Chapter One

"Simone, thank you. You are, quite simply, a genius."

The Honourable Phryne Fisher twisted and turned in front of the mirror in Madame Fleurie's fitting room. She liked what she saw; the wraparound design of the dress would allow her to wear it late on into her pregnancy, and the neat, boxy jacket disguised her expanding waistline.

The couturier smiled in satisfaction. "Phryne, as ever, you are a joy to dress. Even in pregnancy, you hold yourself well. We will provide variations on this idea in silk and velvet, as well as some other prints of this light cotton."

Phryne nodded her approval, then turned to give the older woman a quizzical look.

"I wasn't even sure you would be interested," she commented. "After all, the expectant mother is very far from your normal line of work."

Simone laughed without a hint of humour. "Phryne, even if you had decided simply to pile on a hundred pounds of weight through overeating and idleness – not that you ever would – I would be interested. A couturier cannot afford to pick and choose clients in these times. I will even suggest to Renée that she comes up with a prêt-à-porter line, if you will permit?"

Phryne agreed readily, smiling wryly at the way the world had changed after the '29 crash. As the seamstress helped her out of the dress, she collapsed into the armchair behind her. Lifting one foot, then the other, to flex her toes and examine them, she groaned involuntarily.

"My feet are already aching, and this is barely five months. What am I going to be like at nine?"

Simone turned from giving instruction to her seamstress and said one word.

"Pedicure."

Phryne winced.

"Simone, I'm just not in the mood for the high society bitching that entails."

Simone smiled. "But there is no need. You should trust your weary feet to the girls at Marlene's"

Phryne wrinkled her brow. "Marlene? I don't think ..."

"No, you won't have heard of her. She is running a training college for girls who wish to learn hairdressing and beauty treatments. In Little Collins Street. I will give you the address, and telephone Marlene, and they will be delighted to see you."

Phryne's look showed her clearly suspending disbelief, but Simone was as good as her word. An hour later, Phryne was floating back to her Hispano-Suiza on feet which, while not precisely walking on air, were at least so thoroughly pampered that they were prepared to pretend for a while.

Driving home, however, their understanding was sorely tested when Phryne was forced to stand on the brakes. The culprit's name, she later discovered, was Algernon Armstrong. He turned up unexpectedly in front of the car just as she was starting to fantasise about a Nice Nap when she got home.

The fact that his appearance under her wheels started from a third storey window really didn't help at all.