Again, thank you for the lovely comments on this story. I am sorry for the delay in updating but I'm afraid real life is getting in the way now school is open. I hope it is worth waiting for.
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Over breakfast Phryne offered to see Commissioner Hall after she had been to see Madame Lyon.
"Join us at the station," Jack swallowed the last of the perfectly fried egg, "elevenish, he should be there then. You can then confirm or deny what he tells me about the club and who he was seeing."
"And if all is good?" she sipped the industrial strength coffee Mr Butler had prepared for her, "he will be re-instated?"
"Hope so," Jack stood up, ruffled Johnny's hair and kissed Aurelie's curls, "best get off, I need to see Perpetua." He walking round the table to where she sat, bent down and kissed her lightly, on the lips, "See you later," he smiled.
She gave a little wave, almost speechless at the simple, familiar act.
As the door closed, she wondered if there would be any need for a bed to be bought for Johnny, at his house.
Johnny and Aurelie watched her thinking, both having similar thoughts, Aurelie still wondering if they had stayed the last two nights why couldn't they stay all the time?
Johnny wondered just how much his father 'liked' Miss Fisher.
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Leaving the children to the care of Mary, Dot and Mr Butler, Phryne headed out to see Madame Lyon, having phoned and asked for a short interview. Madame Lyon intimated it was a reasonable request and she knew Miss Fisher could be discreet should she need to be.
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The club was quiet at that time of day, the girls were having breakfast and attending to their personal needs.
"Miss Fisher," Madame Lyon looked up from the book she was writing in, "good morning. How may I help you?"
"Straight to the point, Madame," Phryne sat opposite her, "it's about Commissioner Hall …"
"I believe he resigned and George Sanderson took over," the woman mused. Phryne thought she detected some distaste in the uttering of Sanderson's name.
"He did, Sanderson was blackmailing him about his visits here," Phryne agreed.
"I don't know why," she put down her pen, "Commissioner Hall came once a week, he had a light dinner and a couple of glasses of wine, a Bordeaux if I remember rightly. Then he would go and talk to Millie. How did Sanderson know he was visiting?"
"He was passed Hall's cigarette case, we were led to believe you passed such things over, as evidence …"
"I never saw the cigarette case," Madame Lyon frowned, "and Millie wouldn't pass it over."
"Who is Millie?" Phryne didn't remember anyone of that name when she performed her, now legendary, fan dance.
"She is a seamstress, she comes once a week to pick up any mending, stays to work in one of the back rooms. Anything that is going to take a long time or is a major rework she takes with her and returns it when it's finished."
"So, Commissioner Hall is not visiting for other reasons? He's not 'involved' with one of your girls."
"He found Millie being horribly abused by a friend of his late wife's, a repair wasn't up to snuff. They aren't friends anymore – he knew she was good with a needle and though he had always attended the club it was only for dinner and light entertainment, and he knew I needed a seamstress. This isn't a brothel, Miss Fisher, you know that; some of the girls may have favourite men, and may go a little further than I would like but it is a private arrangement." Madame Lyon tapped her fingers, "I know Hall wanted to close down brothels, take prostitutes off the streets, and I understand that, but … Sanderson was putting pressure on me, on this club, he wanted proof that certain bigwigs were using the club for more than it is, and then he wouldn't close us down. I'm convinced he was out to get anyone standing in his way. If he closed us down what would the girls do? Miss Fisher, these girls, my girls, are happy, healthy; I've recently engaged the services of a doctor, that is she is willing to come and treat any illnesses, any accidents – not that we have any," she added hastily, but Phryne knew who she was talking about and Mac would tell her if she thought there was anything untoward.
Phryne could see that Hall, Commissioner Hall, was not guilty of using prostitutes, or any other illegal activities, in fact he had tried to support a young girl who was abused.
"Thank you, Madame Lyon," she stood up, "I shall speak to Inspector Robinson, I doubt this will go any further."
"Thank you, Miss Fisher I appreciate your discretion."
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Jack watched Perpetua and the nun across the table in the interview room. Perpetua had finally admitted she was giving Sidney Fletcher the names of the 'good girls' and he was paying her £10 a time, money she was putting into the church funds. All because the Mother of the house would not let her take her vows - she didn't think she was prepared for the life of a nun, she was not humble enough, she did not understand that she would spend a lot of time in prayer, not enjoy the freedom she currently had, to go out into Melbourne.
"But it's all I ever wanted," Perpetua moaned, "to join the nunnery."
"Perpetua, dear child," the Sister murmured, "you are a good woman, at least I thought you were, but you are not made for the church. What will happen to her, Inspector?" She looked at Jack through tired, myopic eyes.
"I'm afraid Perpetua will be charged with Fletcher and Sanderson and Miss Sanderson," Jack sighed, "she was involved and knew what she was doing, and will have to face the consequences."
The Sister stood up and blessed both of them and left with a heavy heart.
Jack stood and saw her out, asking Jeffcote to run the nun back to the laundry, then asked Hugh to take Perpetua to the cells. He would write up her statement and have her sign it that afternoon.
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"Sir," Collins poked his nose in the office a little later, "Commissioner Hall is here, as is Miss Fisher."
"Ask them to step into the office, please, Collins," Jack signed the file and stacked it on the corner of his desk, the one that Phryne didn't sit on. He stood up ready to receive his visitors, smiling as Hall allowed Miss Fisher to enter first.
"Commissioner," Jack extended his hand, "good morning."
"No longer Commissioner, Inspector," he hummed ruefully.
"Well, perhaps Miss Fisher can shed some light on that," he turned to Phryne, "Miss Fisher, I trust your investigation proved fruitful this morning?"
"Absolutely, Inspector," she sat down in the chair and smiled beatifically, "Madame Lyon assures me that Commissioner Hall visited the club for dinner and a couple of glasses of Bordeaux once a week, then went to see Millie, a seamstress he had arranged a position for, to see how she was getting along. Apparently, correct me if I'm wrong, Ernest," she smiled at Hall, "Millie worked for a friend of your late wife and was abused by them?" she raised an eyebrow.
He nodded his agreement.
"So, you found a post for her as you knew Madame Lyon required someone who was good with a needle to repair the clothes the girls wore both for their entertainments and daily wear. Madame Lyon categorically denied that Commissioner Hall was using a girl for sinful purposes, she couldn't imagine why you had resigned, Ernest."
Ernest Hall blushed, all he had tried to do was to ensure that Millie was settled in a job that she could do and that she wouldn't be beaten for no reason at all.
"Seems to me, Commissioner," Jack sighed, "that Sanderson was going to blow up the situation, regarding your association with the club, out of all proportion. I suggest you rescind your resignation, Sanderson certainly won't be claiming the post from a prison cell."
"What do you mean, a prison cell," Hall gasped.
