Jean and Lucien decided against telling Mrs Rhodes anything about their visit to Dr Thomas, just that he was coming along nicely and had requested she visit him that afternoon, Dr Lucien would drive her over.
"That should please her," Jean laughed, "alone in the car with you …"
Lucien shivered.
"And the other things dad wants doing?"
"The studio?"
He nodded.
"Well, I'm going to suggest I open it, if you give me the key, and when she gets all huffy about it, you can come and back me up." She touched his hand, "perhaps I can lessen the shock for you, darling, see that it isn't too bad, first?"
"Thank you, Jean, I appreciate that." He dropped a kiss on the top of her head, and pushed the door open. "We're back!" he called down the hall.
Matthew appeared by the kitchen door, he looked frustrated.
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While Jean and Lucien had been down at the hospital, Mrs Rhodes had tried to exert some form of authority over the children. First she decided the children could not run in and out of the house, they were either in, or out. So Matthew went outside with the boys and Meg and Alice, Jenny and Mattie started to look through the books on the shelves in the living room.
"Those are Dr Blake's," she stopped Mattie lifting an anatomy book off the shelf.
"Mum said we could put them in the study, for now," Mattie narrowed her eyes. She was sure Jean had told Mrs Rhodes that.
"But they aren't hers – she has no right."
"They would be more use in the study, than out here in the living room," Alice stood up and folded her arms. She reached over for the book, "this is not suitable reading for a five year old."
"Then he shouldn't touch it."
"As soon as you tell him that, he's going to be really interested," Mattie couldn't stop a smile at the thought of Tommy seeing something he was really too young for.
"Right, Mattie," Alice picked up several more books and took them to the study, "you put your books on that shelf."
"Thank you, Aunty Alice."
"Dr Harvey," Mrs Rhodes reminded her.
"Aunty Alice is fine," Alice called over her shoulder.
Mrs Rhodes spent most of the time getting in the way. The children came in from the garden and asked for a drink, and, in Tommy's case, an apple, he seemed to eat an inordinate amount of apples. At least she didn't argue about that. She did, however, fail to offer tea to Mr Lawson and Dr Harvey, so Matthew put the kettle on and made a pot for himself and Alice.
"Now, where to put the toys?" Alice hummed.
"Oh, they'll have to stay in their rooms." Mrs Rhodes shook her head, "we can't have toys around the living room."
Jack pouted, he wanted to have his cars, a lot of which had been made by Hans, where he could easily get at them.
"Don't worry, Jack, lad," Matthew smiled, "I bet your mum has an idea."
"Hans made them for me, and Tommy's airplanes," he hummed.
"Hans? Ah yes, the German airman," Matthew smiled, "made a lot of toys did he?"
"Oh yes, Uncle Matthew," Jenny agreed, "we have dolls, their arms and legs move, I'll get one." She ran off up the stairs.
"No running in the house!" Mrs Rhodes shouted.
Jenny returned with her doll, "see, Uncle Matthew," she passed it to him, "how he made the arms and legs move."
"Very clever," Matthew smiled, "I do believe it actually looks like you, Jen."
"Mum said the same, Mattie and Meg's look like them too." She laughed.
"You look after them, now," Matthew handed the doll back, "they are quite unique."
"We will."
Alice and Mattie started to put the books on the shelves, arranging them in height order, "they'll look better that way," Alice hummed, "organised."
"You know," Mattie hummed, "I think there's room for the boys cars and airplanes, as well …" she grinned, cheekily.
"And as they are rather nicely carved, they will look good too," Alice agreed, "Tommy, Jack, go fetch your cars and planes, Mattie's had an idea."
"Toys stay in the bedrooms," Mrs Rhodes stopped them.
"I think," Alice frowned, "that they will look rather nice on the shelves, like a little collection."
"I don't see what business it is of yours," she spoke before she thought, even for her this was a bit far, Dr Harvey was an adult, a professional woman and a friend of Dr Blake's, after all.
Alice stood up.
"I find your tone rather rude, Mrs Rhodes." The room went quiet. "Mrs Blake asked us to help the children sort out their books and toys, she didn't say they couldn't be in the living room, and to have to run up and down the stairs to fetch a plaything would cause a lot of noise and bother. Now, until your mother says otherwise," she turned back to Jack and Tommy, "fetch those lovely models Hans made for you, and we shall show them off on the shelves."
When the models had been set on the shelves, dotted around in little groups they looked rather good, Matthew said as much.
"I wouldn't be surprised if the studio got opened up, y'know," he hummed, "been locked a long time."
"No, Dr Blake will never do that," Mrs Rhodes shook her head and scowled, "never. Too many memories."
"Things are changing, Mrs Rhodes," he hummed, "with Lucien back, and kiddies in the house, bound to happen."
"What's in the studio, Uncle Matthew?" Meg asked.
"It's where your dad's mum painted. I remember being in there with him, when we were boys. It wasn't often we were allowed," he went over to the piano and picked up a photograph, "this was her, Genevieve Etienne Blake – guess you're named after her, Jen – we only went in if she was there, painting." He sat on the couch.
"Tell us," Jenny sat next to him, the others joined them, Alice sat opposite and waited.
