Another ending. Another closed chapter. And as always a little sadness. Since this might be the last time I finish a Phryniverse story - no promises - I would like to take the chance to thank all of you for your support, your patience, your love. It's been an amazing journey, not always pretty, but amazing nevertheless and I am eternally grateful for your company on it. I can't count the times your feedback made me laugh, ponder or gape and that was a priceless experience. Thank you, thank you, thank you. And since I am now actually struggling for words, lets just get on with it. Because...
Chapter 49: Everything Ends
She found her in a chicken coop, where she was spreading grains with a flourish gesture to the excitement of the feathery audience.
"Gone under the farm hands then?" Mac asked.
"I am helping out. It seems quite natural, considering we are non-paying guests."
As a slim smile lit Hazel's face, a strand of hair escaped from her do, mixing with her flushed feature into a beautifully tousled picture. Mac's heart ached in her chest, yet she stood, trying say what she needed to.
"I came to ask if you are all right," she finally ventured. "You've disappeared on me earlier."
Hazel shrugged and couldn't be convinced to answer until Mac wrestled the grain bucket from her lover's hands and fixated her with the most penetrating stare.
"I admit I didn't enjoy being assaulted by this madman in the streets. And I certainly don't ever wish to watch anyone hold a gun to your head again!"
Hazel retrieved the bucket, continuing her work in silence. Mac watched her while standing back in order to avoid chicken poop on her perfectly pressed suit. How she had survived her adventure without a crease was anybody's guess.
"There will always be madmen," the Doctor said after several minutes of only excited clucking and scratching filling the air. Again Hazel shrugged.
"I am aware of that."
More silence followed before Mac felt ready to express what she didn't want to - but felt she had to.
"Maybe we should be more careful... and I certainly wouldn't blame you if- "
"Hold it right there!"
With no little amount of determination Hazel moved across the coop, not caring in the slightest about chicken poop on her own shoes. Mac watched her in astonishment, as her hat was taken from her, revealing that the Doctor's hair hadn't quite remained unscathed in last night's adventure after all. She didn't move an inch as Hazel reached out and gently brushed a stubborn red lock back into place.
"Why are you saying silly things like that?" she asked Elizabeth who was fighting for her countenance. She didn't answer, instead looking as stubborn and composed as usual - a pretence that couldn't hold in the eyes of someone who loved her.
"At times it seems just too hard," she finally ground out. Hazel smiled while she thought of a reply.
"I believe someone told me on Jack's wedding day that there was no need to shout my feelings from the rooftops but that hiding this love was out of the question."
"I don't recall using those words," Mac protested.
"You didn't have to."
With a cheeky grin, Hazel lowered the Fedora in her hands onto her slightly dishevelled hair.
"I knew what I'd gotten myself into, and I haven't encountered a moment of regret thus far."
"You might regret it if you don't unhand my hat this minute," Mac breathed, but made no move to retrieve her property.
"Make me," Hazel challenged. The following kiss could have been considered blatant bribery, yet nobody decided to press charges.
X
He was peeling potatoes! John Robinson had rather hoped he would never have to battle with the root vegetable again after his wife's death, possibly the one and only upside of losing his Anna. Grumpily he stared at the massive mountain that had to be processed in order to feed 15 people. He should have said 'no'. But then, how could he? Grace Harper had been nothing but nice to the colourful collection of hotel guests and employees inhibiting her house.
John huffed, wiping some sweat from his brow.
A pair of laughing voices drew closer and his back stiffened at the recognition of who they belonged to.
"I see you've been put to work," Phryne quipped, as she stepped into the kitchen.
"It's quite healthy, you might want to try it, my dear," he returned without looking up from his occupation.
"Thank you, I've only just finished feeding the lambs," she grinned. He wasn't certain if that was the truth, but then one never knew with Phryne. "And now I should better get packing, I rather hope to get on the road before darkness. If your son should feel inclined to return from the station in time."
He didn't get to ask what exactly she was intending to pack since the fire had destroyed all the belongings they had brought but the clothes on their backs. Instead he was left alone with Mia Green, who was currently fishing a knife from the drawer.
"Mind if I join you?" she asked, already sitting down and grasping for a potato.
"Can't say I do."
For several minutes they worked in absolute silence while John watched his annoyance grow. The prospect of being trapped in Phryne's car at night time didn't fill him with joy. Despite this, he had decided to accompany the Detectives as Rupert and Iris wouldn't leave until the morning. It didn't help his mood that Mia Green was wearing perfume again. God only knew how she had produced it after all her belongings had gone up in smoke. A potato used the moment of his distraction to slip through his fingers and roll over the table before disappearing underneath it.
