As establishments went it wasn't in her usual area of Melbourne, but Phryne said there were many interesting texts held therein and possibly the one she was particularly interested in. She looked up at the sign, 'Abrahams' bookstore'; Phryne said it was more like a lending library than a store.
The smell of old books, dust and something she couldn't put her finger on filtered through the doorway as she stepped inside. The room was lit with lamps and the sunlight streaking through the overhead skylight, enough light to read by but not too little that one had to squint.
She was looking for a book on poisons - natural poisons to be exact. It wasn't that she was thinking of poisoning anyone, but someone had lifted her old, well-worn book from her office and she wanted to replace it. As sometime coroner and friend of two detectives - one private and one an actual police detective - the information held within the covers came in handy on occasions.
There was no one else in the premises, no other customers, that is, just a young woman at a desk, writing. She studied the woman, blonde, late twenties to early thirties, slender, deep set eyes ... she cleared her throat. The woman looked up. She had a generous mouth though her lips were not full - just right, her jaw was angular? Dr Macmillan couldn't quite put an adjective to it, but, well, she liked it, in fact she found the whole image rather pleasurable.
"Can I help you?" the woman asked.
Mac noticed her voice was soft, lower than she expected.
"I'm looking for a book," she smiled.
"Come to the right place, then," the woman shrugged, "it is a book shop."
"Hm," Mac murmured, a woman slighted she thought, "a book on natural poisons?"
"Oh, that's ... well ..."
"A change?"
"A bit, usually people come here for literature, you know, Shakespeare, Henry Lawson ... Hansard ..."
"I have a young friend who likes Henry Lawson," Mac hummed, "do you have what I am looking for?"
"Maybe," she stood up, "why would you be looking for a book on natural poisons?"
"I'm a doctor and someone has borrowed my book, I doubt I shall get it back, and it was rather ancient," she laughed, "it comes in handy if I'm asked to do an autopsy."
The young woman raised an eyebrow.
"Dr Elizabeth MacMillan, at your service," Mac offered her hand.
"Miss Leigh, Evan Leigh ... my parents wanted a boy," she gave a half laugh.
"I was a disappointment too," Mac drew her lips together, "now ..."
"Yes, over here ..."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Mac found what she was looking for, eventually, but it was a loan copy only. She signed it out for a week and said she would return it as soon as she had taken some notes.
"You can sign it out again," Miss Leigh smiled, "but I need your address and a contact number ... I er ..."
"Might have to chase me up if I'm late bringing it back?" Mac raised an eyebrow.
"Something like that," she agreed. "If I find a copy you can buy I'll let you know."
"Thanks, that'd be handy," Mac wrote down her details.
"Do you get many?" Miss Leigh frowned.
"Many?"
"Yes, er, poisonings?"
"You'd be surprised the range of ways people find to kill each other," she sighed, "some are quite inventive."
"Like Saul?" she muttered, mainly to herself.
"Sau ... ah, yes, quite, that was clever, though nasty," she cleared her throat. "As I said – inventive."
Miss Leigh slipped the registration card into the index file and passed her a return slip.
"Thank you, Miss Leigh, pleasure to make your acquaintance," Mac tipped her hat and smiled as she left the shop.
"See you in a week, then, doctor," she called.
Mac waved her hand but did not turn round.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Evan Leigh looked up as the little bell jangled over the door. Dr Macmillan waved the book she had borrowed and grinned.
"See, you don't have to chase me," she put the book down on the desk. Miss Leigh admitted to herself she was a tad disappointed. She had thought much about Dr Macmillan, in ways she would not normally think about another woman.
"Thank you," she licked her dry lips, "do you want it for another week?"
"Well, as I haven't got my original copy back ... but, maybe I could just come here and look through it when I need to?"
"If that would work," Miss Leigh nodded, a strange knot in her stomach formed, "you'd be most welcome."
"Lovely," Mac smiled. "Well, surgery awaits, thanks, Miss Leigh, see you soon."
