Lucien smoothed down his jacket and knocked on the door of the farmhouse. This was where Jean grew up, wrapped in love and given the freedom to be who she should be.
"Dr Blake," Mrs Randall smiled, "how lovely to see you. Please, come in."
"I hope I'm not intruding."
"Never," she smiled and stepped out of his way.
"Um," he cleared his throat, "these are for you." He offered a bouquet of flowers.
"Goodness!" she gasped, "how lovely."
She called her husband in, Lucien always thought of him as 'the silent one', and Mr Randall was quiet, he observed, but, over Christmas he had been the perfect grandfather figure to the children.
"Mr Randall," he nodded and offered his hand.
"Doc," Mr Randall grunted.
"May we talk?"
They went into the small parlour, cosy, clean, a little shabby, but Lucien felt at home here, and could see where Jean got her sense of homemaking from. Everything was where it should be, photographs of the family, plumped cushions on the chairs and couch, a coffee table with a book and the latest copy of the Courier neatly place.
"It's about Jean …"
"What's she done?" Mr Randall frowned.
"Is she alright?" Mrs Randall gasped.
"She's fine, she's wonderful … I've asked her to marry me …"
"You have?" Mrs Randall gaped.
"Yes, and I thought I ought to speak to you, to be sure you …"
"Dr Blake," Mr Randall looked at him, "our lass is a good lass. We both know how much she likes working for you, how much she respects you …"
"She talks about you as a friend …" Mrs Randall cut in.
"Yes, she does. Now the lad who asked her before the war, well he went and married someone else, but me and Mary, here, never thought he was the right one for her. Now he's back and I for one don't trust him. Now, you, doc, I do trust. I trust you to make our lass happy, to care for her, so, although I know she's made her own mind up, it's alright with me."
"She said you'd say that, or near enough." Lucien breathed a sigh of relief and also found their thoughts on Christopher interesting. "But I'm glad you approve and I'll do my best to be a good husband."
"You'll have me to answer to if you aren't …"
"Albert!"
"It's alright, Mrs Randall, I'd be worried if he didn't feel that way. She's your daughter, you love her, which is why I wanted you to know I want to marry Jean, and hope you approve."
"Approve!?" Mrs Randall threw back and laughed, "of course we approve, we couldn't be happier."
"There is one thing though, I know there has been gossip about Jean and I, unfounded, I assure you, and most times she shrugs it off …"
"I'll be setting them right, doctor," Mrs Randall huffed, "and, yes, I have heard it; it's nothing but jealousy."
"Christopher saw her …"
"We talked about that, if he starts any rumours about our Jeanie there's plenty who will set him straight."
"I'll be the one setting him straight, Mary," Mr Randall grunted.
"I think," Lucien smiled, "we can all protect Jean from and viciousness, at least two of my patients will."
"And they will be?" Mr Randall frowned.
"The Clasby ladies."
"Ah, well, that's good then."
"I think so."
He bade them goodbye a little later, after tea and scones.
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"You did what?" Jean gasped when he returned.
"I went to ask your father's permission to court you, or tell him I'd ask you to marry me and was that alright."
"Oh Lucien," she laughed, "you sweet man. I assume he said he approved."
"They both approve, very much so, and they will stop any gossip or rumour."
"The only one that bothers me is Christopher."
"They said there's plenty as will put him right," he hummed, "I assume he means himself, and maybe Matthew?"
She nodded.
"And we have Nell and Agnes on our side."
"We do."
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Jean didn't pay much attention, at first, to Christopher when she saw him in town. He didn't seem to be doing much, except wandering the streets and coming out of one of the pubs. He wasn't with any of his mates that she could see he was just … there. It began to become unnerving. Perhaps it was just because he seemed to be in town whenever she was, or perhaps it was the way he looked at her when she had one or two of the children with her, whatever it was she decided she might have a quiet word with Matthew, Lucien might do something rash.