"Sanderson, along with his daughter and Sidney Fletcher – of the shipping family – have been selling young girls to men in the Middle East. They are white slavers, Commissioner …"
"Disgraceful!" Hall stood up and growled, "white slavers? Sanderson was always out for himself, that I did know, but this, well it's unforgiveable. Shall I tell you a secret? I didn't actually post the resignation," he smirked, "I hoped that you and Miss Fisher would find out that I wasn't using prostitutes and I could continue in post … pass me the file Inspector, I shall see that they are prosecuted to the full extent of the law."
Jack handed over the file and breathed a sigh of relief.
"Oh, by the way, Inspector, Miss Fisher, I shall be recommending that City South retains Miss Fisher's services as a consultant on any cases you deem worth her while. If that is acceptable, Miss?" he raised his eyebrows as he looked down on Phryne.
"Perfectly, Commissioner," she smiled, "as long as the Inspector is happy."
"I think that is a reasonable idea," Jack smiled, "we have formed a good working partnership."
"I agree, but I should like you to be discreet, as to your personal involvement with each other, it hasn't gone unnoticed." He grinned.
Phryne had the good grace to look a little coy, whereas Jack blushed to the tips of his ears.
The Commissioner hummed and smiled, he had been young once, but he did feel it was for the best – making her association with the police force semi-professional. He waved the file in the air and left them to muse on his suggestion, his acceptance of her involvement in Jack's cases.
"I didn't expect that," he hummed, "but I'm glad he thinks it's a good idea.
"We get the job done, Phryne," Jack sat back and crossed his legs, "he's always recognised that."
"So," she hummed, "what happened with Perpetua? And what about De Vere?"
"She was giving Fletcher the names of likely girls, the good girls," he sighed, "passing them over to him for ten pounds a time, the money went into the church. Apparently, the Mother Superior wouldn't let her take her vows, didn't think the life was right for her. I think Perpetua wanted to show she could support the church, financially, but selling girls is not a godly act, is it? As for De Vere he seems to have melted into the sea mist, we are still on the lookout but for now we have enough to go to court."
"Not even for a godless creature like me," Phryne huffed.
"What?" Jack was losing track of the conversation.
Selling girls – not a godly act."
"You are not godless," Jack sat forward, "you have more goodness in your little finger than those that run the laundry, that makes you practically saint like!"
"Don't tell my mother, she would disagree vehemently with you," Phryne smiled, "but thank you, from a Roman courtesan to a saint, not a bad step."
"Ah, but Phryne the Courtesan was a good person, wasn't she, I mean she offered to re-build the wall of Thebes after Alexander the Great destroyed them, so that makes her a good and thoughtful person," Jack smiled. "Now to good things that you do, I owe you for the clothes you bought Johnny, and I need to order a bed for him, at my place, maybe a couch for visitors to sit on, too," he winked.
"Have you time to look?" she sighed, rather hoping he had forgotten about the lack of furniture at his house, "I could, if you trust me."
"I feel a long lunch-break coming on," he stood up, "come on, take me shopping."
Phryne thought there were other things they could do in a long lunch-break, but there were children in the house.
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Mr Butler and Dot decided that baking with the children would keep them occupied for the morning and they were all covered in flour by the time they wanted lunch.
"Is a basket going to the station, today?" Johnny asked, hopefully.
"Not today, Master Johnny," Mr Butler smiled, "your father will be back for dinner this evening. I don't do a hamper unless Miss Fisher says so."
"We can share these biscuits with them, at tea time," Aurelie suggested, "or can some go down for Uncle Inspector or Uncle Hugh. They like your biscuits, Dot."
"How about," Dot smiled, "we make up a selection of what we have made, some shortbread, some ANZACs – the ANZACs are a particular favourite of your father's, Johnny."
"They're a particular favourite of mine, now," Johnny laughed.
"You are so alike," Dot smiled, "if I'd passed you on the street, I would have said you have a look of him, and you are like him in nature too."
"What's that mean?" he frowned.
"It means you do similar things, you both like your food, you are both quite thoughtful and quiet and you have a sense of justice …"
"Justice?"
"Right and wrong, because you told your father about Miss Sanderson being on the ship, and you felt she shouldn't be there." Dot smiled and ruffled his hair, "how about we get this cut, before you see him tonight, eh?"
"He said it needed a cut," the boy sighed.
"Well then, why not surprise him."
"Can I have it cut like his, but not quite so short?" he tipped his head to one side, "I mean they kind of scalped us at the orphanage, I've got used to it being a bit more – er … hairy."
Dot laughed and agreed it could be so.
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Jack and Phryne looked in several furniture emporia until the noise of Jack's empty stomach made a sales man turn his head and smile.
"Oh Jack!" Phryne giggled, "sorry, let's go and find something to eat, can't have you fainting on the job."
"It's been a while since breakfast and I'm getting used to being fed, properly, though I shouldn't be," he sighed.
She understood that to mean he wouldn't be staying and she pouted, he could stay, she thought, forever, given how the last few days had gone.
"You will have to eat properly with Johnny living with you, Jack, the boy needs to grow and the pie cart and station tea just won't cut it …" she half teased.
"I can cook, y'know," he huffed, "if I had a couch you could come over and sample my damper topped chicken casserole, it's a family favourite."
"Sounds lovely," she hummed, this was another side to Jack, but then, she supposed that he would have had to learn to cook when Rosie left him, or live off the pie cart. "We'd better look for a couch then, as well as a bed, after lunch."
They found a small café that served a reasonable lunch that would tie them over until dinner. They talked of Aurelie beginning school the next week, their own school days and what Jack wanted for Johnny.
"I want him to be happy, to know that he is loved, to find his own path and not feel he has to follow me …" Jack sighed, "and I want him to have a decent education."
"Not boarding school though," she hummed.
"Lord no!" he gasped, "I want him to come home each night and tell me of his friends and his lessons, to sit with me and read or listen to music, to know my friends, you, Jane, the red raggers, Mrs Stanley … Aurelie, the family you built, I want him to know what a family can be, that it doesn't have to be traditional, that it can be found, like you did …" he felt he wasn't making sense, but Phryne knew exactly what he meant, and that he wouldn't be disappearing from her sight anytime soon.
"Shall we go and find him a bed, and you a couch," she smiled and reached for his hand, "you can both come over to Wardlow anytime you want to, and stay for as long as you want, you are most welcome, wanted in our family, Jack, both of you."
He pulled her palm to his lips and kissed it, folding the fingers in to hold the tender touch. It sent a warm shiver through her, of love.
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When they finally found the furniture they wanted, and that Jack liked, they were told it would be a week before it could be delivered. The couch had to be upholstered in his chosen fabric and the bed would have to be made as the one they had chosen was only a display model. Jack supposed that was only reasonable as to keep a supply of beds and couches would take up a tremendously large warehouse.
"Never mind, Jack," Phryne smiled as they left the store, "at least you have somewhere for you and Johnny to stay while you wait." She might have been just a little bit pleased with the situation.