"Yes, of course." She blinked, "any time."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
It was a couple of weeks before Mac found an excuse of sorts to go back to the bookstore. She had been thinking, in between drinks with Phryne over a case and lectures to students at the university, that she could do with some less involved company. With Phryne mooning over Jack, in her mind anyway – Phryne would deny she ever 'mooned' over a man – she felt a little adrift.
It was a little late for visiting a bookstore with the sole intention of reading in pleasant, light company, but she thought maybe Miss Leigh wouldn't mind.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Sorry, you're closing, I'll come back another time," she turned to walk away.
"No, please," Miss Leigh reached out and caught her elbow, "come in, I was just thinking of having a bite of supper, it's not much, but ... I mean if you want to, that is, while you're reading."
"I don't want to be any trouble," Mac sighed, it wasn't what she would usually say, but then again it was usually Miss Fisher who was inviting her to sup with her.
"It isn't," Miss Leigh stepped aside and let her enter, "what book were you looking for?"
"Honestly?" Mac raised an eyebrow and removed her fedora, "I just wanted ... somewhere to ... I don't have anything in mind."
"Here's a new toxicology book I found, house clearance apparently," she lifted a slightly battered, leather bound tome of hefty proportions. "Sit down, I'll bring tea and supper."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
They sat eating little pieces of cold meats, spiced fruits, soft breads, smooth creamy cheeses and sharp pickles and read through the ancient text which had Mac giggling at some of the ideas and Evan asking questions until Mac stretched and rubbed her neck.
"Sore?" Evan put her plate down.
"Yeah, a bit," Mac sighed, "comes with the territory."
Evan's hands were cool as she started to rub and massage circles at the base of Mac's neck and she groaned in appreciation.
"I have a couch upstairs it's a little more comfortable, if you would like to come with me," she stood up and held out her hand. She wasn't sure what she was doing, she had never done anything like this before, Mac was not a friend, another girl she was close to, she was different and she wanted it to be different, and she was lonely. She knew there were men who loved men, and women who loved women, and she was certain Mac was not interested in a man as a companion ... her thoughts were jumbled but if Mac was interested in teaching her she would be a willing pupil.
Mac watched her and thought, but not for very long. In truth she was used to taking the lead in any potential relationship, but she was tired and Evan was pretty and gentle, and she was sure she was new to this kind of love.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The room Miss Leigh lived in was large and divided up by screens into three areas: sleeping, living and cooking. The bathroom, she explained, was just down the landing. There were a few books on shelves, ornaments and knick knacks on side tables, a soft couch and matching comfortable looking chair. There was a rug, multi-coloured Persian style in front of an electric heater. It was dimly lit by two or three small lamps near the couch and by the bookshelves.
"Sit down," Miss Leigh pointed to the couch, "let me undo those knots."
Mac took off her jacket and cravat, lying them over the arm of the couch and let Evan start again on her neck. Her fingers were still cool and soothing; Mac felt the stiffness in her neck fade away and Evan felt her relax.
"You're very good at that," Mac murmured.
Evan just smiled and adjusted the collar back to covering the base of Mac's neck. It was a nice neck to work on, just the muscles and the bones, no excess skin or fat to dig into.
"Would you like a drink?" she sat next to her new friend, "I have some red wine, or some Slivovitz ..."
"Slivovitz?"
"It's a kind of plum brandy, quite potent," she smiled.
"Trying to get me drunk, Miss Leigh?" Mac arched a brow over a twinkling eye.
"Do I have to?" Evan murmured, now really not sure what she was doing.
Mac lifted her hand and kissed the fingers that had worked on her neck, "Probably not," she hummed.
Evan lifted her hand and trailed a finger along Mac's jaw-line to her mouth, where Mac nipped the finger then swiped her tongue over the bite. Strange and interesting sensations collected in her stomach and between her legs, sensations she had never experienced when she was Saul's lover, but he had never been as tender as this, he was always in a hurry to complete the act then get back to his experiments. Mac seemed to have all the time in the world to make her feel comfortable with what was happening as if she knew it was new and unfamiliar.
"May I?" Mac whispered, leaning in close and placing the sweetest of kisses at the corner of her mouth. She slipped her hand round the back of Evan's head and unloosed the blonde locks, soft and silky as they trailed between her fingers.