"She would let us watch, show us how to mix the colours, let us clean her brushes, they had to be done just so … we felt honoured, then she'd let little pieces of gold leaf float up on the warm air from the fire, the ceiling sparkles …"
"It sounds beautiful," Meg sighed.
"It is, kid, it is," he smiled. "Sometimes, if she wasn't too busy, she'd let us sit on the big leather couch and have hot chocolate and tell us about being a girl in Paris. She tried to teach me to speak French, I wasn't good at it, but your dad, well, he speaks it fluently, or he did. He adored his mum, and she him."
"What happened?"
"I don't know any details, but she was taken ill and died having an operation, that's all me and your dad know. I wouldn't ask him, if I were you, painful memories."
"We won't," Jenny took the photograph off him, "hello grandmother." She went to put the picture back. "Dad used to play the piano, in the village hall, Christmas parties. He said we should have one at home but we didn't ever get one, don't know where we would have put it if we did," she lifted the lid and tentatively pressed a key.
"Your grandad used to play."
"He doesn't now," Mrs Rhodes grumbled.
"Is it in tune?" Alice stood up, Matthew raised an eyebrow.
"Do you play, Aunty Alice?" Jack sidled up to her.
"I haven't for a long, long time," she smiled, "I used to play by ear."
"What does that mean?"
"I would listen to a song and try to play it."
"Crikey, Alice," Matthew gasped, "I didn't know."
"You never asked." She sat on the stool and played a few notes, "not bad."
"Play something," Meg stood next to her.
"Oh, hm," she thought for a moment, it had been so long she wasn't sure she could remember much, "how about …"
She started to play, stopped, then started again.
"I know this one, mum used to sing it for us," Jenny joined Meg, "remember?"
"Yes," they started to sing, then Mattie joined in and the boys, Matthew added his baritone … Mrs Rhodes didn't know what to do. It wasn't wrong, not really, it was just that she didn't remember the piano being used, and there were still toys all over the floor.
"That's enough!" she called over the music, "tidy these toys away, now!"
They went silent.
"Spoilsport," Jack muttered sloping away to move some toys.
"I beg your pardon, young man?"
"That's enough, Mrs Rhodes," Matthew stepped in, "it was just a bit of fun."
"Children should be seen and not heard," she huffed. That was when Jean and Lucien returned.
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"We're back!"
"Daddy!" Tommy dashed up the hall.
"No running in the house!"
"Daddy!" he grinned, ignoring Mrs Rhodes, "Aunty Alice played the piano."
"Really," he swung him up, "well, who knew? I haven't even tried it, is it in tune?"
Alice appeared by the door, "just about, could do with some attention," she blushed.
"How's your father?" Matthew sighed, rather relieved they were back.
"Comin' along," Lucien smiled, "had a good long chat. He wants to see you this afternoon, Mrs Rhodes, I'll drive you down."
"Oh, er," she patted her hair and simpered, "thank you."
"How have you got on with the toys and books," Jean looked from Alice to Matthew.
"Really, Mrs Blake …"
"Alice?" Jean interrupted her.
"All the medical texts are in the study; Mattie said that's where you wanted them," Alice glared at Mrs Rhodes, "the children's books are there, and, hope you don't mind, but we've put the wooden cars and airplanes on the shelves as well, they are really lovely."
"Oh, the ones Hans made?"
She nodded.
"How lovely," Jean went into the living room, "yes, they do look nice. We'll find somewhere to put your other toys, children, so they are tidy but to hand."
"How about the dining room?" Lucien joined her, "we could find something to put them in, under the window?"
"One of the smaller trunks?" Jean suggested.
"But, it's the dining room," Mrs Rhodes frowned, "not a nursery."
"We don't need a nursery, a playroom, yes … but at the moment there isn't a room we could use like that. No, the dining room for now." Jean folded her arms.
"Hey, Matthew," Lucien patted his friend's shoulder, "how about we get one from upstairs, give the children a hand?"
"Can you get me that key, Lucien," Jean reminded him, "Alice, perhaps you could help me?"
Mrs Rhodes had no idea what was going on, but toys in the dining room? Impossible. That was something she would have to talk to Dr Blake that afternoon, when she was taken down to visit him. And what key?
The children followed whichever pair of adults they thought were going to be the most fun, so, the boys joined their father and the girls, curious because Jean had asked Alice to help her, followed Jean.
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"The studio!" Jenny gasped.
"No! Never!" Mrs Rhodes tried to wrestle the key from Jean's hand before she had chance to explain, "Dr Blake said it was to stay shut!"
"Mrs Rhodes!" Lucien ran back to Jean, "let go of my wife!"
She dropped her hand, immediately, shocked at the idea the studio was to be opened and the anger in Lucien's voice.
"Jean," he put his arm around her shoulders, "are you alright?"
She rubbed her wrist but nodded.
"I think, Mrs Rhodes," she took a deep breath, "I think that this is not the position for you …"
"You can't sack me, Dr Blake is my employer," she hissed.
"In that case, please remain in the kitchen until Dr Lucien takes you to visit him this afternoon."
"Blake?" Matthew had set the boys to emptying a small trunk ready to be taken down to the dining room and gone to see what all the kerfuffle was.
"Mrs Rhodes tried to take the key off Jean." Lucien showed him the red marks on Jean's wrist and hand.