"I'm afraid I'm taking advantage of you …"
"Take advantage all you want, Inspector," she winked before he realised what he had said, "I might take a few liberties myself."
Jack blushed and cleared his throat, not quite sure where to look.
"Well," he recovered his composure, "I have work to do, Perpetua's statement, then the file needs to go to the solicitors," he kissed her cheek lightly, "see you later."
"Dinner, Jack dear," she returned the kiss, "I shall let you tell Johnny he has to suffer my hospitality for another week."
Jack didn't think his son would mind, and he didn't really. They needed to talk, especially after last night – and that morning!
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Phryne practically skipped back into the house, the idea of Jack staying for another week had caused a little sun to shine in her heart. She would alert Mr Butler and Dot to the fact that they would have house guests for a little longer. Mr B would immediately begin to plan menus that appealed to the Inspector's taste buds, Dot would conjure up ways to keep the young ones occupied and Mary would have to see that Aurelie didn't expect too much, she liked Johnny as the brother her mother was unlikely to give her.
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"I'm sorry, Miss Phryne," Mary stood staring at the carpet, "but … well … I do love him and he so needs someone to take care of him, so … I have no father to give or not give permission – I said 'yes'."
Bruce Adamson had finally plucked up the courage to ask Mary to marry him. He also had come to the same conclusion that there was no father figure to ask for her hand and had asked her outright that day, when she had met him for lunch.
"Miss Aurelie was with Dot and Master Johnny, she said I could take an hour, to go and meet Bruce – I mean Mr Adamson – for a quick lunch. He asked me – sort of blurted it out, but he did mean it and I do want …"
"Mary," Phryne touched her arm, "I've been waiting for him to ask you, I knew it was coming, and I'm happy for you, really, Aurelie may need convincing …"
"I would like to keep a contact with her, and you, without you bringing me here, as her nanny, I would never have met him, so I thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Aurelie won't need me, much. She is starting school …"
"You are part of my family, Mary, always will be, and that means Bruce will have to be put up with that too, does he know that?"
"Oh yes, Miss, I insisted that if you need me, for Miss Aurelie, I need to be available, even if it is just to take her for a walk." Mary had worried about informing her mistress she was about to leave her employ but it seemed she was more in touch with her state that she was.
"And, Mary," Phryne smiled, "if ever you need me, or things don't go as planned, I will always be here for you, and Sammy and Bruce too. Have you set a date?"
"Not yet, Miss. Bruce said I had to speak to you first, he wants to come and speak to you, tell you his prospects he says," Mary giggled, "he's a bit old fashioned."
"At least he doesn't expect a dowry, but I would like to give you a wedding present, as the only family the bride has here in Australia, I would deem it an honour if you would let me pay for the wedding …"
"Oh Miss!" Mary gasped, "I can't ask for that!"
"You didn't ask, I offered," Phryne smiled.
"We don't want anything flashy," she fiddled with her handkerchief, "church, yes, after that …"
"I shall find a suitable venue for a celebration with whoever you want to celebrate with." Phryne sensed the girl's embarrassment.
"Just … just family, Miss Fisher, and may I beg a favour?"
"Go on," Phryne encouraged.
"Would you mind awfully if Miss Aurelie was my bridesmaid, or flower girl, without her …"
"Try and stop her," Phryne laughed, "who's going to give you away?"
Mary blushed, "I really have no idea."
Phryne said she would give the matter some thought and then wished her well. As Mary left the parlour she mused on the situation. It was true she had envisioned such a scene and had already made up her mind that when it did come to pass she would offer as much support as she could, and if that was to host the reception party then she would.
Phryne chose to tell the family about Mary before Jack came from the station. It didn't mean much to Johnny, he had little to do with her, other than as a fellow resident of Wardlow, Dot and Mr Butler were delighted for her but Aurelie was confused. So Phryne took her into the parlour to explain that Mary would be leaving the house when she became Mrs Bruce Adamson. Aurelie wasn't happy, her bottom lip trembled, Mary had been with her for quite some time and if she didn't live with them how would she see her friend Sammy?
"Well, Miss," Phryne pulled her onto her knee, "Mary will still come by, take you for a walk at the weekends sometimes, and they can all come over for lunch occasionally so you will see her. Now," she kissed her cheek, "we have to plan a wedding and a party afterwards. Mary would like you to be here bridesmaid, that means you get to be there, in church, wear a special frock and have a posy of flowers. You will walk behind her when she goes into the church." This cheered the little girl somewhat, that she would have a part to play.
"When, Maman?"
"We don't know just yet, ma petite," Phryne smiled, "there is a lot to do and Mary and Mr Adamson need to find a church that has the time to do the service. We have to send out invitations to the ones that they want to attend, Mary has to have a new dress …"
"It must be a very pretty one," Aurelie decided.
"And white," Phryne smiled.
"OK," Aurelie nodded.
Phryne knew there would be more questions but for now the little girl was satisfied.
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Perpetua had sobbed her way through her statement so much so that she had given Jack a headache and only the thought of a pleasant evening ahead with his son (still pinching himself) and the rest of the family kept him sane.
"Sir," Collins poked his head round the door, "A Mrs Clemmie Martin to see you."
"Sorry Collins," he frowned, "did you say Clemmie Martin?"
"Yes, sir, is there a problem?"
"Send her in, and tea for both of us, please," Jack rubbed his temple, now he had to deal with Rosie's sister – it never rained but it poured.
"Clemmie," he stood politely and offered her a seat, "to what do I owe this pleasure." In truth he had always liked Clemmie, she was sweet and kind, generous and always trying to keep out of the way of her father and elder sister.
"I'm sure you don't deem it a pleasure, Jack," she sat down and accepted the tea Hugh brought in, "you have arrested my father and sister, after all."
"Word gets round," he mused, "I suppose you want to know why."
"It would help," she hummed.
He told her, not in a detailed way, the reason Rosie and her father were behind bars. As he went through the whole sorry story her expression changed to one of incredulity, shock and finally extreme sadness, and he hadn't even mentioned Johnny.
"So my sister and father are white slavers, as is her fiancé, Jack," she put her cup on his desk, "it's like a novel, a rather bad one, but a novel all the same. I really can't believe it."
"I should have known something was not right when Fletcher and George sent Mrs Stanley packing at the New Year ball, telling her that she didn't need to bother with their charities – or whatever - she was quite put out. I have seen a side to your sister I would never have expected."
"Rosie has always been a bit down on those less fortunate that her," Clemmie sighed, "I suppose she would think nothing of where Sidney got his money from, as long as she was well treated and had nice things, but this is heinous." She looked down at her fingers, "Jack, I am sorry."
"You have nothing to apologise for, Clemmie," he sighed, and really, she didn't, but, "there is one thing you may be able to help me with, though."
"Really, what can I do?"
"Tell me about Rosie's pregnancy, while I was in Poziéres," he leant forward.