Evan tilted her head so she could kiss Mac softly, soft sweet lips meeting for the first time. Then Mac's lips parted enough to let her tongue slip along hers, then both their tongues were slipping and sliding against each other, tasting and swiping the roofs of their mouths. They tasted the spiced fruit they had finished their meal with.
When they parted Evan's eyes sparkled with wonder at this kind of love, while Mac's blue eyes, she felt, looked deep into her soul.
Mac stroked her hand down Evan's neck and under the collar of her blouse, slowly so as not to frighten her. She leant in and kissed the top of her shoulder; Evan put her hands into Mac's hair and released the waves of red, it was like a waterfall of copper down between her shoulder blades. She tipped her head back to give Mac better access to her collar bone and moaned softly at the kisses she received. She thought she ought to do something in reply and slipped her hands inside the collar of her shirt, down over the doctor's breast and round her back. She wasn't sure what she expected but it wasn't the soft fine cotton lady's step-in over small soft breasts and pebble-like nipples. She hesitated and felt Mac undo the buttons of her blouse and palm her breast through her brassiere and slip.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Slowly they had removed articles of clothing until there were both just in their undergarments, lying together on the couch and stroking legs and hips, shoulders and breasts and pressing soft kisses all over. Evan shivered, the sun had gone down hours ago, the little electric fire didn't throw enough heat into the room to keep them warm, underdressed as they were. She stood up and held her hand out to Mac, "Show me," she murmured shyly, "come to bed."
"Sure?"
Evan just nodded.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Mac stood behind her and unclipped the brassiere, pulled it through the straps of her slip and dropped it on the floor. Evan was a head taller than she was but that was fine. She put her arms round her, leant in against her and pressed her breasts to Evan's back. Evan tried to reach round and pull her close, taking her hips and pulling them flush against the top of her thighs. Mac pressed little kisses to Evan's spine and gently palmed her breasts. She groaned, arched back and pulled harder against Mac's hips.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The bed was small which made it somehow more intimate as they explored each other. Evan had never been loved like this, she didn't think she had actually been loved at all. She wondered if Saul had loved her at all, or was she just a distraction from his missing his wife. Mac had taken her time, giving her the room to pull away if she needed to, but she hadn't.
Mac found Evan's breasts just the right size to fondle and kiss, to suckle at the buds – she left no marks –nosed around the soft mounds, peppered them with the softest of kisses, feather light, whispers of breath that had Evan sigh and give out little moans of pleasure. She pushed the straps of Mac's step in down allowing breast to breast contact. Mac shimmied out of the restriction and pulled her close, their mons touching through the thin fabric of their undergarments. Evan wasn't sure what would happen next as Mac didn't have the 'equipment' she was used to. She felt naive.
Sensing her confusion, Mac rubbed against her just enough for Evan to swallow then relax as she settled between her legs.
"Is this alright?" Mac breathed.
Evan just nodded and widened her legs allowing Mac to slip her hand down and feel her wetness on her drawers. Mac felt overly stimulated herself, her centre throbbed with the need to be touched but she would have to contain herself, until she could relieve that tension herself. She slipped a finger into Evan's knickers and started to trace round her entrance.
"Yes?" she asked, "are you ok?"
Evan lifted her hips, pushed herself against Mac's hand wanting the friction, needing it – she felt almost in heaven, gulped and gasped as Mac's fingers touched, slid and entered her and all the while Mac asked permission with her eyes. Evan's pupils were blown with desire, she reached down her own body and tried to push off her knickers.
"Ah," Mac smiled, removed her fingers and helped her remove the final garment.
Evan, quite rashly she thought later, pushed Mac's step in down and completely off, feeling the triangle of curls, but Mac lay between her legs and she couldn't get her hand to her centre, to return the compliment. She'd touched herself in the past and surmised that if she touched Mac the same way it would work.
Mac shifted her legs so one lay over Evan's and that allowed Evan to slip her fingers into her. Mac gasped, it had been an age since anyone else had touched her and Evan's fingers worked the same kind of magic she had worked on her neck. The both climaxed at the same time – Evan thought her heart would burst with the sheer pleasure that Mac gave her.
