Bored, irritable, and unwilling to waste a beautiful spring day, Phryne found herself accompanying Jack and Anthony to the botanical gardens Sunday morning. Jane stayed home, insisting that she could study best with a quiet house, and Phryne had a feeling that was not the whole story. Jack had originally arranged the day to get the child out of the house while Phryne slept, but she found that she was oddly restless and joined them at the kitchen table for breakfast. When the plans were mentioned, she agreed to go along—it was one of the places Jack would go when he needed to think, usually because the station had become stifling, and Phryne joined him when she was so inclined. It was an oasis of peace in the middle of the city, and seemed a perfect outlet for her mood.
It began well enough: Anthony would run ahead on the paths, staying well in sight and returning at the first sign of other people approaching, and Phryne strolled arm in arm with Jack. It was, she thought briefly, almost nice to see the boy's enthusiasm.
"Mims! Dat! Dat!" he would occasionally call out, pointing to something in the sky or along the side of the walk. Thankfully he did not seem to need any acknowledgment beyond her turning in the direction he indicated, and even Phryne was willing to put out that much effort.
In one of the large open expanses they stopped for an ice cream. Jack spread his coat—why he insisted on bringing it when the day was promising to be hot eluded her—in the shade of a tree to protect Phryne's white trousers, then sat beside her. He loosened his tie as a concession to the heat, arms loosely resting on the top of his raised knees, and painted a picture of such relaxed pleasure that she wondered exactly how close she could get before he voiced an objection. Her plans were waylaid by Anthony sprawling between them, just missing the hem of her blouse with his ice cream.
Phryne sighed, but before she could protest movement in the tree above caught her attention. She watched for a moment, and sure enough recognised the creature that emerged from the branches.
"Oh, look," she said lightly. "There's a squirrel up in the tree."
Anthony bolted upright.
"Me?" he asked, and Phryne did laugh at that. She had called him squirrel several times in the days since her threat, usually when he was wreaking havoc; she hadn't realised that he'd actually been listening.
"Smaller than you," she said. "Though not by much. Look up."
Anthony complied, dropping his half-eaten ice cream onto Jack's coat in the process.
"Dat! Dat! Dat me!"
Jack sighed, pulling a handkerchief from his trouser pocket to clean the coat as best he could. Phryne laughed at him and reclined back on her elbows, watching Anthony grow bored of the squirrel and leap up to play nearby once again. They eventually roused themselves from beneath the tree after Jack almost fell asleep, continuing their stroll. By noon, the sun overhead left it unseasonably hot and bright. Phryne watched from behind her sunglasses as Anthony had a complete meltdown over that fact, thankful that there was nobody around to witness.
Jack, showing irritation for what might have been the first time since he'd walked into the nursery to find that he'd been volunteered for duty, was attempting to talk some sense into the wailing child; it was a futile task, a fact she could have pointed out with the simple observation that he was a child. Finally Jack huffed, removed the hat from his own head, and stuck it on Anthony's. The tears ceased instantly and he beamed, and Phryne marveled once again at the mercurial nature of children. Exhausting.
"Hat, hat, hat!" Anthony shouted, hugging Jack before running off once more.
Jack watched him go with a perplexed look on his face, as if he had not expected the contact or knew what to do with it. He stood, loping the short distance towards Phryne.
"You seem quite the popular figure," she remarked.
He glanced back towards the boy, who had progressed to spinning in small circles.
"Yes," he replied. "But I haven't the foggiest idea why."
—
Phryne was in the midst of a perfectly lovely conversation with Mac about the latest meeting of the Adventuresses Club and its newest member—a stunning young woman by the name of Catherine that Phryne was inclined to think was of the Sapphic persuasion and Mac was inclined to think was attractive regardless of inclinations in the boudoir—when their musings were interrupted by a loud bang followed by a horrific shriek.
"Probably fell off a table," Phryne said irritably, waving her hand in the direction of the door. "It's inevitable, really. Dot's with him."
The screaming continued, and Phryne placed her teacup on the tray and grimaced. She was about to make a quip about the distinct pleasures of a house without children when the sound gained a primal ferocity that had both Phryne and Mac out of their seats and heading to the kitchen in tandem.
"It's a damn good thing you're a doctor," Phryne said on the way, as if such a comment could keep the need for Mac's skills at bay.
"I'd be more use if I had my bag," Mac replied. "We'll have to see how well-stocked Mr. Butler keeps the medical kit."
In the kitchen, Phryne's first impression was blood, quickly superseded by the realisation it was cherry jam—there on the floor was the pot that had been upended as it cooled, and the scent of cherries filled the air—but for a moment her gut clenched as she sought the source.
Dot was knelt before Anthony, trying to calm him.
"It's all right, Anthony," she said, touching the jam on her sleeve. "See? It's just a bit of jam. Silly me just spilled it, see?"
