on and get over there, you two stay here. Li, put the kettle on, give this hero a cuppa."

"Doc …"

"No, Christopher, in fact, you and Li can make up beds, you can all stay here, we've plenty of room."

"We can do that, Pa," Li nodded, but she wondered what Mrs Henderson would say when presented with three extra children and Mrs Beazley for breakfast.

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Jean could hear, just, Louise directing Jack to pack clothes for him and his brother, reminding him to collect the toiletries from the bathroom, it was a way to stop both of them thinking too much about her, about what had happened. She tried to look down to see what damage the tree had done to her, but it was too dark, all she knew was that it felt as if something was sticking into her leg and it was a little bit warm and wet – blood, she surmised, and wondered how much.

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Lucien pulled up where he usually did, outside the kitchen door. There was one weak light, flickering, a storm lamp perhaps.

"Louise, Jack?" he called into the house.

"Dr Blake, Christopher made it."

"He did, pet, he's with Li, making beds for you all, now what's this about your mum, eh?"

He sounded so calm, so in control and it helped her feel the same.

"Down here," she picked up the lamp and led him past the small sitting room towards the middle of the house. "We can't get in, the doors blocked with something."

"Jean!" he called through the door, "Jean, it's Lucien! Can you hear me?"

"Lucien? What are you doing here?"

"Advance rescue party, Christopher came to me. I've called the fire station, they're on their way."

He turned to Jack and Louise, "I need to get in there …"

"It's blocked."

"Window?"

"Round the other side," Jack grabbed his hand, "I'll show you."

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"It's this one," Jack stopped.

"Do you have another storm lamp, lad?"

"Aha, I'll get it."

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"Here doctor," he handed the lamp through the window.

"Well done lad," he ruffled his hair, "now go help Louise put your bags in the car and bring my medical bag round to me." He turned to Jean, "well, now, Mrs Beazley, this is a bit of a pickle."

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By the time the fire brigade had arrived Lucien had moved enough of the tree to be able to do a first look over her for injuries.

"Hm," he wiped some plaster dust off her face, "slight scratch, soon mended."

"My leg," she whispered.

"Do you mind?" he started to lift the covers.

"You can't see through the blankets, Lucien." She knew her nightdress had ridden up in her sleep but right now if she had been stark naked in the bath when it happened she wouldn't have cared.

He did what he had to do, while doing his best to preserve her dignity, and found one of the small, but sharp, branches had driven into her calf muscle, and it was still there.

"Right," he gently probed round it. "I need to cut this branch and take it out when I get you to hospital."

"Can't you take it out now?"

"Not without hurting you more than it does now, and I need to make sure it is cleaned properly." He replaced her covers and went to the door. "Lads! It's Blake! I need a saw!"

On the other side of the door the fire brigade looked round. "There's one in the barn," Jack tugged Bill Hobart's sleeve.

"Show me lad."

"Okay, hey, Mr Hobart, I thought you were a copper."

"Part time firey as well, lad, we do what we can to help."

"Oh, that's good."

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"This do, Blake?" Bill squeezed his hand through the small gap they had managed to make in the doorway.

"Great, thanks, Bill?"

"Yeah, tell you later."

"He's part time," Jean coughed, "when he's not on duty."

Lucien set to work sawing through the branch, telling Jean he would put them all up until she could decide what to. "Plenty of room, chez Blake," he hummed, "got it." He dropped the saw onto the floor.

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"Not much we can do until daylight," the lead fire fighter shook his head, "and with Mrs Beazley out …"

"Right," Lucien set Jean gently on the back seat of his car, "hop in Louise and Jack, I'll drop you off at my house and take your mum to the hospital. She's going to be fine."

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"In you go," he stopped the car by the porch, "Li will show you around. I'll be back as soon as I've sorted out your mum."

For Jean, on the back seat, things seemed to be a dream. While Lucien had examined her leg he had surreptitiously given her a dose of pain relief that made her feel a bit woozy. She was still in pain but it was not as bad as it had been.

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"Nurse! Nurse!" he called as he carried Jean into the hospital.

"Doctor?"

"Ah, Nurse, lovely," he smiled, "I need warm water for bathing cuts, disinfectant, sutures …"

Got it, what's the damage?"

"Branch piercing to the calf, graze to the forehead, and a lot of dusty detritus. I've given her pain relief so she's a bit out of it …"

"Who's a bit out of it?" Jean slurred and giggled.

"Shh," he smiled.

"Shh, yourself."

Lucien rolled his eyes, Jean'd be horrified if she knew how she was reacting to a dose of morphine.

The nurse cleaned Jean up and dressed her in a clean gown before cleaning and dressing the graze on her forehead. Jean drifted in and out of sleep only opening her eyes when Lucien started to pull the branch out of her calf.