They lay panting, legs entangled keeping the little aftershocks going. Mac removed her hand and pulled Evan's hips close to hers, her leg hard between hers and looked into her eyes.
"Ok?" she whispered.
Evan gave a slight nod and sweet smiled, "You?"
"You're a fast learner," Mac giggled.
"You're a good teacher." Evan kissed her forehead and put her arms round her, pulling her close and feeling the softness of her small breasts against hers. They dozed off tangled in the sheets and each other's limbs.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
It was early when Mac woke and thought she should leave, head back to her own flat to get ready for the day. She didn't want to leave she was quite comfortable where she was, nestled half under Evan's warm body.
"You can sneak out through the back," Evan smiled as she watched her dress. "With your bag you'll look as if you've made a house call."
"Evan," she hastily pulled on the clothes she had discarded the evening before, "thank you."
"Will you come again?"
"If you want me to, or you could come to me, my flat is quite discreet ..."
"It wouldn't worry you, if you were seen to have an overnight guest?"
"My flat is my own, sweet girl," she stroked Evan's face with her finger, "and I have two bedrooms so I have room for an overnight guest ..." she grinned wickedly, "of course my guest doesn't have to use that room, my bed is quite big enough for two." She winked.
Evan slipped out of bed and stood before her, naked as the day she was born, long limbed and slender. Mac felt that familiar pull in the pit of her stomach, a warmth between her legs, but she had surgery to attend to and ... well she would prefer to take her time.
"Here," she wrote on her little pad, "this is my address."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Mac wasn't sure if she would see Evan again; it would be nice, but Phryne kept her busy with a case and she had her usual surgery to deal with, so it was with some relief she headed back to her flat one evening a little over a week later.
She unlocked the door and threw her bag on the floor and her hat on the stand in her tiny hallway. She imagined a hot bath, a whisky and sleep, what she didn't expect was the smell of spices and the soft murmuring of a tune she barely recognised.
Mac thought she should call Phryne, or Jack but what could she tell them? All she knew at this point was that someone was cooking in her kitchen and humming a tune. Steeling herself for an assault she tiptoed through into the main part of her flat, and towards the kitchen.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Evan hadn't believed for a moment that the night with Elizabeth had been just that, a night and a goodbye. She had waited, but she wasn't a patient woman, not after what she had experienced with the doctor; so she took a tram across the city to the address Mac had written on the small piece of paper. She brought with her some ingredients for a meal and told the building manager that she had forgotten the key so would he mind awfully letting her in to leave Dr Macmillan's groceries? He had smiled and unlocked the door;
"Good of you to shop for her," he pushed the door, "she doesn't look after herself, y'know."
"Quite," she nodded, "mother always worried about her."
The manager thought she was a relative, and agreed that mothers always worried about their children.
Evan praised her love of romantic fiction for giving her a way out of explaining why she would need to be let into the flat, and set to marinating meats and preparing food that would keep until Elizabeth returned.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Evan?" Mac gasped and Evan turned.
"Evening," she smiled as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be preparing a meal in this kitchen, though she hadn't thought what she would say to Elizabeth when she finally returned home.
"I would ask what you are doing here, but that's pretty obvious," Mac stepped into the room, "it's lovely to see you. I'm sorry ..."
"You're a busy woman," Evan shrugged, "I don't expect you to be around all the time, but I was beginning to miss you ... do you mind?"
"Oh Evan, of course I don't mind," she tiptoed up and gave her a peck on the cheek, "I gave you my address so you could come round." She reached round her and snagged a piece of green pepper.
"Hungry?"
"Am I ever?" she laughed, "I didn't get chance for lunch. By the way, how did you get in? Don't tell me you have a lock pick?"
"No, I told the manager I'd forgotten the key and I needed to leave your groceries. I gave him the impression I was a relative, said your mother worried you didn't look after yourself."
"Like she'd bother," Mac roared with laughter, "but I'll get you a key ... that's if you want one."
"Only if you want to give me one," Evan blushed.
