A/N – And … the story continues. Jack and Phryne head off to do what they do best; but first they must reach a détente. Not always easy when you each think you're in the right. Just a bit of fun on the journey.

Oh, and in case it needs stating: I own nothing to do with the very superior ABC Drama, Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries. If I held any influence at all our intrepid heroes would have fallen into bed with each other by the second episode (sorry, I'm not very classy). But then, all that delicious unresolved sexual tension would have been resolved, and how boring would that be?

Apologies for any liberties I may have taken with actual facts – time is sadly limited at the moment so research has been sketchy, and the urge to write too great to ignore.

Thanks for reading and special love for reviews (they keep us all going).

Chapter Two – A Slight Misunderstanding

Jack Robinson chose a backward facing seat on the train that would deliver them to Bairnsdale, leaving the window free for his travelling companion, Miss Phryne Fisher. A faintly dyspeptic look came over his face as he mentally corrected himself: his 'wife', aka 'Mrs Frances Richardson' to his 'John'. Just how Phryne had wheedled her way onto the case would probably remain a mystery to him for all eternity. All he knew was that by ten o'clock the morning after her pronouncement that she was going with him, an order came through from above that the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher was officially a consultant, and a back story that included his new 'wife' was hurriedly constructed, much to his disgust. Well, damned if he was going to make it too easy for her! He settled back into the leather bench and tipped his hat over his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest.

The lady in question wisely kept her own counsel for the first hour or so of their journey, outwardly unaffected by Jack's uncommunicative demeanour. She judged by the sour look on the part of Jack's face she could see, that discretion in these circumstances was indeed the better part of valour, and kept her smiles for the scenery. Although she found his determined silence tedious after the first few miles, she reluctantly acknowledged that she probably deserved it. But she knew him well enough to know he wouldn't hold a grudge for very long, particularly against her. That was part of the reason they worked so well together. Still, she found didn't enjoy being ignored by Jack, regardless of the circumstances, nor being on the receiving end of his anger, regardless of how well he managed to subdue it.

The grimy outer suburbs of Melbourne had given way to the gentle rolling foothills at the fringe of the Alpine National Park before Jack had calmed down enough to unstiffen his limbs and start to look around him, although he studiously avoided looking in Phryne's direction. Well actually he'd been sending her sidelong glances since Ferntree Gully which she pretended not to notice, but they were almost at Warragul before he actually spoke to her. She was however under no delusions that it was anything other than Mr Butler's excellent luncheon hamper that finally cracked the shell of Jack's feigned indifference.

She was beginning to despair of him ever speaking her again at all when a particularly violent jolt of the train sent her foot into contact with the wicker hamper Mr Butler had stowed under her seat when he'd helped her into the carriage back in Melbourne. She felt a wave of inspiration that almost made her giddy and she bit down on a smile. She'd always heard that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach, although she'd generally found it be in an altogether different direction. In this instance, though, her target was slightly north of her usual one and she felt the old wives' tale was worth a try.

She knew his interest was piqued at the first rustle of the waxed brown paper that concealed the hamper's contents. Despite himself, Jack placed his hat to one side and sat up just that bit straighter as he eyed the busy workings of her hands with as much nonchalance as he could muster.

"Hungry, Inspector? We've still a fair while before we get to Bairnsdale, and," she indicated the hamper with a comical grimace, "the ice is starting to melt. It would be a shame for any of this lovely food to go to waste."

Jack looked at her levelly for a moment, weighing the satisfaction of continuing to ignore her against the rumbling of his stomach, before accepting her figurative olive branch with

good grace. "Thank you Miss Fisher, that would be very nice."

Jack took the proffered dish from Phryne's hands with a grunt of pleasure as he inspected the contents; Mr Butler had outdone himself. Knowing Jack's fondness for fruit de mer, there was crab, smoked salmon and a particularly fine smoked trout paté to choose from. He even spotted a tiny jar of Beluga caviar tucked into the corner of the basket, no doubt for Miss Fisher's benefit as he hated the stuff.

"Any of those cheesy biscuit things Miss Williams makes?" Jack asked hopefully. Phryne handed him another packet without comment and watched, fascinated, as he tucked into the food with unabashed pleasure.

Jack looked out the window. "Pretty country, don't you think? I've never been this far east along the coast." His tone was conversational and totally unexpected after his unwavering silence for so long.

Phryne shook her head, lost for words at his about turn. It would seem all those old wives knew a thing or two about men after all. Jack's dark mood had magically lifted with his first bite. Until that point she had been certain there was nothing a man could do that would surprise her. Once again it was Jack who had surprised her.

His smile was almost boyish as he looked back at her. "You're not eating? Best enjoy this type of fare while you can, Miss Fisher. It will be some time before you can indulge those expensive tastes of yours again." The Inspector's tone was teasing, and it had to be said a little indistinct as he tried to speak around another mouthful of food.

Phryne just smiled, "I'm sure the Morrison's cook is more than capable of producing something adequate."

Jack took another bite of the delectable paté, closing his eyes in pleasure as the flavours burst on his tastebuds once again. "I'm sure she is, but I fail to see what difference that's going to make."

Phryne was still frowning and Jack shot her a sympathetic look and continued by way of explanation, "I'm afraid I'm not up to much more than a half way decent fry up. If you want anything more sophisticated you'll have to do for yourself."

Phryne continued to look perplexed and it suddenly occurred to Jack that they were yet to properly discuss the case and all that his – their – cover would entail. He put aside the remains of his meal and tried again, "We'll have to look after ourselves, Miss Fisher. After all you can hardly expect -"

"What on earth are you talking about? Although I never thought for a moment we'd be dining with the family, surely there is some arrangement in place for their staff."

"No doubt, Miss Fisher. And as a single man I would have been included in that arrangement. But, as a 'newly married' employee in a position of some esteem," the look he gave her now was edged with irony, "I have graciously been allotted the benefit of a cottage on the grounds. We're on our own." He picked up the remains of his meal and crunched through a stick of celery while he watched a variety of emotions flit across Phyrne's face. He couldn't resist a final sally, "What's the matter, Miss Fisher, accommodations not quite up to your usual standards?"

Although he instantly regretted the jibe, she looked so comically dismayed Jack laughed out loud, his amusement edged with something vaguely mean spirited. He shrugged off any misgivings that niggled at him. It wasn't often he saw Phryne Fisher quite so nonplussed and he found he was enjoying it. Perhaps a little too much, but it seemed he hadn't quite let go of his annoyance at being manipulated after all.

Phryne was thoughtful for a moment before her face morphed into her usual expression of sang-froid complete with her signature smirk. "Inspector my standards have often been the subject of heated discussion, but I can assure you, you won't be disappointed."

Stay tuned for the next instalment. There will be gardening. There will probably be Jack in a singlet under the hot Australian sun. There will probably be tears before bedtime. They will very probably be mine.

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