A chapter in which Jack finds out just how emotionally vulnerable Miss Fisher can be, when she hasn't got anything to keep her occupied. A kind of bridge between Melbourne and London.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The journey from Croydon Airport to Kensington flew by. Miss Fisher drove much the same in London as she did in Melbourne, Jack was not surprised to find this and hadn't expected any different. In fact if she had driven sensibly and abided by the speed laws he would have put in a call to Dr Macmillan immediately, fearing she had had a brainstorm of some kind!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The house was a double fronted Victorian villa with a small front garden that was well tended and filled the air with the fragrance of roses. Miss Fisher pulled up and almost leapt out,

'Here were are!' she grinned, 'home. Well, for now.'

Jack walked round the car to stand next to her, 'What do you mean, Miss Fisher, for now?'

'My home is in Melbourne, Inspector,' she turned and tucked her arm through his.

As they walked up the path, arm in arm, which Jack found faintly unnerving, this hadn't happened in Melbourne; but she was too busy talking to notice any discomfort he may be suffering.

'...so father purchased this house.' She was telling him about her father selling the estate, 'of course mother was furious. She likes the house, it's just that he did it without telling her.' The door opened to reveal a tall, thin and somewhat imperious looking butler, who looked as if he had a bad smell under his nose.

'Miss Phryne.' He intoned.

'Chivers, this is Inspector Robinson,' Phryne ignored the pompous tones of the man, 'his bags are in the car.'

'Very well, miss.' He took Jack's hat and coat as Phryne carried on speaking to him.

'I'll show the Inspector his room, Chivers,' she carried on through the hall and up the stairs.

Jack was surprised at the way she greeted the man. Usually she took her own bags out of the car, but she had stopped him picking his up, and told him that would be seen to.

She opened a bedroom door, 'You're in here, Jack.' She turned to him and smiled then noticed his face. 'Chivers gets really upset if I do anything that might be deemed to be his job.' She sighed, 'he's nothing like dear Mr Butler, he's ever so serious.'

'So how do you get away with showing me my room?' He asked, standing on the threshold of the room.

'I told him before I came to collect you, I wanted to.' She pulled him into the room. It was a warm room, with a double bed, a dresser and a wardrobe. The bed looked inviting, plenty of pillows, a dark green cover that matched the curtains at the windows. 'You have your own bathroom through here,' she opened a door to the side of the wardrobe, 'shower or bath, take your pick.'

She turned and smiled. 'I've missed you, Jack,' she said simply, but honestly, and went to stand right in front of him.

He looked down at her, 'I missed you too, Miss Fisher.' He smiled, 'it was far too quiet and I had all my biscuits, and...nobody sat on my desk.' At that precise moment he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her red lips, firmly and passionately, but he had only just arrived and didn't think it would be particularly good form.

'You must tell me what everyone is up to over tea, but I'll leave you to freshen up after your journey.' She headed to the door, 'come down when you're ready, to the drawing room.'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jack stood at the bottom of the stairs wondering which one was the drawing room, Miss Fisher had left that little bit of information out. Using his detecting skills and noticing that only one door was ajar he headed for that; he was right. Phryne was sitting on the window seat, gazing out onto the garden, her knees drawn up and her arms around them, she seemed deep in thought. He waited for her to notice him. After about a minute, she hadn't turned round so he went over and gently touched her shoulder.

'Miss Fisher?' He whispered.

'Jack, sorry,' she turned and flashed him that wide smile that had been missing from all his cases, large and small, 'miles away.'

'Are you alright?' He was sure there was something bothering her.

'I'm fine,' she uncurled her slim legs, 'I sit here sometimes and half expect Cec and Bert to arrive with Jane or Dot.' She looked up at him and smiled. 'Now, tea,' she went over to the fireplace and pushed a button in. He vaguely heard a bell ring somewhere in the depths of the house. 'I miss just going into the kitchen to find Mr B, I'd forgotten how formal things are in England.'

Jack looked at her and thought she had lost some of her zest for life. His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening,

'Miss?' A young girl, he suspected the one who'd answered the phone when he rang to tell her he was coming over.

'Afternoon tea, please, Elsie.'

'Yes miss.' The girl bobbed and left.

'See,' she said, almost petulantly, 'I wouldn't have to ring or call for Mr B or Dot, tea magically appears, at home.'

'Miss Fisher...' he went to her and touched her arm, 'Phryne.' And then he was holding her, kissing and stroking the top of her head.