Mac just tipped her head and thought it wouldn't hurt to let Evan have free access to her home, she trusted her. Gossip wouldn't hurt her even though her private life was private, most people she knew in her day to day work knew who she was and what she was – it was just nobody seemed to think it worth bothering with, unless she got under their skin. Phryne usually sorted that out because it would be in the middle of a case. Even the university didn't see it as a reason to throw over one of the best surgeons and physicians in Melbourne. Jack seemed to prefer her as the coroner over Dr Thompson who was a misogynistic prick in her and Phryne's opinions, so really a key for Evan would not be a problem.
"Perhaps I should give you a key to my flat, as well," Evan added.
"Only if you want to," Mac echoed.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"That was delicious," Mac sat back in her chair and sighed, "I don't know how you do it but I'm glad you do."
"Just practice and experimenting," Evan shrugged, "that was one thing Saul was good at, well, good at telling me what spices to use, but I actually enjoy cooking."
Mac leaned across the small table and took her hand, "Thank you, and not just for cooking, for coming over ..."
"Um," Evan blushed, "I missed you, you haven't been to the shop ..."
"Sorry, it was a case, with Miss Fisher ... kinda sucks you in and time just seems to fly, but I have thought about you, quite often actually."
"Hm," Evan bit her lower lip.
"No, really, Evan, I have." Mac studied her face, a mixture of disbelief and uncertainty. She thought she should perhaps tell her about Daisy, a potted history. "Why don't we clear up and I'll pour us a drink, do you drink whisky?"
"Never tried." Evan shrugged.
"First time for everything, I'd never drunk slivovitz until I met you."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Mac wasn't sure how to start her story so she poured two generous measures from a bottle of single malt Phryne had given her and they sat on the small couch together.
"So?" Evan raised her eyebrows.
"Ok, well, the story of my life:" Mac sipped her drink, "I am of Scottish descent, my parents immigrated to Australia before I was born. Dad wanted a son, I came along, I was a nosy, noisy brat and asked too many questions. I'm an only child, hence the disappointment and when I announced I was never going to marry and have children I think they gave up; that's when I left and headed to university here in Melbourne. Phryne, Miss Fisher, was a childhood friend of mine, we got into scrapes together and when her father abused her I was the one who practiced on her, my healing skills," she sighed, "sorry, anyway, I have fallen in and out of love, sometimes it was easy; most times it was hard, so bloody hard to love someone I wanted to, another woman and then along came Daisy."
Evan gasped.
"Oh, right, sorry, no, er, Daisy was a worker in a factory, I saw to the medical needs of the owner, but that's by the by, another worker thought she was her love, she had been but, well in the way of things ... oh god ... this is not the way I ..." she ran her hands through her hair, "they fell out. The other woman was possessive, Daisy said, she was strong and didn't allow her to form friendships with anyone else and when she did life became difficult ... Daisy died, it was ... yes well it's not something I like to think about, to talk about."
Evan reached over and took her hand, "it hurt ..."
She nodded, "Yeah it did, but the worst of it was that nobody knew when they called me in to the scene – as coroner. Evan, it's taken time for me to even consider someone might like me, much less care for me and I ..."
"I care, Elizabeth," Evan pulled her close, "I do, more than people think I should – us being both ladies."
"Hey," Mac laughed, "they give us less thought than men who prefer other men ..."
"It's a strange old world," Evan relaxed back against the couch and let Mac lie on her, "why can't people let us just be. Love thy neighbour, God said ..."
Mac lifted her head and frowned.
"... Oh, I'm not some God botherer," Evan huffed, "but surely, if we aren't hurting anyone then why does it matter?"
"I don't think it does, really, some people are just small-minded, nosy, maybe jealous?"
Evan hugged her a little tighter and kissed the top of her head; she felt Mac's arms slip round her waist and heard her sigh contentedly. It was so nice, so sensual – Mac's head against her breast and she felt warmth between her legs. She shifted a little and began to stroke Mac's shoulder through the shirt she wore. Mac hummed and moved a hand up to caress Evan's breast, feeling the nipple rise beneath the soft wool of the dress she wore. Very soon their heads had moved and they were kissing; soft kisses, nipping lips, swiping tongues and moaning into mouths.