"Oh for..." he swallowed down the rest of the curse, remembering that there was a Lady present, even if it was Miss Green. Said lady was otherwise occupied as he noticed a moment later, when her cheek brushed over his thigh during her attempt to retrieve the escaped vegetable.
"Would you mind?!"
She returned from her mission, holding a slightly dirtied potato and a triumphant grin.
"I don't recall you being this shy, Mr. Robinson."
"And there I thought it wasn't worth being remembered," he spat, snapping the offensive root from her palm.
"I've never said that," she smiled, picking up her knife again. "And it wouldn't have been the truth. The night was very enjoyable indeed."
John absolutely refused to blush, but his cheeks didn't seem to care.
"I would still prefer if you didn't mention it," he hissed, instead of admitting to the heat that was rising in his stomach at the memories she'd provoked. She turned her head, and damn her, she was smirking in a way that he recalled all too well.
"And why is that, John?" she asked quietly. The way she made his name sound rendered him momentarily speechless.
"I... I don't think it appropriate or doing either of us justice," he finally ground out, returning to his work. To his utter annoyance she didn't answer, instead just continuing to peel her potatoes in a slow, thoughtful manner that he couldn't seem to ignore.
"I don't recall you being worried about propriety either," she added after some time of angry peeling on his side and some thought on hers, looking at him with the most seductive of expressions. John exploded.
"Will you stop teasing me! I am a married man!"
They both stared in amazement at each other at his outburst, before he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head slowly.
"I am still devoted to my wife," he said firmly. "I don't think you understand."
"I understand perfectly," she protested quietly. "Constable Robinson."
John picked up the knife he had angrily dropped. "How long have you known?" he asked.
"The instance I've spotted you at the hotel," she admitted. "In fact I was wondering when I first met your son... His features do show some resemblance, even though he doesn't sport this very attractive uniform you used to."
John shook his head in disbelief.
"I can't even understand that you remember."
She hummed under her breath, stripping another defenceless potato from it's peel.
"You came every day of my trial, without fail. And you smiled when I was released from the charges. Everybody in this courtroom wanted to burn me at the stakes and you smiled."
"I was a police officer and I had followed the trial," John grumbled. "You were innocent, justice had been served. Of course, I was bloody smiling."
"I've no doubt," she said. "Yet you had disappeared when I tried to speak with you."
"I was married," he repeated stubbornly. "It would have hardly been appropriate."
Mia smiled absent-mindedly.
"I had no intention of ravishing you in the middle of a courtroom, it merely would have been nice to talk to a friendly face."
His ears burned at her suggestion as he searched his brain for a lie that could withstand her scrutiny, but after some consideration, he settled for the truth.
"I felt you were dangerous," he ground out, willing her to understand.
"Of course," she grinned, her voice mere inches from his ear. When he looked up, he couldn't help but notice the glimmer in her eyes. "I had just murdered my fiance."
He shook his head, breathlessly staring at her.
"I never believed..."
John didn't get any further, as his lips, quite on their own account, decided to kiss her. The sound of blood beating in his ears drowned out the world and any thought. It was amazing and breathtaking and terribly, terribly wrong. He retreated quickly, gasping some breath into his lungs.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what has gotten into me," he stumbled out, slipping from the bench.
"I have a faint idea," she quipped, but he fled the kitchen before she could stop him. Mia stayed behind. Staring at the pile of potatoes, she sighed deeply.
X
The sun had already decided to set by the time the Inspector finally felt able to return to Harper's Station. He spotted his wife as soon as he drove onto the yard. She was leaning against her car in company of Dr. Mac, sharing a cigarette. Elizabeth greeted him briefly before rubbing out her gasper on the ground.
"I'll leave you two lovebirds to discuss the details," she announced before doing just that.
"What details?" Jack asked, sounding worn after the short night and long day too far away from home.
"In essence if you would like to leave right now or after dinner," Phryne grinned. Jack raised his eyebrows at her.
"I believed us to be staying until the morning?"
She shook her head, unable to suppress her amusement at the hint of hope in his voice.
"While I do enjoy Mrs. Harper's hospitality, I believe we shouldn't overstay our welcome," she explained while he stepped closer. She raised her hand to touch his tired face with some sympathy. "And I seem to recall that my husband longs to go home."
Jack smiled.
"In that case I don't see any reason why we shouldn't leave tonight."
"We will take dinner first," Phryne decided on the realisation that he had likely lived of coffee alone for much of the day. "Your father peeled the potatoes."