"Because the baby died at birth she asked me not to tell you. But," Clemmie would find out later how he had found out, "she whined, a lot. Sadly she did suffer quite badly from morning sickness for the first three months or so, then she just complained she couldn't find anything to wear, or that she couldn't get a food she particularly craved, but medically the doctor said she was quite well. She was on her own when she gave birth in the nursing home and wouldn't allow anyone to come and see her until she came home. But she came home without a baby, just said he died and refused to talk about it. How did you find out?"
"Clemmie, oh Clemmie," Jack rubbed his face, "she left the baby at an orphanage. It was by chance he was found on the ship we raided. Miss Fisher found him hiding in a pile of bags of sugar, she went back to the orphanage to get his details so she could find him a better home and there it was, in black and white, his parents Rosie and me, she told the nuns I died at Poziéres. He's staying with me at Miss Fisher's at the moment, Rosie took so much of the furniture I don't have a bed for him, until next week."
Clemmie had gone pale, she gritted her teeth in anger and tears ran down her cheeks. She had children, two – a boy and a girl – and she loved them. She and her husband were not wealthy, but they were comfortable and the children wanted for nothing. To give a baby away because it wasn't wanted …
"She's no sister of mine," she sniffed. "What's he like, your son?"
"Miss Fisher and everyone else say he's like me, same hair and eyes, quiet and thoughtful, they say, his name is John, we call him Johnny. We haven't told him about Rosie, and I don't know what I'll say when he asks, I don't want to lie to him but to tell him the truth …" he sighed, "though he does know about the case and he saw her on the ship at one time, with the Captain. I can't see anything of Rosie in him."
Clemmie thought he probably didn't want to but made no comment.
"I'd like to meet him, one day," she smiled.
Jack liked Clemmie, he always had, probably because she wasn't the favourite daughter and belittled by her father and elder sister and agreed that one day he would introduce her.
"It would be nice for him to know his cousins."
"Well," she stood up, "I had come here to visit them and commiserate with a miscarriage of justice, Jack, but I think I shall distance myself instead. I'm sure you will keep me informed of any developments …"
"We are just getting the case ready for court, Clemmie," he stood ready to escort her out, "they have seen their solicitors to put their defence, all we can do now is wait. The judge has agreed that they are a flight risk so will be kept in the jail until their trial. Needless to say, Rosie created about that. They will be kept in solitary confinement, particularly your father. As a police officer he will be in danger of not making it to trial if left in the general population."
"Father was so pleased with himself when he took over as Commissioner," she observed.
"Well, he blackmailed Commissioner Hall, who is now back in post," Jack shrugged, "much to the relief of the Minister."
"Ernest Hall is a good man," she agreed, "we met him at a soiree Rosie organised. She insisted we attend; I think she wanted to embarrass us but Andrew is stronger than she thinks. Hall was most generous with his time and interest in the way education is going these days."
"Sounds like him," he smiled, "it was nice to see you, Clemmie, even under these circumstances."
"You too, Jack, you take care of yourself, and that boy of yours, I look forward to meeting him in the fulness of time."
She kissed his cheek and wiped the trace of lipstick off with her thumb. "Don't want Miss Fisher thinking you have strayed," she laughed.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he opened the door, remembering that his close association with the Lady Detective that had been commented on by Hall, seems it had spread quite far. He would speak to Phryne about inviting Clemmie over - one day.
Of course, now he had to tell Johnny about his mother. He only knew that he had been sent to an orphanage because she couldn't take care of him, with his father fighting overseas, but the truth would be all over the papers soon enough, he couldn't continue to say, "no comment" every time a reporter stopped by the station and asked pertinent questions about the arrest of the new commissioner, his daughter and her fiancé. He really didn't know what to say, how to explain that his mother was not a nice person, that she had done something so bad she was likely to go to prison for it. He groaned inwardly about it and wondered if Phryne could help him in this regard, maybe use her relationship with René to show that Aurelie seems to have survived without a father, who was a bad lot.
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The situation Jack worried about came home to him as he stepped into the kitchen, Johnny was crying over a portion of the newspaper lying on the table. The reporter who kept skulking around the station had obviously caught a young, green constable and encouraged him to spill the beans.
"Pa?" Johnny looked up and wiped his nose on his sleeve, "is it true, she is my mother?"
Jack, swallowed and opened his arms, "Oh, son," he groaned, "I am so sorry, I so wished it was different, that I could have found a way to tell you the truth, but, yes, Rosie Sanderson and I were married, once. I had no idea she was expecting when I went away to a war I never wanted to fight," Jack drew him the parlour, hoping it was empty – and it was, "Johnny, I am very angry, about what Rosie did, concealing your existence, we were hoping for children, planning a family when I enlisted, I thought it was what she wanted, but it seems I was mistaken. Johnny, never for one moment did I think she would have passed over our child like that, and I celebrate the day Miss Fisher found you hiding on the ship. I have thirteen years to make up to you, for all you have missed … never think her thoughts were mine, because they weren't and they aren't. You are my son, I love you. You know," he went on, reluctant to stop even though he thought he was rambling, "Miss Fisher lived with a man in Paris, Aurelie's father; he was abusive, he hurt her and would have hurt Aurelie but she escaped that, decided to bring Aurelie up the best way she could, without resources except her wits, and we must admit, that little girl is a credit to her mother."
"So," Johnny rubbed his face, "not all families are a mother, a pa and a kid?"
"No, son, they aren't. Mary is marrying a man who has a son, but his wife is dead, many families are missing one parent or another, due to war, illness or criminal activity … you are going to stay with me, because that is where you should be. We may argue, we may disagree, but I will never stop loving you …"
"Pa?"
"Yes, son."
"Thank you, I always wondered what my father would be like, it was nothing like you, I never imagined someone would love me like you do, I never thought I would be a part of a family …"
"Technically that family is just you and me, but …"
"Maybe we can include Miss Fisher and Mr Butler and …"
"All that live or spend time here," Jack laughed, "I think we can, Johnny, I think we can." Jack didn't think this was the end of the matter, he envisioned further discussion, calm and heated, but at least he thought Johnny was secure – for now.
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The conversation at dinner centred mainly on Mary's forthcoming nuptials and who would play what part. Jack didn't think he would be involved, or Johnny, but he hoped he would be invited to attend. Mary was sweet, he appreciated she seemed not to mind Johnny being around and Aurelie wanting to be around him, and she was very caring of her charge.
"Mary doesn't want a big affair," Phryne smiled, "just church and her family around, which I think is fitting – I am awaiting Mr Adamson's visit to declare his intentions, then we shall go forward from there."
"It's generous of you, Phryne," Jack hummed, "to pay for the wedding."
"Well, Jack it is customary for the bride's family to pay for the wedding, and as we are her only family here, I am happy to arrange whatever she wants."
"Can I make a suggestion, or rather an observation?"
"Your input is valued on all subjects, Inspector," she smiled, "and having been the groom at one time I value your opinion."
"Mr Adamson is not a wealthy man?"
