Finally the sun had come out.
It had rained for days; sometimes the roads had been more like rivers and apart from being driven to and from school Phryne-Rose had stayed in the house. She had had cooking lessons from her grandmother and could now do a tasty roast, potatoes au gratin that were nearly as good as Mr Butler's and shortbread biscuits that melted in her father's mouth.
She had arranged to meet Jane, Miss Fisher's ward, on Saturday and go to the library and then to a cafe for lunch. Jack thought she had earned the treat and laughed at her sheer joy as she left the house and he headed to City South. Yes, it was Saturday, and yes, Miss Fisher had invited him to an art exhibition and lunch, but first he had some paperwork to finish. He wondered why she would invite him to an art exhibition, he was not particularly interested in art, per se, though if he liked a piece that was the way he rated it. Of course he had seen the art works in her house which included the Sarcelle nude - the one that made him blush! Still, a day in Phryne's company was worth being surrounded by the high minded, or art snobs as his mother would call them.
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The girls whiled away a couple of hours in the history section of the library; Jane was fascinated with Egyptology despite her brush with Murdoch Foyle, and Phryne-Rose with Greco-Roman history, ever since her father told her the story of the original Phryne.
"Shall we go for a walk, after lunch?" Jane slipped a book back onto the shelf, "I've been stuck inside for an age with this awful weather."
"Alright, where?" Phryne-Rose grinned.
"Along the river and into the gardens?"
"I'm supposed to meet dad at Miss Fisher's ... "
"She's going to an art exhibition, is she taking the Inspector?"
"I think so," Phryne-Rose thought for a moment, "though I don't know what he knows about art, music now that's another thing."
"Come on," Jane changed the subject, "let's go and eat."
They found a little cafe that would serve two young girls, after Jane had dropped Miss Fisher's name. They ate chicken pie and vegetables followed by ice cream and peaches and drank lemonade.
"Ooh, that was good," Jane sat back and sighed.
"Definitely need a walk now," Phryne-Rose laughed.
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They walked arm in arm along the river, talking about Miss Fisher and the Inspector, about school and how Phryne-Rose was happier at Warley than she had been at her other school.
"Nobody mentions my grandfather," she heaved a relieved sigh, "I don't get those suspicious looks."
"I'm surprised the teachers talked about it in front of the students," Jane huffed, "I mean surely that's up to the parents, isn't it?"
"Oh they talked too," Phryne-Rose snipped, "they would drag their precious little girls away from me, as if I had something to do with it. I'm as horrified as everybody else. It's dad I feel sorry for, being his son in law."
"He's come out of it remarkably unscathed, Miss Phryne says," her friend noted.
"I think she helps."
Jane just nodded.
They continued on, the ground was soft after all the rain and both mused that shoes would need to be cleaned when they got to their respective homes.
"What was that?" Jane suddenly grabbed her friend and stood listening.
"What?"
"Shush," she urged, "listen."
At first all they could hear was the rushing of the river and the few people that were in the gardens then ... a sort of mewling sound and a yelping, weak and shaky.
"It sounds like a baby," Jane whispered, "over there," she pointed to a series of shrubs. They walked nonchalantly over and checked no one was watching before starting to rummage through the undergrowth.
"Here," Phryne-Rose pushed aside a thick branch, "in here." She leant right in, then, not being able to quite reach what she was after, stepped into the shrubbery.
"P-R!" Jane called, urgently, "if the grounds-keeper catches you ..."
"Grab this," Phryne-Rose turned with a soggy cardboard box.
"What ...!"
"Grab it!" she thrust in at her friend.
Jane took the box while Phryne-Rose extricated herself from the foliage, catching and tearing her dress in the process.
"Drat!" she hissed, "gran'll kill me."
"Bet Dot can fix it," Jane hummed, "what's this?"
"Dunno, but that's where the noise came from," Phryne-Rose shrugged and went to open the top. "Oh ... oh you poor things," she gasped, "pups, Jane, it's pups ... one, two, three of them, Oh lor'!"
