Long day, another long week ahead. My brain space might just about last to say thank you for your feedback and your willingness to come along for this adventure - and to the beautiful Ethelfreda for editing, so it's actually readable. Please enjoy and feel free to leave comments.

Chapter 8: Milky Way

Grey morning light filtered through the dusty kitchen window, where Albert was watching two people sleeping on the floor, shaking his little spider head. He had considered at some stage to wake them, but in his experience, humans didn't always appreciate his efforts to be friendly. So he left them alone. Just as he thought that, the man stirred. Groaning, Jack Robinson returned to the land of the living. He wasn't sure, which part of his body hurt the most, but his back was definitely in a head-to-head race with his throbbing skull. With some effort he peeled Phryne enough from himself to sit up and realise what had happened. He gritted his teeth.

Great, so they had lost their heads on the kitchen floor last night, with Phryne drunk out of her mind and him not too far behind. He was pretty sure he would leave that part out of his report for Sanderson. A quick check of his watch let him utter another groan. He was also late getting ready for work. Especially considering that his clothes were crumpled and his skin sticky with fluids he rather didn't think too deeply about at this stage. He looked down at Phryne who seemed to have taken their adventure with her usual poise and was still fast asleep. Jack shook his head. The woman was so close to unshakable, it was rather scary at times. But, considering that she had finished about two thirds of a whisky bottle by herself last night, before falling asleep on a wooden floor, her poise might not last the day.

Jack pulled himself to his feet and had the presence of mind to button up his pants, before picking up his sleeping wife and carrying her into the bedroom. Pulling the sheets over her, while she softly murmured in her sleep, he had to battle the urge to just crawl in beside her and damn his factory job. But it wouldn't do. He wasn't here for a holiday. Sighing, he returned to the kitchen to fire up the oven. The last ashes had cooled a little while ago and cold was creeping through the small window and the floor. It was to be considered a miracle if neither of them caught a cold. How stupid of them to succumb to their lust there and then fall asleep on top of it, he scolded himself without real sincerity. In truth, the Inspector couldn't help but smile about the whole encounter. It was nice to lose his head without having to worry about anyone bursting in. Not that their love life was restricted and boring at home, but nevertheless, there was a part of Jack who wished he could just ravish Phryne on the love seat in the parlour when she once again lured him with her bedroom eyes, rather than having to worry about Mr. Butler or Jane or Mrs. Collins wandering through the door. He wasn't complaining, Inspector Robinson assured himself quickly, while he scraped the wax off the table and wiped off the spilled whisky. He was fond of Phryne's collected family, even the grumpy Bert was growing on him. Yet it seemed a special treat to be alone with her once in a while. If only he didn't have to go to work today. A quick glance at his watch let him know that his efforts to clean the table had now eaten up the time he had hoped to have breakfast in. With a small curse he left for the washhouse, where he scrubbed last night's memory off of himself with cold water, partly because he didn't have time to heat the oven, partly because otherwise he might have surrendered to his growing need to join Phryne in bed. Twenty minutes later, Jack Turner was on his way to his working place, shivering in the cold autumn wind without a proper coat on his back to keep him warm.

X

Dot sat at her kitchen table, counting the minutes, while she miserably stirred her tea. 212 minutes until Hugh had to leave for work. She hadn't slept much last night, but her husband hadn't moved an inch. Usually, no matter how they fell asleep, she would always wake up with Hugh wrapped firmly around her in the morning. And while she sometimes found that incredibly annoying, especially in the heat of summer, this morning she had drifted out of light sleep, shivering and upset, with nobody there to comfort her. Right now she really wished too, that Miss Phryne was there to ask her what to do. Surely, Hugh couldn't pout forever about her blowing up a little bit at him. Then again, she had been quite unfair, hadn't she? Telling him he had slept with her sister. Really, none of it was true and in the light of the day, she was still upset about people opening their papers to find her husband's name in less than desirable circumstances, but it wasn't exactly his fault either. It would just actually be nice to be able to tell him that, instead of staring at his sleeping back. Dorothy huffed to herself, wondering if she should go and see Mr. Butler. He always seemed to have answers to about everything. But Jane was still home and Dot wasn't sure if she wanted to explain the whole situation to the girl. Inspector Robinson was pretty much her father nowadays and the idea of him being entangled with Nell didn't seem a particularly nice picture to paint for a teenage girl. So she sat still and made herself up another piece of toast that she didn't eat.