"No, he works for a shipping company, not Fletchers," she hastily added, "in the offices."
"So, as a penniless constable back in nineteen-twelve when I was engaged to be married, the bride's family spent rather a lot on the affair. Rosie's dress, the bridesmaids, flowers, the reception …"
"Goodness, Jack," she gasped, "that sounds a little thoughtless, what rank was Sanderson?"
"Same as I am now, Detective Inspector," he shrugged.
"So not exactly rolling in it," she huffed.
"No, and looking back I found the whole thing rather overwhelming …" he sighed and Phryne felt for him, to her it seemed as if the poor lad, as he was then, was rather railroaded into marriage. She could have understood if he had got Rosie in the family way before the wedding, maybe, but even then, it should have been a quieter show.
"Mr Adamson has been married before, as well," Phryne added, "so I can't see him wanting anything too extravagant."
"No," Jack shook his head.
Both Johnny and Aurelie had decided that the conversation was way over their heads and excused themselves as soon as they could politely do so.
"Reception?" he raised his eyebrows.
"I thought, that if it is only family maybe here, if Mr Butler doesn't mind the extra work."
"Knowing him he's already started working out the menu and preparing the cake," Jack laughed.
"Highly likely."
Jack thought he ought to bring up the subject of Clemmie's visit, ask her what she thought.
"Oh," she sipped her whisky, "well, I suppose she was bound to find out sooner or later."
"Quite, Clemmie was always more for her mother than her father, and he wasn't too pleasant to her, most of the time. She's very different to Rosie, her and Andrew are comfortably off with two children around Johnny's age. Andrew is a schoolmaster, in Ballarat, but Rosie was always trying to put him down, no prospects she said."
"Is he a good schoolmaster?" Phryne asked.
"I always thought he was a kind man; I have never seen him teach but he seemed to enjoy his position and he was kind to his own children. I haven't seen them for some time, but I don't imagine they have changed that much. Clemmie said Rosie invited them to a function in the hope of embarrassing them but Andrew held his own and had a conversation with Commissioner Hall, I think they got on well, from what Clemmie said. I was wondering about how I should introduce her to Johnny, she said she'd like to meet him, one day." Jack stared into his glass and swirled the amber liquid round.
"Let's get the case out of the way and the wedding over and perhaps we could invite them over for lunch, one weekend," Phryne touched his knee.
Jack noticed she said 'we', as if their relationship was more solid than he assumed, but more as he hoped. He tied himself in knots thinking about it – especially now.
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In the kitchen, Mr Butler, Mary and Dot, together with the children were talking about the forthcoming wedding – unsurprisingly. Mary didn't want a fuss, Mr Butler said he would stick to two layers for the cake, in that case, and the buffet would be simple dishes that everyone liked. Aurelie requested strawberries and chocolate, and ice cream, Johnny wanted sausage rolls, because Mr Butler made the best he'd ever tasted;
"And dad will eat anything you put in front of him, I'm told," he laughed.
"Indeed, Master Johnny, he will, and I think you are pretty much the same," the older man looked at him and smiled.
"Mr Butler," Mary had been watching him and thinking. He had been ever so kind to her from the moment they met when Miss Fisher went to Ballarat to collect her car, he made her feel a special kind of loved, like a father would. She barely remembered her father, he had been killed in a farming accident when she was around six years of age, and her mother had tried very hard to keep them all together as a family, Mary and her two sisters and two brothers; Mary, being the eldest had been the first to go out to work, straight to the Fisher estate first as a scullery maid then a kitchen maid and finally the maid who would look after Aurelie, "Mr Butler," she touched his arm, "I wondered if I may ask a favour of you?"
"Why, Miss Mary," he smiled, "you can always ask anything of me, if I can help you know I will."
"I know, and you have been so very kind to me, since I arrived with Miss Fisher, so, I wondered, as I don't have a father – would you give me away, at my wedding, please?"
Tobias Butler sat down with a thump, this was not what he expected; he felt a warm buzz in his bones, his heart leapt in his chest and for a moment he felt light-headed.
"Mr B? Mr Butler, are you alright?" Mary thought he had been taken suddenly ill, though she didn't remember him even suffering from the slightest cold.
"Oh, my dear Miss Mary," he patted her hand, "no indeed, I am just so surprised you would deem me the right person for such a position – something I never thought would come to pass. As you know Mrs Butler and I were never blessed with children, and now you ask me to step into your father's shoes – or even those of a brother, I am honoured, deeply honoured."
"So, you will?" she sat opposite him and held his hand.
"With the greatest of pleasure my dear girl, the greatest pleasure indeed," he beamed through tear filled eyes.
"Oh, Mr Butler, thank you," she bent and kissed his cheek, "thank you, thank you so very much!"
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The very next day, Mr Adamson called on The Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher during his lunch hour. Miss Fisher had set him right over his son, Sammy, so he considered her a slightly daunting woman, the idea of setting out his prospects in order to have her agree he could marry her nursery maid, made him feel slightly nauseous – what if she said no? Mary had said she was eminently reasonable and kind and had everybody's happiness at her heart but all he knew was the way she had reprimanded him over the treatment of his son, when his own grief at losing his wife was still rather raw. The man that greeted him at the door, Mr Butler, Mary had said his name was, was kind and gracious as he announced him and ushered him into the parlour. The room was much grander than anything he could give Mary and, though she had been to his little cottage, he still hoped she wouldn't be disappointed at leaving such beautiful premises.
"Mr Adamson," Phryne looked up and smiled one of her most beatific smiles, "how lovely to see you again, do sit down," she indicated the chair opposite her. Seeing as how he seemed rather nervous – clasping and unclasping his hands she sought to put him at his ease and said how nice it was that he and Sammy had entertained her daughter in the park.
"It was our pleasure entirely, Mrs Fisher," still insisting she was a married, or at least a widowed, woman, "she, Miss Aurelie that is, is a perfectly charming little girl." He cleared his throat and started on the little speech he had tried to formulate in his head the previous evening and that morning, "Mrs Fisher, I think you know why I have come here – today …"
She nodded politely.
"I love Mary, I think I might have done since the first time I saw her in the park, she is such a sweet natured girl, and I know I will never be a rich man, though if riches were counted in love, I would be a millionaire …"
Phryne wondered if he had been reading one of Isis Baggott's books the sentiments were a little saccharine for her tastes.
"… still I will never be a rich man, in money terms, I think I can make her happy, in my little cottage with Sammy, she will never want for anything she needs …"
"Mr Adamson," she held up her hand, more to stop the poor man embarrassing himself than anything, "you have asked Mary to be your wife, and she has accepted your proposal. I am glad, I think I have seen it coming for a while, and if it is my consent you are looking for then, I agree. I told Mary I am happy for her but should anything go awry or wrong in any way I shall always be available for her, or you or Sammy. She has no family over here, except those of us that inhabit this house or are part of our, slightly disjointed, family, and her mother is not able to come over here due to ill health, so I would deem it an honour if you would allow me to pay for the ceremony, and a little reception party here. Mary says she only wants a quiet wedding and that is her prerogative."
