The light was too bright, her limbs felt like lead and her head was like cotton wool. Muffled voices were all around her, dark shapes moved in and out of her field of vision - she felt more frightened than ever. She had no idea how she had got here, wherever here was, or ... oh god, who was she, what was her name? Everything was a blank. A tear rolled out of her eye and down to her ear.
"Ah, you're awake," a voice murmured, soft and kind, "can you speak?"
She tried, but the she couldn't make the words come, it sounded more like a grunt.
"Sh, child, it will come," the voice whispered, "for now, rest. I'll get you a drink, see how that goes, eh?"
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She floated in and out of sleep, of consciousness, gratefully taking the water from a spoon until she could sip from the edge of a glass.
"Well," another voice spoke, a little stronger than the one she was used to, "I've phoned the police but no reports of missing children, we'd better give her a name until she remembers her own."
"She's obviously been given something," the soft voice whispered, "strong drugs."
"Hm, yes, quite possibly, but she was fully clothed so I don't think she has been interfered with."
"Sister, she's only about ten years old at the most," the voice rose with shock.
"Quite," the other voice grunted, "where are we up to in the alphabet?"
"J ... Jane?"
"That will do, for now."
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She sat in the sun, stronger now, but not enough to join the other children in school work. She accepted the name 'Jane', and her friend, the softly spoken nun Sister Bernadette, would read to her, talk to her about all sorts of things, anything to prompt her memory.
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Sixteen now, so they told her, ready to go out and do something in the world. She supposed she was grateful that the girls were not automatically expected to join the community and give their lives to God. Jane was an able student, had absorbed knowledge like a sponge, but had not regained her memory enough to send her back to her family. She accepted the name as her own, and had said it felt familiar, more than once. For a surname they had asked her to choose her own.
"You keep telling me I am always fishing for information as you did when I came here," she laughed at Mother Superior, so perhaps, 'Fisher', I shall be Jane Fisher, what do you think?"
"It sounds right, my dear," she had grown fond of the girl, so sweet, gentle with the younger ones, "so I shall register that. Now, you have given thought to our suggestion you go into nursing?"
"I have, and I think I would like that, but I should like to work with children, is that a possibility?" Jane nodded.
"Excellent, I shall see where I can secure a place for you, dear."
"Thank you Mother," she stood up and dipped a small curtsey. Mother Superior smiled as she left and wondered at the quiet strength of this girl that had come to them six years ago. Now grown to a pretty young woman, not too tall, her fair hair neatly tied up and always, somewhere, the now faded blue ribbon that had held one of her braids in place. She said it was part of her and she felt wrong without it.
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"Well, Nurse Fisher," the Nursing Superintendent sighed, "we shall be sorry to lose you, but the children's home will be gaining a wonderful nurse."
"Thank you, ma'am," Jane bobbed, "and thank you for everything."
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So Nurse Fisher settled into the children's home. She was gentle and kind with the children whose circumstances were no fault of theirs, the staff liked her, she was firm but fair and the visiting doctors relied on her to have all the details of the children to hand, if not in her memory.
As nurses came and went and Matrons retired and were replaced, Jane Fisher was the one constant some of the longer stay children could rely on. She dressed their cuts and bruises, comforted them when they were sad, played games with them in the gardens and read to them at night. It was at her suggestion that teachers were engaged to give a rudimentary education, reading, writing and arithmetic. Nurses were required to teach some domestic tasks such as sewing and anyone who could play the battered old upright piano played music for them.
Prospective adopted parents were now investigated as to their suitability to take on sometimes emotionally damaged children, to ensure they were not just looking for free domestic servants.
It was inevitable that she would take over as Matron one day and when that day came even the staff cheered. Young as she was nobody envisioned her marrying and leaving. Oh yes, she had caught the eye of visiting doctors and inspectors, police officers who brought abandoned children to her but as the nuns who had looked after her had dedicated their lives to caring for others so Jane Fisher dedicated her life to those abandoned children.
And so life went on in her small corner of Melbourne, untainted by the wilder goings on in the city, until ...
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"Thank you for coming so quickly, Inspector," she smiled at the handsome police man that had arrived, "I have no idea who the man is or why he should be lying dead at the gate to our vegetable plot."
He nodded and smiled and looked into her lovely eyes, eyes he thought were oddly familiar.
"Collins," he called over to his constable, "any ID?"
"None so far, sir," Hugh shrugged, "perhaps finger prints?"