'Sorry, Jack.' She pulled herself together, 'it's been a hell of a week.'

He pulled her to sit on the chaise longue, 'Tell me.'

They were interrupted for a moment while Elsie put the tea things out. There were little cucumber sandwiches, smoked salmon on fingers of brown bread, scones, cakes, meringues and a pot of tea.

'Thank you, Elsie.' Miss Fisher smiled at the girl.

She poured the tea and they took a plate each and loaded it with sandwiches and the smoked salmon fingers.

He waited for her to speak, watching her chew thoughtfully. She swallowed and turned to face him.

'I went up to the attic.' She sipped her tea, 'I knew I had some books there that Jane might like. I left them at the estate meaning, at some point, to send for them. There are lots of boxes up there and I wasn't sure which one was mine, none are labelled. I looked in the first one, it was some lamps and ornaments. Others contained things that mother hasn't found space for, yet. Then I found one, which at first I thought was my books, but it wasn't all of them. The ones on the top were, so I took them out and found things I thought had been got rid of. Oh Jack! I didn't know mother had kept so much, of Janey's things. Her battered school books, a dress, a shoe, I know those were Janey's, her name was inside them.'

'Miss Fisher, I have told you,' he put his plate down and took her hand in his, such close contact between the two was not usual, even though they had shared a hasty kiss on the airfield and she had flung herself at him at Croydon, but his instinct told him this was what she needed, 'you are not to blame for Janey's death. That was all Foyle and he has paid the price for his crimes.'

'I know,' she blinked back the tears that filled her eyes, 'but, usually I have something to take my mind off it, here, all I do is think about it.'

'It will always be there,' he murmured, 'you will never forget, nor should you. Just as I will never forget the men I saw die in the trenches. But you can't let it define you. I do know one thing, she would be incredibly proud of you, proud of all you do to help people, even if you do pinch my biscuits.' He finished with a grin.

'Well you should hide them better,' she began to smile teasing him about his lousy hiding spaces.

'You're too good a detective, Miss Fisher.' He squeezed her hand and they returned to the tea.

'So, what are our friends up to?' She asked as she delicately nibbled a meringue.

'Dorothy is happily sorting out their new home, Hugh says she is constantly surrounded by material for curtains.' He laughed, 'she has the red raggers running errands for her and she is making use of the business cards you gave her, just with small problems, missing family members, servants misbehaving, those sort of things, but she does well, and I have let her look at a couple of witness statements when I need a pair of fresh eyes.'

'Good, I hoped she would,' Miss Fisher really seemed to come alive again, 'and Mr B?'

'He has taken a short holiday at his sister's in Geelong,' Jack told her, 'he keeps the Hispano running for you. Apparently it doesn't do it good to sit without being run.'

'I did tell him to,' she put her plate down. 'I take it Cec and Bert are still running their taxi business, when they're not running errands for Dot?'

'Oh yes.' Jack smiled. Their conversation was interrupted by the front door being opened.

'Thank you , Chivers.' Phryne heard her mother enter, 'put those in my dressing room please.'

'Yes, Lady Fisher,' Chivers was heard to rumble, 'your daughter and her guest are in the drawing room.'

'Some fresh tea, then I think.' Lady Fisher suggested before opening the door to the drawing room, hoping her daughter had heard her and was behaving herself. One never knew with Phryne.

Jack stood up as Lady Fisher entered the room. The first thing he noticed was how like her Phryne was, though the older woman's hair was grey, she had the same generous mouth and large bright eyes.

'Hello, mother.' Phryne went to greet her with a kiss to her cheek, 'this is Inspector Jack Robinson.'

Jack held out his hand and smiled, 'Lady Fisher.' He said.

'Inspector,' she took his hand and smiled back, 'how lovely to meet you, at last. Phryne has told me so much about you, and I must, before I forget my manners, thank you for helping her keep my husband out of too much trouble.'

Jack smiled, he couldn't say it was a pleasure, really, 'Please, call me Jack. I was happy to help Miss Fisher.'

'Miss Fisher?' Lady Fisher laughed, 'such ceremony, Jack.'

'Yes, Jack,' Miss Fisher teased, 'you can call me Phryne, you know.'

'Where is your father, dear?'

'I haven't seen him,' Phryne mused, 'not since I brought Jack back from the airport.'

'Have you recovered from your journey, Jack?' Lady Fisher asked, while frowning at her husband's absence.

'Yes, I see your daughter hasn't changed her driving habits.'

'Hmm...' Lady Fisher pursed her lips at her daughter. 'Phryne?'

