Axiom Tilt Chapter 1
"No, it's wonderful," she assured her copper-maned friend over the edge of her tea cup, not quite meeting her eye, "everything is fine."
Mac studied her oldest—or rather most enduring—friend in silence as the metronome of her bookshelf clock kept the beat. Finally, she broke the rhythm, "But?"
Phryne Fisher shook her head out of her hypnotized daze. The ticking of the clock was grating on her nerves and was lulling her into a spiral of internal conversation. "But nothing, Mac. It's fine."
"When did lying to each other become part of our friendship?" Mac countered, leaning forward to grab her own tea cup. Phryne rolled her eyes at Mac, "Alright, fine… it isn't all wonderful… but it is… fine," she said with a huff, "It's mostly wonderful. It's nearly perfect. It's just…"
"Not," Mac finished for her.
"No," Phryne set her cup and saucer down then slumped into her chair, picking at her peacock motif scarf.
"So, what's he done?" Mac probed. Phryne tossed the ends of her scarf down at her legs, throwing her hands up in frustration.
"That's just it, Mac…" she sat forward in her chair, "He hasn't done anything wrong… he hasn't done anything… He doesn't argue with me. He doesn't fight me on any of my ideas. He is fine with me going out for all hours. He just doesn't—" she tried to pick the words out of the air but couldn't find them.
"He's not challenging you anymore." Phryne stared at Mac in shock. That couldn't be all, could it?
There was a light knock at the door.
"Come in!" Mac offered in a loud friendly voice.
"Sorry to disturb you Dr. MacMillan," a pretty, young nurse peeked through the now open doorway, "I thought you might like some more of this tea."
"Yes, perfect timing Nurse Isaacs! We've just run out." Mac turned back to Phryne, "Nothing against Dot's tea… it's wonderful. But Rebecca here makes the best damn tea I've ever tasted—bar none."
Phryne snapped herself out of her relationship induced doldrums and smiled brightly at the lovely brunette, "It is wonderful! Thank you so much."
"Oh, it's no trouble Mrs.…" Nurse Isaacs began meekly.
"Miss!" Phryne began a bit too abruptly, even for her own ears, "Miss Phryne Fisher."
Nurse Isaacs paused, mouth slightly agape at her, for a beat, "Sorry 'Miss', it's no trouble Miss Fisher," she curtseyed slightly, "Dr. MacMillan has been so kind since I transferred here, it's the least I can do."
"You've recently transferred here?" Phryne asked to be polite. The young woman looked away embarrassed as if she were hiding something. Mac didn't seem to clock it, but it struck Phryne as odd.
"Um, yes… From Royal Melbourne," Nurse Isaacs absently smoothed out her apron and looked down and away quickly, "Can I get you anything else, Dr. MacMillan? I should be getting back to my patients."
"Of course! No. Thank you, Nurse Isaacs," Mack flashed her a genuine smile. She curtseyed again to them both and made her retreat, closing the door behind her.
"Well… that was odd," Phryne said about a minute after the nurse left the room. They'd been sitting listening to the sound of the clock and sipping their tea.
"What?" Mac looked at her quizzically and then pointlessly toward the closed door, "Nurse Isaacs? Phryne, just because she doesn't want to share all the sordid details of her transfer with a stranger doesn't mean she's hiding something. We were talking about your relationship problems with Jack Robinson."
"I'm not having 'relationship problems' with Jack," Phryne's voice was getting higher pitched, "And I knew there was something going on with her. Have you told her I can solve all manner of…"
"Phryne, it is not your job to save the world. She's already solved her problem. She left it behind at Royal Melbourne. She's just going to need some time to recover from it. There's no case for you here. Drop it." Mac looked at her friend with love and sympathy, "And you can't solve your problems…" she held up her hand to stop Phryne from cutting her off, "you can't solve your problems by not talking about them."
Phryne slumped back into her chair and started picking at her scarf again. She could feel the oppressive weight of Mac's eyes on her as she processed this new idea. She was restless. She had found herself getting increasingly peeved at Jack since they'd returned from their adventures. Noticing things that used to be endearing becoming—annoying.