Mac twisted until she was astride Evan's lap, leaning down and kissing her, running her hands down her sides, pulling the skirt of the dress she wore up and exposing her slip and stocking tops.
"Ugh," Evan grunted, "wait," she sat up and lifted her arms so Mac could take the dress over her head and toss it carelessly over her shoulder. When Mac had relieved her of all but her knickers Evan stopped her.
"My turn," she smiled and unbuttoned the doctor's waistcoat and shirt, pulled them out of the waist band of her trousers and sent them through the air to join her own clothing. She undid the clips and buttons of the trousers and pushed them down Mac's legs, kneeling before her and kissing her knees and inner thighs.
"Oh my god," Mac breathed, "Evan ... bed?"
"If you so desire," Evan grinned and licked her lips before standing up and lifting Mac's camisole off her.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
In the bedroom Evan continued from where she left off in the living room. She stood Mac in front of her, knelt down and slowly drew the knickers down Mac's legs and gently lifted each foot to free her completely. She ran her fingers up the back of Mac's thighs and nuzzled against her curls smelling her arousal.
"Beautiful," she breathed and flicked her tongue over the hot, wet centre. Mac stumbled back onto the bed, Evan crawled up between her legs and looked to her for permission to continue.
Mac gulped and nodded and gave herself up to Evan's tongue and fingers licking and sucking until she lifted her hips and begged for more, until she screamed into a pillow as she climaxed and everything went white.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
They gave each other keys to their apartments, but Evan spent more time at Mac's flat than she did her own. The janitor just nodded when he saw her, still labouring under the impression she was Mac's sister and if anyone asked who the new visitor was he would tell them that.
She was introduced properly into Mac's cobbled together family, became used to dining with Phryne and Jane, sometimes the Inspector would join them and felt accepted for the first time in her life. Until now she had worked in the bookstore and been bedded by Saul but never felt really part of anything much. She hadn't accepted any of her parents ideas for a life partner and gradually even that hope had died off, until all she had was the shop and Saul; then Saul had been taken and sad though she was she didn't find herself grieving as she thought she should grieve for a lover. Now, if anything happened to Mac she would be bereft, heart-broken so it wasn't difficult to accept her offer to live with her permanently.
"You could still work at the shop," Mac sat hopeful on the couch, "still have your independence ... but you wouldn't have to live there."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
It worked like that for a while but the shop didn't pull her as much as it used to. She began to get restless, not to leave Mac, but to find a better position. She'd harboured the idea of having her own bookshop once, not long after she started working for Mr Abrahams, that job came with free accommodation, now she helped Mac out with the expenses but it didn't impact that much on her savings. She began to look at possibilities.
Mr Abrahams watched her sort through books that hadn't left the shop in years, gathering dust at the back of shelves and asked her to throw them out; Evan thought she might put them somewhere safe – for now.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
A safe place for the books was under her desk at first, but when Mr Abrahams found out she hadn't thrown them out he did it for her.
"May I remind you, Miss Leigh," he grumbled, "I employ you and I expect you to follow my instructions." He left the box at the back of the shop to be taken by the next collection.
Evan scowled, he was getting more and more grumpy as the days moved on, finding out your brother is a murderer will do that to you, she thought. She called Bert Johnson, who she had met through Elizabeth and asked him if he would mind picking up the books and taking them to the flat for her; if Mr Abrahams was determined to throw them out then it wasn't stealing, was it?
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"So ..." Elizabeth turned the old book around in her hands, "all these books Abrahams was throwing out?"
"I hate it, Elizabeth," she sighed, "there's nothing wrong with these books, sure they're old, but someone will want them, if they're not hidden at the back of the store."
"Are there more?"
"Oh yes, but Mr Abrahams only shows off the political texts, the Hansards, Shakespeare, Dickens, Thackray they all get pushed to the back of the shelves, he wouldn't know a first edition if it landed on his head."
Mac smiled, "you should open your own bookshop."
"If only," Evan sighed, "I'd love to but I can't afford to. I would need premises ..."