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"My biggest worry is infection," Lucien washed his hands, "the branch was in there for quite a while. I want the wound checked for inflammation, redness, heat, hourly."

"Yes, doctor," the nurse nodded, "pain relief?"

"In another …" he checked his watch, "three hours, I'll write up the dose. Then I'll be back in the morning to check on her, maybe release her to …" he cleared his throat, "home care."

"Yes, doctor." Lucien may only have been back in Ballarat for just a year, but he had made a name for himself as a kind and considerate doctor and a polite man to be around.

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"Doc!" Christopher, Louise and Jack all stood up when he returned.

"People," he smiled, "she'll be fine, I hope. She had a branch through her calf that I've removed, so as long as there is no infection she'll be here tomorrow."

"Here?" Louise gasped.

"You can stay here until something is sorted with your house, I've plenty of room."

"Yeah," Christopher hummed, "me and Li have made beds up, you're sharing with her, Louise, me and Jack have a room together and there's a room for mum, when she comes."

"Well done, you two," Lucien smiled, "I suggest we all try to get some sleep for what remains of the night. I'll sort out school tomorrow, maybe ring the grammar and let them know you've had a night of it, perhaps a day off … with study of course."

"Maybe you could do a science lesson, doctor," Jack looked at him with a cheeky grin.

"Maybe," Lucien nudged his shoulder, "now, bed, the lot of you."

"Thank you, Dr Blake," Louise smiled softly, "you have been very kind."

"I knew your mother before I went away to study medicine, Louise, we were good friends."

"I'm glad you're still friends."

"Me too."

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The teapot and dirty cups were still on the kitchen table when Mrs Henderson let herself in the following morning. It looked to her like the doctor had had late night visitors, probably the Beazley woman, but the weather had been foul, so why was she here?

"Good morning, Mrs Henderson," Lucien appeared behind her, "there will be three extra for breakfast, we have Mrs Beazley's children with us. Mrs Beazley is in hospital recovering from an injury."

"Oh, last night?" she indicated the cups.

"Ah, yes, that would be Li and Christopher, he came for help, I suggested tea while I went up to the farm."

"Right."

"Good." He left her wondering.

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Jean woke up in a strange bed. She had a drip in her arm which, she supposed stopped her feeling the pain she vaguely remembered from the previous night. She looked down the bed and saw she still had two legs, so that was good.

"Mrs Beazley," a nurse came in to the room, "how are you?"

"Erm, well, I think."

"Pain?"

"Not really."

"Let's have a look at your leg," she lifted the blanket. "Hm, looking good, no sign of inflammation, Dr Blake did a good job of cleaning it out."

"Dr Blake?"

"Yeah, he carried you in here, don't you remember?"

"Vaguely, I suppose he gave me something."

"Pain relief, pretty strong stuff."

"Oh," Jean ran her tongue over her lips, "would I be allowed a cup of tea?"

"You most certainly would be," the nurse smiled, "toast?"

"Ooh yes please."

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Mrs Henderson made a pan of porridge, a pile of toast when she heard movement from the bedrooms and started bacon and eggs for the doctor. Upstairs, Jack had wandered sleepily into Louise and Li; he hadn't slept well worrying about his mother.

"Hey, pest," Louise smiled gently, "you ok?"

"Mum?"

"She'll be right," she patted the side of her bed, "the doc said so."

"Go and ask him," Li sat up, "his room's beside the study."

"Will he mind?"

She shook his head, "no, he'll understand."

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"Doctor?" Jack poked his head round Lucien's bedroom door, "sorry, I should have knocked."

"Mornin' Jack," Lucien finished knotting his tie.

"Mum?"

"Let's phone, shall we?" he instantly knew the boy was worried, scared even.

"Can we?"

"Of course we can," he laid his hand on his shoulder.

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"Mrs Beazley," a nurse wheeled a phone trolley into her room, "call for you."

"What?"

"You have a call, this is new, we're trialling a mobile phone trolley for patients," she pushed it to the bedside, "let me plug it in to the line."

"Oh."

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"Mum?" Jack frowned down the receiver, "mum, it's Jack."

"Jack, oh love, are you alright?" in her hospital bed Jean blinked.

"Yeah, we're at Dr Blake's, we stayed. Are you ok?"

"Yes, Jack, I am, a bit sore, but I'm going to be fine. You be good for Dr Blake, now."

"Yes mum," Jack heaved a sigh of relief, "come home, soon."

"I will, love. Give my love to Louise and Christopher."

"Will do." He put the phone down.

"Thanks, Dr Blake."

"My pleasure, Jack, it's hard, when your mum's not well."

Jack looked at him and wondered if he had known something similar, he seemed to know how he felt.

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Jean was sitting up and reading a magazine when Lucien came in with a nurse to check on his latest patient.