It hadn't always been easy as they started out this new phase of their partnership together, but they seemed to always get back in step very quickly—at least when they were exploring the world together. The dance at first had been spectacular. And they had always worked things through… and then reverted to old habits… and then worked things through… and reverted. Even the ebbs and flows of their relationship issues were getting predictable.
They had been back in Melbourne for six months now and things were becoming a little rockier. He had to do some pretty fancy solo moves to get his job back, but he did it. They were still allowed to work together on occasion, but the occasions didn't seem to be coming up as frequently as they did before she left in that tiny plane—what was it?—almost two years ago, now.
She loved him. She did. She loved him more than she ever imagined being able to love one man. He was her partner. He was her best friend—even more so than this wonderful woman sitting across from her. He was her lover. He was wonderful. He didn't complain at all when she went out dancing without him. He wasn't jealous when she flirted with other men. They'd talked about it, and he said he'd still want to be central in her life if she took another man to bed—she hadn't yet felt the urge to do that (though that urge was lately getting stronger) but she appreciated that she wouldn't lose him for it if she did.
She felt her mouth go dry. She reached for her tea cup and sipped.
"What am I supposed to say to him? 'Stop being so reasonable, Jack.' 'You're being too accommodating, Jack.' 'Push back on something… anything…?'" she looked at Mac, "You see, it's ridiculous. I have nothing to complain about."
"And it's driving you mad." Phryne nodded and looked at the bottom of her cup.
Mac had to get to her rounds. She had recently returned to splitting her time between the Women's Hospital and the morgue. They said their farewells outside Mac's office and headed off in different directions.
As she walked toward the exit, past the stairwell to her left she heard what sounded like a woman weeping. Ever one to lend a helping hand, she followed the sound down the stairs towards the bottom of the stairwell, "Hello?" she called out tentatively, not wanting to spook whomever was already upset. She heard a sharp intake of breath and a sniffling she recognized as the sound of someone pulling themselves together. She'd done it herself more than once. "It's alright," she called softly, "I'd like to help you if I can. Or if you need a doctor or a nurse..."
"Miss Fisher?" a small voice called from just out of sight at the bottom of the stairs.
"Nurse Isaacs? Is that you?" Phryne thought she recognized the ragged voice of the young woman who had served her tea earlier. She kept descending the stairs, but heard footsteps coming up now. The tear-streaked face of Rebecca Isaacs was looking up at her with red-rimmed, soulful brown eyes. "Whatever is the matter?"
Nurse Isaacs looked at her as if she were about to tell her, her mouth poised open… and then shook her head, "Ghosts, Miss Fisher," she said sadly, "It's nothing. I need to get back to work." She jogged up the stairs past Phryne.
Just as she passed, Phryne lightly grabbed her arm causing her to stop abruptly with a recoiling gasp.
"I'm sorry…" Phryne said, "I didn't mean to startle you." She took out one of her business cards and held it out to the young nurse. "If the 'ghosts' get to be too much, or you need help in some other way, I may be able to help."
Nurse Isaacs stared at the card for a long moment as if struggling to make a momentous decision. Finally, she tentatively reached out her shaking fingers and took the card. "Tha…thank you. Thank you, Miss Fisher," and without looking at the Lady Detective she continued running up the stairs, disappearing around the corner before Phryne could even start her ascent.
She intended to go to City South after seeing Mac, but felt drained after her conversation, so she headed back to Wardlow. A stiff drink, a short nap, and a good dinner were what she needed. She would need some time to think about what Mac said. She knew she should discuss it with Jack. Open and honest had been the agreement. She just didn't know how to start. "You're smothering me with agreeableness, Darling," seemed like a good way to start and lose an argument.
After a game of musical houses, Jack lived here at Wardlow and the ever-expanding Collins family had taken up residence in Jack's small bungalow just north of the Yarra. The house currently worked well for the Collins (soon-to-be) four. It was not far from either Wardlow or City South. It was a solidly built yellow and red brick house with gingerbread trim and a brick-red wrought-iron fence. It never completely suited Jack, but he was just looking for a place that wasn't full of Rosie at the time.
