It's been a long time between stories for me. I've been tinkering with this one on and off over the last year, mainly for fun and something to do on my train trips to work. I wasn't sure if I'd post it, but have been buoyed by all the lovely reviews and messages I have received since I posted my last story. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed or favourited my stories. It really means a lot to me.

This one follows on from Little By Little, Day by Day but it's not necessary to read it - it should work as a stand-alone story. Hope you enjoy!


The captain stood on the bridge and watched the elegantly dressed woman walk to the bow of the ship. He assumed she was seasick and was seeking fresh air, but when she appeared again in rough seas she strode to the bow on sea legs that would put an old salt to shame. She returned again and again, always to the same spot, where she would place both hands on the rail and gaze out to sea.

As the journey wore on, he started to see patterns in her visits. On Sundays, while the rest of the passengers sought absolution in the chapels down on deck D, she would be at the bow. She didn't come every day, and rarely on calm days, but when the weather turned treacherous, forcing passengers as green as the ocean to heave in their cabins, she would grip the rail with bare hands and offer herself to the elements. Never had he been so intrigued by a passenger. No, it was more than that, he was captivated. Who was she? He wanted to know more, he wanted to know why.

As captain of a busy ocean liner, he was expected to occasionally play host, but the war had left him wounded and scarred with a disposition to match so he wasn't gregarious and almost never mingled with passengers. Glimpses of personality, fragments of lives and the odd fleeting acquaintances were usually enough for him. But captivation soon became obsession, so he made an effort for her by visiting the lounge more than usual to watch her.

When he first searched for her, he moved quietly through the smoky and crowded room after dinner, his eyes seeking her out as he nodded to the gentlemen and tipped his cap at the ladies, until a distinctive laugh cut through the upper-class gabble. It was her, he was sure of it. He snaked his way through the guests to find her.

When he saw her, he stopped abruptly and gaped at the dazzling woman before him. Could this woman really be her? Leaning against the bar, cocktail in hand, she radiated charm as she laughed and flirted with a sizeable audience of covetous men. Surrounded by people, she seemed so lively, so full of life, so unlike the troubled soul who sought solitude at the bow.

After a few nights of covert observation, looking for a sign of the person he thought her to be, he finally saw it. In those seconds between smiles he detected something darker: sadness, loneliness, but mostly it looked like regret. She was seeking forgiveness, he was sure of it now, but for what and from whom? Never would he know, but love played a factor, of that he was certain. Pathetic fools, he thought to himself as he watched the men circle her, jostling each other for prime position. They were moons to her planet, needy satellites locked into orbit by her considerable allure. What chance did they have with her? He smiled knowingly. Next to none.

He turned from her for the last time to let her get on with her journey, thankful for the distraction and smug in the knowledge he still had a talent for deciphering people. He should have left it at that and moved on, but she played on his mind and he regretted not introducing himself. He hoped he would run into her on his six-week holiday with relatives in Melbourne. He didn't, but when he captained another ship back home to England, he would see her at the bow once again.

-/-

Phryne sat in the back of the cab, nervously fingering the envelope that was handed to her on the dock. She sighed heavily as she shut her eyes and leant her head back. She should feel overjoyed at being home after nine months with her parents and six weeks of ship-bound torment, but she was numbed by solemn news that was delivered by Mac, who sat in the back with her so she could fill her in on the prognosis. Phryne stared out the window, too shocked to take in every word.

"... happened yesterday ... incredibly lucky ... still in danger … complete rest ..."

"I know this is terrible news, but I am confident that everything will be fine." Mac said, touching her hand, causing Phryne to jump. "Phryne? Are you listening?"

"Sorry, yes ... well, mostly." She turned to her, she was pale and her brow was creased with worry. "Thank you, Mac," she said, giving her a small smile and a squeeze of her hand. "What would I do without you?"

Mac smiled back, "I'd hate to think. I have the rest of the day off so I can accompany you to the hospital later if you like."

"I'd like to go now."

"Right now? Don't you want to drop off your bags and freshen up first?"

"No, I want to go now. Will you come with me?"

Mac squeezed her hand understandingly. "Yes, of course."

When they arrived at the hospital, Phryne told Bert to park in the bay reserved for doctors, ignoring Mac's protests. Tucking the envelope into her purse so she could read it later in private, she opened the door and got out before Bert could open it for her. She moved slowly and without her usual poise; her legs were still unaccustomed to walking on land. Mac walked ahead so she could hold open the door for her.