Indeed, in the box were three tiny puppies of indeterminate breed, shivering, half-starved and with barely any fur.
"We can't just leave them, what are we going to do?" Jane peered in.
"Take 'em home," Phryne-Rose took the box, "I've always wanted a dog."
"I don't think he's going to let you have three," Jane laughed.
"Well, you could have one, and I'm sure we could find a home for the last one," she started to walk towards the path, "come on."
"One of these - in Miss Phryne's house?" Jane gasped, "I don't think she'll let me, and Dot will have a fit!"
Phryne-Rose just shrugged and carried on, not wanting to tell her that Jack often said Miss Fisher tended to take in waifs and strays and included Jane in that statement. She was sure it would be fine, especially if they got the pups bathed before she saw them.
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Dot did indeed 'have a fit' when the girls turned up at the kitchen door with their burden.
"But, Dot," Jane implored, "they're God's creatures, just like the donkey in the zoo, you know, the one with the gammy leg ..."
"We have to do something," Phryne-Rose insisted. "Please, at least if we bath them they'll look more presentable."
Behind them Mr Butler smiled softly and went to one of the outbuildings where he was sure there was an old tin bath.
"Here, girls," he lifted it onto the table, "use this, warm water, just a little soap."
Dot raised her eyebrows and stared at Mr Butler. He just nodded and found an old towel the pups could be dried with.
"Where on earth did you find them?" she watched as each of the tiny scraps were gently placed in the bath, their little tails between their legs as they shivered with fear.
"Shoved in the bushes in the gardens," Jane held out her arms for the first pup, "they seem to have been abandoned, left to die I suppose."
"That's terrible," Dot agreed, "but what do you intend to do with them?"
"Well, I'm going to persuade dad to let me keep one ..." Phryne-Rose lifted the second pup out and placed it in the towel in Jane's hands, "we thought Jane could have one ..."
"I'm allergic to dogs," Dot sniffed, though so far she hadn't sneezed.
"Really?" Phryne-Rose gazed at her.
"Miss Fisher had a case at the footie ground, one of the men had a dog and Dot sneezed every time she came near it ..." Jane looked at Dot, "but that may just have been that particular breed ..."
"... and what breed is this one?"
"Dunno," Jane took the third pup and Mr Butler took the bath to empty it.
Mr Butler put three saucers of mashed potato and gravy, let down with a little milk on the table.
"They look like a cross breed, that could be why they were dumped," he murmured, "and too young to be leaving their mother, I'll be bound."
Jane put a little of the mush on her finger and held it close to a puppy's mouth. It licked cautiously but took the food and nudged for some more. While the girls encouraged the pups to take the food they discussed what mix of breeds they could be: what little fur they had was were predominately white, soft and slightly curled, Mr Butler thought a little like a poodle that hadn't been clipped into one of the fashionable style; one had black tips to its tail and ears and was named 'Tip' because of the markings, another had a black patch in the centre of its forehead and one black paw, Jane named that one 'Boot' and the third had a black patch round its left eye, Dot said it looked like it had been in a fight and suggested 'Scrapper'.
"I don't think they'll grow very big," Mr Butler picked up Tip and took him to the door, intending he should do his business outside; if they were to stay house-training them was a top priority. Jane and Phryne-Rose took the other two and placed them gently on the ground. None of them looked particularly happy but after a few minutes each pup had left a little pile and puddle, been praised and taken back into the warm kitchen, at which point Mr Butler handed an old coal shovel to Jane and nodded to the deposits. She supposed this would be a part of looking after a dog should they keep one, Boot was her favourite. She scooped up the mess and tipped it into the bin then poured a bucket of water over the quickly drying puddles.
While Dot scrubbed the table the girls sat with the pups on their knees and wondered what next. Phryne-Rose was rather impulsive and she had not thought beyond taking them home and bathing them. There were beds to think of, what they would have to eat and their day to day care.
They were discussing who they should offer the third pup to when Miss Fisher's voice floated through from the hall, the art exhibition and lunch must have finished.