"We, of course, couldn't let that go to waste," the Inspector grinned without moving. He was rather aware of John's live-long conflict with the vegetable. "Have you finished all of your business to your satisfaction?"
"Quite," she breathed as he leaned in, pressing her against the car to kiss her. "There is something I would like to discuss with you before we head inside though," she added, when he finally retreated, his face lit up by the soft evening light. "I believe we have another quarter of an hour."
He nodded wordlessly, offering his arm. Wandering along the pastures, where the silhouette's of the horses stood dark against the burning sunset, they shared the details of their day.
"I released all three bodies tonight," Jack explained as they halted at the fence, his hand playing aimlessly with the timber on the grim subject. "But since Evie Harper took her own life it might be quite a struggle to get her laid to rest on the cemetery."
"I believe the O'Neills might have other plans..." Phryne explained with an air of mystery and added after he shot her look: "It appears they are considering to return her bones to her resting place underneath the Kurrajong, along with her son's remains."
Jack nodded. It seemed awfully fitting.
"I never told Wilson that Harper had reconsidered before he shot him."
Phryne sighed.
"It might be best not to think about that too hard. The whole affair is dire enough without pondering it's pointlessness."
They walked on, the dying day dipping everything into a glorious shade of orange.
"It appears Mr. O'Neill has found his fight again," Jack smiled after several minutes of companionable silence. "Through no intervention on your part, I am certain."
"I had little to do with his change of mind," she protested with a simper. "The late Mr. Harper on the other hand was very convincing."
Jack measured his wife briefly with unconcealed pride and fondness, before remembering to check his emotions.
"It remains to hope that Mrs. Harper can also be convinced in time."
"Going by her smile this afternoon, I believe they will be just fine."
Prevailed by his arm wrapping around her, Phryne leaned her head against Jack's shoulder as they returned to the house. He sensed his heart fluttering in his chest. It wasn't often that she so obviously rested on him in a public place.
"Lets get through this dinner," he murmured before releasing her, "I ache to go home."
And so they did, taking their leave little later with warm words of gratitude to all of their hosts.
As John seated himself in the back of the Hispano after bidding his farewell to the part of his family who was to stay behind until the morning, he found himself confronted with company he hadn't expected.
"Miss Green?"
She didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed.
"Mr. Robinson."
"Did you get lost?" he asked before he could stop himself. She didn't look lost at all, he noticed though, but rather as if she was ready to take a journey.
"Not quite. Your daughter-in-law has offered me a position this afternoon. I've accepted."
"I believe she needs neither a maid nor a dancing instructor," he grumbled.
"But she does seem to be in want of a nurse," Mia Green smiled. "Or her assistant rather."
"You won't mind sharing the back seat for the trip home, will you, Father?" Jack asked, climbing into the front seat. A scowl was all he received in answer and the Inspector had to bite back a laugh.
They waved their goodbyes as they drove from the yard, the winding road leading them down towards the town of Woodend where the lights glimmered in competition with the stars. To their left the Hanging Rock rose against the black sky.
"I may have never looked forward so much to a warm bed and a bath," Phryne said after a while. "Possibly apart from our adventure in Collingwood."
Jack grinned into the night.
"I can't wait to listen to Jane playing a faint resemblance of 'Waltzing Matilda' on the piano," he added. Phryne shot him a glance before returning her attention to the road.
"You might have to teach her properly for both our sanity's sake."
He didn't answer, just snuggled into his seat and enjoyed the drive through the night while the Rock and in it's shadow a proud Kurrajong tree, disappeared slowly into the distance.
X
Well, can't finish a story without some nonsensical anecdotes, can we? How about a few little details I did not know when starting to write this story:
Most of Hanging Rock doesn't overlook the race course. There is, however, one place which fit's the description of Phryne's dreams, and therefore the location of Evie's suicide, perfectly. It's called "Lover's Leap".
Considering that I was always going to burn it down, I was attempting to create a fictional hotel. No such luck. The "Victoria Hotel" stands proudly at Woodend's High Street - and does a damn good steak, too.
Talking about hotels... once upon a time there was a "Hanging Rock Hotel". It burned down in 1930.
During posting this story I struck up a friendship with one of my fellow writers. About three days into our acquaintance she sent me a picture of Hanging Rock - taken from her house.
When choosing a place near the Rock it was a toss-up between Newham and Woodend. Finally I took a map and went with logic - inadvertedly ending up writing about Nathan Page's hometown. The realisation made Jack hating Woodend a whole lot more ironic.