"Forcibly?"
He nodded.
"Want me to charge her?"
"I beg your pardon?" Mrs Rhodes scowled.
"Well," Matthew reached into the back pocket of his trousers, "under the law, that is assault." He pulled out his warrant card, "Senior Sergeant Matthew Lawson."
She blanched.
"No, that won't be necessary," Jean shook her head. "She is seeing Dr Thomas later, he can deal with it." She took the key back off Lucien. "Dr Thomas has given us permission to open the studio, which I would have explained to you, if you'd given me the chance." She put the key in the lock and turned it.
Now that Lucien was there, he stayed as she pushed the door open.
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Some light filtered through the old drapes, where they hadn't been fully closed, but it was dim and dusty.
"It's huge," Jenny whispered, "and beautiful."
Jean felt Lucien take her hand, she squeezed it reassuringly, and took a step inside.
"Oh, Lucien," she breathed, "it's wonderful."
"I'd forgotten …" he gulped.
"Me too," Matthew peered over his shoulder.
Mrs Rhodes just stood there. Dr Blake had always told her he would never reopen the studio, it was too painful, and now, they said he had changed his mind, it couldn't be so, the man was ill, they must have bullied him into it.
"It's going to take some cleaning," Jean hummed, "but it will make a lovely sitting room …"
"Look at the ceiling," Meg pointed, "just as Uncle Matthew said, gold … it's gorgeous."
"Uncle Matthew!" Tommy called from upstairs, "we've emptied the trunk!"
Matthew shook his head and shouted back he would be right with them.
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Jean and Lucien looked round the studio; there were things that would have to go, paintbrushes, a palette, the easel …
"Perhaps the garage, love," Jean whispered, "the easel, anyway, you never know, one of ours may need it."
"Yeah, some of these paintings …"
"That one, it's finished, I think, at least it could be hung, don't you think?" She pointed to a portrait of a woman.
"I think that's Miss Agnes Clasby," he lifted it and looked closely. "Perhaps here," he stepped over to a book case against the wall and propped it up.
"Lovely," she smiled. "The drapes will have to be replaced, I'm afraid."
"Sadly, yes," he sighed.
"Later, then, after lunch?" she tiptoed up and kissed him, "while you're out, we'll get started."
He looked at her, this was his childhood and she was about to do things to it.
"I'm only going to clean, polish, sweep, and take the drapes down, darling," she soothed, "and put the painting things in the garage – just for now."
"Alright," he hesitated, "just that."
"Just that."
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"Are you going to stay for lunch, Matthew?" Jean headed to the kitchen, "you'd be most welcome."
"Thanks, but no thanks," he smiled, "we'll leave you to it. I'll just give the boys a hand bringing the trunk down and we'll be off."
"Thanks for stepping up, today," she smiled at him and Alice, "we do appreciate it."
"Anytime, Jean, anytime." He went to help with the trunk and Jean went to see how much of yesterday's lunch was left, that would do, for today.
There wasn't as much as she thought they had left, but there would be enough. She'd set it in the dining room, Mrs Rhodes seemed to have stopped doing anything but stare into the studio.
"Want some help mum?" Jenny appeared at her side, "with lunch."
"Thanks, love," she passed her the plate of cold meat, "did Mrs Rhodes do any dusting or vacuuming today?"
"Aha," she shook her head, "spent a lot of time telling us what we could and couldn't do, and trying to stop Mattie and Aunty Alice doing the books, Aunty Alice got cross and told her she 'found her tone rather rude'," Jenny did a passable imitation of Alice which made Jean laugh.
"I see Tommy has eaten the last apple …" she looked at the fruit bowl, set in the fridge.
"Core and all," Jenny grinned.
"Dining room, Jen," she passed her some plates, "Mrs Rhodes won't join us and I don't want her to starve while she waits for us to finish."
"Why does she eat in the kitchen while we're in the dining room? Mrs Layton used to eat with us … though that was in the dining room."
"Only because the kitchen was too small for all of us, love, and Mrs Layton was a different person."
"She was lovely."
"She was."
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"Lunch!" Jean called through the house.
Mrs Rhodes broke out of her reverie in the studio, and headed back into the living room. She noticed Jean had set the dining room table, but without the cloth, maybe she had decided to be more of a 'lady'. She went into the kitchen to make her own sandwich and pour a glass of water.
As she ate she thought on the things she would suggest to Dr Blake when he drove her down to the hospital, on the way the 'lady of the house' should behave, and the children. Things couldn't go on the way they were, children running here and there, toys on the living room floor and the mistress (though anyone less like the mistress of the house she didn't think she had ever known) making dinners – rabbit stew indeed!
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Jean let Mrs Rhodes wash the pots and tidy away the lunch things, she wanted to get on with the studio. The girls offered to help take things into the garage, so Lucien decided to help sort the toys out into the trunk. He had initially wanted to help in the studio but seeing how careful Jean and his daughters were with all his mother's things he thought she was right. It would be easier for him to let her do what she had said.
"It will be fine, Lucien, I promise," she pulled him aside and kissed him, "I won't make any drastic changes, just a tidy and a clean."
So, every now and then, when he was passing he poked his nose in and saw more of what he remembered.