"Hello, girls," she grinned, "good day?"
"Hello Miss Phryne," Jane carefully hid Boot under the table, or so she thought.
"Hello, dad," Phryne-Rose was less worried, "look what we found." She held up Tip. "Three, abandoned in a box in the gardens."
"And you brought them back," he went round to examine the pup, "scrappy little thing."
"Dad," Phryne-Rose huffed, "he's called Tip and I want to keep him; Jane has Boot," she pulled Jane up to show her choice, "and we were just wondering who to offer the third one to."
Jane blushed crimson, she had hoped to discuss it with Miss Fisher in a more private setting.
"Oh, I see," the lady detective approached. She looked at the one Mr Butler was holding and stroked her finger up his face and down his back. "I had a dog, once," she smiled, "Bodgy was his name, he had a deformed leg and was destined for the local river. He stayed at the family estate and became one of father's gun dogs."
"What about his deformed leg, Miss?" Dot asked, "surely he wouldn't be much use."
"Oh Bodgy never knew anything but only three useful legs, he got around well enough," she laughed. "So, you want to keep this one, Jane?"
"Erm, yes, that is I would like to, if you don't mind, Miss Phryne," Jane stuttered.
"You do realise I expect you to deal with his food, clean up after him and make sure he doesn't leave unpleasant deposits around the house. He won't be allowed up the stairs nor to lie on the furniture in the parlour." She turned to Dot, suddenly remembering her allergy, "now, Dot, how will you manage do you think?"
"Well, Miss," Dot wiped her hands on her apron, "so far I haven't sneezed so I suppose we could give it a try. They are rather sweet."
"What about Scrapper?" Jane nodded to the one Mr Butler had cradled in his hands.
"Oh," Miss Fisher smiled, "I think Scrapper has found his master, eh, Mr Butler?"
Mr Butler smiled sheepishly, "well, Miss," he pinkened slightly, "perhaps."
Jack rolled his eyes; it had been on the tip of his tongue to say 'no' but if Phryne was going to let two of the pups stay at Wardlow then he couldn't stop his daughter taking the other - not really.
"I don't expect your grandmother to pick up after him," he huffed, "your responsibility."
"Dad!" she shrieked, "oh, dad, thank you! I'll look after him, I promise!"
"Hm," he grimaced, "well, that remains to be seen."
"Jack," Miss Fisher teased, "don't be such a grump, the responsibility will do both of them good."
"Perhaps we should find them something to sleep in," Dot suggested, "a box, an old blanket or towel, and set it by the stove, to keep them warm."
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Against all of Jack's predictions the puppies thrived under the care of the girls and Mr Butler. Tip settled into an old apple box lined with a blanket and set by the stove in the kitchen at the Robinson house. Phryne-Rose got up early each morning and warmed up something mashed up from the previous night's dinner. She fed him slowly with her fingers, not minding if he nipped by accident, took him out to the garden to do his business and cleaned that up before breakfast.
By the time they were three months old they were fully house-trained, though chair legs were nibbled on occasion - mainly in the kitchen. Boot liked to lie on the rug in front of the fireplace in the parlour in the evenings, Scrapper was happy in the Butler's pantry with Mr Butler, where he might be lucky to be given a treat or two left over from the dining table.
All the pups' fur had grown, curled and soft, thick; but their breed remained a mystery. They still had a likeness to a poodle, but the head was less fine, the nose broader - Jack suggested some kind of terrier. Nobody cared; the girls walked them morning and evening after school and met up at the weekends to walk them in the gardens where they had been found.
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Phryne Fisher was known for hiding her feelings, but Boot knew better, and Boot would never tell how she felt for the Inspector. On evenings when she was alone she would confess her feelings for him, and for her namesake, Phryne-Rose, tell him her wishes and dreams much as she had done with Bodgy all those years ago, how she would one day mean something, something really special to someone ... now she did.
Oh, and Dot, well, she was only allergic to the dog from the footie club.