Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews and words of encouragement. It really means a lot to me.
I meant to say last time (but had first-time fanfiction nerves) that for this story to work, the Christmas special never happened ...
Jack could feel Phryne's eyes on him as he walked from her house. He heard the click of her door locking as he reached his car. He scanned the street for people sitting in parked cars or evidence of anyone watching her house. Nothing. He opened the door, tossed his hat on the passenger's side and slumped into the seat, closing and locking the door behind him. Here in the quiet, he was hit with the full force of what had just happened. He gripped the top of the steering wheel with both hands and let out a sigh, lowering his head to rest on the back of his hands. What on earth had he done? He had just invited Phryne, unchaperoned, to his special place of solace; the one place he could go to that would allow him to escape the horrors of the past few weeks. What if she hated it? Rosie certainly did, her inability to understand his love and need for this place was one of the reasons they grew apart.
His head still resting on his hands, Jack reflected on the impact this house had on people, particularly on his relationship with Rosie. They had gone there together soon after they were married. He was keen to share this special place and his love of the country with his new bride but things had not gone well: Rosie had refused to venture outside, citing a hatred of heat and the many threats posed by nature.
Later, she accused him of overblown sentimentality when he repeatedly expressed his desire to return there with her, instead of other holiday destinations, for a much-needed break. She agreed, reluctantly, to return to the house for a few important family gatherings after Jack returned from the war, only to have her feelings of hatred towards the house intensify. The minute she walked in the door she felt in some way diminished, as if this foreboding homestead, sitting proudly on a harsh and desolate landscape, sucked the life out of her and her marriage. What started as a fissure of difference when they first met, deepened to a chasm of disconnect and nowhere did Rosie feel this more acutely than that house. It felt like a shrine to who he was before the war: the young, carefree man with a passion for life, whom he desperately wanted to become again.
Neither of them had the strength nor the know-how to find a way to bridge this deepening divide. Rosie clung onto her hatred of the house and held it responsible, with all its memories of his childhood fun and laughter, for rooting Jack to the past and denying them the opportunity to move forward together, to live in the present. Jack never understood Rosie's dread in going to the house and begrudged her for denying him the family contact and solace that he desperately needed from the horrors of his memories and post-war existence. In the end, their differing values and deep-seated resentment only exacerbated Jack's existential crisis induced by the war and they drifted irreversibly apart.
He sighed, slowly shaking his head. And here he was now, about to take the one person who could break him to his special place at a time when he most needed to be there alone. Conscious that Phryne may have seen him in turmoil, Jack took a deep breath and sat up, rubbing his face with both hands. He again scanned the street. Seeing nothing suspicious, he started the car and headed home to pack.
Jack arrived at Phryne's house at about 10 pm and knocked softly on her door. He was surprised when Mr Butler opened it.
"Good evening Inspector. Do come in," he said, greeting him warmly and stepping aside to allow Jack to enter. "Miss Fisher is upstairs packing. I will let her know of your arrival. Please make yourself comfortable in the parlour. Would you like a whiskey, sir?"
"Ah, yes please, Mr Butler," Jack replied smiling. "Just a small one though, I have a long drive ahead of me."
Mr Butler smiled and with a small nod of his head, turned to walk up the stairs to her room. He took a step and then hesitated, turning around to face Jack and taking a small step towards him. In a low voice he said, "I hope you don't think this inappropriate of me, Inspector, but I would like to express my gratitude at your insistence that Miss Fisher spend some time away somewhere safe. We have all been so worried about her lately."
Jack couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. Insistence? Mr Butler should have known better. Jack acknowledged Mr Butler's admission with a nod, surprised that he had confided his concerns about Phryne to him.
"And where will you go, Mr Butler?"
"I am off to stay with my sister for a while, to catch up with her family, my delightful great nieces and nephews in particular. If it wasn't for these unpleasant circumstances, I would say that I am grateful for a small break." Mr Butler smiled again and turned to mount the stairs. Jack gazed after him, wondering what it would be like to work for her. Difficult, he presumed, not because she was overbearing but because he believed that her staff deeply cared for her and would therefore spend considerable time, like he did, worrying.
Jack walked into the parlour to wait for Phryne, still feeling anxious about the days ahead. He sat down on her loveseat and stared vacantly into her fireplace. A few minutes later, Mr Butler returned from upstairs with Phryne close behind him.
"Jack!" she said affectionately, putting him at ease immediately. He smiled back at her fondly, rising to greet her. They looked at each other silently, casting their eyes over each other's chosen outfit for their journey. He had dressed casually: cotton pants and a collarless shirt, jumper and jacket. His hair was still damp from a recent bath and was unencumbered by the usual ointment he used to hold it immaculately in place; a small lock of hair was threatening to dry into a curl on his forehead. Phryne had also chosen well: comfortable pants, boots and a plain but warm looking blouse and not an adornment in sight, apart from a colourful shawl that she draped over her shoulders.
Mr Butler returned with a whiskey for each of them and then went to fetch her luggage. They both took a sip, eyeing each other. Phryne leant towards Jack and whispered conspiratorially, "You will be happy to know Jack, that Mr Butler has been busy all afternoon and evening preparing a hamper of goodies for my trip. We won't starve. Well, at least for the first couple of days, anyway."
Jack was considering a smart reply about her lack of faith in his abilities when Mr Butler arrived downstairs with two enormous cases of Phryne's belongings. He raised an eyebrow. "Planning on staying a month?" he asked, cocking his head to smile at Phryne.
"It's not all clothes, Jack. I have other essentials in there like sheets and a few good bottles of whiskey."
Jack managed a small laugh, pleased that they would have her good liquor for their stay. "Good to see you have your priorities right, Miss Fisher," he replied, just as Dot entered the parlour, and gave him a small smile.
Jack turned to Phryne. "I will take the car around the block a few times to see if I can spot anything suspicious. When I am sure that no-one is watching, I will park out the back so we can load up the car. I should only be a few minutes."
Jack swallowed his whiskey and turned to let himself out. Dot, Mr Butler and Phryne sprang into action. After a short time, Jack appeared at the back door, announcing the all-clear. The car was packed swiftly, Dot and Mr Butler said their emotional goodbyes and Jack and Phryne climbed into the car.
Jack started the car and slowly pulled away from the curb, both of them feeling anxious about their journey ahead. They both suspected that their holiday, as they liked to refer to it, would forever change their relationship, but with the tensions of the last few weeks and their growing attraction to each other, neither could say for certain that it would be for the better.
At least we'll be safe, Phryne presumed, as she turned her head to watch her house recede into the darkness.