"Ah, Mrs Beazley," he smiled lifting her chart from the end of the bed, "feeling better?"

"Much, though, to be honest I don't really remember feeling ill."

"I don't suppose you did, feel ill, that is. You had a small branch from your tree stuck through your calf; so, how is your pain level?"

"I'm a little sore;" she admitted, "a branch through my calf?"

"From the tree that fell on your house."

"Ah, yes, that I do remember …" she frowned, "… the tree brought down the roof, I think I was more concerned about the children."

"They are fine, remarkable, all of them. Louise occupied Jack with packing as much as they could, Christopher drove down to me – he didn't know who else to go to, and I'm pretty close …"

"He drove!" she shrieked.

"Don't be mad at him, he'd have been blown off his bike."

"He's thirteen, Lucien …"

"… and a brave and resourceful young man, Jean, you should be proud of him, though you do have a flat, I notice."

"Probably from driving home after dropping Li off; I hit a pothole."

"Ah," he nodded. "Now let's have a look at this leg, eh?"

"Oh, thanks for letting Jack speak to me."

"He was worried."

"I've worried about him all his life, but since you came, and Li, well, he seems to be easier."

"He's a good kid, Jean, bright, very bright …" he lifted the blanket, "ah, just going to take off the dressing, nurse clean bandages, please."

"Doctor." The nurse pulled a dressing trolley to the end of the bed.

"Lovely," he hummed, turning her calf over, "no sign of infection." He redressed the wound. "Care to try standing, Mrs Beazley?"

"Oh, er well, I … yes." She shifted up the bed ready to swing her legs over the side.

"Steady," he and the nurse stood either side of her, "now, best leg first, to take the weight."

"Ugh," she grunted as she let her foot hit the floor, "it's tender, bruised."

"More or less what I expected," Lucien admitted, "but not enough to keep you in here."

"But where …?"

"With your children, of course," shrugged.

"At your house?" she stumbled, to be caught by him.

"Well, yours isn't fit for habitation, at the moment, and a hotel would be expensive, unless you have family close by who would take you in."

She didn't have family, not close. Her sister lived in Castlemaine, her parents gone, and he was right about a hotel, because until she saw the damage to the house and had quotes for the fixing, it would absorb most of her savings, or all. Blast the man, he was right.

"I suppose, for now," she sighed, "but, Mrs Henderson …"

"What about her?"

"She …"

"… is my housekeeper, Jean. You are at the house at least once a week to work on the accounts and filing, she should be used to you by now … or do you have a problem with her?" He frowned; true Mrs H (as he called her) wasn't the most cheerful of women, and she did huff and puff a little when he told her the Beazley family would be over on the days he gave the science lesson and Jean did the admin work. It was never the same day each week so he had just assumed she didn't like the short notice.

"I don't have a problem with her, I think she has a problem with me."

"Why would she have a problem with you, Jean? You are polite, the children don't bother her, they even volunteer to do the washing up." He sat on the edge of the bed, he really didn't see what she was worried about.

"You are an eligible bachelor, a widower, I am a widow …"

"Oh for goodness sake, Jean!" not that it hadn't crossed his mind that Jean was attractive and they were both unattached, but although he was fond of her he had put such thoughts aside until … well until she gave an indication she had feelings for him, romantic feelings, and not just those of a friend. "You are my friend, you have been extremely kind to me and Li, got me out of all sorts of parenting holes that I kept digging, and if there is anything more between us that is between us and no one else, not even my housekeeper."

"Oh," she chewed the inside of her cheek, "you were always kind to me, Lucien, all those years ago, charming but never overstepped the mark and you are just the same as you were. But Ballarat is a hotbed of gossip, most of it unsolicited and most of it from those who are no better than they should be, but I slipped up with Christopher, with Louise, but don't say anything …"

"You did?"

"It was long enough ago, Lucien, we weren't careful enough, I'm not even sure I loved him, he took me out, after you left, nothing fancy and I wasn't looking for a lifelong relationship at the time …" she reddened, "you must think me flighty …"

"Not at all, Jean, I didn't save myself for marriage and I could name a few round here I … well, you know. You, and they, are only human, and youth will have its fling …" he smiled, "you have three lovely children, they are a credit to you, so whatever happened all those years ago makes no difference to me."

"Thank you," she took his hand, purposefully this time, and he didn't draw it away. "Now, what am I supposed to wear to get out of here?"

"Good thought," he frowned, "didn't think of that," he ran his hand over his head.

She gave a little laugh.

"If you don't mind waiting, an hour, maybe, I could take Louise up to the house and she could get your things."

"Will you be able to get in?"

"It might be through your bedroom window …"

"Ok, Romeo," she grinned.

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"Oh, doctor," Louise's eyes filled with tears, "our home."

