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Chapter 2: Remembering
They unpack the picnic basket, placing all the goodies Mr. Butler packed out on the blanket. Jack sees his favorite ham, cheese and mustard pickle sandwiches among the other offerings. He notes several things to tempt Phryne's appetite and take into account her quicksilver changes of what tastes best. Fruit, cheese, bread, salad, a thermos of tea and a thermos of milk, Dot's biscuits and various other items lay there waiting for them to tuck in.
"Phryne, what drink shall I pour for you?" Jack gestures to the thermoses.
Phryne considers a moment her head tilted slightly to one side. "We will drink milk, thank you Inspector."
Two foaming glasses of milk, several sandwiches, plums and pears, not to mention Dot's biscuits later Phryne finally pushes her plate away with a small sigh. "That was the perfect lunch." Mr. Butler's uncanny knack for knowing what Phryne wants to eat lay in disarray around them.
Jack looks on, slightly amazed at the amount of food consumed by his wife; he only assumed Mr. B overfilled the basket; looking at the remains he silently thanks the man for his ever knowing care of Phryne. "I'll take your word. You may want to give Mr. Butler an extra thank you for preparing such a feast. I fear you might still be hungry if the picnic decisions were left to me."
Together they pack up the leftovers before the ants can invade and then stretch out on the blanket. Phryne resting her head on Jack's chest runs her fingers gently across his torso and up to brush his jaw. He strokes her hair and lets his fingers lightly trace a path down her arm. The rhythmic movements soothe; the sound of the stream and the birds singing might lull Phryne to sleep, but her thoughts of Janey intervene.
"Thank you for humoring me today Jack and not protesting overmuch our riding the horses." Phryne pushes up on her elbow looking at him. He nods gazing into the depths of her soul wondering if she will share the sadness he views. She rests her head on his chest again, snuggling even closer to him. She remains silent for such a long time Jack thinks she is asleep.
Phryne begins speaking, her voice taking on a faraway quality, her words so softly spoken he must strain to hear, but he does not interrupt for fear of causing her to bottle up the words and keep them buried inside her.
"Memories are powerful ghosts. That is definitely a fact of which I need no reminding. I am sure you feel the same what with the war and other things. I was four years old when mother sent me to play at the neighbor's cottage down the street just after breakfast, and when the neighbor walked me home it was growing dark. I remember the air was chilly and I didn't have a coat. It's funny the details that that come to mind. When the neighbor left me in the doorway, I ran in the house calling for my mother. Someone hushed me and led me to my mother's bed. She lay there with a small bundle of blankets. Peeking out was a red face with a head covered in sunny blonde fuzz; the mouth a perfect rosebud, the eyes as blue as the ocean.
"Phryne, meet your sister," my mother's voice was tired and weak. I came even closer to get a better look at my sister and I fell instantly in love with her. She was so tiny and she was gazing at me with those eyes that looked like they held a secret I didn't understand. "Her name is Janey."
I liked the name immediately, and I was so happy to see her that I didn't ask questions about the pile of sheets that were covered, no drenched, in blood. I even forgave my father his drunken celebration which meant no supper that night. Happily I was no longer an only child.
Our mother was not a strong person and her health suffered significantly with Janey's birth. Mother needed to rest frequently. I realized much later, during the war, the effects of losing a lot of blood and that it must have played a part after Janey's birth. Much of the baby's care fell on me but I didn't mind. Janey was the doll I never had. We were inseparable.
Janey was so different from me. Just as I had dark hair and she had blonde we were night and day different in personality. I was an inquisitive child constantly asking questions and a bit, she pauses thinking, fractious I guess is a good word. Janey was sweet and even tempered; even as a baby she rarely cried. I sat with her for hours telling her stories of the Pirate Girls of Collingwood among other more traditional nursery rhymes, watching her sleep, singing lullabies.
I catalogued each new thing that Janey did; her first smile for me; how her eyes tracked me, such trust in them, even at four I was awed by her. Rolling over, crawling, and sitting up, her first steps, her first word "NeeNee".
"That was me of course, Jack. Janey called me "NeeNee" from then on." He could hear the smile in her voice even if he couldn't see her face and he tightened his hold on her.
Phryne stretched and snuggled back into Jack's body before continuing her tale.
"Janey loved me unconditionally. While everyone else seemed unhappy with my innate curiosity and high strung responses and stubbornness she accepted and seemed to understand; even as a baby."
"As she grew I took her everywhere with me. The old bathtub in the yard became our pirate ship and we had many adventures there. I gave Janey my food much of the time. I would rather I be the one hungry."
Jack tightens his grip on her once again. He doesn't speak, but it is difficult for him to hear this. He had wondered briefly when she shared that she lived in Collingwood and at other times when she let tidbits of information slip out, but having it confirmed saddens him.
Phryne slips her hand into his pausing only a moment in telling her tale.
"As Janey's hair grew longer I loved brushing it; its smooth silky strands and the sunshine blonde color making me happy. Mother rarely had time to brush and braid my hair so as soon as I could; I took scissors and chopped it off. This action landed me in the cupboard for several hours. I hated the cupboard it was dark and cramped, but I kept cutting my hair. It wasn't an act of defiance; I didn't have time to deal with my hair when I had Janey to think about.
The year I started school was both exhilarating and sad. Janey missed me so. One of the few times she cried was when I left for school. She would hold her toddler arms up for me to carry her and beg to go with me. It was impossibly hard to leave her behind. I missed her terribly while away. I loved learning, but didn't particularly love school. There were so many rules to remember that seemed beyond pointless to me.
Jack chuckles in spite of his resolve as he thinks of Phryne going off to school already a crusader. "Jack, don't laugh at me," thumping him playfully on the arm she turns to face him.