"So," Matthew hummed, "he's stalking you?"
"I don't know if you'd call it that," she sighed, "it's just he's always there."
"We can't stop him going to the pub, Jean …"
"I know that," she scoffed, "but you can ask him to stay away from me, can't you?"
"I'll see what I can do," he smiled. "What's his story, since he came back?"
"His wife died in childbirth, along with the baby. That's all. He did ask if I would go for a coffee with him, and looked at May. I said I couldn't, I told him I was too busy, not the same person he knew."
"You are very different," he agreed, "in a good way. I'll ask the men to keep an eye out, when they're on patrol."
"I'm glad you got Senior Sergeant," she smiled, "I don't think I'd have been able to talk to Ashby like this."
"I'm taking my Inspector's exams, soon."
"Good luck, though I'm sure you won't need it."
"Never hurts though, does it?"
"No," she smiled and bid him good day.
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Christopher watched her leave the station and head to the car. It was bigger than anything he would have been able to afford if he had come home and married her as was the plan, he wondered how she could afford such a vehicle and what exactly did she do? As he didn't have a car, and his parents didn't allow him to use theirs, he had to walk everywhere and thus was unable to follow her home after a morning shopping with the toddler. And who was the toddler? Where did she, he thought it was a girl, come from? She was obviously half oriental, maybe Japanese – the more he looked at May the more he thought this, and the more he thought horrible things about Jean. He was angry she hadn't waited for him, even knowing he had married, had to get married because the girl he was sleeping with had become pregnant by him and her father insisted they marry. He'd held a shotgun to his head. But the girl had died and the baby alongside her so now he was free to marry Jean, he had come home for that very purpose, but she wouldn't speak to him. 'Too busy', she said, 'not the same person'.
When he had landed on his parent's doorstep after so long they had taken him in and offered their condolences on the loss of his family but when he asked where Jean was they had said she had moved on.
"You told her you had married someone else, son," his mother shook her head, "she's moved on with her life." Thinking he should take time to grieve his mother and father both agreed they would not say where she was, or what she was doing, hoping it would give him that space.
But it didn't. After Mary Randall told him Jean was very busy in a very good job and that the cottage was finished but let out, because Jean didn't need it, he was left to find her for himself.
"You made her angry, boy," she had folded her arms and glared at him. "You hurt my girl, leave her alone."
That was when he had seen her in the market the first time.
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"Hello, Jean," Nell Clasby smiled as she passed her outside the newsagents. "Flowers for the waiting room, you do keep it so welcoming."
"Miss Nell, thank you, it's not much fun waiting for a doctor to poke and prod is it?"
"Dr Blake is most considerate dear," Miss Clasby nodded, "and how is Miss May today?"
"Her usual happy self, as you can see." Jean laughed, and turned the stroller so she could see the little girl holding a small teddy bear and giggling at something.
"She's come on remarkably well. All down to you, dear."
"Oh, I think Dr Blake had a lot to do with it," she shrugged.
"Mostly you, Jean, you have been quite the mother to those poor children. Well, I suppose I shall see you later."
"Two thirty, Miss Nell," Jean agreed and headed off to the car, wondering how many sweets she was likely to try to give May.
So, she worked for Dr Blake, did she? Christopher had been hiding just inside a doorway and heard the exchange. He remembered where Dr Blake lived and had his surgery, he could walk there. The car must be the doctor's.
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May toddled around the kitchen as Jean prepared a light lunch ready for Lucien when he came back. She had watched her put the flowers in a vase in the waiting room and sort out the magazines and comics, throwing the oldest ones away and replacing them with something more recent.
The knock on the door had Jean put the knife out of the way of small fingers and head up the hallway, followed by her little shadow.
"Christopher!" she knew it would be inevitable, he would find her, though her parents and his had been asked not to give away her precise location, fearing he would make trouble.
"Found you." He made to step inside, she stood in front of him.