"We have discussed that, and I am deeply touched that you would do that for her, a maid in your employ …"
"Family, I said, Mr Adamson, and I meant it, and the bride's family traditionally pays for the wedding," she smiled, "and it is my absolute pleasure."
He blushed and saw there was no going back on that, "she was worried about who would give her away, in church."
"Ah, yes, well she has found someone who she feels will fill the role rather nicely. My butler, the man who let you in. He had no children with his late wife and has been nothing but a father figure to Mary, so she tells me, and I believe he was a little overwhelmed when she asked him last night – over the idea of only two layers for the cake – and that's already being made!"
"You are all so kind, yet you barely know me," he gasped.
"Four weeks on a ship, Mr Adamson, and I feel I know you well enough to make a judgement," Phryne smiled, "and I trust Aurelie to know a good person when she meets them. She's very fond of Sammy."
Mr Adamson left shortly after, assured that Mary would be his wife and that they both had the support of The Honourable Phryne Fisher.
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Jack's day was not going as pleasantly as Phryne's. Rosie had kicked and screamed at the constables, two of them, burly fellows Jack usually used to subdue drunks and rowdy demonstrators, leaving them both with bruised shins and one of them with a nasty set of scratches down his face. In the end Jack had stood in front of her and told her that if she didn't desist from such behaviour that instant, he would add assault of a police officer to the list of her crimes. He handcuffed her himself and dragged her unceremoniously to the van that was to take her to the women's end of the jail. Sanderson went with his head held high as if he was still in charge and Fletcher just sneered at Jack and followed him out of the back of the station. They would not get the satisfaction of speaking to the press amassed outside the doors of City South Police Station to put their case and damn the Inspector.
Jack's next step was to find the green constable that had leaked his connection to George and Rosie and have him on traffic duty for the next six months. The lad stood shaking in front of his superior officer, younger than Hugh Collins had been when he first graced the inside of Jack's office.
"Never, ever give a statement to the press without the express orders of your Inspector," Jack snapped, "you could jeopardise the investigation, have the wrong story printed and put people's lives in danger. Anyone in the jail will be on the look-out for these three even though they will be in solitary confinement until the trial. Your only comment whenever you are asked a question by a reporter is 'no comment' or at the most 'the investigation is ongoing', now get out and see Collins, he has filing that needs doing then you will be on traffic duty until I say otherwise – go!"
He hoped he wouldn't muck up traffic duty, or try to arrest Miss Fisher for speeding but it was the only job he could think of for him at this time.
The court case was going to be difficult. He and Phryne were bound to be called to give evidence, and his connection to Sanderson and Rosie would be picked over, as would his relationship with Miss Fisher. He rubbed his hand over his face and sighed, this was the bright side of his life, Phryne and Johnny and Aurelie too … Phryne and the children … it seemed so normal, domesticated, right, but he had to get the case out of the way first.
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Over the next couple of weeks, while space was made for the trial, Jack and Phryne continued to work on other, less traumatic, cases. A tutor was engaged for Johnny for the time being in order to get him up to the standard required by the grammar school Jack would like him to attend. Aurelie started school and settled in after a few days, and Mary and Bruce set a date three months hence, there were no idle hands in the households.
The day came when the furniture was ready to be delivered to Jack's bungalow. Johnny wasn't sure what to think. He'd been over to the house with his father and with Dot, who had cleaned the place from top to bottom, and he thought it was a nice house, though smaller than Miss Fisher's. It would be quieter, he thought, just him and Pa in the evenings, he'd never had quiet. There was a place to store his new bike, Jack had kept to his promise to buy him one and teach him to ride it. They mapped out a route between Bell Street and Wardlow that was safe and a route between the school and both houses, and if Jack had to pick him up from Wardlow the bike would fit in the back of the car.
The bed was installed and made up with new, fresh linen. A small bookshelf held the books Johnny had shown an interest in and a wardrobe held the clothes Phryne had bought for him, plus more that Jack had purchased. A small rug lay at the side of the bed, as well as a little alarm clock on the bedside cabinet and a light he could read by.
The couch Jack and Phryne had chosen fitted nicely in the living room and she had gifted him a couple of side tables and a plain, but elegant set of decanters for his whisky and any other drinks he cared to have on the side board. Dot had made some covers for the cushions and all in all it was a pleasant, cosy room.
"Lovely, Jack," Phryne smiled, "most … most inviting."
He nuzzled into her neck, two weeks of being together had made him bolder in his attentions out of the bedroom, "and you are invited, Miss Fisher," he whispered, "you can help me christen it very soon, I hope."
She smirked, "Inspector," she whispered, "whatever do you take me for?"
He squeezed her bum in answer, Johnny was putting his clothes away, that was about as far as he was willing to go – just now.
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Phryne knew that Jack and Johnny needed the space to get to know each other properly so leaving them alone was her only option – but it didn't mean she had to like it. She saw Jack at the station to discuss cases, or to go over their evidence and statements for the trial of Fletcher and Sanderson. Phryne had engaged a lawyer for the girls that they had rescued, one that she hoped would run rings round Fletcher's, and he had compiled their evidence and listed who they could call to give a clear account of the dealings. Rosie's lawyer kept calling to see if he could get her out of the prison and under house arrest but Jack was having none of it and the judge who would hear the case agreed with him. She made loud, vociferous death threats against Miss Fisher and it was deemed dangerous to all involved if she were to be allowed out.
Johnny continued his studies with the tutor during the day and rode his bicycle in his spare time, usually to Wardlow where he would be given a snack at least, and Jack would collect him after work and take him home. It was after one of these trips that he was seen by someone who wished him harm, and those he had come to love.
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Johnny swung up the path and round to the back of the bungalow. He pushed his bike into the shed and closed the door. His key was in his pocket, he let himself into the kitchen and took his jumper off, laying it over the back of one of the chairs. He poured himself a glass of milk and went to settle down in the living room and read, he had got to a particularly interesting part of his story and longed to find out if Jim Hawkins would escape the clutches of Long John Silver. He did not hear the kitchen door open or the soft footfall of an intruder, so deep into his book he was. Suddenly a hand was over his mouth and he was yanked up onto his feet and spun round.
His eyes widened with fear as he stared at Captain De Vere, red faced with anger.
"I want the Fisher woman," he snarled, Johnny blanched at his foul breath, "you will ring her and get her to come here – or else …"
Johnny didn't really want to know what the ''or else' was but he also didn't want to lure Miss Phryne into a trap, so he had to warn her.
"How?" he gulped.
"Tell her you need her," De Vere hissed, "that you don't want to be alone."
