Dear Diary,

I've bought a house!

Oh diary, it's lovely, on the esplanade in St Kilda, 221 – I added a 'B', I'm sure you understand why. Anyway, I've had to have some work done, decorating, furnishing of course, plumbing – bathrooms, crockery, cutlery etc, linen – everything is new or what I want – what I want not what my mother deems 'appropriate' or 'proper'. I have books, the ones I want to read, a lovely piano even though I don't play my guests may. I have arranged for a cook/housekeeper/butler to 'do' for me as well as having Dot, who has decided that perhaps her priest will think I am a step up from a drugs baron and a rapist, somehow it seems to be the dancing that worries her, and while he (his name is Mr Butler, yes I have a butler named Mr Butler!) is installing himself and seeing to the kitchen I am taking Dot to Ballarat on the train – I want to pick up my new car – a Hispano Suiza that can do 85 mph, apparently – I'll see if I can get it higher!

Well, there was the usual mix of passengers on the Ballarat train and indeed on the station platform all milling around. There was a woman, around mother's age I would guess, sour faced and sniping at a younger woman I assumed to be her daughter. A couple of young men, one apparently trying to speak to the young woman, mama didn't seem impressed – but mothers seldom are in my experience.

We settled in our compartment, me to my book and Dot to some knitting, then had tea in the dining car. The mother and daughter were there, a little boy ran through – can't understand the appeal of parenthood – closely followed by his father. The woman, one Mrs Henderson, retired midwife, glared at him and told him to get the child under control. He stopped, we found out later that the boy's mother died in childbirth and his father blames Matron Henderson because she sent her back from the hospital saying she was nowhere near ready to give birth. Mr Cotton delivered his son on the kitchen floor and the poor mother bled to death. Anyway the Cottons were only on the train because they had been sent free tickets to some fair.

For an express the sudden stop was a surprise, in the middle of the night. Apparently it was to fill up the tank with water but as it jerked back into life it woke me up and I smelt chloroform – a memory from the war. It was coming from the Henderson's compartment – long story short, because these can be long stories – Mrs Henderson was missing, Miss Henderson was unconscious ... I sensed trouble.

I pulled the cord, the conductor came, the police, completely useless and ignored all I told him, though he did contact Inspector Robinson who told me not to bandy his name about ... he was glad I did in the end though.

There was a young girl, around 12 or 14 being held by the police with a handkerchief of stolen jewels that I recognised as belonging to Mrs Henderson who we had discovered hanging from the water tower – again if I hadn't insisted we look and run off down the track we wouldn't have found her – the girl wouldn't talk to the coppers so Robinson asked me to try, as a woman he thought I might present a mother figure!

She did speak to me, she told me her name was Jane and she found the jewels at the side of the track. We found out later that she lived with a perfectly awful woman called Miss Gay and a stage hypnotist – the Great Hypno! I think not, not great anyway, - and she and another girl, Ruth, picked pockets for them, thought he was a regular Fagin, he did.

The two young men we saw at the station were Miss Henderson' fiancé, a medical student, and Lindsay Thompson, a law student, Jane said she had seen them on the train. On first look they seemed perfectly ordinary students, tried to sweet talk me, but we found out that Thompson regularly used Herbert's (fiancé) name to keep his own name clean when in strife with the law, Herbert had failed all his medical exams and was no more likely to be a doctor than I am – though I might be better at it – nursing in the war – another time, another dreadful place – Miss H thought it was to be a simple jewel heist so they could find a nice little place to set up a doctor's practice and get away from the old harridan.

They were all arrested by the Inspector.

Jane stayed overnight with me, I met Mr Butler, he's perfect for the role, didn't even bother when I told him to be careful of the hand luggage in the car as my loaded pistol was in there – oh yes, diary, I had the car delivered to the train and took off with Miss H and Jane! Anyway we gave Jane a bath and a meal and tucked her up in bed. We had a visit from Miss Gay, which is how I came to know her, Jane was terrified! I mean scared out of her wits, poor girl, I said we would see about things in the morning and she left with Constable Collins who had escorted her to my house – he'll do – she's no more Jane's aunt than I am the King of England.

The next day I asked Bert, one of the Red Raggers, with a new car they are now in the palm of my hand, to go and take a room with Miss Gay, he recognised the Great Hypno and took flight, but somehow Cec, the other Ragger, persuaded him to stay and they brought Ruth, Jane's friend back to the house. They told us everything about their 'carers' and were terribly frightened when GH came to call. I persuaded him to hypnotise me, but I'm not an easy mark and he failed, his unpleasant odour may have been a factor in that, soap isn't expensive, diary, some people should make more use of it. I know I shouldn't judge but ... When he got a bit over persuasive, shall we say, Mr B came to my rescue, apparently he was in the AIF, the girls had locked Dot in my room and were also coming to help.

The Inspector arrested everyone, did some digging around, found Ruth's grandmother who would take her in and arranged for me to foster Jane – why I have no idea, but in spite of my aversion to small children, Jane is older, I should like to see her educated well, she is very bright, and I suppose, in a way she is my Jane, my new Janey, though Janey will never be replaced.

The Inspector stopped by for a drink, he told me I may as well call him Jack as most people do, I said he could call me Phryne, though not many people do.

I think we may have formed a partnership of sorts.