"If you have come to see Dr Blake, surgery starts at two." She knew he hadn't.
"Why won't you see me, Jean?"
"Because you sent me a letter that was hurtful. You asked me to wait for you and I did, then you send a letter saying you have married someone else."
"I didn't want to," he blurted out, not even his parents knew it was a 'shotgun wedding' literally. "She was pregnant …"
"Serves you right," she folded her arms, "if you play with fire, Christopher, you will get burnt."
"And you didn't?" he pointed at May standing just down the hall, watching.
"She's Dr Blake's ward, I'm her nanny."
"Of course, Dr Blake would take in a half-Jap."
"You don't know him," she glared.
"Sure I do, crusty old bugger …"
"Dr Thomas Blake died, this is his son … go away Christopher, I am not interested in seeing you …"
"Why not? He giving it to you," he snarled.
"Just because you couldn't get me into bed, doesn't mean he can." She snapped back.
"We had an understanding."
"An understanding that I would keep myself for you, and I hoped you would at least be careful while you fought overseas. I have no interest in you, not any more, I have a good life here, a busy and fulfilling life."
"Content to be an old maid, looking after someone else's child," he pushed his face into hers.
"This is my life, Christopher, not yours and certainly not yours to judge."
He grabbed her arm.
"Let go!"
"Mama!"
"Miss Randall," Blake appeared at Christopher's shoulder. Having seen something from the road he had pulled up and left the car at the end of the drive. "Is this person bothering you?"
"Doctor," she pulled away from Christopher, "Mr Beazley was just leaving."
"Glad to hear it," he stepped round Christopher, "please don't bother my nanny and housekeeper, Mr Beazley, she has work to do."
"Dada!" May toddled up to him and glared at Christopher, "up!" She held her arms up to Lucien who obligingly lifted her up.
Chrsitopher just stood and stared.
"Is there something else, Mr Beazley," Blake raised an eyebrow.
Christopher wanted to tell him he had no right to keep Jean from him but the way Lucien looked at him, standing straight and tall somehow took the words away. He scowled and sloped off down the driveway. They waited until he had turned down towards town before speaking.
"You alright, Jean," he dropped the formal tone.
"Yes, thank you," she bit her lip. "Lunch is almost ready."
"Let's go inside." He put his arm round her and they closed the door on the world and it's thwarted suitors.
He led her to the living room and made her sit on the couch with him, lunch could wait.
"What did he want?"
"Me, he referred to our understanding. He had to get married, he got a girl pregnant. I told him he played with fire and got burnt. He thought May was mine, that I did the same, then he asked if you …" she looked down at her fingers , "… he asked if you were 'giving it to me', those were his words."
"Out of order! If he really cared for you, Jean, he wouldn't even think such a thing. I should give him a good beating …"
"… but you won't. I don't want you to. Leave him, he can't have me." She smiled softly. "Lucien?"
"Yes love?"
"Would you … I know it's not our time, you know, the evening in the studio, but … would you kiss me?"
His answer was to lean over May and take her in his arms and kiss her, the way he did in the evenings, tenderly yet thoroughly.
"I love you, Lucien."
"I love you, too, sweet Jean."
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Lucien thought the only thing he could do about Christopher was to go and speak to his parents and ask them to keep him too busy to think about Jean and what could have been. Jean preferred to forget about it, she knew Lucien loved her and believed that Christopher had never really loved her. She knew it had always frustrated him that she wouldn't go to bed with him without a ring on her finger but she didn't want her father to use his shotgun on Christopher and force them into a marriage. Lucien never even hinted that he wanted to sleep with her before they got married. True, in the evenings they kissed and petted but that was as far as they went. It probably frustrated Lucien, it certainly frustrated her, but he never, ever took it out on her, or pleaded, or begged, he just seemed to know that was how she wanted it.
"I think we ought to go and see Father Moreton," she snuggled close that evening. "Fix a date, start sending out invitations, don't you?"