Now, Johnny knew full well that Phryne wouldn't believe him, he was quite happy being on his own in the bungalow and she knew if he didn't want to be alone, he would ride over the Wardlow. That in itself should be enough to warn her that all was not well, as long as he phrased it right. He trembled as he dialled the number and waited for someone to answer. It was Dot.
"Miss Williams," he sighed, "could I speak to Miss Fisher please?"
Dot blinked, he always called her 'Dot' and her mistress 'Miss Phryne', so something was afoot, she said she would just get her.
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"It's odd, Miss," Dot was saying as they headed to the hall, "he always calls me by my first name and you Miss Phryne."
"Apart from that, Dot dear," Phryne stopped, "how did he sound?"
"I can't put my finger on it, but he didn't sound himself, a bit nervous – and Johnny doesn't really get nervous, not like that."
"Dot, can you get my pistol, my knife and if I have to leave, alert Jack, please."
"Yes Miss," Dot turned at the dining room door and headed up the stairs. She heard Phryne commiserate with Johnny and asked him why he didn't cycle over.
"A punctured tyre? Well I do think your father should teach you how to repair them, next time. No worries, Johnny, I will just get my bag and keys and drive over." She put the phone down and thought, something was amiss, Dot was right.
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Johnny stood in the middle of the room as asked, and waited. He hoped Miss Phryne had got the message, at least she usually carried that little gold pistol in her bag, and if she was just going over to pick him up it was unlikely she would bother with her bag. De Vere stood in the doorway to the hall, pointing a gun at Johnny, who was sure that at some point, if not immediately, he was in danger of being shot, and being shot most times led to death; he bit his lip as he felt tears form at the corner of his eyes, he wasn't ready to die.
The door lock clicked, Jack and Phryne had exchanged front door keys when the prospect of him returning to his home had got close. Johnny heard her close the door behind her and call out his name. Before he could answer De Vere stepped into her line of sight.
"Captain," she smiled, Johnny could hear it in her voice, "how delightful to see you again."
De Vere waved her into the living room with his gun. "Miss Fisher," he sneered, "you took something of mine."
"I wasn't aware that people were property, Captain De Vere," she smiled and nodded to Johnny, trying to make the young lad feel safer.
"I had buyers for those girls," he growled.
"Again, I don't believe girls can be bought or sold," she raised her chin, "that's slavery, abolished many years ago, Captain."
"My business is not your business, Miss Fisher," he drew himself up, and he was an imposing figure, but Phryne was not intimidated, "now, how are you going to compensate me?"
"I'm not," she fussed looking in her bag, "you are going to join your 'friends' in prison, for a very long time." She withdrew her hand and pointed her pearl handled gold pistol at him, "I warn you, I am a very good shot. Perhaps you should put down your gun."
He made to grab for Johnny, who ducked and ran over to Phryne.
"Outside Johnny, dear," she smiled, "go on." She pushed him towards the doorway.
"Miss Phryne?"
"Out, lad, I don't want you to get hurt." She never took her eyes off De Vere. De Vere lunged as the boy scuttled past him and down the hallway but seeing he wasn't going to get his hostage back he aimed at Phryne and pulled the trigger …
Phryne rolled to one side and fired. De Vere crumpled to the floor as she gasped and held her hand to her side.
"Pa!" Johnny screamed as his father drew up, "Pa, Miss Phryne …!"
Jack flew past, seeing his son was alright and threw himself into the living room, his revolver aimed at whoever was standing. No one was standing; De Vere was on the floor, bleeding from a wound to his stomach, he was dying, there was nothing Jack could do for him and really, deep down he didn't want to be bothered. He looked over at Phryne who was now kneeling on the floor, blood seeping through her finger from a wound over her left hip. She was pale and breathing hard.
"Phryne," he was down beside her in an instant, "here," he took out his handkerchief and placed it over her hand, "let me. Johnny, call Dr Mac, and an ambulance!"
All the important numbers Jack may need were on a pad by the phone and it took Johnny no time to locate both numbers and dial them. Mac first, and his gasping, breathy voice had her grab her bag and run out of her office, telling anyone who was in her way that she had an emergency and to move it!
In the living room, Jack had lain Phryne on the couch and was holding the handkerchief over the top wound and a cushion underneath her – the bullet had gone right through.
"Phryne," he hissed, "come on, love, stay with me, eyes open, Phryne, look at me."
She gave him a pained and watery smile, "Johnny?" she whispered.
"He's fine, Mac's on the way, Jeez, Phryne, why didn't you wait?" Jack's eyes filled with tears at the thought this might be the end.
"Johnny, he's your son, Jack, I couldn't," she coughed.
"Shh, lie still, but stay with me, please," he bent and kissed her forehead.
"That the best you can do, Inspector," she tried her best at levity, but her pallid complexion and the beads of sweat on her forehead didn't fool him for one minute, she was in excruciating pain, but he had to keep her awake until Mac came. From what he could see the wound wasn't in a dangerous place, no vital organs but a blood vessel may well have been nicked.
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Mac burst through the door and flew into the living room. She pulled up short at the sight of so much blood, then realised that is wasn't all Phryne's, much of it belonged to the deceased man lying on the floor. One brief glance told her she was not here as coroner but as a doctor.
"Mac," Jack tried to step away but Phryne wouldn't let go of his hand, "it's ok, love," he whispered, "Mac's here, let her have look, please."
Phryne turned her head and offered a small, pained smile, "Hey, Mac," she swallowed, "seems I've had a bit of an accident."
"Huh," Mac perched on the edge of the couch and pulled on a pair of surgical gloves, she hoped it looked worse than it actually was, but with Phryne it was always hard to tell from her demeanour. "Straight through, I see," she moved Jack's hand, "you best find the bullet, Inspector," she thought that way he could make himself useful and not get in her way. She drew up an injection, of pain relief, before setting to prodding and probing, tutting and humming until she had found that the wound was not life-threatening. Once stitched up the bleeding stopped. She didn't want her moved too much so when Jack suggested he carry her to his bedroom and she could be properly cleaned up there, the slightly woozy and giggly Lady Detective agreed.
"Who's going to undress me," she sniggered.
"What did you give her?" Jack raised his eyebrows as he gently lifted Phryne off the couch.
"Bit of morphine," Mac shrugged, "she should sleep well and without much pain."
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When Hugh Collins arrived, there was only the matter of the corpse to deal with. Jack had summoned Dot, asking her to bring Miss Fisher's clean nightwear and toiletries and Mac had talked to Johnny, checked he hadn't been hurt and told him he was very brave and resourceful to do what he did, the way he alerted Dot.
"She will be alright, won't she?" he searched her face for any signs of worry.
"Right as ninepence," Mac grinned, "she bled a lot but that's ok, it wasn't as much as we thought. Some of the blood we saw was his …"
"Captain De Vere's," Johnny pouted and shoved his hands in his pockets, "he was the one who's ship was taking the girls. He said Miss Fisher had taken something of his and she said people weren't for sale, it was slavery and slavery has been abolished."