"Ok, so you haven't money stashed away ..." Mac started.
"Not enough," Evan interrupted.
"... but what if I could find you a backer, someone who wouldn't charge a huge interest on a loan, and maybe premises in a smarter part of town than the one where Abrahams has his shop?"
"Elizabeth, that's all pie in the sky, it could never happen."
"But...?"
"It would be wonderful."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Mac couldn't loan Evan the money, but she knew someone who could, and who would view it as a business venture, an investment, so she called at 221B The Esplanade the following morning.
"I know it's a cheek, Phryne," she paced the parlour, "but I think it could work. Evan has a gift for knowing her books, what would suit someone, and Abraham's place is a bit dull. She thinks she could make her own place more inviting and therefore more profitable; more accessible for those with few funds to spend on literature."
"Hm," Phryne sat and thought, she liked Evan, liked how she had healed Mac's heart in a way she couldn't. "Well, it seems a good idea, in principle; has she seen any premises that would work?"
"She hasn't looked; she doesn't think it could happen; she doesn't know I'm here."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"What do you think?" Mac stopped the car outside a shop, an empty shop. It was on the sunny side of the street, clean, the window frames were painted a bright white and the door was varnished wood with a shiny brass doorknob and vertical letterbox.
"Nice, why?"
"Here," she handed Evan a set of keys, "let's have a look inside."
"Elizabeth, what are you up to?" she scurried after Mac and after prompting, unlocked the door and they stepped inside. Mac flicked a switch by the door and the room lit up. It wasn't a large space, at least it didn't seem so at first but as they wandered further in they found it ran quite far back to the alley behind the row of houses.
"Like it?" Mac leant against the wall and folded her arms.
"As a building, well, it's ..." Evan drew her brows together, "interesting?"
"Right, here's what I think ..." Mac pushed herself off the wall and drew an envelope out of her pocket, "you take the place, fill it full of books, sell 'em, to whoever, at whatever price ...I'll leave you to see to that, a portion of the profit goes to the investor ..."
"Investor?"
"Yeah, I kinda went over your head," Mac grimaced. "Thing is, lover, this is, or could be, your bookshop, the one you dreamed of. With the books you already have and the ones I'm sure you could source from ... I dunno ..." she shrugged. "Evan, this is what you want, yes?"
Evan nodded slowly.
"You're miserable at Abrahams' place, and you say he's getting even more curmudgeonly so why not?"
"You did this – for me?" Evan whispered. "Why?"
"Because I want you to be happy," Mac stroked her cheek, brushing away a stray lock of hair, "and I thought this would make you happy."
"It's wonderful ..." Evan breathed, "it's Miss Fisher, isn't it, the investor?"
Mac blushed, "well, she was the only one I could think of, the only one who might understand."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Within the month Evan had set the shop out to her specifications. Bert and Cec Yates had helped move shelves around, creating alcoves, with lamps and a chair or two to read in. She had an 'author of the month' shelf at the front of the shop, set out a display in the window and gave the shop a name – 'The Book Cave'. The books she had from Abrahams' shop, the ones he had discarded were set on the appropriate shelves; other books were sourced from house clearances, people Miss Fisher knew that might be changing their shelves as their children grew out of the nursery tales and into Henry Lawson – it was light and airy and welcoming.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Thank you," Evan turned to Elizabeth and sighed.
"For what?"
"You know darn well what for," she laughed and slapped her shoulder.
"Oh, that," Elizabeth shrugged, "nah, t'weren't nuttin'."
"It was everything," Evan huffed, "I am so glad for the day you wandered into the shop for a book on natural poisons ..."
"Me too," she sighed and snuggled close. "Did you ever find the one I was really looking for?"
"Ah, yes," Evan reached down over the side of the bed, "happy birthday, Elizabeth ..." she passed her a parcel, wrapped as all her books were wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.
Mac took the parcel and turned it round in her hands then untied the string, "oh, you did," she gasped, holding a battered, well loved copy of the book she had lost all those months ago, "thank you." She leaned over and kissed her lover softly, "not just for this, for everything."
"Nah," Evan laughed, "t'weren't nuttin'."