Chapter Three

Phryne had difficulty swallowing her mouthful of tea, and wished to high heaven that her maid was still Dot, who would have been able to manage this conversation in the universal language of Women Over Tea. Unfortunately, Soo's skills lay in less domestic areas, so as neither assault nor petty larceny was called for, Phryne was left to venture alone into the potentially lethal area of Motherhood. Had it been in conducted in Hindi, she could not have felt more wildly out of her depth.

"And I take it the louse is not accepting his responsibilities?"

"You could say that, Miss – he's run away to sea."

Phryne tipped her head. "It's perhaps as well. If he'd remained on land, he would have had a very short life expectancy once I caught up with him."

At this, Ellie gave the first actual smile Phryne had seen, and instead of looking like a bedraggled waif, resembled the promising young woman she could be. She wasn't entirely sure whether Phryne was joking. (Phryne was quite sure that she wasn't).

"Forgive the next question – I take it you want to keep the child?"

Mistake. Ellie was reminded of her state of mind only an hour earlier, and tears started in her eyes.

"I must. If I live, I must. Either way, I'm done for. I'm a Catholic, Miss, I can't take the child's life."

Phryne immediately understood the girl's quandary. Having conceived, her only possible course was to bring the child up – whether in or out of wedlock. Anything else would compound her sin with one far worse – to which she had apparently been committed before Phryne intervened.

"Catholic or not, taking your own life isn't the answer either," she said briskly. "Now, do you have a home to go to?"

"I live with my mum still. I'm the youngest, though, and it's just mum and me now."

"Nowhere to hide, then?" Phryne smiled understandingly, and received a tentative smile in return. "Have you told her?"

"No!" said Ellie violently. Then, more calmly. "No. I couldn't. It would kill her – and I'm not just pretending it," she said defensively as Phryne raised a quizzical eyebrow. "She's got a weak heart. Been a martyr to it all her life. The least thing has her laid up in bed."

Phryne was still sceptical of the supposed 'weak heart' that had let a Catholic mother bring up a long family, and suspected the tyranny of phantom illness, but arguing that particular point wasn't going to get her anywhere.

"All right, then. I'm going to go and see a friend who may be able to suggest something. In the meantime, once Soo's dried your clothes, go on home – but come back for lunch tomorrow. By then, I'll have thought of a way round the problem." She was overdue seeing Dr Elizabeth Macmillan anyway, and Ellie's problem was one that Mac saw all too often – usually too late to save either mother or child.

Phryne stood, and Ellie stood up too.

"Thank you," said the younger girl awkwardly, smoothing her hands repeatedly down her borrowed dress in nervous gestures. "I – I'm not sure I could have done it anyway. They say that drowning's a peaceful death, but I don't see how any death can be peaceful. I don't know what it was that made you come and talk to me, but I'm so very glad you did."

Phryne smiled again. "We'll think of something, Ellie, you mark my words."