"Send him to the morgue, I'll see Dr Macmillan there," Detective Inspector Robinson sighed, "now Matron," far too young and pretty to be a Matron, he thought, "perhaps you could tell me what goes on here."
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Matron's office was cool, a desk and chair sat in the middle facing the door, with two chairs in front. But it wasn't to this she directed Jack, it was to the couch in the bay window. As he sat he saw the walls were lined with pictures of the children, past, he supposed, and present. It seemed she had added her own personal touches to the room, with the couch and a display of garden flowers in a vase in front of the fireplace.
She told him how the home worked and admitted it was unusual to take such pains to ensure any child that was adopted was placed in a good home.
"You see, Inspector, I was found, unconscious and cared for by the nuns at the Sisters of Mercy. Nobody came forward to claim me and whatever drugs I was given robbed me of my memory, so I want to afford children who are abandoned the same chance." She smiled, he was so easy to talk to.
"So, this man," he wrote a few notes on her history, "you have never seen him before?"
"Well, there is a man who hangs around," she hummed, "I never see his face, but I don't like that a grown man should take such an interest in children, I am not so naive that I don't know there are people who ..." she hesitated to finish her thoughts.
"Quite, so ...?"
"James, our gardener usually sees him off," she smiled, "James has grown up here, he is a little simple so for his bed and board he tends the gardens for us."
"Do you think he would know him?"
"Please, feel free to ask," she stood up, "I'll come with you, he can be a little shy."
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James wouldn't look at the Inspector, he kept his head down and continued sweeping up ... nothing of consequence.
"James," Matron spoke softly and kindly, "the Inspector would like to know if you know the man who hangs around by the gate."
James mumbled something.
"It's quite alright, James, only a man has been found dead by the gate and we need to know who he is," she touched his arm, "you're not in trouble."
Jack wasn't so sure about that but if it got something out of the boy then he would leave it at that ... for now.
"Do you know his name?" She asked again.
James shook his head.
"Not even his first name?" Jack too kept his voice soft.
James shook his head again.
"Thank you, James," Jack stowed his notebook in his pocket, "well, for now, Matron I shall leave you in peace, but the constables will need to ask questions of the staff, and perhaps if the children have any comments to add ..."
"You would ask children, Inspector?" her eyebrows shot up to the line of her starched cap.
"No, Matron, not immediately," he tried to placate her, "only if they know something. Children can be remarkably observant, I have found." He thought of Jane Ross.
As he left he turned, "Matron, I'm sorry," he smiled, "your name?"
"Jane Fisher," she clasped her hands in front of her, "though part of that is the name the nuns gave me, and the other is because I was always fishing for information."
He blinked, they'd never found Janey's body, Foyle had sent them to a set of graves but not one of them held Janey. Phryne had railed at Foyle, sobbed in Jack's arms and thumped his chest so hard she had left bruises. Foyle had been killed in a prison fight that nobody saw, though Jack was under no illusion backs had been turned. It hadn't stopped Phryne's search for the truth, slowed it up and it was not the in the forefront of her mind, anymore, but she still kept the file and any bits of information that came her way. Could this be Janey? Was this why the eyes were so familiar? He would have to do some more digging before he put that to Phryne.
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Jack was glad Phryne was out of town, investigating in Daylesford. She phoned almost daily to see what he was up to and to let him know how her case was going, a case of blackmail that the victim insisted was kept very, very quiet. It was a boring case, the victim, a wealthy young woman who had been seeing someone who wasn't her husband had been observed. The blackmail notes had started and just got more demanding as time wore on. She was running out of money to pay them and had eventually realised it wasn't going to stop. She'd heard Phryne Fisher was discreet and called her. Phryne had to keep calling Jack to keep a grip on her sanity as the young woman was still carrying on with her lover. Phryne could not get her to see that she needed to stop. Her husband was a pleasant enough chap, bland but pleasant, but - "Still waters run deep, Inspector," she breathed over the phone, one evening.
"Quite, Miss Fisher," he agreed, "so, how long will it be before you clear this one up?"
"Not long, I hope," she sighed, "I think I have an idea what is going on and if I'm right I think I'll double the fee and give it to a good cause."
"Plenty of those around."
"How's your case going?"
"Young man killed by the children's home. Not known to any of the staff, apparently he used to hang around the gate and look at the children. The gardener used to move him on, a simple lad, former resident." Jack gave her a quick rundown.