"I like this picture, dad," Meg held up a view into a forest, with a small cottage tucked into the trees, "where do you think it would look best?"
"Oh, yes, how about here, where it will get the light." He set it on a set of bookshelves by the door.
"Lovely," Jean agreed with a smile, "I found this one, what do you think?" She held up what could only be a preparatory sketch for a portrait of a child, "you, I think?"
"Do you think I was ever that innocent?" he laughed softly.
"There's a mischief in those eyes," she held it at arm's length, "and I know it isn't finished but I do like it."
"If you like it, love, then put it where you think it would be best."
"I will," she headed out of the studio.
"Hey! Where are you going?"
"Our room, Lucien, that's where I want it."
"Really?"
"Really." She opened their bedroom door and propped the sketch on the mantlepiece. "Perfect, I can wake up to that, and you every day."
He took her in his arms and kissed her thoroughly.
"I do love you."
"I know, but, now you have to take Mrs Rhodes down to the hospital, good luck."
"I'll need it." He grimaced.
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He was the perfect gentleman. He held the car door for her, waited for her to be settled before he drove off down the drive. He said nothing to her.
"This is so kind of you, Dr Blake," she twittered.
"Dad asked me to see you got to him," he kept his eyes on the road.
"So, you are glad to be back?"
"It was time."
"Of course, it has to be hard for Mrs Blake, such a change from a small farming village …"
"Oh, she takes change in her stride." He hummed.
"But, people expect certain behaviours," she frowned, "and children to be seen, if they must, and not heard."
"It's a different world, Mrs Rhodes …"
"Please call me Martha …"
"… Mrs Rhodes, I fought for a better world, for my children, and other children, to be free to play …"
"But, weren't you a Major?"
He nodded.
"Well, surely lower ranks …"
"Privates and corporals bleed the same blood as a Brigadier," he sighed, "I was a doctor first … ah, here we are …" he pulled into the hospital car park.
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Dr Thomas Blake had thought on his son and daughter-in-law's visit that morning. He tolerated Martha Rhodes because her cooking was reasonable, though he had asked her to reduce the amount of butter and cream she used, as he found it too heavy. She kept the place clean enough, though there were occasions he thought the woodwork could do with a polish, Genevieve had always said he didn't notice such things, but these days he did. Dining alone had been almost depressing, but she wouldn't accept his suggestion she dine with him, 'it was not her place', so he had dined alone, night after night, eventually deciding to read a book at the table. He felt different, since his stroke, almost excited when he knew his son was coming home, he was looking forward to being part of a family again, a bigger one this time. He and Genevieve had always wanted another child, but it wasn't to be, then, when she died, he pushed his only child away – Nell was right, he was a cussed old fool. Martha didn't fit this new life, from what Jean and Lucien had said, she had an old fashioned view of her duties and the way a doctor's family should behave, and she was upsetting people. He didn't remember her being like that, she did what he asked of her, though sending a patient that hadn't made an appointment down to the hospital was against everything he stood for. He had told her that in future she was to admit such patients, no matter how full the waiting room was, he wasn't sure she obeyed that instruction, given the sour look he remembered her giving him. And now she was refusing to carry out Jean's orders, instructions, to watch the children while she was out for a couple of hours; if he remembered rightly if he and Genevieve went out for the evening when Lucien was a child the woman that came in to help with the cleaning and laundry used to sit in the house to keep their boy safe.
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Lucien knocked on his father's door before opening it and standing back to let Mrs Rhodes in.
"Oh, Dr Blake," she gushed, almost rushing over to him, "how are you?"
"Don't fuss, woman," he grunted, which was just as she knew him. "Sit down." He turned his head to look at his son, "Lucien, stop hovering, go and find a chair for yourself."
"Right, yes," Lucien looked around, "back in a tick."
Thomas watched him go, then turned to Mrs Rhodes.
"Well, how are you getting on, with my son, and his family?"
"Oh, Dr Blake," she twisted her fingers, "Mrs Blake, well …" she lowered her voice, "she's not quite um … proper."
"What on earth do you mean, woman?" he frowned.
"Well, she wants to eat in the kitchen and serves rabbit stew!" she raised her eyebrows. "And put children's toys in the dining room, instead of leaving them in their rooms."
"If they're kept tidy I don't see a problem with that. Rabbit stew, eh, long time since I've had that. My wife used to roast rabbit with mustard and cream, very nice." He sighed, "wonder if Jean can do that."
"Do what, dad?" Lucien crashed in with a chair.
"Roast rabbit with mustard and cream, remember it?"
"I do, I expect she would be able to, she's quite experimental in the kitchen."
"Experimental, in the kitchen?!" Mrs Rhodes shrieked.
"Had to be, during the war," he remarked, blithely.
"She's opened the studio, doctor, I ought to warn you … I did try to stop her, then … well their friend asked if they wanted me charged! With assault!"
"I asked her to, we'll need more room, and it's time. As Lucien and Jean found it was time to come home, so I find it is time to let the past go. Why would Matthew Lawson suggest charging you?" His eyes narrowed.
"Mrs Rhodes tried to take the key off Jean, dad," Lucien knew she wouldn't tell exactly what happened. "Left red marks on her wrist and hand."
"You did what?!"
"I didn't know," she muttered weakly."… the memories?"