Phryne just grinned.

They spent a pleasant afternoon chatting about this and that and things that Phryne wanted to show Jack. As they both enjoyed the theatre she had got tickets to see Noel Coward's new play, 'Private Lives'. It would be quite different to anything they had seen in Melbourne, but it starred the writer himself and was reputed to be a little risqué. That was for later in the week, for the first couple of days Phryne would take Jack round London and they would see the sights.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Henry arrived just as Chivers was serving pre dinner drinks. Whisky for Jack and his Lordship and sherry for the ladies. Phryne smirked. Chivers knew that Miss Phryne was not a sherry drinker and even her mother had asked him not to offer it to her, but he persisted. One day, he hoped, Miss Phryne would behave more like a young English lady. As Henry had to go and change, his daughter took his whisky and grinned at Jack. He raised his glass to her and Lady Fisher, shook her head, but smiled a little smile. Even though Jack had only arrived that day, Phryne had become more Phryne. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing, but she hated to see her remaining daughter anything resembling sad. She didn't know that Phryne had found the memories of Janey and had slept through her daughter's nightmares, that the discovery had produced.

Phryne had a recurring dream of Murdoch Foyle coming for her, holding Janey and offering to swap her, but Janey always disappeared before Phryne could agree to the exchange and she would wake, bathed in perspiration and shaking. She had even taken to sleeping with a small light on by the side of her bed. Going out to clubs in the evening and drinking more than was wise did not help, in fact if anything it made the dreams all the more real, so she had given that up and would sit in the garden with a post dinner whisky, poured while Chivers wasn't looking, and a cigarette, which he also didn't approve of.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Phryne's father would drink most things, including her sherry, giving Chivers the idea that at last Miss Phryne had settled down. Lady Fisher looked at him over dinner, not knowing what he had been up to, hoping that it wasn't another card game.

Phryne was so wise when it came to finances, investing her fortune wisely, so she could live off the interest and gains she made, and she had gone to the bank and insisted that her father was given an allowance. The manager had, at first, resisted all entreaties. Young women should not meddle in finances, they were too emotional for such dealings, and men had to sign as guarantor for all loans for women. That was just how it was. When she told him how much she knew about her father's unwise business dealings and losses at cards or any form of gambling he finally relented and Henry had his 'pocket money', the household bills were paid by her mother and she had her own account for her dressmaker and such things she wished to purchase. The rest of the family fortune, apart from hers which was hers to do with as she would and anyway was being dealt with in Melbourne, was invested and she would review such dealings twice a year.

Dinner was very good, a starter of a light vegetable soup, followed by sole veronique, beef wellington with pommes dauphnoise and green beans, and all topped off by a fresh fruit salad with chantilly cream.

Henry said he had been at his club, all afternoon and apologised to Jack for not being here to greet him.

'That's quite alright, Lord Fisher,' Jack smiled, 'Phryne greeted me quite nicely.'

'Jack, you've known me long enough to drop the formality, it's Henry.'

Jack nodded, it was easier to arrest him if he thought of him as Lord Fisher and tried to forget he was Phryne's father. Not that he was planning to arresting him, that was up to the local force, should it become necessary, but he was sorry he didn't trust the man as well as he felt he ought to.

They adjourned to the drawing room for coffee and liqueurs, Jack was rather glad that he and Henry weren't required, by Chivers, to drink port and smoke cigars while the women had their coffee separate, at least he had bent to this more modern custom. Phryne had whispered in his ear that the butler had been preserved in vinegar in the 1880's and been revived to irk her! Jack had taken a mouthful of wine to smother the laugh that threatened.

Phryne sat on the chaise longue and patted the space next to her, while looking at Jack. She swirled a cognac around in the glass more relaxed than usual, and that was not due to the wine she had consumed, which was negligible.

They chatted about the house in Melbourne, Jack told them something of his younger life, most which Phryne knew, of his family and he was quite open about his marriage to Rosie.

Having met Jack, Lady Fisher thought Rosie's loss was her daughter's gain, though Phryne had always said she would never marry and have a family, it wasn't for her. In the short space of time she had really known Inspector Jack Robinson she had decided he was the one man to change her daughter's mind on all that, because he, she knew, loved Phryne for who she was. Which was the best way to make a marriage work.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Towards midnight Jack excused himself, saying it had been a long day.

'I'm glad you decided to come, Jack.' Lady Fisher said, smiling as he took his leave.