"I'm not laughing at you, just imaging you talking to your teacher about rules you didn't like and how you worked to get around them," smiling Jack reaches for her and drops a kiss on her head. "Please continue, if you want to."
"I do want to Jack. I promise I will tell you more. Right now though, I think we need to think about heading back. If you will ready the horses, I will talk to Janey for a few minutes."
Jack nods, giving her a hug and pushing both of them into a sitting position he then gets up to handle gathering the horses.
Phryne folds the blanket before going to her knees before Janey's headstone, tears once again glinting in her eyes. "Oh Janey, I enjoyed telling Jack about you today. There is so much to tell for him to grasp our story. I don't know if I can really tell him everything, sissy. Some things are so scary to remember much less share." Phryne sighs heavily, a few tears escaping to trickle down her cheeks. A soft breeze, just a whisper really ruffles her hair and soothes her tearstained face. Closing her eyes, she smiles softly feeling that it is Janey giving her comfort and encouragement to shed light on the shadows. "Goodbye for now sweet sister. I love you - always."
She stands and walks with the blanket to the bench where the picnic basket is resting. She places the blanket with the basket knowing that Aunt P's staff will gather everything and make sure the basket and blanket are returned.
She walks to where Jack is waiting with the horses once again tied to the fence and moves straight into his arms. He holds her close, stroking her hair as she rests her face against him feeling the steady beat of his heart. He is solid and very much alive and he anchors her as she mentally prepares to leave the cemetery. Finally she raises her head and looks up at him her blue eyes enigmatic her mouth parted slightly, "Thank you again for today Jack."
"My pleasure Mrs. Robinson," and dipping his head he brushes the softest of kisses along her cheeks and lips. "Could we refrain from galloping on the way back?" he asks his hands falling to rest against the swell of her belly before kissing her again.
"I can't make any promises regarding galloping, Inspector," she quips playfully her laughter bubbling up and spilling out against his lips. Jack sighs in resignation, knowing that she will likely try his patience on the way back, "It's a pity I don't have a cupboard when you attempt to woo me around to your way of thinking." Phryne pulls an impish face at him, "And just what do you want to do with me in a cupboard Inspector?"
"That my darling is something you will just have to wait to find out!" With a lopsided grin Jack moves away to untie her horse. He gives her a leg up and she takes the reigns talking quietly to the horse as Jack turns to untie his animal and then mounts with easy grace. He really is the most incredibly beautiful man she thinks a slight smile touching her lips as she looks at him.
She is itching to gallop, but feels she has tested his patience quite a bit on the whole of the day so she sedately turns her horse and plods along at a walk. The one good thing about the slow pace is that Jack can be beside her and the feeling of companionship and camaraderie is soothing. They share easy conversation about the scenery.
Finally Jack gives in. Really, when has he ever been able to deny her? He gives her a look of pure mischief, "Last one to the stable is a rotten egg," and kicking his horse into a swift canter and then gallop he takes off.
Phryne is taken aback, but only for a moment. As she kicks her horse in the flanks and the animal responds by galloping after his stable mate she lets the joy of the rushing wind, the speed and strength of the horse beneath her and the knowledge of Jack's desire to give her this moment seep into her soul. The sadness that usually accompanies her visits to Janey's grave is whisked away during the ride and by the time they reach the stable she is once again glowing.
The two of them return to the house arm in arm laughing and arguing about which of them is the rotten egg like two errant children. They clean up and have dinner with Aunt Prudence and Arthur. Before they get to dessert Phryne's eyes are so heavy she can hardly stay awake. The fresh air and exercise and the emotions of the day have caught up with her.
"Mrs. Stanley," Jack asks his voice deep and smooth, "may we spend the night?"
"Yes, of course Inspector. You are welcome here any time." Jack acknowledges her words with a grateful smile and nod of his head.
"Come on Phryne, let's get you to bed." She nods and attempts to rise from her chair, but she is so tired she can barely stand. Jack helps her stand and then sweeps her up in his arms, her slight frame no trouble to carry. "Good night Arthur; Mrs. Stanley. Thank you for a lovely dinner and warm hospitality." Phryne is asleep in his arms before they hit the stairs.
Jack is careful on the stairs, taking extra time to make sure he doesn't lose his balance. This reminds him eerily of when he carried her from the antiquities chamber and out of Murdoch Foyle's clutches. He reaches the bedroom they always occupy if spending the night and gently lays Phryne on the bed. He gathers a nightgown and begins to undress her. He sucks in his breath as he peels away her clothes revealing her alabaster skin. She really is the most incredibly beautiful woman! The weight of her breasts and the swell of her stomach are irresistible to him. He pulls the nightgown over her head allowing his fingers to caress her body as he pulls the nightgown down to cover her, but he does not give in to the temptation of attempting to wake her.
He gently moves her under the covers placing a kiss on her forehead before stripping himself and putting on a pair of silk pajama bottoms. He slides into the bed next to her cuddling her, nuzzling her neck and wrapping his arm around her waist his hand splayed protectively across her. Phryne doesn't wake but she mumbles incoherently and shifts in her sleep so that she is on her side her arm resting alongside Jack's her fingers entwined with his and her back pushed firmly against his very solid form. Jack groans very quietly into her neck, his craving for her thrumming through him, his desire caught between their frames pulsing slightly with a life of its own. By sheer strength of will he forces his breathing to slow and his body to relax. He lays perfectly still knowing that if he moves he will be very hard pressed not to take her as she sleeps. He is also tired from the day's activities and as he focuses his remaining energy on stillness he too falls asleep his body wrapped lovingly around Phryne.