"You didn't give her time to explain," Lucien reminded her.
"Really? I have a hoard of grandchildren to tell stories to," he gave a lopsided smile. "Grandchildren I believe you refused to watch while Lucien brought his wife to see me." He frowned.
"I'm not a nanny, Dr Blake, you hired me as a housekeeper." She sniffed, "it's not my duty …"
"Your duty is to the household, which means listening to my daughter-in-law and following her instructions, which I believe you are reluctant to do."
"But, she's not …"
"… proper, yes you said. Though what you mean by 'proper' I do not know. She has run a house, been a business manager to a doctor's practice, organised the evacuees, I believe, eh, Lucien?"
"Indeed, father," he nodded and smiled with pride, "Mrs Andrews, squires wife, said she would miss her when we left, but I'm sure Regina will manage."
"Squire's wife?" Mrs Rhodes whispered.
"Yes, she and Jean were thick as thieves when it came to sorting out a particular problem with a German airman," he grinned. "Tell you all about it, when you get home, dad."
"Oh yes, I must sort out a room for you, Dr Blake, but it will have to be upstairs … the bathroom …" she coloured.
"Why on earth would I want to be shoved upstairs?" He grumbled, "Lucien, do you remember where your mother used to wash her brushes?"
"Side room off the studio?"
"Yes, well, it has plumbing …"
"I'll get Jean on it."
"You do that. Now," he turned back to Mrs Rhodes, "I am not happy with your treatment of my family, Mrs Rhodes …"
"… or their friends," Lucien mumbled.
"What?"
"Apparently, Dr Harvey found her tone 'rather rude', according to Jenny."
"You insulted a friend, and colleague?"
"She's going into the path lab, dad, and the morgue."
"You insulted a professional person, in my house!"
Lucien did feel he was telling tales, but the children were likely to tell their grandfather, especially with Jenny's rather entertaining impression of Alice. But if she was to stay, which she wasn't, he would have to know she was likely to be rude to Alice, or Matthew, if they happened to be at the house, which they would be.
"I forgot myself," she whispered.
"Well, Mrs Rhodes, after the past two days, and with what my son has told me, I'm afraid I am going to have to let you go," he shifted in his chair.
"You can't." she gasped.
"I can. To be honest, I have found your work wanting in the past, sending patients without appointments to the hospital instead of letting them wait for me to see them, and I'm not sure you dusted and cleaned as well as I would have liked."
"Men don't notice things like that," she shook her head.
"I do, and in any case, it's what I pay you for, so I expect you to carry out those tasks properly; imagine if I thought I could get away with substandard surgery or medicine … if I thought no one was looking." He shook his head, "I'll have Jean type up a reference for you, and, shall we say a week's pay in lieu … will Jean be alright, Lucien?"
"She'll manage, the children will help. She had a lady come in three times a week, in England, lovely lady, sorry we couldn't bring her with us, really."
"Perhaps she can advertise for someone like that here, what say you, son?"
"I'll leave it up to her, dad, best I do."
"Quite," he gave a lopsided, but cheeky, grin.
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Lucien offered to drive Mrs Rhodes to her home, and said he would see her wages in lieu of notice were passed to her. She shook her head, too shocked to speak. She'd liked working for Dr Blake, he didn't ask a lot, and it was true, she did try to get away with doing the minimum and she thought she behaved just as a housekeeper ought to. He watched her walk off, and in a way he was sad for her, but all she had to do was meet Jean half way, and Jean would have done the same for her.
He drove home.
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Jean measured up for drapes, she would make them herself, it wasn't difficult, maybe some voile for the summer, velvet for the winter. Flinging back the last of the drapes at the back of the studio she was astonished to find not windows but another room, with the windows on the far wall; floor to ceiling looking out onto the garden. There was a chaise longue, various drapes and paraphernalia she assumed the late Mrs Blake used to dress her models, a couple of bucket chairs but nothing else. It too had a side room, slightly larger than the other one, with dresses and more set dressing bits and pieces.
"Goodness!" she gasped.
"Mum?" Jenny looked up from dusting books, "Oh! Crumbs!"
"Well," Jean stood with her hands on her hips, "That'll make a difference, somehow."
She set to cleaning, folding, measuring and deciding that the clothes and cloths would be best stored in one of their travelling trunks and went to fetch one from upstairs.
When she had finally finished she was quite pleased with the way the studio had turned out. All the woodwork had been polished, she would need to do something with the old leather couch, if she remembered rightly, saddle soap would soften it up, but for now it was in reasonable condition. She had beaten the rug in front of the fire, then vacuumed it, the fire dogs had been polished and gleamed next to the log basket. She thought it would be most comfortable on a winter's evening, cosy, even. She had discovered the little side room with the paint-splattered sink. There wasn't much room in there, it was long and thin, she would ask Lucien what to use it for.
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Jean hadn't thought Thomas would instantly dismiss Mrs Rhodes, so she was surprised when Lucien arrived home without her.
"Yeah, he wasn't pleased when he found out she had grabbed your hand before you could explain about the studio," he sat at the kitchen table. "Says a week's wages in lieu of notice, and he wants you to type a reference for her."
"I'll see him tomorrow and see what he wants to say, I've only known her a couple of days."