"Well, if we don't we'll be old and grey before we get married." He noted.
She reached up and touched the very few silver hairs at his temple.
"Oh, alright, maybe I'm already grey," he laughed.
"It's distinguished," she kissed him lightly, "I like it."
"Flatterer."
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They left May with Jean's parents when they went to see the priest about the wedding. Jean didn't want to spend the meeting explaining about where she came from and the other children even if it did put Lucien is a good light with the church.
Father Moreton was surprised to see Dr Blake in his sitting room at the presbytery. Jean Randall had just said she wanted to come and discuss a wedding and for him to meet her fiancé. He thought she meant the Beazley boy, he knew they had been expected to marry when he returned from the war, but, no, here was Dr Lucien Blake, who didn't attend church, except perhaps at Christmas.
"Dr Blake?"
"Father," Lucien stood and shook his hand.
"I thought, Jean, you were to marry Christopher Beazley," he turned to her.
"Circumstances and people change, Father," she smiled, "Christopher and I are no longer engaged."
Father Moreton looked at her, waiting for an explanation.
"He wasn't faithful," she pursed her lips, Lucien took her hand.
"Christopher married someone else, Father," Lucien put in.
"He is back in town, I believe."
"Widowed, his wife died in childbirth, along with the baby," Jean sighed, really it had nothing to do with why they were here. "But, that is by the by, Lucien and I wish to marry, he is widowed and has a daughter of his own."
"There are also five children I have taken on as wards …" Lucien smiled.
"So I hear, remarkably generous of you, doctor," the priest nodded and indicated they sit. "So, you wish to marry Jean Randall."
"I do."
"Not just because she can look after your large family?"
"No, because I love her, admire and respect her." Lucien stated, firmly.
Jean blushed.
"What do your parents think, Jean?"
"Oh, they heartily approve," she grinned, "Lucien even went to ask permission, though dad said I knew my own mind."
"It is a commitment," he looked from one to the other, "a lifelong commitment."
"We know that, Father," Lucien agreed, "I look to my own parents who were devoted to each other, my father remained so even after mother's untimely death, and we have Jean's parents as an example, too. 'til death do us part, eh, Jean?"
"And that's a long way off, Lucien," she didn't add that he would have to stop wading into fights to protect the 'little man', that was between them.
"We are here, Father," Lucien smiled, "to ask if you would perform the ceremony for us, and arrange a date."
"There is no rush, is there?"
"Father, I respect Jean, there is no rush for us to get married, except for the fact that we love each other, and, together with the children wish to become a proper family," Lucien huffed, "if you are not willing, we will make alternative arrangements."
Jean had no idea, apart from a civil ceremony in the town hall, what his 'alternative arrangements' would be.
Lucien was thinking on his feet. Jean wanted a church wedding, she would have a church wedding regardless of his opinion of God – he still had contacts in the army, the regimental padre might be willing.
"A civil ceremony, doctor," Father Moreton stuck his chin out, "would have you living in sin, according to church doctrine."
"Will you or won't you perform the ceremony, Father?" Jean was sure the answer was no. She was right, for some reason, Father Moreton, didn't think she should be marrying Lucien Blake.
"Jean," the priest leant forward, "your fiancé does not attend church …"
"That doesn't make him a bad person, or not a Christian, Father Moreton, he is doing this for me …"
"Jean," Lucien stood up and offered his hand, "shall we go, I have a call to make. We'll make our own arrangements, Father, thank you for your time."
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"Lucien …" Jean bit her lip to stop the tears.
"Jean, trust me," he turned her to face him, stroked her cheek and smiled. "You will have the wedding you want, I'm going to contact the army, see if the padre will perform the ceremony for us, he has seen what I saw, been where I have been, and he may be willing."
"I don't understand why Father Moreton won't though." She sniffed.