'So am I, Lady Fisher.' He kissed her hand and smiled at Phryne, 'Good night.'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was true, he was tired, although he had managed to catch up with the time difference as he travelled, but the day's travelling had begun to take its toll, and he really was now beginning to feel rather jaded.

He washed and changed into clean cream cotton pyjamas. Sliding between the crisp cotton sheets he soon fell asleep. He didn't hear the other members of the household head to their rooms or the running water in the bathrooms, he slept on.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lord and Lady Fisher headed to bed before their daughter, who was sitting in the garden with her, now, customary cigarette and whisky. She hoped she wouldn't have her dream, Jack's room was next to hers and she didn't want to wake him, to show her vulnerability, even though, from the conversation earlier in the afternoon, he was more than aware she had her Achilles heel, apart from spiders!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chivers looked out to check that there was no one outside and noticed Miss Phryne sitting, apparently lost in her thoughts.

'Miss Phryne?' He nodded to her, 'I am about to lock up for the night.' It was his way of saying, 'time for bed.'

She stood and headed into the house, 'Good night, Chivers,' she said resignedly.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Her bedroom was decorated with pinks, burgundies and creams. He curtains were already closed, and her bed was turned down. Her pink silk nightdress was lying ready for her. She sighed and went to open the curtains a little, just letting in a little of the moonlight. Phryne change into her nightdress, dropping her clothes into the laundry basket, she washed and cleaned her teeth and took off her make-up. She sat at her dressing table and brushed her hair, and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Shaking her head and telling herself to stop thinking too hard she headed to the bed and picked up her book before settling against the pillows to read for a while.

The book, a collection of D H Lawrence, including the new story The Virgin and the Gypsy, didn't hold her attention, and she eventually put it down, sliding under the clean sheets and closing her eyes.

Sleep claimed her relatively quickly but, unfortunately for her, so did the dream.

She was at the circus. The day was bright, sunny and warm. Janey was pulling her back and saying they should go home. they didn't have tickets, but Phryne pulled her so they could see through a gap in the tent. She could smell the animals, elephants and lions, the straw the sawdust and the greasepaint. Then, there he was, smiling, offering something, sweets, a smile. A gap in time, then he had Janey and she was crying. Foyle held out his hand, and beckoned to Phryne,

'An exchange, her for you, the fourth goddess,' but the picture misted over before she could agree, and that's when she started to shout,

'No! Janey!' She sat up, her eyes open but unseeing, her hand outstretched for her sister, 'let her go, please!'

'Phryne,' warm arms enfolded around her, she caught the scent of sandalwood, a masculine smell and soft word invaded her ears,

'It's alright.' Jack held her tight, but not too tight, just enough to control her fight, her fists pounding at his chest, 'shh, Phryne, shh.' He stroked her head and kissed the top of it, taking in the remnants of her Chanel perfume.

Phryne gradually woke properly, and stopped fighting.

'Jack?' She whispered, 'Jack, I'm sorry, I woke you.'

'How long?' He let her lean back in his arms just enough to see her face, 'how long have you been having these dreams, these nightmares?'

'It's nothing.' She tried to make light of the situation, not easy considering she was enveloped in warmth and love, in Jack's arms.

'It's not nothing,' he looked into her eyes, bright with unshed tears, tears she hesitated to let go in his presence. 'is it?'

Phryne's shoulder's sagged, 'I suppose not.' She sighed. She told him about the recurring dream, that had only started after she had found Janey's things in the attic, but it was so real and she was still so eaten up with guilt that all she wanted to do was change places with Janey, who, she was convinced, deserved life more than she ever did. She shivered, the breeze through her window cooling the perspiration on her shoulders.

'You shouldn't think like that, Phryne,' he continued stroking her, 'Janey would not want you to be in her place. How many times do I have to tell you, it was not you who killed Janey, and the person who did that is dead, I watched him die, I watched them put his body in the coffin and bury him, he can't hurt you anymore.'

'Jack...' she gave in to the tears she had never finished shedding, not by Janey's graveside, not by her tomb in the family vault, not into her pillows at night when she was particularly lonely or drunk or angry. '...don't leave me, not tonight.'

He slipped under the covers with her, praying nobody would find them together in the morning, and held her until she finally fell asleep, wondering what he could do to help her. Coming to England and finding those things had opened the wounds that never completely healed. Phryne, he decided needed something to keep her mind busy, but what?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

So, will Jack be found in Phyrne's bed in the morning? What will she find to do to keep her mind busy, or can he finally convince her that it was not her fault?