"Right, I'll sort her wages …"
"Want me to take them to her?"
"Er, alright, if you think you should."
"I probably should, just to show no hard feelings, from me, that is. I was prepared to meet her half way, you know Lucien, if she could meet me there."
"I think she was so used to doing the bare minimum and not having five children running around that it was too big a shock. Also, she couldn't get me on her side, either … then she told dad he would have to be upstairs because we only have the one bathroom."
"And …"
"He didn't like the idea of being 'shoved upstairs', were his words. He reminded me about the little room where me and Matthew cleaned mum's brushes – we were so honoured, that she trusted us to do it."
"It's very small, Lucien," she tipped her head and thought, "narrow, too. Do you think we could do something with the other half of the room, that looks over the garden?"
"Blimy, I'd forgotten about that, with the drapes being closed and not much light, all I really remembered was the front half, that's where me and Matthew spent most of our time."
"Perhaps we can see if it would be possible to turn that side room into a bathroom, make that half into a small suite for your father?"
"That might work." He considered the idea, "maybe replace those drapes with doors, though …"
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Jean pushed open the door to Thomas' room and smiled to see him sitting with Nell, presumably telling her all about sacking Martha Rhodes.
"Jean!" he gave his, now usual, lopsided grin, "just been updating Nell."
"Ah," she nodded, "I've come to find out what you want in her reference, I don't know her well enough …" she took out a notebook.
"I'll be off then, Thomas," Nell stood up.
"Sit down, woman," he huffed, more good naturedly than he had at Mrs Rhodes, "nothing you don't know."
Nell sat.
"Well, Jean," he sighed, "how are we going to write this one?
"Tell me her good points," she waited.
"Um, she was punctual, could set my watch my her," he frowned.
"Cooking? The food she did for us was alright."
"Competent cook? Though how anybody could be competent if they can't do a rabbit stew, I don't know, "he grumbled.
Nell laughed softly, he'd just told her he was looking forward to a few rabbit stews.
"Tidy? Well presented?"
"All of that, you do it Jean," he harrumphed, "and sign it, you'll have to …" he lifted his right hand with his left.
"No problem," she hummed, "I'm going to type it and take it and her wages down to her."
They walked out together, Jean and Nell.
"I had no idea, Jean," she sighed, "she was always perfectly correct when I was there, but thinking back, she must have been listening at keyholes. Certainly the day you wrote to say you were coming home, because she was close to the surgery door when I came out – true, voices had been raised, mine mainly," she thought for a moment, "but I just thought she wanted to be helpful."
"Well, Lucien was here first, coming ahead because of his father's stroke, but he said she flirted with him, and even I noticed the eyelash fluttering, so I suppose that didn't help my relationship with her. Well, nothing I can do about it now, I did offer an olive branch but she didn't take it."
"So, will you look for another housekeeper?"
"Not a housekeeper, I would like someone to come in maybe three times a week to help with the laundry and cleaning, and maybe sit with the children if we go out for the evening, for a few extra shillings."
"Sounds reasonable."
"It's what we are used to."
"So, surgery back up and running?"
"Yes, Lucien is ready to take patients."
"Lovely, I'll get the word out." Nell laughed.
Jean joined in and said it was just what they thought would happen.
"You make me sound like the town gossip," Nell huffed.
"No, but if you know the town gossip, could you let them know," Jean gave her a gentle hug.
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Jean was very busy for the next few weeks. There was the studio to finish, a bathroom on that floor for Thomas, primarily, but anyone would be able to use it, interviewing potential home helps, and considering schools for the children, but the first thing she had to do was the reference for Mrs Rhodes and take her wages down.
She showed it to Lucien, before she signed it.
"That should be fine, there are no lies in it, it tells what she's good at and doesn't mention eavesdropping, or flirting with the boss' son, or refusing to carry out orders from the mistress of the house." He passed it back to her. "Here's the wages we owe her," he passed her a second envelope, unsealed.
"I think I'll ask her to count it and sign a receipt," she hummed.
"Good idea."
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Jean pulled up outside a small bungalow. It was a little shabby looking and there was no front garden, just a paved area, but it was clean. If it was hers she would have at least had plants in pots to brighten it up, but it wasn't.
She knocked on the door and waited. While she waited she noticed curtains twitching and was glad she had dressed smartly, hopefully looked professional, and had Mrs Rhodes envelopes in a folder, not just in her hands.
"Yes," Mrs Rhodes opened the door just enough to see who was calling, "oh, it's you." She opened the door just enough to stand in the space but not enough to afford a view into the building, not that Jean wanted to see how she lived, but she wasn't going to give her the chance.
"Good afternoon, Mrs Rhodes," Jean smiled pleasantly, "I have you wages and pay in lieu of notice, and a reference for you to present to your next prospective employers." She opened the folder and took out the wages first. "If you wouldn't mind, for my records, could you count it and sign the receipt."
"Your records?" she raised an eyebrow and looked down her nose at her.
"Correct business practice, Mrs Rhodes, keep track of income and expenditure," she lay the receipt on top of the folder and waited while the money was counted.
Mrs Rhodes huffed, but it was the correct amount, she couldn't argue with it. She took the pen Jean offered and signed. Jean slipped the receipt back into the folder and handed her the reference.