"Because I don't attend on Sunday, I don't take communion, I don't go to confession …"
"That doesn't make you wrong, Lucien, it doesn't make me right for doing all those things, it's just something I have always done, I don't have much to confess to, maybe the sin of pride …"
"Come on, let me see if I can get anything out of the army."
Father Moreton watched them go from the window of the presbytery. He thought Jean could do better. Blake was known to fight in the streets, he was opinionated, prideful, he didn't think he was a good man.
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"Blake, my boy!" the priest laughed down the phone. "How the devil are you?"
"I am very well, Father, you?"
"Capital!" was the joyous reply, so different from Father Moreton, "what can I do for you?"
"Well, padre," Lucien relaxed back in his chair in the study while Jean made lunch. "I want to get married, again."
"Marvellous, who's the unlucky lady?"
"Cheek," he laughed, "her name is Jean, she is currently my nanny and housekeeper …"
"Nanny? You found your girl?"
"I did, and five other abandoned children who are now my wards …"
"You, my boy, were always the most kind of men, even in the worst circumstances. So you want to marry Jean, is there a problem?"
"The local priest doesn't think I'm good enough, don't attend Sunday mass, take communion or go to confession …"
"Your confessions would probably make his hair curl. So, you want me to perform the ceremony?"
"Would you? Jean wants a church wedding, I'd marry her in a field, but that isn't possible is it? She deserves this. The boy she was courting married someone else, his wife died and his baby; he's come back and is trying to get her back, but he hurt her and she has no interest in him. I love Jean, padre, she's is a wonderful young lady … perhaps if you came and met her?"
"I'd love to," his friend smiled. "find me somewhere to stay, not the presbytery, sounds like we might not get on – unpriestly of me, I'll confess to the bishop."
Knowing priests usually had little to no money, and not wanting his friend to be embarrassed by a hotel Lucien wondered if his future mother-in-law would mind having him to stay. Mary Randall was a good catholic, which was how she raised her daughters, but she had been known to refer to Father Moreton as a 'bit of an old woman' on the odd occasion.
He picked up the phone, strike while the iron's hot, he thought.
"Of course, I'd be delighted," Mary laughed, "he sounds a good man," when he explained why he was asking this of her.
"Thank you, Mrs Randall," he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Now, doctor how about you call me Mary, eh? As your future mother-in-law?"
"Then you'd best call me Lucien," he replied.
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"… so, Father Brown is coming to meet you and your mother has agreed to put him up." Lucien explained what he had been doing in the study, in order for her to have the wedding she wanted.
"Will it be at Sacred Heart?"
"Now that is for the padre to sort out," he hummed, "does it have to be?"
"It's the church I have always attended, but, I don't know? Perhaps we should leave that to Father Brown, he'd have to get Father Moreton to give permission, I suppose."
Lucien hummed, I suppose so, I hadn't thought that far ahead."
"I don't suppose you have," she sighed, "eat your lunch, you have to get ready for surgery."
"Jean, I just want it to be alright."
"It will be," she smiled, "thank you, for calling your friend, for doing that for me."
He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "For you, darling, anything."
There were many things Lucien did that were wrong, or not in his best interests but when he did something for her it was really special, and to find a priest willing to marry them, even if he didn't attend church, was so perfect. She knew when they were husband and wife, in between all the daft things he did, life would be better than anything she could ever have had with Christopher.
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Father Brown arrived two days later. Lucien met him off the train and instantly thought he had filled out a little. He had never been the thinnest of men, his uniform had strained over his generous proportions, but in his priestly garb he looked even more like the cuddly grandfather he never knew.
He waved and went to greet him.
"Father, thank you for coming, it is more than we could have asked for." He shook his hand firmly.
"Glad to be here, Blake," he grinned, "my final break before I go back to England and take up the living in a nice little village."
"Well, Ballarat isn't a little village," Lucien took his case, "but we have probably the same characters you will find there."
