/ / THURSDAY - Afternoon / /
Phryne returned home that afternoon in a pleasant mood. She stepped inside her gate and walked up the path to her door with a smile, then entered the house to find a small catastrophe. Orpheus was in the dining room, sitting with a plate of tea cake and sipping from a china cup and across from him was Jane.
Damn. She had forgotten to consider she mightn't be home in time to warn the girl of their new guest.
"Orpheus," she said, announcing herself as she breezed through the doorway, "I see you made good time."
"Yes," he smiled at her and stood to kiss her cheek. She returned it without much thought, then walked around the table to stand next to Jane.
"Young Jane here was kind enough to join me for afternoon tea."
Phryne smiled, then looked to her daughter carefully, "Have proper introductions been made?"
"Yes," Jane smiled politely. "Uncle Jack has been telling me wonderful stories."
"Uncle Jack?" Phryne raised her eyebrows.
Orpheus ducked his head sheepishly, "She insisted,"
Jane nodded, "I've never had an uncle before, Miss Phryne. I think I'll like it. He's been telling me about how he built his business in Sydney."
"Hm," Phryne hummed, "well as long as he hasn't been telling you any tales of my youth I suppose that's alright."
She gave a small but honest smile and Orpheus seemed to sigh in relief.
"Why don't you join us, Phryne?" he asked.
Nodding, Phryne pulled out a chair and sat. Jane grinned and placed a final forkful of cake into her mouth, chewing happily.
Orpheus and Jane continued their conversation, Phryne listening with some interest as he spoke about expanding his business after the war.
"Does father know about this?" Phryne asked with amusement.
Her older brother was rarely mentioned in her family, and when he was conversation was usually cut short by her father's dismissal of Orpheus as an ungrateful betrayer of their family during struggle, now leeching off of the money their family had inherited.
"Some of it surely," Orpheus said with a shrug. "It was why I moved to Sydney, a job offer from a friend of Bill's. You remember Bill do you, Phryne?"
Phryne looked at him blankly, "I can't recall."
"Our old neighbour. I worked for him after school, he taught me to make simple desks and the like. It kept me out of the house, away from Father and I'd get some, well, pocket money really, in exchange for my work. And anything that brought money home was enough reason for Father not to belt me when I came in the door. As long as I coughed up."
Phryne wrinkled her nose, pushing away her own childhood memories of their father as Orpheus continued, repeating what he had been retailing to Jane.
"A friend of Bill's saw me working, thought I'd make a good apprentice; so he hired me and moved me to Sydney. I learnt my skills, made my way and then, after the war, I started my own business."
"And here I was hearing from Father how ungrateful you are for all the money of his you so dearly depend on," Phryne rolled her eyes. She may have grown bitter toward her brother for abandoning her, but she had never believed a word her father said about him.
Orpheus laughed, then raised his teacup to his lips and drank his last sip.
Dot walked into the room then and greeted her employer with an offer of tea and cake as she removed the empty teapot on it's tray.
"No thank you, Dot dear," Phryne dismissed. "I'm full to the seams after my lunch with Mac."
Dot nodded and left, leaving Phryne to look rather expectantly across the table at her brother while he looked blankly back. Jane glanced between them with confusion, trying to get a read on the situation.
Sensing after a moment that her adoptive mother wanted to talk privately with Uncle Jack, Jane cleared her throat.
"May I be excused?" she asked. "I have to read the next three chapters of my book for school."
Phryne smiled, she knew very well that Jane has finished that book twice over since it was set to her a week ago. She nodded her permission and watched as the girl stood and left the room. How lucky she was, Phryne considered, to have such an astute daughter.
"She seems a nice girl," Orpheus said once they were alone.
"She is," Phryne smiled. "Though one day I will have to tell you how I came to meet her. She may surprise you."
She stood then, changing the subject. "Come, Orpheus. Join me in my private parlour. We have things to discuss."
Orpheus nodded and pushed his chair back to stand as well. He followed his sister up the stairs and down the hall. She stepped past the door to her bedroom and up a few short stairs to a single doorway leading off the small landing. Opening the door she disappeared inside leaving Orpheus to follow slowly behind her.
It was a small and intimate room. Dark from heavy drapes covering the windows, with a low ceiling and a fine fireplace lining the short wall space to his right. In the centre of the room was a chaise and footstool, set upon a thick rug that Orpheus suspected had seen more entertaining than the furniture. Phryne busied herself pulling back the drapes, and soon the room filled with sunlight.
"Have a seat," she offered.
Orpheus sat, choosing the footstool so as to keep Phryne in his line of sight. She remained by the window, her back to him as she looked out into her garden, watching the birds that resided there.
"So," she said, still not looking at him, "tell me about this alibi of yours."
"It could be a long story," Orpheus warned.
"I have time."
He sighed, "All right. After I left Francis's office I went to the Queen Victoria Hospital."
"The women's hospital."
"Yes. I was looking for a nurse there, Miss Lane."
"Did you find her?"
"Yes," he sighed again. "This isn't going to make much sense unless you know the full story, from the very beginning."