They had discussed whether it was a good idea to live together or not, including variations on the "marriage" question— at length— during their travels. Weighing all the pros and cons along the way, but not really coming to a solid resolution. Where they currently stood was that while neither of them were interested in marrying, unwed cohabitation presented some cultural challenges. Nothing that couldn't be overcome, of course… but worth considering. Most relevant was the issue that both were extremely set in their ways. They weren't entirely sure they wanted to give up their spaces. They decided to decide when they returned to Melbourne.
The decision worked out very quickly thanks to little Teddy Collins. Hugh Theobald Collins Jr. was born right about the time Phryne and Jack set off from Egypt on their airship adventure. The family Collins still resided at Wardlow when the globetrotting detectives finally made their way home, but by that time little "Teddy" as he was known, had mastered screaming at the top of his lungs and running headlong into things— not necessarily in that order. Phryne and Jack adored their godson (honourary nephew, Master of St. Kilda—he had a few titles bestowed on him) just not hearing his screaming at 2:00 in the morning… or having to mind where they put glassware… life with a toddler was one commitment they weren't quite prepared to make! And so, during the second 2:00 a.m. teething/screaming fit, they hit on the solution: Jack would move in, the Collins family would move out. The family Collins officially moved into Chez Robinson within the week.
Phryne let herself into the blissfully quiet Wardlow. She was both exhausted and parched. Her first stop was the drinks cart where she poured herself a couple of fingers of gin, a generous helping of tonic, and added some lime. As she was mixing her gin and tonic, Mr. Butler appeared. "Inspector Robinson rang, Miss," she turned her attention to him, "he sent his apologies and said he might not be able to make it home for dinner."
She nodded lightly at him, "Thank you, Mr. Butler. I might lie down for a little while if you can hold my dinner for a bit."
"Of course, Miss." He bowed lightly and left her alone. She took a long gulp of her drink and decided to just head to her… their room.
"Phryne?" his deep voice stroked her consciousness gently as she gradually became aware his fingers were doing the same to her hair.
"Mmm… Jack?" she blinked herself awake to find the concerned blue eyes of Jack Robinson studying her. The room was dim but for his bedside lamp. How long had she slept? She'd only meant to take a short nap and it wasn't even close to dusk when she put her head to the pillow. The fingers stroking her hair made a pausing stroke over her forehead.
"Are you feeling alright?" he asked gently, "Mr. Butler said you didn't come down for dinner. It's already half nine."
She reached her hand to the back of his head to play with the short hairs at the nape of his neck the way she knew he loved. He closed his eyes in enjoyment for a moment.
"Yes," she finally answered him after taking mental stock of her mind and body. She felt relatively refreshed. She wasn't sure what had come over her earlier or why she was suddenly so tired, but she felt fine now. She did still have a pang of worry that she'd need to have some difficult conversations with Jack soon, but seeing him so close to her right now, she felt nothing but love and desire. "Yes, I feel fine. Have you eaten yet?" He shook his head lightly.
"No. Just got home. Join me?" She nodded and pulled his head to hers for a lingering kiss. His growling stomach broke them apart.
"Come on, Inspector," She said pushing him up and herself behind him, "Let's get you fed."
They made their way down to the dining room and Jack let Mr. Butler know they were ready to eat.
"What kept you so late this evening, Darling?" Phryne asked handing him a drink as he stepped back into the dining room. They settled into their usual spots waiting for Mr. Butler to bring out the meal he'd kept warm for them.
Jack took a long sip as he raised his eyebrows collecting the story, setting down the glass he began, "It's a bit odd, really. A young nurse," he thought for a moment, "twenty-three, I think… just dropped dead in the middle of her rounds. No signs of foul play, she had been agitated, but there aren't any marks or suffocation… no obvious signs of poison." Phryne looked at him in widening horror. "It looks like a heart attack… but she's only twenty-three. Such a shame, really. Pretty girl. So, they called us… Phryne?" She startled at her name. He reached across the table for her fingers. "Phryne, love, what is it?" She had gone pale.