"I look forward to meeting your fiancée," he climbed into the front of the old Riley Lucien still drove.
"You are staying with my future mother-in-law, Mary Randall and her husband, Albert. They are good church-going people, but not at all pious."
"You are looking much better than when I last saw you."
"Love of a good woman, and her cooking may have something to do with it, but you will see that, tonight. We haven't told the children you are coming, or that we are getting married, we shall tell them tonight."
"Tell me about these children."
"Well, there's Curtis, Will and Lottie, the eldest along with my own daughter, Li, then we drop down to five year old Suyin and May who is nearly two. Suyin is Chinese, May is half Japanese, we think she is the product of a rape, her mother, the children tell me, was a nun and the nuns at the orphanage looked down on her for being pregnant when she arrived. It's a long story, padre, we can tell you more later."
"It's a wonder they survived."
"Given May's mother died when she was about four months, we think, we have only guessed hers and Suyin's ages and given them birthdays, the older children have been wonderfully strong and resourceful."
"Tell me about Jean, how did she come to work for you?"
"I put an ad in the paper and the newsagents' window. She was at the door before the ink dried," Lucien laughed, "I interviewed her and then left her to the tender mercies of the children, they took to her immediately. She has a lot to do, she manages the house, the surgery, my appointments, does the accounts and cares for the children, and she keeps me on the straight and narrow. She truly is a wonder."
He pulled up outside the farmhouse. "This is her parent's farm. The cottage at the end of the drive is let to a doctor colleague of mine, she couldn't get anyone to lease to her unless she had a male guarantor. Mary and Albert just want someone who will look after the property and pay rent on time, Alice does that, she and Jean have become friends."
Having heard the car draw up, Mary was at the door when they got there.
"Lucien," she smiled.
"Mary," he kissed her cheek, "this is Father Brown."
"Welcome, Father," she smiled, "do come in."
"Mrs Randall, this is very kind of you, I hope I won't put you to any trouble."
"It is our pleasure, and no trouble, any friend of Lucien's is a friend of ours."
Lucien left them to get acquainted and reminded Mary they were dining with them that evening.
"How on earth are you going to get all of us round the table, Lucien? Six children, five adults …"
"I expect Jean has worked all that out, Mary, all I'll have to do is move furniture, probably," he grinned and waved.
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"Ah," he hummed, surveying the dining room with kitchen chairs joining the ones that were usually round the dining room table. Both tables could, at a push, seat eight if one was in the high chair. "You started without me."
"I need this done before I pick up the children," she ran her fingers through her hair.
"So, what do you need me to do?"
"Help me pull the ends apart and slot the extra leaves in."
"I didn't know it did that," he scratched his head. "I thought we would need to put both tables together."
She shook her head.
"I expect your parents only did it when they had many guests, but I've had a look at it and it will extend. The extra leaves are underneath, we have to wind it open."
"I see," he looked underneath, "that's why it's so heavy to move."
"Yes, but I only found out when I was cleaning. Come on, or I'll be late."
"Amazing," he looked at the long table, "we'll have no trouble seating eleven."
"No," she looked at her watch, "can you put the chairs round? I'll take May with me."
"Right."
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Chairs placed he wondered what else he could do to help her. In the kitchen there were some table cloths on the table, beautifully pressed, and all the cutlery they would need. He took the cloths and shook them out over the table, but both were too small to cover the table in one. He scratched his head. He tried several ways but in the end the only way he could make them look tidy was to have them at an angle, diagonally.
"I see you're trying your hand at table setting, doctor," she put her hand in the small of his back.
"I didn't hear you come in," he smiled, "I thought I could help."
"That's probably the best we're going to get, carry on."
She went to get the children their snacks and continue making the dishes for the evening meal. She was glad the weather was warm enough for salads and her famous egg and bacon flan, the dishes would be easy to pass along the table and the children weren't fussy.
"Daddy?" Li looked into the dining room, "what's going on?"