The noise and pungent smell of disinfectant and ammonia jolted Phryne out of her stupor and she was suddenly acutely aware of her surroundings. She pushed through people with various injuries and illnesses, relatives waiting anxiously for news of their loved ones. She moved more purposefully now and was led up a flight of stairs and away from the bustle of admissions, thankful to leave the noise and commotion behind as she walked towards the private wing. Mac stood outside the door and nodded to Phryne, who took in a deep breath before reaching for the door knob.

She entered the room and stopped. Although she had seen many a strong person reduced to a shell of themselves after injury, as if their very being had left the now useless body to find more suitable lodgings, she was unprepared for what she saw and she became emotional. She walked quietly to the bed and sat gently on the edge, reaching for the limp hand that lay on the covers in a loose fist. She held it tightly in her own and gazed at that once proud and strong face.

"Aunt P?" she whispered, squeezing her hand, "It's Phryne, I'm home."

Her aunt's eyelids fluttered open and then widened. "Phryne dear! You're home. So pleased."

Phryne was relieved at her coherence. Her speech seemed a little slow but her diction was excellent. Her aunt wasn't one to let a little stroke get in the way of her well-rounded vowels. Phryne watched as she struggled to sit but gave up. She was tired and became frustrated and flopped her head back onto the pillow.

"Blasted body!"

Phryne raised her eyebrows. She had never heard her curse before. She leant forward to kiss her on the cheek.

Her aunt smiled. "I'm so pleased to see you, my dear," she said slowly. "How is your mother?"

"She's fine, Aunt P. More importantly, how are you?"

Her aunt waved away her question. "Just a little set-back, my dear. I want to hear all about your time away, but first, get me out of this god-forsaken place, would you? I can't bear it any longer. I am recovering quickly and can have a private nurse look after me at home."

"Aunt P, you mustn't be impatient," Phryne said gently. "You are in capable hands here. Mac tells me you were very lucky it was a mild stroke. Yes, you will recover quickly, but the risk of having a more serious one is high so they need to keep you here for a little longer. You just need some rest. I will take you home only when I am told it is safe to do so."

Mrs Stanley huffed out a sigh and rolled her eyes. "Very well, but I want you to call my maid and have her bring me my meals. I'm not eating the swill they produce here."

Phryne promised to talk to her maid and then filled her in on her sister's health and the reunion of her parents, leaving out the yelling and smashed crockery. After about forty-five minutes, her aunt's eyelids started to droop.

Phryne patted her hand. "You're tired. Get some rest now, Aunt P. I need to go home, unpack and bathe. I will visit you tomorrow morning."

After kissing her aunt on her cheek, Phryne left her room to find Mac. She eventually found her having a cigarette with Bert out the front by the car. After a quick hug goodbye, she got in the cab and blew out a breath in relief at her aunt's prognosis. Although she was desperate to go home for a bath and a nap of her own, she dreaded having to face the other major complication in her life that had caused her much sorrow and confusion these last few months. She didn't expect him to be there to greet her, but when she stood at the top of the plank and spied her small group of friends, she was disappointed he wasn't with them, despite the awkwardness it would have caused. Only when Hugh explained his absence and passed on the envelope did she allow herself to relax a little. She sighed and leant her head back. She'd bathe and then read his note with a drink. She'd had enough heartbreak for now.

It was late in the evening by the time Phryne sat in her parlour with a hammering heart. She held a whiskey in one hand and Jack's envelope in the other and stared at the wall in front of her. No matter how much she tried to distance herself from him, he still affected her deeply. She puffed out a small breath, placed her drink on the table and picked up her letter opener, slicing the envelope open with a flick of her wrist. It contained a single page that had been torn from a notebook. It was written in Hugh's neat hand, no doubt dictated to him over the telephone.

She scanned Jack's strained pleasantries until she found what she was looking for and let out the breath she was holding. He was acting in a position in Geelong and was due back in a week or so. There was no number for the station or the hotel he was staying in. He would be hard to reach, he explained, and would telephone her sometime when he returned. Sometime. It wasn't like Jack to be so vague, but she understood. He was avoiding her, and would contact her when he was ready. She should have been relieved, but his aloofness unfairly saddened her. She pocketed his note, downed the rest of her drink and took herself off to bed.