"How did he die?"
"Throttled, according to Dr Macmillan," he sat back in his office chair and put his feet on the desk as it wasn't currently occupied, "crushed hyoid bone."
"The gardener?"
"No, not him, scared of his own shadow," Jack huffed, "not any of the staff, I'm wondering about visiting doctors, perhaps."
"Well, I'll be back as soon as I can be, Jack," she breathed his name which did unseemly things to his nether regions, "perhaps I can be of some assistance?"
The only assistance he could think of at that moment was to relieve the tightness in his trousers.
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Jack and Hugh interviewed all the doctors that visited the home, tracking them down at their other places of work, hospitals and surgeries. Most were open about their admiration for Matron Fisher some admitted they were smitten with her, more than one said she was too pretty and too young to devote her life to abandoned children and should be stepping out with one of them. It was those that Jack concentrated on. He had no doubt that Matron could fend off unwanted attentions in a very gentle way but she had that inner core of steel that reminded him of the woman currently banging her head against a brick wall in Daylesford, but he didn't want Phryne back, just yet.
"Collins, nip up to the home and ask Matron about these three doctors," Jack handed him the files, "they are all too interested in her as a woman and potential wife. I'm wondering if they would see off this fellow permanently in a misguided attempt to show that they would protect her."
"Don't think she needs that much protection, sir," Hugh nodded, "I think the children and nurses are more than capable of doing that, if she can't do it herself."
"Quite."
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Speed was of the essence in Jack's side investigation. Phryne had called and told him she would be back in two days time.
He sat in Mother Superior's office, a little nervous. The last nun he had dealt with had been somewhat frosty. He couldn't have been more surprised when a cheery voice interrupted his thoughts and she sat down opposite him. She motioned him to sit, smiling at his perfect manners in standing as she entered.
"Now, Inspector," she hummed, "you want to know about Jane Fisher, I hear?"
"Yes, I don't know if you remember her," he relaxed, "she is Matron of the children's home."
"Oh I remember Jane, a lovely girl, perfect for the home. What do you want to know?"
"I should like to know where she came from and how?" he didn't think he'd framed that very well, but it seemed she understood him, perfectly.
"Jane was found in our church, unconscious, drugged. We cared for her, nursed her back to health and she stayed here to be educated before choosing nursing as a profession. She had no memory of her name or where she lived, but when we named her 'Jane', simply because that was where we were up to in the alphabet, she always said it had a familiarity to it," she passed a file over to him. "We do our best for these children, Inspector, no child was listed as missing at the time, we checked, so she became a ward of the church. She's not in trouble, is she?" She had a sudden thought.
"No, in fact, I have a feeling I may know who she really is. When I met her, her eyes reminded me of someone I know, very well." He took the file and scanned through the pages. All the dates matched those that Phryne had given him when they first tried to find where Foyle had buried Janey and the details of the drug used, which matched the effects they had had on Phryne that day he thought he was going to lose her, though Phryne had not suffered any memory loss. "May I borrow this?" he lifted the file.
"Of course, if it is the woman you are looking for please let me know. It would be good to know she has family, she deserves it."
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He sat in his office and read the file properly, all the details matched, everything, the clothes she was wearing and the state of them. They were out with her age by a year, but that was no matter. The one detail he was looking for was there - the blue ribbon. Phryne kept the one she had picked up at the circus, the one she kept as a reminder that she felt she had failed her younger sister. It went with her everywhere, tucked in her bag usually, occasionally fashioned into a bow and pinned to a matching blouse or dress by the ever faithful Dot, and if he couldn't see it he had no doubt it was pinned to her under clothing, in some way. Jane had one, always tied in her hair. As she always wore a Matron's nursing cap, Jack had only seen the hair that peeped from the band, as fair as Phryne's was dark. He believed he had found Janey, and that Foyle had no idea she had survived.
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Phryne had invited him to dinner, both cases cleared up. One of the doctors had killed the vagrant, in a vain attempt to show Matron how he would protect her, and also to remind her she was a woman in a man's world and needed protecting. While saddened at his action, Jane had given a huff he had not been able to hide his smile at, that she needed protecting. He wondered how she would feel at finding out her sister was a private detective and also had the same opinion of men who wanted to protect her. He wanted to protect Phryne - from herself, she could manage the thugs herself!
Her case had found that the lover was the one sending the blackmail letters, as she had feared.