"We have guests tonight, Li," he smiled, "Jean's parents, and an old friend of mine."
"Why?"
"You'll find out," he tapped the side of his nose.
Li stared at him. "Fine," she huffed and tossed her head, he laughed and watched her go into the living room.
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"So what's going on?" Curtis whispered.
"I don't know. We're having guests, apparently, gran and grumps and a friend of daddy's." Jean's parents had suggested they call them grandparents and when Suyin couldn't quite pronounce granddad, Albert had been christened 'grumps'.
"So what's the big secret? Gran and grumps come over often, why the dining room?"
"I guess daddy's friend is important."
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"Anything else I can do, Jean?" he went up behind her in the kitchen.
"Wine?"
"Right."
He put some white wine and champagne in the fridge and opened a red to breathe, then disappeared, there was something very important he had to do, without Jean knowing.
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He took a deep breath and opened the bottom drawer of his desk in the study. The casket hadn't been opened for nearly thirty years, since his father had locked it up, a painful reminder of the love he had lost. Lucien wiped his finger along the wooden edge lifted the lid and wiped away a tear.
There were necklaces, brooches and rings; one ring in particular. The brown leather box sat there, with its decorative gold twist around the base. He smoothed his finger over the soft leather and opened it. He'd forgotten how beautiful it was, if he even remembered. He had been ten years old the last time he saw it – his mother's engagement ring. A solitaire diamond, cushion cut on a filigree setting. He loved the way it caught the light and sparkled in the early evening sun. He slipped it in his pocket, he might have to have it re-sized, but that was ok, they could go down to the jewellers during the week.
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To stop the children whispering, plotting or guessing, Jean had them put the dishes on the table and tidy away toys under Lucien's supervision while she went to change.
"Daddy?" Li looked him straight in the eye, "this friend of yours, is he very important, only Jean doesn't usually change when gran and grumps come over."
"He is, to us, lovely," he smiled. "It's a while since I've seen him, not since the war."
"Oh. But you want us at dinner too?"
"Of course. He knew I was looking for you, and when I spoke to him the other day I told him about you, and Curtis and Will, Lottie and the little ones, he wants to meet you. My parents used to have dinner parties that I wasn't invited to, I want you all to be part of every bit of my life, as much as you can, and that means meeting special friends of mine."
"Do you want us to change?"
"Clothes, no, you look just fine, all of you."
Jean stood just behind him, agreeing that the light summer dresses the girls had changed into when they came home and the shorts and shirts the boys wore were fine. Suyin and May wore clean dresses that she had made for them.
"Oh, Jean, that's pretty," Li turned and smiled.
"New, Jean?" Lucien smiled, her dress was green with little white flowers embroidered into the fabric. It was a simple design, buttoned down the front, short slightly puffed sleeves and a small collar to a high 'v' neck, cinched in waist and flared skirt.
She just smiled, it was something she had made in the few half hours she had to herself.
"That colour suits you," he added.
"Thank you, Lucien."
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"So, this is where he lives now," Father Brown stepped out of Albert Randall's old car.
"His father's place. He runs the surgery from here," Mary took his hand as he helped her out of the car.
"And Jean lives in, you said?"
"She does, when you have six children to get ready for school it would be impossible for her to live at home."
"Of course."
Mary knocked on the door and it was opened by Jean.
"Mum, dad, Father Brown, how lovely to meet you," she held her hand out to the priest.
"Miss Randall," he shook it lightly.
"Please, call me Jean," she smiled, "come in and meet the tribe as mum calls them."
He followed her down to the living room where Lucien waited with May in his arms and Suyin hiding behind his leg. She did this until she knew who was calling.
The children were introduced and he noted they all seemed to be well mannered and well dressed. The two little ones were understandably wary, so he didn't fuss over them, but let May go to Jean and Suyin sit on Albert's knee.
"You have quite the houseful, Blake," he accepted a sherry from Jean.