In the harsh light of day the house looked crushed. Windows were broken and the roof was completely caved in over Jean's room, the remains of the tree still lying against it. The fire brigade had managed to cut some of the branches away, and roll the trunk of the tree off the roof. It would be safe to go in.

Lucien held her hand, giving some comfort, and led her into the house.

"How can we fix this?" she surveyed the fallen stone and brick, the broken window and the cracked sink.

"We'll look into it, Louise," he put his arm round her shoulders, "for now, let's get your mum's things, anything you want to take from here you can put in the car."

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After Louise had packed all her mother's things, she turned her attention to Jack's comics, some of his favourite things, Christopher's books and the model he was currently working on, her books, the picture of them with their father taken just before he left for the war, some bits and bobs that Lucien put in a box …

"Where will it all go?"

"There's room in the garage for things not needed immediately," he put the box on the back seat, "you'll be able to get them easily, I promise. What's that?" he pointed at the final bundle she carried.

"Yesterday's laundry," she blushed, "mum usually does it each morning, not having a washer …"

"I've got one, Mrs H said if I expected her to wash the surgery sheets she'd need one …"

"Will she mind, if we use it?"

"It's her job, Louise, but if necessary your laundry can be done separately by your mum, if she's able."

"I can help, so will the boys, they do, y'know; well Christopher does, Jack, well …" she bit her bottom lip, "he brings in the firewood and he will dry the pots if he's asked."

"Your mum's really lucky with you three, you know, you all help wherever you can."

"She's done everything to keep up together, since … well …"

"I understand, Louise, then I come and add Li into the mix …"

"She's welcome, so're you," she blushed, "Li's a nice kid, doctor, and she seems ok with everything that's happened to her."

"She was only six when she lost her mother, I guess she's learnt to be self-sufficient." He let her get into the car, "let's go and give your mum something to wear, then she can come home."

""Home?"

"Well, to my house," he smiled.

"D'you think they'll let me come with you, maybe to help mum?" she raised her eyebrows in expectation.

"My patient, my rules," he laughed and set off down the drive with a last look at the wreck that was once the Beazley farmhouse.

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Jean looked up as the door opened.

"Hello, mum," Louise ran over to her, "you ok?"

"I'm fine, love, if a little sore." Jean hugged her. "how did you manage to get in, they don't let children visit?"

"Dr Blake's patient, Dr Blake's rules," she giggled. "I've brought you some clothes, the rest of our stuff is in his car."

"Jean," Lucien poked his nose in the room, "are you decent?"

"As much as I was before," she shifted on the bed. "What's this about all our things being in your car?"

"The things we'll need, mum," Louise sat on the bed, "the house, mum, it's a wreck, it'll be ages before we can fix it."

"Oh," she sank back against the pillows.

"I'll take you up, when you're ready," Lucien went to the other side of the bed and took her hand, "but Louise is right, it is a mess."

"Thank you, Lucien," she hummed, but it worried her, the cost, the time, finding the right builder.

"I'll let you get dressed," he stood up, squeezed her hand and left them together.

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Mrs Henderson was rather glad Christopher could keep his brother occupied; she'd never had children of her own and wasn't sure how to handle them, but Christopher had taken Jack into the garden to do some weeding. She had no idea how long they would be staying with the doctor, it didn't seem right, surely she had family that could take her in, or she could rent a property, couldn't she?

Mrs Henderson wasn't Ballarat born, she had come to the town with her late husband when he moved with his work. When he'd died she'd signed on with an agency and found regular work as a housekeeper. She was good at her job, her cooking was plain but edible, nothing fancy, she kept Lucien's house clean and tidy, and his surgery neat. The study was his domain and she didn't enter unless she had to see him about something when he was teaching Li and Jack, or working on a mysterious death. She didn't know his history, or Jean's so was being rather judgemental on their relationship. True others may have thought similar things, but they knew Jean and some remembered Blake and they both had their supporters, people who would pooh-pooh any suggestions of inappropriate behaviours.

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"So, crutches," Lucien smiled as they left the hospital. "I don't want you putting too much stress on that muscle until it heals, but light stretches to prevent it healing in a knot and a little gently massage."

"Thank you, Lucien, for everything."

He looked at her and smiled.

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In spite of Jean's worries that Mrs Henderson was likely to make life difficult for her, the sight of the porch was a welcome one. There was minimal damage from the storm, the hanging basket had been blown off its hook, but it had needed some attention, and some of the plants were a little battered, but the house itself seemed to be relatively untouched.

"Ah, Mrs Henderson," Lucien smiled genially, "Mrs Beazley is here to stay for a while, until her house can be fixed."

"Oh, I see," she pursed her lips s if she didn't believe him. "Your boys are in the garden."

"They like that, tending to plants," Jean hummed.

"Come on, Jean, let's get you settled on the couch while me and Louise empty the car."