For all of you who don't read German, here now the correct version. I hope you had a good start into April. Apologies for currently being not overly chatty - I'm in a bit over my head at work - but I do read and appreciate all of the comments you are leaving me. Please continue ;).

Chapter 21: Anemone

John Robinson was the last to appear in the sunroom for breakfast. To the astonishment of everybody, he gave a friendly greeting and sat down, as if the last night's events hadn't occurred. His eyes were immediately drawn to the empty chair beside Miss Fisher and his heart did a painful lurch.

"Jack is lying in bed sick," Esmeralda informed him, who had seen the look. Her stern voice told him, that he wasn't forgiven. John nodded, starting to butter his toast in silence. He could imagine, what form of sickness his son had succumbed to. Then he realised that he might be wrong.

"Is it serious?" he asked, looking at Miss Fisher, rather than his sister-in-law. She shook her head slightly, giving him a half-smile that relieved him more than he would have liked to admit.

"You just gave him a nasty headache," Walter stated calmly.

John dipped his eyes back to his plate, with trembling fingers spreading more butter. He realised that he deserved this. Part of him wanted to defend himself, lash out at someone, anyone, but sometime around three this morning, when the rain had finally stopped pounding against his window, something in his restless brain had clicked. He might be too old a dog to learn new tricks, but maybe if he stopped biting people, they would stop kicking him. It was the strange kind of revelation that can only come to you at three am after a very long day, but in the essence, it had occurred to him that maybe, just maybe he had played a part in Jack's refusal to be the son he longed to have again. He was not quite sure, when they had taken the wrong turn. Their relationship had never really been an easy one. But at some point he had stopped trying. Probably after Anna had died and getting out of bed had been too much of an effort most days. Will and Olivia had been regular guests at the time, even Iris and Hazel had dropped by and Esmeralda had rung every few days, chattering to him about something or other he was not interested in. Amanda even had come to live with him for a little while, to wash his clothes and cook his dinners and bear his silence. Only Jack had disappeared, like it didn't matter to him. Granted, the boy was still licking the wounds from the crumbling of his marriage, but John had actually needed him. Jack had been closer to Anna than almost anybody else in the world. She had loved all of her family, no doubt, but she and Jack had shared a secret bond that nobody could break. He of all people would have understood, how much it had hurt to stand at her grave. And yet, his son had chosen not to share it.

John awoke to the present, realising that his hand had fisted around his butter knife. Embarrassed he reached for the jam, but nobody seemed to have noticed his slip up. He was trying to shake off the anger, and yet, he was already slipping back into it. How was he supposed to mend things with Jack if he couldn't stick to his resolve of peace for five minutes, when he wasn't even in the room?

Miss Fisher's words echoed in his ears. 'This is the last chance you will get.' Dear God, he had to make it right. He couldn't lose Jack!

John realised, he was being watched, possibly because it had taken him about 15 minutes to prepare one slice of toast. Miss Fisher seemed innocently busy with her own breakfast, perhaps a bit too innocently, but Jane was openly sizing him up, as if trying to figure out what to make of him. His granddaughter. But only if he fixed things, otherwise he would never see the girl again. He felt the urge to flee the chattering and small talk around the table. He wasn't hungry anymore, but forced himself to finish his piece of toast, washing it down with a cup of black coffee. He would have to play by the rules.

When the endlessly stretching breakfast finally drew to a close, he excused himself hurriedly and escaped into the garden, before either of his sisters-in-law could launch onto him. He really didn't need another speech; they had made their point. Wandering under the trees through the park, he dragged deep cool breaths of morning air into his lungs, trying to figure out how to approach Jack.

"So, what now?" a voice asked, while a hand took his arm, with no ritual whatsoever. He looked down into the bright blue eyes of Jane and swallowed. Admittedly he had not expected her to still be talking to him.

"I have no idea," John admitted. They walked for a while in silence through the wet grass. A bird warbled somewhere in a tree, showing off and the rising sun glittered on the raindrops still hanging in the leaves. It was quite beautiful, the old man found. The girl was uncharacteristically silent and he wondered what was happening in her head.

"Your mother came to me last night. Or guardian. Whatever she might be."

"All of it," Jane smiled, "at times. What did she have to say?"