"Jean does all the hard work," Lucien raised his glass to her. "I make the messes for her to clear up."
"Experiments in the study, Father Brown," Curtis grinned.
"Lake water over the kitchen floor," Li huffed, "I think Jean thinks she has seven children to look after."
"Cheeky miss," Lucien pretended to chide her.
"You said so yourself, doc," Lottie reminded him.
"Guilty as charged."
The priest looked at Jean who didn't look the slightest bit flustered. She just suggested they all head into the dining room and asked her mother to put May in the high chair.
"I know she's a bit big for it, but at least she's contained," she smiled.
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"I don't know how she does it," Lucien admitted when Father Brown praised the food, "she's teaching the children simple recipes and baking, that's Will's favourite part, he has a sweet tooth." He passed the bacon, cheese and egg flan, Jean still wouldn't call it 'quiche' it had always been bacon, cheese and egg flan to her.
"Have you checked to see she doesn't sneak into the kitchen at midnight," the priest helped himself to salad and passed it down the table to Li.
"Yes, and she doesn't," Lucien laughed.
"Jean's always been a worker, Father," Mary smiled at her daughter, "a big help on the farm, wasn't she, Albert."
"Always, good help to her mother," he agreed.
They ate and drank and talked. How Lucien had found the children, what they had gone through, how Jean kept everything in order and how Mary and Albert had taken him and the children to their hearts. What Lucien did apart from being a GP, how he tried to help, and the scrapes he got into.
"See, Father," Li glared at her father, "seven children."
Lucien harrumphed.
Jean cleared away the plates with help from her mother and brought out bowls of fruit and jugs of cream as dessert. She gave May and Suyin some strawberries to munch on, they could use their fingers.
"From the garden, love?" Mary helped herself.
"Yes, we've had a good crop this year, still some to come." Jean nodded, "and the raspberries."
"You grow your own?" Father Brown raised an eyebrow.
"Some fruit, the children help. Then there's the apple tree, that gives a good crop, I think we've room for a pear tree too, maybe a peach tree," she tipped her head in thought.
"I'll give you a hand, when it's time," Albert hummed.
"Thanks, dad."
So far, so good, Li thought, but she was sure her father had an ulterior motive for inviting gran and grumps and Father Brown.
"Oh come on, daddy," she sighed, "tell us really why we're all here."
"You are always here, Li," he smiled.
She glared at him.
"Alright, there is a special reason," he smiled, got down on one knee before Jean and reached into his pocket.
"Get up, you silly man," she blushed and giggled.
"No, gotta do this right, Jean." He shook his head. Taking a deep breath, and the little box from his pocket he lifted the lid looked her straight in the eye and proposed properly.
"Jean Mary Randall, would you do me the honour of being my wife?"
There was a silence you could cut with a knife as everyone waited for her answer, even though her parents and Father Brown knew the answer.
"Of course I will," she bent down and kissed him.
He took her left hand and slipped the ring onto her finger, it was a little loose but they could soon sort that out.
"Lucien!" she gasped.
"This time you get a ring," he smiled, "it was my mother's and I can't think of anyone I would rather give it to than you."
The children cheered, Albert got up and went to get the champagne out of the fridge. Lucien had prompted him to do this as he would be otherwise occupied.
Mary and the girls admired the ring, Albert and Father Brown poured the drinks and they toasted the newly engaged couple.
"Jean?" Li whispered.
"Yes?"
"Does this mean I can call you 'mum'?"
"If you want," Jean smiled and looked at Lottie and the boys, "and you, too."
They all hugged her, she lifted Suyin up, Mary lifted May up who was in danger of being left out and they all hugged.
"Well," Father Brown raised his glass, "I suppose I'd better go and negotiate the use of the church."
"Thank you, Father," Lucien shook his hand, "we really appreciate this."
"My boy," the priest smiled, "it is my absolute pleasure."