Two days after her arrival, Phryne was roused from her sleep by a shrill ring, which was quickly replaced by the muffled rumble of Mr Butler's telephone voice. She sat up and blinked. Still groggy from sleep, her first thoughts were of Jack. No, he wouldn't be calling. Aunt P? She quickly put on her robe and raced downstairs where she was relieved to see Mr Butler's warm smile.

He placed a hand over the mouthpiece of the telephone. "Good morning, Miss Fisher," he said brightly. "It's Doctor Macmillan for you. Tea and toast?"

She smiled at him gratefully. "Just tea for now, Mr B."

He gave her a small nod and beamed at her as he handed her the receiver.

"Mac, what's happening? How is she?"

"Good morning to you too, Phryne," Mac replied sarcastically. "Your aunt is doing well, almost back to her usual self I would say. She is demanding to go home and be tended to by a private nurse, rather than, and I quote, endure being prodded and poked by persons of questionable breeding. She is truly terrifying. We all drew straws to see who would tell her she needed to stay a day or two longer."

Phryne smiled at her aunt's antics. "Yes, that does sound like the Aunt P we all know and love. Why can't she go home? She'll be more relaxed there."

"Yes, she probably would, but she may try and get back to living her life as it was before. She needs to relax and do nothing for a while. She can go home when her blood pressure drops a bit. It's still too high. Just a day or two longer and then we'll send her home. In the meantime, she's asking for you, well demanding actually, that you come right away and bring her an edible breakfast. Her cook is unwell, apparently. Oh, make sure you tell Mr Butler to cut back on the salt."

Phryne smiled. Although she was still worried about the threat of a more lethal stroke, she had to admit she was grateful to have something to do that morning.

"Tell her I will be over as soon as possible."

-/-

Phryne entered her aunt's room and was relieved to see her sitting up and looking more like her usual self. She brightened immediately and made room for Phryne and Mr Butler's hamper on her bed. With more energy to talk now, she launched into a long-winded condemnation of insubordinate doctors, ill-mannered nurses and the cleanliness of her room, only pausing from her diatribe long enough to devour Mr Butler's fine food.

After getting most of what she had to say off her chest, she took a deep breath, looked earnestly at Phryne and paused. "Phryne, dear."

Phryne looked up at the mention of her name. "Hmm?" She half expected to be admonished for not paying attention.

"I must confess to having an ulterior motive for asking you to visit me."

Phryne smiled and patted her hand. "I know, Aunt P, Mr Butler's food."

Her aunt looked sheepish. "No, it's not that, dear."

Phryne raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"

"I need to talk to you about something."

Phryne frowned and moved a bit closer. "What is it?"

Her aunt took a deep breath. "When one has looked death in its steely eye," she began, as if delivering a Shakespearian soliloquy, "one tends to reflect on one's life."

Phryne groaned inwardly and changed positions to get more comfortable. This could take a while.

"Apart from the loss of dear Edward and problems I have had with your cousins, I have sailed through life with few challenges. I always thought myself to be invincible, a trait I believe I passed on to you, my dear," she said, smiling and patting Phryne's hand. "I had a temporary setback after Arthur's death, may God rest his soul, but I never really imagined that I could go so soon after him."

Phryne tutted and reached for her hand. "Don't be morbid, Aunt P. You have a lot of life left in you yet."

Her aunt frowned and clicked her tongue impatiently. "Save the platitudes, Phryne. There's nothing quite like a near-death experience to increase one's awareness of one's mortality. My doctors have been alarmingly forthright and I have been forced to admit I am elderly and not in the greatest of health. Anyway, despite what you think, my dear, I am not being morbid. This incident has changed me. I now see that I have taken everything I had for granted: my social standing, my loved ones, my family ..." She paused and looked at Phryne earnestly. "You must never do that, promise me that, Phryne dear."

Phryne frowned, unsure how she felt about this outpouring of sentiment from her usually guarded aunt. She nodded.

"I am not a demonstrative person," her aunt continued, "and I am generally uncomfortable talking about how I feel, but I now know how important it is to tell your family, in any way you can ...," she looked down at her hands, her voice wavering with emotion, "that you love them."

Phryne was alarmed to see her aunt's eyes brimming with tears. She reached out to touch her, only to have her hand swatted away.