"No one else could have done it, you see, Jack," she paused in eating her chicken, "he couldn't afford his extravagant lifestyle so chose to fund it through blackmail."
"So, what has she done about it?"
"Really, Jack, I could slap her," she put down her fork with a clatter. "She forgave the idiot and that is that. Her husband, poor soul, still has no idea, and I'm not going to tell him, so her life goes on as it did before, only now the lover doesn't have to blackmail her, she funds the dinners and what not herself."
"He's a kept man, then?" he smiled.
"He is."
They finished dinner chatting about this and that, she thought that the children's home would be a good cause to give the extra fee to, and he was rather glad she didn't know it was run by her sister.
"After all, Jack," she tipped her head and grinned, "I don't plan on becoming a parent myself."
"Though I am sure you would be a remarkable mother, if you did," he went a little red at this, it was a feeling he had long held, after she took in young Jane.
"Twaddle!" she laughed.
"Jane seems to have survived," he commented.
"Don't push your luck, Inspector," she stood and held out her hand, "care to try your hand at draughts?"
He was glad the conversation on childrearing had come to a natural conclusion, he was backing himself into a corner. He had hoped she would suggest draughts, it was when he planned to introduce his findings.
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He lost two games in succession, not because he wanted her to win, but because he was trying to summon up the courage to introduce the subject of her missing sister. In the end he decided to use the ribbon, tied to her wrist that evening, as an opener.
"I see you are sporting an unusual bracelet this evening, Miss Fisher," he nodded to the article.
"Dot suggested it as another way to wear it, you know I always do," she smiled.
"True, but," he sighed, "Phryne, what would you say if I told you I think I have found its partner?"
"Janey? You know where she is?" she swallowed a large mouthful of brandy.
"I am ninety-nine percent sure," he put his glass down and reached for her hand, "but first, if I am wrong, I am most dreadfully sorry to lead you down the wrong path."
"How? Where?" she stood up.
"Sit down," he pulled on her hand, gently, "I need you to read this, first."
He reached over to the side where an envelope leant against a decanter. Pulling a single sheet of paper from it he handed it to her and waited while she read how the child had come to the nuns. It was only the start of the story but it was the part she had to digest first, ask questions on if she felt the need.
"Jack, it sounds so possible," she whispered, tears in her eyes, "but this is only how she was found and that nobody reported a child missing. Father was supposed to have done so."
"The Mother Superior assured me they had asked at all the stations but nobody had reported your sister missing."
"So they kept her." She put the paper down, imagining her sweet sister toiling away in a catholic orphanage and now living as a nun.
"They cared for her, Phryne," he touched her hand, "educated her, as they did all the children they had there, set her on the road to a career as a nurse."
"I thought ..."
"That she would be wearing the veil, or crushed by the weight of the church. Not all nuns are like the ones who dealt with the girls at the laundry, some are actually rather nice." He smiled. "Tomorrow I shall take you to the woman I believe is your sister. She knows nothing of you, though I did think maybe I should warn her you are here in Melbourne. But then, she wouldn't know of your elevation to the nobility, would she?"
"This is something to do with your case, isn't it? You have to tell me that much, I shan't sleep if you don't," she urged, "please, Jack."
"It is," but he would say no more.
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Matron was surprised to get a call from the Inspector, again, asking her if she minded him bringing someone to see her.
"I don't of course, Inspector, but ..."
"I'm afraid it is a sensitive issue, Matron," he smiled down the phone, "but I should be prepared for a surprise, even a shock."
"Oh, goodness!" he could almost see her eyes widen, just like Phryne's did when surprised.
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Phryne wasn't sure if he was taking her to a nunnery or to a house of ill repute, so dressing was a problem the following morning. Eventually she settled for white trousers, white silk top with fine straps and her black and white coat and hat. Janey's ribbon was pinned to where the left strap of her top met the body.
Jack insisted on driving in his car, she would be too distracted to drive herself and indeed she bombarded him with questions all the way to the children's home. So intent was she in getting any information out of him she barely noticed which way they were heading.
He congratulated himself on being able to redirect her questions so when they pulled up at the children's home she was quite surprised. It surely held a link to Janey, thinking back to their conversation the previous evening.
He held the door for her and offered her his arm, which she accepted graciously.
"It's rather nice," she observed, "not at all what I would expect."
He nodded in agreement, "there's James," he pointed to a young man sweeping up grass cuttings, "he used to send the vagrant off with a flea in his ear."