Phryne turned, facing him finally. "So tell me, Orpheus."
For a moment he wasn't sure if he could. Orpheus looked down at his fingers, wringing them in his lap nervously before he opened his mouth and began to speak. "It started in 1905. The day I left for Sydney."
And her told her. All about Celia, a neighbourhood girl from Collingwood, his sweetheart and first love. How she had come to see him on the day he left, pregnant and scared. He told her about the money he sent back, and the letters, until the day he was asked suddenly to stop. He explained that his return to Melbourne now, was not for business, but to find his child.
"Miss Lane was a midwife. She assisted Celia in her delivery."
"And?" Phryne asked, "What did she say?"
Orpheus swallowed thickly. "The baby was stillborn."
"Oh, Orpheus..." she walked to him in an instant, crouching at his feet and placing a hand comfortingly over one of his own.
"No it's all right. Celia was just a child then Phryne, just the age of your Jane, and I think... I think..."
"What, Orpheus?"
"I think they lied to her."
"What?"
"Think about it Phryne. A fifteen year old girl from Collingwood giving birth in the year of 'six? They took her baby, sent it off to an orphanage, a church, some kind of adoption. Miss Lane sat and listened to me for hours. I told her all about my worries, seeing you again, all about wanting to find my baby. She was so understanding and kind, until the moment I mentioned Celia by name. She told me the babe died, and not a word more. Someone must have bribed her."
"Orpheus, don't you think you're being a little far fetched?"
"Phryne I have to know. I have to be certain. This is my child."
"Born in nineteen-six; even if the babe is alive, it would have grown up by now, Orpheus. They must be twenty-three, they could be married, or in a convent. Could have moved anywhere, halfway around the world or pirating out at sea. We don't even have a name to go by. How do you expect to find them?"
"I have to try."
Phryne sighed, then stood and began to pace.
"Do you at least know the gender of this child?"
"A girl. That's all Miss Lane would say."
"A birth date?"
"Not an exact one. But I have Celia's letter. She asked me to stop contacting her in March, 1906."
Phryne nodded. How could they find this girl, if she was as Orpheus suspected (hoped), and alive after all?
"We will go to Births, Deaths and Marriages," she announced. "We'll have to go through all the records of March -and February- up until the date of your letter. There has to be a birth certificate somewhere, and it will have Celia's name on it. Or, if it comes to it, we may have to consider the death certificates."
"You'll help me look for her?"
"Yes, of course Orpheus. If this girl is alive, then she is my niece. And you are my brother. I will help you find her. One way or another."
/ / /
True to her word Phryne helped Orpheus the very next day, going through the birth records of 1906 until they came across Ivy Elizabeth Thomas, born March 17th to Celia Thomas and 'Father Unknown'. And as Verity Lane had said -as Phryne suspected and Orpheus feared- they also found a death certificate for baby Ivy, dated the same day.
"What do we do next?" Orpheus asked.
"I don't know," Phryne admitted. "It could simply be a falsified record if they took the baby to an orphanage like you think. Perhaps the next step is to... look for a grave?"
It was not a pleasant task.
They spent the rest of the morning walking through cemeteries, not saying much as they looked at the names on the small headstones above smaller graves. Eventually, heavy hearted, they found what they were looking for.
Orpheus read his daughter's name and bit back a string of curses.
"I'm sorry."
He looked up to see Phryne at his side, hesitantly reaching out her arm but not touching him. Like she had thought better of it. She seemed to genuinely care, but Orpheus shrugged her off anyway.
"It doesn't mean anything," he said. "If they lied to her she would have had a funeral. She wouldn't know if the coffin was empty."
"Orpheus…"
"No, Phryne. No. That baby- Ivy, Ivy can't be dead. I won't accept it." He turned firmly on his heel and began to walk away, running a hand through his slick hair and dislodging it.
Phryne sighed, looking after him sadly before she peered down at her niece's grave. The stone was dirty, slightly moss covered. Now she knew it was here, knew who it was, Phryne would pay to have the stone cleaned. Flowers sat slowly wilting in a small vase. Someone still had love for this child. Celia, Phryne thought, crouching and reaching a gloved hand to trace the letters of Ivy's name.
She must still be poor. The vase was chipped and cheap, bought from Coles if she had to guess. The flowers too were not bought or arranged by any florist. Phryne recognised the flora of Collingwood, at least one of the flowers in the bunch she knew to be a weed. The rest were straggly at best. Picked from people's gardens and placed here perhaps just yesterday. Or even this morning... the grass looked wet. Water spilt when being poured into the vase?
Shaking the thought away Phryne pushed herself back to her feet and looked around. Orpheus was waiting and smoking by a tree some distance away. She walked to him and slipped her arm into his, leading him back to her car.
"Come, brother dear," she said. "You need a stiff drink, I think."
A few feet away and hidden behind a large stone angel, a man watched the siblings go. He smiled to himself. So Orpheus Fisher and his little sister had reunited... Perhaps it wasn't so bad the frame up hadn't worked after all.