"I have regrets, most of them about my role as a mother, and," she hesitated, looking at Phryne, "as an aunt. I know I have been unsupportive of your ... vocation, I don't think it's a very ladylike pursuit, and not even my near-death experience seems to have altered that view, but I want you to know that I greatly admire you. I have always admired your bravery and tenacity, but mostly your amour proper. You have always been true to yourself, even when society looked down its well-powdered nose at you. As a child, you refused to conform to how others thought you should look and act, and as difficult as that was for your mother, a small part of me hoped you would never change, that you would never let society, or your father, beat the individuality out of you. I think being comfortable in one's skin, to truly be yourself is an admirable trait in very short supply."

Phryne smiled at her aunt and gave her a quick squeeze of her hand. Her aunt smiled back before continuing.

"Being stuck in this wretched place has given me time to reflect on the things in life that matter. So, I suppose what I am getting at, Phryne dear, is that once I am out of here, I would like to spend more time with my family, you in particular." She paused and swallowed. "Which brings me to the favour I want to ask of you."

Phryne sat up a little straighter, "Favour?"

"As you know, I have many commitments," her aunt said quickly, "but I have been ordered to rest. Under no circumstances am I to partake in any of my usual duties. Well, you know how much I hate being idle, so I thought I could take a short trip to visit a dear friend in the country." She paused, lost in thought. "It's her seventieth birthday. She's having a party and all our old friends from school will be there. Those still alive, that is," she added quietly. She paused again and took in a deep breath, as if to steel herself for what she had to say next. "I know you are just back home, Phryne dear," she said gently, flicking her eyes up to look at her briefly, "but I am hoping you will accompany me. It's been quite a while since I have spent time with you, so I thought it would be a good opportunity to visit Cornelia and spend some time with my favourite niece."

Phryne opened her mouth but didn't know what to say. "I'm your only niece," was all she could manage.

Her aunt smiled and squeezed her hand. "A little joke, my dear. Has spending all those months with your father robbed you of your sense of humour? It wouldn't be for long," she added quickly, "just a week or so, but it would mean I could relax in the country with you and my dear friend, breathing clean air. I could even get a little exercise," she said, grimacing in disgust. "She has a lovely homestead and I am sure we will be quite comfortable. She even has a separate cottage, where you may like to stay. I know Jane is not due home for another six weeks, so the timing is perfect. What do you say? Will you accompany me to visit Cornelia?"

Phryne felt flustered. "Where does she live? When is the party? How will we get there?"

Her aunt hesitated. "Well, the party's next Saturday and I was hoping you would drive us there. She runs a sheep station on the edge of the Murray River. It's quite picturesque."

Phryne pursed her lips. "That's a very long river, Aunt P. Where exactly is the property?"

"It's in New South Wales, actually. I don't know where exactly, although I believe it's not far from Swan Hill. As the crow flies," she added quietly. "Do you know it? About half way between Moama and Mildura."

Phryne gaped at her. "But that would take a whole day to get to! Couldn't your driver take you there?"

Her aunt rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. "My dear, Mr Jones can certainly drive, but he couldn't steer a conversation to save his life. I would die of tedium before we made it to the outskirts of Melbourne." Her aunt reached out to pat her hand. "You are quite missing the point, Phryne dear. Yes, I know it's a considerable imposition, especially since you have just returned home after so long away, and I'm sure you have a long list of people you would like to see, but I have missed you terribly. This is a chance to spend some time with you before I shuffle off this mortal coil. You'll be home living your glamourous life again in a week or two. Being stuck at home doing nothing will do me in, I am quite sure of it."

Phryne narrowed her eyes at her aunt's manipulation. She sat quietly and bit her lip as she considered her request. Normally the idea of a long car trip and a week in the country with her aunt would fill her with utter dread, but she had to concede that the thought of living her life again as it was before didn't thrill her either, given the issues with Jack. Unusually for her, she craved solitude, but news had spread quickly of her return and the telephone had rung almost constantly. A brief sojourn in the country would give her a legitimate excuse to decline the numerous invitations to parties and tea and allow her some time to think things through, however painful that may be. She had to admit, her aunt was right, the timing was perfect.

Mrs Stanley looked at her hopefully. "Take your time to think about it, my dear. We wouldn't leave straight away, I know you need to recover from your travels and reacquaint yourself with your friends.

Phryne looked at her aunt's worried expression. She smiled and reached forward to take her hand. "No need, Aunt P, I will do it. If you're up to it and the doctors agree, we can leave as soon as possible."