The Joys of Staying In
"But I want to go out-SIIIIIIIIIDE!"
Hell had, after all, frozen over.
Pigs had been witnessed flying over St Kilda.
Albert Johnson had been seen to walk away from a fight.
(This last was, in fact, true, but only because the opponent had, in putting down his pint, sneezed heavily. Cec Yates, marginally more sober and a great deal more savvy, tugged at Bert's sleeve until he had his fellow Red Ragger's attention. He then, very pointedly, wiped his nose on the sleeve of his overcoat. Bert's eyes widened in understanding, and he looked askance at the fool who'd thought to suggest him unsafe behind the wheel of a cab. With no more than a muttered "let that be a lesson to yer" he allowed himself to be removed to the taxi.
Cec drove. [hastily] Not that it matters who drove, both men being equally expert at the wheel.)
Most unlikely of all, Miss Elizabeth Jane Robinson was Cross.
The Honourable Phryne Fisher lifted her eyes to the heavens and begged silently for that most elusive of all qualities in Melbourne's most fabulous lady detective – patience.
And tried again. "I know you do, darling. But we really can't. Not when half the children in The Esplanade have got scarlet fever."
A miniscule mutter was not quite heard.
"I beg your pardon?" was delivered as gently as possible by the woman who was trying hard to forget her determination to avoid children at all costs. There was, after all, no avoiding this one. She had only herself to blame for Elizabeth's existence. Well, there had been something of a helping hand (or other appendage) from Detective Chief Inspector Jack Robinson, but the child's conception had been Phryne's idea, and therefore, by definition, sheer genius.
At the moment, genius was mysteriously hiding somewhere behind the curtains in the nursery and afraid to come out. As were (if not there, then somewhere equally cowardly) the child's nanny, Mary Lou, the butler, Mr Butler, and the maid, Lin Soo.
"Gid hasn't". This time the mutter was marginally more audible.
Ah. The skies cleared, the sun shone and the angels sang a chorus of alleluias. At last, the problem was clear.
Elizabeth Jane was In Love.
Some people might sensibly argue that five years old was perhaps a tad soon to be identifying one's future soulmate. They, however, had not seen the younger twin of Sergeant and Mrs Collins and the elder Robinson child at their mischievous best. When the tastiest morsels on the plate at dinner disappeared only to turn up at a midnight feast that both participants denied with the evidence plastered over their filthy, grinning faces; when, by a sign language known only to two very young people, a sedate game of pelmanism became an innuendo-laden drama that had a certain youth laughing so hard he had to be carried to the toilet lest he disgrace himself; and when they disappeared, having the household in a panic until they were discovered in the lower branches of the apple tree in the garden, telling stories and quite confused that anyone would worry about them, because it wasn't really dark at all, Mumma, and it's only Gid; then a mother, at least, knew to tread carefully.
She gathered up Elizabeth in her arms. "No, you're right. Nate hasn't either, and it's a nuisance that he's stuck at Aunt Pru's. We miss him too, don't we?" A woeful nod was all her reward; Elizabeth was fond of her little brother, who put up with a great deal from his Big Blister, as he called her when he wanted her attention.
"Well …" Phryne cast around frantically for ideas, and wished the quarantine period could magically end. "Why don't we …"
Her sentence ended in the sound of a latchkey in the door. Elizabeth's face lit up, in remarkable reflection of her mother's reaction to the noise. A besuited gentleman of athletic build stepped over the threshold, tossing his hat neatly onto the stand.
"DADDY" squealed Elizabeth, launching herself from her mother's arms into his.
"Daughter!" he responded cheerfully, and looked over the child's head at the other occupant of the hallway.
"Hello, Jack," she smiled. "Good day?"
"Good enough," he shrugged. She raised an eyebrow. He returned the favour. Could have been better, could have been worse. No-one died, and I'm home.
She grinned. "In that case, you'll be able to help us. Elizabeth needs to get a message to Gid."
His answering grin faded slightly to a more resigned expression. "I take it all the usual carrier pigeons are busy?"
"They are," she said breezily, and led the way into the parlour. Nothing loath, Jack set Elizabeth down and, hand in hand, they walked in the train of the Household Muse.
The Muse's train, however, appeared to run out of steam somewhere near the fireplace. Casting her eyes around the room, she searched for inspiration.
The Inspector, however, was On The Case.
Dropping Elizabeth's hand, he looked down at her. She looked up at him enquiringly.
"Why don't we …" he said, sauntering over to the piano and raising the lid, "… write him a tune?"
Mystified, Elizabeth followed him over, and he perched her next to him on the stool.
"Play a note," he invited her. She looked at him, then back at the keyboard. Hesitantly, she reached out a finger and pressed down gently on one of the ivory keys.
"Middle C," he said approvingly. "Very good. Now do a different one.
Getting the idea, she complied. "F. Okay, and again?" Greatly daring, she reached for a black note, and pressed so hard that her finger slipped to the key next door. He laughed. "Jazzy – I love it! A flat, A natural."
Then he studied the keyboard for a moment. "Right, what can we do with this?" He played the notes over again, adding rhythm, and then launched into a halting improvisation of stride chords and jaunty melody.
His womenfolk were enraptured. Elizabeth clapped her hands, delightedly, and tried imperfectly to fit her boyfriend's name to the tune.
Phryne smiled more quietly, but went to mix a cocktail. Two cocktails – one as a reward for the solemn policeman with endless patience, immense good humour and a taste for strong women of all ages.
After all, if staying in hadn't been such fun, they wouldn't have had Elizabeth in the first place – and then where would they be?