"What," her voice sounded raw and scratchy. She cleared her throat. "What was her name?" He stared at her trying to work out what was going on with her. He speculated she might have a new case and perhaps this was connected.
"Uh… Marjory," he answered eventually, stroking her fingers, "Marjory Murdockson."
Phryne's brows pinched together in confusion. "Are you sure?" she said sharply.
Jack looked at her in surprise. "Um… yes, quite sure. Her parents made a positive identification this evening."
"Where did she work?" she asked.
"Royal Melbourne Hospital. She was a nurse in the mother's ward."
"Royal Melbourne… what did she look like?" Something wasn't sitting right with Phryne and she couldn't quite place it. She felt like it had to be connected to Rebecca Isaacs. It was really only a gut feeling. A moment ago, she had a sinking feeling that Jack was about to tell her the young woman she met earlier today was dead. He had not. But her intuition was screaming at her that there was more to this story than met the eye.
"Uh… as I said, pretty… dark hair. Light skin. Dark brown eyes. Maybe your height. Slender," Jack was trying to get a read on Phryne's reactions, "Do you know something, Phryne?"
"I met someone today that fits that exact description, Jack," said Phryne, "a nurse who works with Mac. Also agitated… young, pretty, dark hair and brown eyes, light skin, slender… Rebecca Isaacs. She got away from something… 'ghosts' she said that still haunt her. She used to work at Royal Melbourne Hospital, as well."
Jack nodded, "Look, I don't know yet if there even is a case… It's rare, but heart attacks do claim young people sometimes… especially in stressful jobs."
"But, Jack…" Phryne started to protest. He held up his hand to pacify her.
"I called Mac tonight, she's going to perform the autopsy and run tests to see if Marjory Murdockson was poisoned or otherwise drugged," he squeezed her fingers lightly, "I'm not officially bringing you in yet, but feel free to make some inquiries…" he twitched his lips at her, "not that I could stop you."
"Thank you, Jack." She offered him a wan smile.
Jack's brow creased briefly with worry but before he could press the matter, Mr. Butler entered the dining room with their food.
"Oh, wonderful, Mr. Butler!" Phryne shook herself out of her funk, "I'm famished." Jack remembered that he, too was starving and dug in with gusto.
After supper, they retired to the parlor. Jack poured them each another drink before joining Phryne on the chaise. She made space for him, and then settled into his side.
"Are you planning to go out tonight?" he asked stroking her arm before taking a sip of his drink.
"Mmm… I'm not sure," she said lightly.
"It's up to you," he was resigned. He was always resigned.
She loved that he gave her full autonomy of her life, but she was starting to resent that he didn't have any interest in being a partner in decisions that might affect both of them. The rational part of her brain raised an eyebrow at her emotive brain and pointed out that she hadn't shared any of these thoughts with Jack and to expect him to just understand them was fundamentally unfair. Her emotive brain stuck out her tongue and sulked off at that observation.
"I'm aware that it's up to me," she said rather more sharply than she intended.
He stopped stroking her arm. She froze. Damn. She did not want to get into this right now. Where had that come from?
"Phryne?" he asked cautiously, "Are you sure you're alright?"
She sighed, "I'm sorry, Jack," she turned to face him, placing a hand on his cheek. His eyes were searching hers for signs of danger, "I think the 'possibly not a case' conversation from earlier rattled me more than I thought. Rebecca Isaacs… there was something so familiar about her fear."
He nodded at her staying silent. "I don't really want to go out if you have a better offer, Jack," she looked at him hopefully.
His eyes softened, pupils dilating slightly. He graced her with a short show of his dimples and crow's feet as he smiled, "I think we can probably think of something," he said his voice dropping to a low seductive rumble. He moved his face closer to hers, invading her personal space to bring his lips close to hers but just out of reach, "draughts, perhaps?" He ghosted a kiss to the side of her mouth. "Or maybe backgammon?" Another light kiss on the other side, "All fours?"
She hummed at him, stroking her fingertip along his jawline, "All fours the card game, or is that a proposition for the boudoir?"
He lightly licked her bottom lip, "Ladies choice."
"You know my opinion of card games, Jack."