He thought about this for a moment.

"Basically she threatened that Jack would cut me out of his life if I did not accept her help and stop being an idiot."

"Sounds like her. Did you agree?"

"I didn't have much of a choice."

"That depends," she stated vaguely.

John raised an eyebrow at the girl.

"Depends on what?"

"If you insist on being an idiot."

She shot him a grin and he couldn't help but mirror it. They kept walking past a flowerbed where the surviving Anemones only just dared to shyly open again.

"So, do you have a battle plan? To fight the idiocy?" Jane enquired after a pause.

John stopped.

"You really aren't a very charming young lady, are you?"

"So, why do you like me then?" she asked, pulling him along with her.

"Who says I do?"

"You have been talking to me for several minutes without yelling, grumbling or fleeing."

"I will admit I'm not opposed to your company."

"Fine, why aren't you 'opposed to my company' then? I am the ward of the monstrous, man-eating Miss Fisher after all."

The last sentence was said with a horrendous growl, like the narrator of a horror story and John couldn't help himself. He laughed.

"Tell me about her?" he asked, after a moment of silence, to change the subject and avoid admitting that he liked her for many reasons, one of them being, that she was not a 'charming young lady'.

"About the monstrous Miss Fisher?"

"Yes. How did she come to be your guardian?"

"That was actually Jack's fault," the girl answered. And then she talked and John listened.

X

Mr. Butler whistled under his breath while peeling apart the lettuce for lunch. Is was quite nice, working in a big bustling kitchen for once and Maria, the Cox-Stafford's cook was very nice lady, with a love for food that was rather undeniably showing in her figure. A hand ran over his back, before Riya leaned beside him against the table. It was also really nice to have her around. Possibly nice enough to consider it as a permanent state. Just as he thought this, Dorothy entered the kitchen, looking rather pale around the nose.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked, stopping his work and offering her a chair.

"Yes, I'll be just fine in a minute. I think I ate something bad."

"No, you haven't", cut the cook in from her place near the stove, where she was chopping herbs. "Not from my kitchen."

Dot blushed.

"I didn't mean to imply..."

But Maria laughed and waved her off.

"I think I might go for a walk," the maid stated, looking like she was about to keel over. "Get some fresh air."

Mr. Butler and Riya locked eyes behind her back, then Tobias followed the girl outside. After a moment, Mrs. Santi took up both the whistling and the lettuce separation. Maria threw her a quick look over her shoulder, shook her head and returned to her pots. She didn't have to understand rich people; she wasn't paid to do so.

X

"So, she just decided to keep you around, despite you stealing from her? She sounds rather impulsive, your Miss Fisher," John Robinson grumbled, when Jane had finished. They had found a seat on a bench under a linden tree that was usually too sticky with sap to sit on but was currently washed clean by the thunderstorm.

"That is one way of seeing it," the girl smiled, looking into the distance. It unsettled her future 'Grumps', more than he would have admitted.

"How do you see it then?"

A pair of big blue eye fixed on him.

"That she was there, when I really needed someone. And she never asked for anything in return."

John turned back to staring down the garden path they had come.

"So, she is a bloody saint then?" he grumbled, after a pause. Jane laughed.

"Not exactly. But she is handy to have around. She never lets down the people she loves."

John thought of Miss Fisher's visit during the previous night. 'I love Jack, I don't want him to hurt.' Not wrong, the girl.

"If she liked you so much, why didn't she adopt you properly?" he asked, fishing for something, anything to cement his suspicions – A task that was getting harder by the minute.

"I still have a mother. She's a bit... away with the fairies."

John sighed theatrically.

"A wonderful family. What about your father?"

Jane shrugged.

"I guess, biologically speaking, I must have one. He hasn't introduced himself, though."

John's anxious foot kicked at the grass underneath their feet. So this was it then? He had been trying to destroy this girl's chance to have a father. And Jack's chance to be one. Maybe his last one.

"Excuse me, I think Dot isn't doing well," Jane said, already off the bench. The old man watched her dress flutter in the wind as she flew over the grass to see to her friend who walked on the arm of a bald man in a butler's uniform. He had fought a battle, with no idea what he was gambling with. Now he was going to lose his son – and the girl. Served him right, really. John pondered this with a deep frown, while he watched the small group wander out of sight between the hedges. A shadow fell on his lap.