"She's right, too," Mac nodded, "people are not to be sold like a pound of potatoes or a dozen eggs …"
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It wasn't daylight or pain that woke her but the cry of a child in distress. She tried to sit up but a searing pain shot across the top of her hips and she gasped.
"Hey," Jack sat up and touched her shoulder, "lie down, it's Johnny, a nightmare I expect."
"What?" she blinked, "oh, god, poor boy, De Vere didn't hurt him, did he?"
"No, but, well he's bound to be a bit scared," he got out of bed and pulled on his robe, "mind if he comes in here?"
"No," she recalled Aurelie spending nights in her bed and it wasn't as if she was able to ravish Jack at the moment, and she appeared to be acceptably attired.
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Johnny was sitting up in bed, blinking, when Jack entered his bedroom. In the moonlight shining through his window he was white and shaking.
"Hey, son," Jack sat on the edge of his bed and stroked his cheek, "Johnny, it's ok, we're all ok," he kept his voice soft and low, "Johnny?"
"Pa?" Johnny turned to him, "is …is Miss Phryne …?"
"She's ok, sore, but she will be fine," he soothed.
"I didn't know what to do," the boy sniffed.
"You did exactly what you should have done, son," Jack ran his hand over his head, "and because of you she is alive."
"But I didn't do anything," he insisted.
"You made the phone calls, you called Hugh when I arrived and saw Phryne and De Vere, you rang who I asked you to, and that was vitally important. I am really proud of you, son, most children of your age would have panicked and either run away or stood there dumb – but you didn't." Jack hugged him, "now, do you want to stay here or come in with me, though Phryne is there too."
"I'll stay here, Pa," Johnny blushed, "it'll be a bit tight, the three of us."
Jack ruffled his hair and tucked him back in.
"Night, son."
"Night, Pa."
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Over the next few days Phryne stayed with Jack. Dot came over each morning to see to her bathing and brought her fresh pyjamas and food for them all; Mac was there each morning and evening to check on her impatient patient, and generally declared her to be healing as well as she should be.
"If you can stand to be in a car you can go home," she told Phryne, "but no lifting Aurelie or driving yourself."
Phryne huffed, mainly about the driving rather than lifting her daughter, but if she couldn't drive, she wouldn't be able to pick Aurelie up from school.
"You could have Mr Butler drive for you," Mac suggested, "or the Red Raggers could take you in the cab."
She supposed that would have to do, but she didn't have to like it. Mac just said she wasn't surprised but it showed she was not as badly injured as had first been thought.
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Once back at Wardlow she felt better, in a way, because she was not causing Jack problems, getting in his way or stopping him from getting to work on time. He denied it, of course, but what she did not know was that he was perfectly happy to have her recovering there, because he could see she was alright.
The Commissioner called to take her statement of the incident, mainly because Aunt Prudence had huffed that she hoped it wouldn't be some 'wet behind the ears' constable who would blab to the papers that she was staying with Inspector Robinson and add fuel to the rumours that there was more to the relationship than anyone was admitting to.
"Self-defence, my dear," he smiled over a cup of tea and scones, "no case to answer. He had to have shot you first because he couldn't have shot you after you fired the fatal shot. Dr Macmillan said he died instantly."
"He did go down with rather a loud thump," she sighed, "I was more worried for Johnny."
"Of course, Jack's boy," he hummed, "quite the lad, I hear."
"Very like how I imagine Jack to have been at about the same age," she agreed, "able to keep his cool in the situation, though he has had at least one nightmare."
"To be expected," he shrugged. "Now, the trial is next week, do you feel ready for it?"
"As ready as I'll ever be," she shifted in her chair and winced, "the defence is weak, I believe."
He made no comment but, weak or otherwise, he didn't think they'd be able to pull the wool over Miss Fisher's eyes.
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The trial lasted just over a week. It would have been shorter but Rosie made things difficult, played on her femininity in front of the twelve good men and true that were the jury. She suffered two or three fainting episodes, which brought the trial to a halt for a day each time. Her involvement was confirmed by the evidence of her son, Johnny, who insisted, when he was asked, that he would say what he saw. It was implied, at first, by her lawyer, that he was put up to discredit the woman who had left him at an orphanage when she believed her husband to have been killed in France, but the fact that she did not admit to Jack when he returned that they had a son, went against her. When asked if he hated her, Johnny stated simply that he felt sorry for her but no, he didn't hate her, he just didn't love her.
Phryne presented smartly and expensively dressed and gave her evidence politely, yet firmly. She did not argue or have fits of the vapours, shout or whine, she was perfectly professional. It went in her favour that she did not flutter her eyelashes at the jury or the judge.
Sanderson denied he knew anything about Fletcher's schemes, his dealings with the convent or the young women he was selling – he maintained that all he knew was that he was transporting sugar and other similar provisions. Fletcher, on the other hand, told the court that it was Sanderson's idea, that he knew of a way to get girls that could be sold overseas. Orphans that were taking up space in a convent without taking vows. Much more profitable than the usual cargo. As a high-ranking police officer, he knew who would be amenable to such trade.
In the end Fletcher admitted that he had wooed Miss Sanderson in order to ensure his prospective father-in-law would not be able to investigate, or set an investigation into, the disappearance of young girls because he was now complicit. They had only told Rosie enough to stop her pestering them after Mrs Stanley had asked if there was anything she could do, or any of her charity collaborators could do, to help in their endeavours. Rosie had not worried about the trade, after all, she got nice dresses and pretty jewellery.
With the deaths of two girls taken into account, Fletcher was jailed for life, Sanderson for twenty-five years and Rosie for five years. Rosie got the shorter sentence because of her lesser involvement.
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"I can't see Sanderson surviving long in prison, not even in solitary," Jack stared into his whisky, "Fletcher will never see the outside world again …"
"Rosie?"
"Will be released at the end of her sentence, I don't know what she will do." Jack swallowed the sharp drink, "Clemmie wants nothing to do with her, she is quite disgusted, there is no other family and most of her friends had disowned her …"
"If you want to help her …" Phryne thought he might want to do something to ease her back into civilisation.
"How?" he grunted, "she won't speak to me, blames you and me for interfering."
"We did, Jack, if you look at it from her point of view," Phryne reasoned.
"But I can't, what she did was wrong, condoning the sale of young girls, girls who should have found something more than the laundry, but none of them deserved that life, not a life as a slave to some eastern prince … " he ran his hand through his hair, "maybe she will go to England, she has distant relatives there, perhaps she will make a fresh start there."
She felt for him; this was the woman he married as a green police officer, the woman who had born him a son, who years ago he imagined spending the rest of his life with and who had let him down so badly, hurt him with her treatment of their son – she reached over and touched his hand.
"Sorry," he shook his head, tipped the memories and lost hopes out of his head and replaced them with happier thoughts of his meeting with a certain lady detective sitting with him, "I should like to forget, as much as I can, about the whole sad story." He smiled, "now, what about this wedding?"