Had Dot headed over into the Robinson's kitchen, she would have been witness to Jane looking up from her porridge bowl to inform Mr. Butler that she had no intention of returning home right after school. He looked up from his paper in surprise.

"And what would be the reason for this, Miss Jane?" he asked, eyebrows raised. She got up, bringing her bowl to the sink.

"I will look for Lucy, Mr. Butler."

The servant had an inkling that his temporary ward had something like this in mind, and so tried his best to look astounded.

"What makes you think that you can find the dog?" he asked. "Her owner can't."

Jane smiled.

"Yes, but I am clever and my parents are detectives. It's in the blood."

Mr. Butler chose to not point out that the teenager didn't share a drop of blood with either of her parents. Blood relations in his experience, were generally overrated. But she was right of course. And what could be the harm in it – beside the many dangers lurking in the back streets and empty houses and all the other places where you would look for a stray animal?

"I don't think it is a very good idea for you to search through Melbourne on your own, Miss Jane."

The girl, having already reached the door, now turned, obviously protest on her tongue.

"So, I will pick you up from school and we will see if we can find Lucy together," Mr. Butler finished, returning to his paper. Jane closed her mouth, beaming. The servant bit back a smile of his own and glanced at the clock.

"You better hurry up now though, or you will be late."

"Thank you, Mr. B!"

"I am just doing my job, Miss Jane," was all the answer she got from the reinstalled wall of paper that hid the broad grin on the servant's face.

X

Loud thudding woke Mrs. Robinson. It took Phryne a moment to realise that it was outside her head. Groaning, she pulled herself upright, rubbing her throbbing temples. There was another rapping sound. Someone was obviously rather intent on coming in. Phryne considered briefly just staying in bed, but her curiousity won in the end. She crawled out from under her covers and fished for her dressing gown, a rather horrible piece of taupe cotton, when she realised that she had never actually gotten undressed to start with. But her black dress was crumpled with a rather telling stain on it and she decided to slip the coat over it anyway. Trying not to think too hard about how the rest of her looked, she stepped barefoot to the door to open up.

"Good morning," a cheery voice sounded. "It always seems hard to make the first step when you're the new girl, so I thought, I'll make it easy on you and come over. I also brought Margarete along. Maggy lives on the other side with her husband and kids. So you know all of us at once, I thought."

Adelheid stopped briefly in her flow of words, when she noticed Phryne's appearance.

"Oh dear." She bit her lip in amusement. "I thought you might have had a bit of a rough night, but you look worse than I imagined. Here, take this and I'll just run over and get you a powder for your head."

With those words she shoved a basket into Phryne's unresisting hands and left her and the petite, dark haired woman to their own devices. The women stared at each other for a moment, until Phryne attempted a smile.

"Please do come in. I apologise for my appearance, it got quite late last night and I didn't expect guests today."

A knowing smile ghosted over Maggy's face, making Mrs. Robinson wonder, just how much of the late night she had heard through the paper-thin walls. While she set up the kettle, she thought of Jack, who she suspected was currently at work, with deep sympathy.

"I'm sorry for intruding," the other woman said after a long moment of silence and took the offered chair. "Adelheid dragged me over here by the scruff of my neck. And since my little ones are at school, I had no excuse not to be introduced to 'the new girl'."

Phryne turned, discovering a grin on Maggy's face, that calmed her heartbeat somewhat. So, maybe she had found an ally.

"Not to worry. I am keen to meet my neighbours, actually," she lied, setting some cups on the table and inspecting the ingredients hiding under the cloths on Adelheid's basket. It was something probably resembling a cake.

"She's a terrible baker," Maggy explained. "Terry, her husband, has tried to forbid her using up expensive sugar and butter for her disasters, but she won't budge, will she?"

"Are they in trouble?" Phryne asked, covering up the burned abomination and realising that she was being rather forward. But then, politeness and discretion weren't particularly common traits in this area. You lived with your neighbour basically sitting on your lap. She might as well get started.

"They should be I guess," Maggy shrugged. "Terry's working over at Gabler's textiles as a foreman, Adelheid hasn't held a job in three years. Says he doesn't want her to, but who knows?"

Phryne thought of Jack explanation the other day. It might be true.

"But for him having a shitty job, they seem to have plenty of coins jingling in their pockets. Haven't seen the kids missing anything yet."