"A brave young man," she smiled in his direction, "he could have got himself into all sorts of trouble."
"Indeed," he steered her to the front door, "the Matron is waiting for us."
"Jack?" she looked at him but his face was a mask.
"Oh, Inspector Robinson," a nurse opened the door, "Matron said I was to rustle up some tea when you arrived. She's in her office," she nodded to Phryne, "Miss."
"Good morning," Phryne smiled and thanked her.
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Jane had watched them walk up the path. Jack had never mentioned he had a wife, and this lady didn't look the sort to be married to a police officer. Surely they weren't looking to adopt a child. Jane couldn't imagine the reaction to sticky, jammy fingers on those white trousers.
"Inspector Robinson, Matron," the nurse let the visitors into the office, "tea will be along shortly."
"Thank you, Nurse Donovan," she turned to Jack, "Inspector, lovely to see you again, though I thought the case was solved."
"It is, Matron, this is another case, an old one, if you choose." He drew Phryne's attention away from the pictures on the wall, "may I present Miss Phryne Fisher, your sister."
"Phryne," she whispered and fell into the couch, suddenly to fog cleared.
"Janey?" Phryne blinked, "is it really you?"
"Well, they called me Jane when I turned up at the church," she patted the couch, "sit, please. Phryne, ha," she laughed, "we had a little girl arrive at the home, 'P' was the letter we were up to so I chose Phryne, not knowing where I had heard it before ..."
Phryne reached over and touched her face, expecting it to melt into mist, like it did in her dreams, "Janey," suddenly she laughed, "you named a child in a catholic children's home after a Roman courtesan," she fell into Janey's arms and sobbed with relief.
Jack quietly withdrew to let the sisters talk, tell their stories.
"Tell Miss Phryne Fisher to call when she wants me to collect her, please," he tipped his hat at Nurse Donovan, "I think I'm surplus to requirements."
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It was late when he called to collect her. No phone call had happened so he had phoned the home himself to see if they had had enough of each other. The two sisters had talked as much as Janey's duties allowed her, Phryne had dined with the staff and children, a situation she found odd in the extreme, and watched Janey competently and gently deal with the children, organise games in the garden and see them off to bed.
They were drinking tea in the office when he arrived so he waited until they had finished.
"Well, Inspector," Janey teased, "you are a dark horse. How long have you suspected?"
"Your eyes gave it away," he smiled, "you have the same eyes."
"And a little detecting as well, I suppose," she smiled, "thank you, for filling in the pieces. There was always something missing, something to do with this," she took off her cap and showed the ribbon holding her fair plait in place. "Phryne has shown me that she kept the other."
"Yes, if I can't see it it is usually in her bag," he thought he ought not to mention she probably attached it to her underwear, he didn't know how either of them would feel about his thoughts on that.
"Janey has promised to come to dinner next week, you will join us, won't you, Jack?" Phryne slipped her hand round his bicep, "please?"
"I would think I would be surplus to requirements if the Fisher sisters are reminiscing," he patted the hand.
"Nonsense, Inspector," Janey laughed, "if it hadn't been for you, there would be no reminiscing."
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"Thank you, Jack," she sighed, sleepily, "for all this that you have done."
"My pleasure, Phryne, my absolute pleasure," he drove them home, noting the calm face and relaxed shoulders.
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"Whisky, Inspector?" she turned her key in the door, "care to let me beat you at draughts, again?"
"You must be tired," he smiled, prepared to head home, alone.
"A little but not ready to sleep," she admitted, "I suppose I am still a little excited."
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She told Jack how Janey refused part of the inheritance, saying she would only spend it on the home so she proposed that she would make sure there would always be funds to keep it going.
"I think I can have a fund set up for it, from my money," she pouted as he took her last piece, "perhaps help out with the cost of the teachers."
"I think that sounds like a good idea," he set out the board again, "perhaps help the older children find employment or help them to further their education, like the nuns did for Janey."
"A scholarship, you think?"
"Perfect," he agreed, taking two pieces, "you're not concentrating."
"I don't know how to thank you, Jack, I really don't," she sipped her whisky, "is there anything ...?"
"I'll settle for a kiss," he winked, "if you've a mind ..."
"Just a kiss, Inspector ..?"
He smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
'Perhaps,' she thought, 'one now and maybe one in the morning, who knows ...'
She smiled back ... and wiped the board.