"Thank you for your work, Mrs Rhodes, and, on a side note, thank you for ensuring Dr Thomas was taken to hospital quickly. I'm sorry we couldn't come to some amenable working arrangement, good luck in your next position."
"Sorry?" she spat, "you're sorry? I've lost a job, a very good job because of you. You bullied that poor old man …"
"I beg your pardon, Mrs Rhodes, we did not bully Dr Thomas, he makes his own decisions …" Jean stepped back.
"You bullied him, he would never have done this if you hadn't told tales and coerced him …" she stepped towards Jean and pushed her, hard; hard enough to have her stumble and fall. She loomed over Jean, "farm girls should stay at their own level … in the dirt where they came from." She kicked her hip and strode back into the house.
Jean lay there, in shock.
"Missus?" A face appeared over the fence, "oh my, wait there dear."
She was helped up gently and brushed down by an elderly lady, presumably from next door. "What on earth was all that about?"
Jean took a deep breath and leant on her for a moment, "she used to work for my father-in-law, but things have changed and it was deemed she was not quite the right person for the post."
"She worked for Dr Blake, didn't she?" the woman hummed, "come inside, dear, a cuppa will help."
Jean didn't really feel like getting straight back into the car, she needed to collect her thoughts, so she went with the woman.
"So, you must be young Mrs Blake, then?"
"Jean Blake, yes, Dr Lucien Blake is my husband."
"Word gets round, Mrs Blake, I'm Jessie Leigh, I was a patient of Dr Blake's."
"We've opened up the surgery," she sat down in a chair in Mrs Leigh's sitting room, "it was only a temporary closure."
"And how is Dr Blake?"
"Thomas? He's coming along well," she smiled.
"Let me make us some tea …"
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By the time they had drunk a cup of tea Mrs Leigh had asked to be put back on Dr Blake's list, she knew about the children and told Jean she thought she might know of someone who would like the work she was offering.
"Somebody always knows somebody, here in Ballarat and where we lived in England, though it was a much smaller village."
"Probably the same the world over, Mrs Blake." She agreed. "She, next door, was always a bit high and mighty, y'know …"
"She flirted with my husband," Jean giggled.
"No surprises there. Now, what are you going to do about this behaviour?"
Jean knew she ought to report her, this was the second time she had been assaulted by Mrs Rhodes, she shook her head.
While she thought about it, Mrs Leigh went to answer the door.
She turned as she thought she heard a familiar voice and Mrs Leigh seeming to agree to let the person in.
"Mrs Blake, Senior Sergeant Lawson, Mrs Williams over the road saw what happened and called the police."
"Hello, Matthew," she looked up and sighed.
"Jean," he sat beside her, "what happened?"
"You know each other?" Mrs Leigh sat opposite.
"Matthew is my husband's oldest friend, he came over on the same ship as us." She explained. "so, I expect you know?"
"Only what I've been told," he took out his notebook, "Mrs Rhodes pushed you over and kicked you, after appearing to speak sharply to you. What were you doing there, Jean?"
"I went to give her her wages and pay in lieu, and a letter of reference for any prospective employers. And I said I was sorry it hadn't worked out and wished her good luck."
"I see," he hummed, "and her reaction?"
"She accused us of bullying Thomas and told me I should go back to where I came from, as a farm girl, to the dirt," that comment had hurt Jean, given how much she had tried to raise herself up, and had, through the love of a good man and sheer good fortune.
"What a cheek!" Mrs Leigh snapped, "she's not better than she should be."
Matthew turned to her, "Do you know Mrs Rhodes well, Mrs Leigh?"
"I wouldn't say any of us know her well, officer. She arrived during the war, said her husband had been killed in Singapore …"
"Singapore was overrun in forty-two," Matthew noted, "so she can't have worked for Dr Thomas for long."
"Seemed to get the job pretty quickly," she nodded, "don't know what happened to the woman that worked there before. Youngish, she was, perhaps he'd know. Truth is, officer, I rarely need a doctor, so I haven't seen Dr Blake in a while."
"Well, Jean, charge of assault, yes?"
"I suppose so," she pouted.
"Second time she's hurt you, Lucien'll have my badge if I don't do something this time." He stood up, "thank you, Mrs Leigh. Jean, do you want me to run you home?"
"No, thank you, Matthew, you deal with Mrs Rhodes, I'll head back now, I have the car." She stood up, "thank you, Mrs Leigh, for your kindness."
"You take care of yourself, Mrs Blake, and you can put me back on the list," she smiled and patted Jean's hand.
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"She what?!" Lucien gasped as she admitted what had happened. She had no choice, her hip hurt and she had limped and winced as she went into the house.
"Matthew's dealing with it," she leant against him, "I'm just a bit sore, is all."
"But …" he wrapped his arms round her.
"No buts, darling," she sighed, "but if it makes you feel better you can examine the bruise."
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The bruise had already started to spread across her hip and down her thigh. Lucien gently examined the site, asked her to bend her knee and lift her foot; at each movement she winced.
"I'd like you to have an x-ray," he helped her to sit up, "just to make sure there is no other damage."
"Really?" she frowned.
"Really."
"The children?"
"Just a minute." He picked up the phone.
