Chapter Two

On being informed that their train would be leaving Flinders St Station before 9am the following day, Phryne immediately telephoned Dot, who was eager to come and help pack. Leaving her twin babies with the divine Miss Stubbs, she commandeered Bert and Cec's taxi and appeared within the hour. The Queenscliff wardrobe was relied upon heavily, and Phryne regretted for a moment that there was no time to acquire anything new from Madame Fleuri; but still, a holiday was a holiday and she would Make Do.

The Inspector decided to steer well clear, and went to Flinders St to buy the tickets. Mr Butler was in his element, and spent much of the afternoon preparing a sumptuous picnic basket for the journey.

"I'm sure the refreshment people at Warragul and Sale do their best, Ma'am," he said patronisingly, "but I think we can improve, don't you?"

"Oh, certainly, Mr B," replied Phryne, slotting a bottle of champagne in next to the home-made lemonade he'd included.

Thus it was that at the rather horribly (in Mrs Robinson's view) early hour of 8.38am on Friday morning, the happy couple were ensconced in a first class carriage for the express to Warragul and all stations to Bairnsdale. By dint of spreading out their bags, coats and picnic to fit the space available, and behaving in what could only be regarded by a passing stranger as a thoroughly antisocial manner, they managed to secure a compartment to themselves, and the hours passed swiftly; by mid-afternoon, they were emerging on to the platform at Bairnsdale, commandeering porters and taxis for the short drive to the Abbotsford Hotel on Riverine St.

It wasn't until they'd checked in that it dawned on Phryne – this was the first time they'd actually not had to commit some subterfuge in order to share a room. Marriage definitely had its advantages. Also, Mr Robinson appeared to be a bit of a dab hand at booking hotels. He'd secured the best suite of rooms in the place, with a wrought-iron balcony overlooking the Mitchell River.

In fact, she felt a slight qualm, and wasn't sure how to raise it – or even whether to raise it at all.

Eventually, she decided that she would ask her awkward question in the most public place possible, using the assumption that her shy Jack wouldn't fly off the handle if he thought others were listening.

They were lingering over coffee in the hotel dining room when she took her courage in both hands (well, strictly speaking, in the hand whose back he wasn't drawing on with his fingernail).

"Jack?"

He looked up enquiringly.

"Can I ask a slightly tricky question?"

At first his brow furrowed, but something told her he'd expected this to arise. He inclined his head.

"Go ahead."

"This is all … simply lovely. The train journey, the hotel – my ring," she glanced down at it fondly again and his eyes smiled to see how well his attempt to make what had started as a marriage for show something much more meaningful had worked. Then she looked up at him with concern in her eyes.

"But, Jack, I've become used to not having to count the cost of things like this, and I know it's not the same for you. A senior Detective Inspector gets well paid, but I'm sure you have to give Rosie something – and even if you didn't have to, you would" She challenged him with her eyes to deny it. He didn't bother to try. "I've no idea whether this mad idea of marriage is going to work," his arrested expression made her hurry on, "but if it doesn't, it mustn't be because I've got more money."

Her eyes softened.

"I don't need the best seats and the best suites to have fun, Jack. I mostly just need you, and I want to make sure I'm doing everything in my power to keep us from ever letting money be a problem."

He said nothing for a little while, but turned her hand over to start tracing on her palm instead. Eventually he spoke.

"You don't need to worry." He looked up and could see her about to object to what sounded like a dismissal of the question. "Phryne … do you have any idea how long I've had to contemplate what it would be like to share my life with you? There really isn't any barrier you can think of that I haven't thrown up in front of myself ten times over." He smiled wryly. "It was part of the reason it took me so long to even consider making some romantic overture. It was an insoluble mystery to me, and you know how much I hate those," their eyes laughed at each other.

"I've sometimes talked to Rosie about just giving her a lump sum. She'd like it, she says – she wants to go back to stay with her sister, and the pair of them could start a business together if they had some capital. There's not much left for her in Melbourne now – not that she wants to hang on to, anyway."

He sat forward, and took her hand in both of his now.

"So, what I thought I might do is sell my place, and give Rosie a chunk of the proceeds. I'd like to contribute to our household expenses, and I can do that this way."

Then he smiled properly.

"And you definitely don't need to worry about the cost of this holiday, or whatever other holidays we have over the next few years. I wasn't living a monk's existence when you blew into my life, Phryne, but my only spend was on books, food, whisky and one new suit a year. You have absolutely no idea how much joy it gives me to have something so-utterly-thrilling" each word punctuated by a kiss to one of her fingertips, "to spend some savings on."

Sitting back, he tilted his head.

"Satisfied, Mrs Robinson?"

She sat forward, and started to play rather strangely with his fingers. Running the tip of her tongue along her top lip, she looked directly into his eyes and said very quietly, "Only in some respects, Mr Robinson."

It was fortunate that the bill had already been presented, because their exit from the dining room proved hasty.