Anthony continued to shriek, completely unresponsive of Dot's calming platitudes, his entire body shaking with the force of his screams. Mac bent beside him, checking him over for signs of burns or injury, but Phryne knew she would find none. At Mac's nod, Dot tried to pull the boy in for a hug; he continued to wail, a wordless and deep sound ripped from his chest, his entire body rigid.
"That's quite enough nonsense now!" Dot said sharply, pulling back. "It was a fright, but there's no need for hysterics."
His screams continued unabated, the entire world shut out of wherever he found himself. Mac looked up at Phryne, both of them recognising the sound from too many nights in battlefield hospitals. Right. Phryne knew how to deal with that, at least.
"Dot, I need you to telephone Jack, tell him to come home immediately," Phryne ordered, crouching down beside Anthony. The boy was closest to Jack, and he would have the best luck reaching him in this state. "Mac, do you have—"
"No bag," Mac reminded her. "I can telephone a colleague."
Phryne nodded.
"After Dot's spoken with Jack," she said; her companion was already heading towards the telephone in the corridor.
"Anthony?" She reached out and touched Anthony's shoulder; there was no response, not even a hitch in his breath. "Squirrel?"
Nothing. Standing, Phryne picked him up, his entire body caught up in his waking nightmare, and brought him into the nursery. She laid him on the bed; unable to leave anyone in that state, she began to rub his back and mutter soft noises, willing him to calm. Touch and sound, attempts to anchor him to the world. Phryne cast her mind back, trying to remember the sorts of fairy tales she had told Janey on nights when her father had been in a particularly dark mood, but came up with nothing. She'd have to improvise.
"Once there were two princesses…" she began.
—
Jack was in the middle of an interview when Collins knocked on the door, jerking his head towards the corridor and insisting there was a telephone call.
"Who is it?" he asked quietly when he crossed the room, casting his eye back to the witness nervously examining the table.
"Dottie, sir."
"As fond as I am of Mrs. Collins, that can wait."
Hugh shook his head. "She sounds upset, sir, says Miss Fisher insisted you come home right away."
"Quite frankly, Collins, if Miss Fisher is speaking then there's nothing that couldn't possibly wait five minutes while I finish this interview."
"I think… I think it might be Anthony, sir. I heard screaming in the background."
Jack's stomach dropped.
"Mrs. Collins did say the house?" he confirmed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Hugh nodded. At least it wasn't a hospital. "Right, finish taking the statement. And ask again about whether he's ever met the other burglary victims. If you need to reach me—"
"You'll be at home, sir," Hugh finished promptly. "Nobody could fault you for that."
Jack shook his head ruefully. He could bloody well fault himself. What sort of blithering idiot…. He sighed; he could untangle that thought later. Home first. He grabbed his hat and jacket and drove at precisely the speed limit until the familiar house was in his sights. He parked quickly and jogged up the path and through the front door. Mac was waiting in the hall—he wasn't certain whether it was good or bad news that the doctor was there—and she gave him a strained smile.
"We had a bit of upset," she said.
"If you can call that an 'upset'," remarked Mrs. Collins, emerging from the back of the house. "I've never seen a child carry on so."
"What's going on?" Jack asked. "Collins said there was screaming?"
"Well, inspector, I was making cherry jam and had left it to cool—"
"Dot here upended the pot, Anthony saw it, and it set him off," Mac said bluntly.
"I was called home in the middle of the day for a tantrum?" Jack asked incredulously.
He almost would have preferred that to Mac's shaken head.
"No, it was…very reminiscent of—"
"Oh!" Dot gasped, as if suddenly understanding. "No wonder Miss Phryne…."
"Yes," Mac said. "No wonder. We were just waiting for another doctor to come by with a sedative, but he's fallen silent. I was about to see for myself when I heard you at the door."
"And Phryne?"
"She took him through to the bedroom. Still there, far as I know."
Jack nodded in understanding and headed towards the nursery. When he arrived he knocked softly at the door before stepping inside; Phryne was seated at the edge of the bed, a sleeping Anthony's head in her lap as she stroked his hair. The look in her eyes conveyed everything her tightly drawn lips refused to say, and he moved to sit beside her. After a moment, she released a deep breath.
"I haven't heard a sound like that in years," she said. "I knew about the nightmares, but this…" She tilted her head back, examining the ceiling as if she would find the answers there. "What was I thinking? He's not some parcel to be neatly stored until delivery. He needs—"
"He needed you, Phryne love," Jack said gently. "That's why it's you sitting here and not Mrs. Collins. She saw a child, you saw the trauma; not everyone would have been equipped to deal with it."
Phryne barked a short laugh and shook her head.
"I wasn't equipped to deal with it, Jack, I was just the only one there."
"It's the same thing, isn't it?"
She reached out and laced her fingers through his.
"Either way," she said dryly, "it's going to be awhile before I can face cherry jam again."