"Ah, Miss Nell …"
"Lucien, you can't," she tried to jump down from the couch and landed awkwardly, "aargh!"
"Jean!"
She waved him away. "… sorry, Miss Nell, don't know if you could, but I need someone to look after the children, I need to take Jean to x-ray."
"No, really, it's just having an adult, the girls will look after the boys … you will, oh thank you."
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Nell must have broken a few speed laws to get to them as quickly as she had.
"They don't need anything, they can sort themselves out a snack, Jenny can make you a cuppa …" he grinned.
"Take that lovely wife of yours to the hospital, you can tell me all about it when you get back," she touched his arm.
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To Jean's ultimate embarrassment, Lucien carried her into the hospital, and made his way to an empty cubicle.
"Excuse me!" a nurse called across the room, "Excuse me!"
"Sister," he turned, "sorry, Dr Lucien Blake. This is my wife, Jean; I should like an x-ray of her hip."
"Not Dr Thomas Blake's son?" she stepped aside so he could put Jean on the couch.
"I am."
"We'd heard rumours," she smiled, "so, what can we do for you, Mrs Blake," she looked at Jean.
"Apparently," she huffed, "my husband thinks I need an x-ray. I was pushed over and kicked, on my hip. Really, I'm sure it's just badly bruised, he's fussing."
"He's the doctor," the nurse smiled.
"Thank you, Sister, for reminding her."
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While the x-ray didn't show a break anywhere on Jean's hip, it did show a tiny chip.
"It should heal on its own," Lucien peered at the film, "but you're going to be sore for a while."
"I'll be fine," she sat up, "now, can we go home and relieve Miss Nell?"
"Alright, but you have to take it easy," he sighed.
She looked at him sideways then gave a little smile. "If you say so."
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Mrs Rhodes' assault on Jean made the Courier; she had been charged, found guilty and fined, and told not to go anywhere near Mrs Blake or any of the Blake family, if she did then she would be sent to prison. Jean hoped it wouldn't come to that, but the woman, according to Lucien, was clearly unhinged – she just thought she was disappointed with her lot in life.
"I think," she hummed, "that she hoped you would throw me over and take her on."
"No chance," he huffed.
"Glad to hear it."
"So, how goes the search for a home help?"
"I've had a few inquiries, there's a couple of ladies that I want to talk to …"
"Lovely."
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By the time Thomas was allowed out of hospital, Jean's hip had healed, the home help had been employed, Mrs Sutton, the extra bathroom had been installed near Thomas' room, just off the studio, new drapes had been hung, the children were about to start their new schools and the surgery was up and running – all was well in the Blake world.
"Well," he looked around the hall and thought it seemed lighter. "am I glad to be home."
"And we are glad to have you home," Jean smiled softly, "I hope it's alright."
Lucien supported his father down to the living room and settled him in a chair.
"Tea?" Jean watched him get comfortable.
"Lovely, and don't I have some grandchildren to meet?" He looked around for five young people, "where have you hidden them, Jean?"
"They are just waiting, until you are ready," she nodded to Lucien, "why don't you go and get them, love, from the studio."
"Studio, eh?" Thomas tried to look severe, but failed.
"I'll show you that, later," Jean looked up as Lucien, Tommy on his hip, came through with the children.
"Here they are, dad," he grinned, "right, Jenny, Mattie, Meg, Jack and this'n here's Tommy."
"Hm," Thomas looked at them, "never thought I'd see the day," he mused, then smiled, "come here, let me have a proper look at you." He waved them forward, and in no time they were chatting, showing him the toys Hans had made, which he admired, talked about what their life had been like in England, their friends, the small village school they attended …
"Alright, children," Jean stepped through with the tea tray, "let your grandfather get his breath, listening to you all at full tilt is exhausting."
"How do you cope, Jean?" he smiled as she put the cup down on a little table at the side of his chair.
"Oh, they're pretty helpful, Thomas," she sat on the couch, "they can make their own beds, put their toys away, the girls like to help in the kitchen, even Tommy gives washing up a go."
"Glad to hear it, Lucien used to help his mother, but not in the kitchen."
"He makes a reasonable cuppa," Jean looked up at Lucien, "but he's a busy man, Thomas, I don't expect him to cook as well."
"From what you told me, while I was in the hospital, you seem to be quite organised, Jean."
"She is," Lucien grinned.
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As the first few days went, Thomas saw just how well Jean worked the household, and how the children did their fair share of chores, it was something he never thought he would see, and something, before his stroke, he would never have been interested in. He wondered if he had been a better father would Lucien have stayed in Ballarat, married Jean, because he couldn't see how he could have married anyone else, and run the surgery with him; he asked him one evening.
"You know, dad, I'm not sure. Moving away gave us both the chance to spread our wings, see more of the world … on balance I think it did us all good, it certainly made us who we are."
Perhaps you're right, son," he agreed.
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Thomas' progress was slow, but Lucien was pleased. He had a physiotherapist come in three times a week, Jean took him through his exercises on the other days and he liked to spend time in whichever room she was. Lucien felt a warm glow when he saw how well they got on, and it meant his relationship with him went from strength to strength. He loved spending time with his grandchildren, reading to Tommy, listening to the girls and even enjoyed the times Matthew and Alice popped over for dinner, or just a cuppa. Life was good.