"Good morning," said Phryne Fisher. His first instinct was to brush her off, but he thought better of it.

"Good morning, Miss Fisher."

It didn't sound overly friendly, but it was a start. Phryne sank onto the bench beside him.

"It seems, Jane has taken a liking to you," she stated after a moment filled with bird song. "I'm sure I do not have to mention that I will make things very unpleasant for you, if you should hurt her."

"Of course you will."

The sat for a long time in silence, neither of them knowing what to say. But neither left either.

"Is Jack feeling better?" John finally asked, half out of politeness, half anxiety.

"He is still asleep," Miss Fisher answered. "And I am glad that he is. Your son has a tendency to push himself too hard. As if he is always trying to prove something."

She glanced at Mr. Robinson's face, wondering if he would understand the hint.

"You aren't implying that he is searching my approval, Miss Fisher, are you? Because I would have to disappoint you. Jack never valued my opinion much. It was always his mother's word he cared about."

Stubbornly John stared into the distance, refusing to look at the woman sitting beside him.

"Do you know that he blames himself for her death?"

Despite himself John Robinson lost his calm facade, staring at his son's fiancée with his mouth open.

"How?" he finally stammered. "She was taken by an illness."

Phryne shrugged nonchalantly.

"He's Jack Robinson. Carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders."

"And yet, you bother keeping him around?"

"Bother doesn't enter the consideration, Mr. Robinson," she replied stiffly. Awkward silence followed.

"May I ask you something, Miss Fisher?"

"As long as I can decide if I want to answer, you may ask me anything you like."

He kneaded his hands on his lap, while forming the question in his head and again Phryne couldn't help but feel reminded of Jack. They also had some similarities in their features, she realised. What a shame that Jack's father had so little of his gentle temper.

"What do you see in my son? Surely there must be plenty of attractive, young, rich men lined up wanting to marry you and yet, you are settling for Jack Robinson. Why?"

Phryne frowned at this and stayed silent.

"Your need to ponder this, doesn't bode well, Miss Fisher," John said, his voice neutral.

"It is more the fact, that it is an incredibly stupid question," she replied without missing a beat, pretending to miss the grimace on her conversation partner's face

"You do not waste politeness do you?" he observed.

"I generally waste nothing on people undeserving."

He bit his lip at this, but had to admit that politeness hadn't been his strong point either since their first meeting.

"Fair enough. But you haven't answered my 'incredibly stupid question'."

For a long moment, Miss Fisher didn't say anything, and he had started to wonder if she would, when she finally opened her mouth.

"It is quite hard to express it. You know that he was held captive by the Brownings last year?"

John Robinson nodded solemnly. Of course he did. He expected a romantic sob-story now, but was surprised, when her voice stayed neutral.

"I felt lost, when he was gone. The whole time, from his disappearance to the moment he woke up, I felt like there was no ground under my feet to walk on."

This was delivered with as much calmness as sincerity, and John wondered if he had heard right. He swallowed hard.

"And yet, you walked I assume?"

A tiny smile appeared on Miss Fisher's concentrated face.

"Actually I ran. Ran for Jack's life. We found him just in time. A few hours later we would have only recovered his body, in Mac's professional opinion.. It was still a close call."

John Robinson found himself rubbing a comforting palm over his mouth.

"I had no idea, that it was you who found him."

Phryne glanced at him, noting the pain etched on his face, the rough emotion in his voice. So he did care. She couldn't have expressed how relieved she was about the trouble showing on this face that still seemed so familiar and yet so alien to her.

"Actually it was me and good old Georgie Sanderson, oh, and Hugh," she smiled.

"Sanderson?!"

"It took a bit of convincing, but he came around in the end."

"Hadn't thought the old bastard could care any less 'bout my boy," John grumbled, back to his old self.

"I think, you might have a tendency to underestimate people, Mr. Robinson."

Mr. Robinson had an answer lying on his tongue, when he was rendered temporarily deaf by a shot ripping through the air nearby. By the time he had regained his senses, Miss Fisher was already running. Partly because old policeman's instinct kicked in, and most especially because he did not want to be outdone by a woman and particularly not this one, John chased after her.