"Interesting," Phryne breathed.

"Huh?"

"Nothing, I just thought it was a little odd," she smiled. Maggy stared at her, obviously measuring her degree of honesty.

"Yeah, it is," she finally said, her voice unreadable. The same moment, Adelheid stormed through the door, a package in hand.

"Sorry, my loves, I had to search for them," she said in her sensual, but rather loud voice, swinging a pack of headache powders. "Lil Paul enjoys hiding them."

Phryne flinched as her head reminded her why she needed the medicine.

"Thank you," she smiled, taking the pack from the woman and ushering her guest onto a wooden chair in the hope that she would be quiet long enough for the powder to take effect.

She used a brief retreat to the backyard to get more water as a chance to draw some fresh air into her lungs. She felt slightly nauseated at the idea of having to eat cake and spend the next hour or so in the company of those two women with no way to escape. Glancing into the dusty mirror in the wash house that Phryne still had to clean, didn't improve her mood at all. She looked just as she had expected, her lipstick half gone, her hair a mess and rings under her eyes. The things whisky would do to you. She briefly washed her face and shook her hair back into shape. No make-up was better than last nights, she had realised some time ago. Maybe she could get away with getting dressed quickly after her return to the house, she wondered, filling a jug with water.

"You alright, girl?" a voice asked, causing her to jump. Adelheid was leaning in the door, her head tilted in a way that made her look like a five year old. "You've been gone for a while, I thought, I'd better come looking for you?"

Phryne forced herself to smile at the woman, handing her the jug.

"I am perfectly fine, just decided to freshen up quickly."

To her surprise, her neighbour accepted this answer and retreated. With a last glance into the mirror Phryne decided that she looked better than she felt and followed Adelheid back into the kitchen.

X

"Dottie?"

Dorothy pried her eyes open with some effort, stifling a yawn. When the kitchen came back into focus, she spotted her husband in the door – or at least someone wearing his uniform. Hugh Collins looked pretty close to a ghost right now. Pale and worried.

"You... you got something there."

He stepped closer to wipe some jam of her cheek. Dot's eyes followed his every move. Then she looked onto her plate that held a suspiciously flat looking piece of toast. Slowly she shook her head, trying to find her senses.

"You nodded off on the table," he stated the obvious. "I was just seeing if you are alright."

"Hugh, I... Do you want some breakfast?"

He shook his head, twisting his helmet in his hands, while he stood in the door.

"I'm late," he said. "I fell asleep an hour ago and almost slept in."

But never mind his words. He didn't move and just stood in the door, looking miserable.

"Please sit down," his wife said, her voice sounding tiny. Slowly, the Constable nodded and pulled a chair out. Dot kneaded her hands, trying to find words. She didn't really know where to start and she was well aware that there was little time.

"Look, Dottie, if you want to talk more about how I 'slept with your sister', I don't want to hear it," he finally said, hurt tingeing his voice. "I have enough on my plate at work right now. The lads are laughing at me and I had a lecture yesterday by Inspector Morgan about the virtue of punctuality. You've never been in a room for half an hour with Inspector Morgan or you would know what that means, Dottie. So please, for the love of God, don't start again on how I embarrassed you, because I am embarrassed enough by this whole thing for the both of us, without you bringing it up yet again."

Dot stared at her husband, who was by now panting in righteous anger. She didn't really know him like that and found to her surprise, that this side of him was pretty enticing.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" she finally asked, after a long moment of nothing but the ticking clock. Hugh wrung his hands.

"You are my wife Dottie and you're carrying our child. I don't want to bring all the horrible details of my work home to you." He swallowed, obviously battling with himself, "But if you really insist on knowing: I had to watch my superior officer with my sister-in-law, which was no fun at all because they were really damn convincing and my head was glowing most of the time and on top of that, the Inspector got almost killed because me and Jones got distracted."

Dot now stared at him with her mouth hanging open.

"Thank God, Mrs. Robinson was there with her pistol or it would have ended badly," Collins added, trying not to flinch when he remembered his mess-up.

"Thank God," Dot echoed.

A faint blush had crawled onto Hugh's pale cheeks. If caused by the embarrassing memories or his excitement, they would never know. He looked uneasy, like he expected to be sent to bed with no dinner. Dot chewed on her lip in thought.

"I'm sorry about... you know. What I said. But I despise it, when you just leave me in the dark. I'm in the family way, that doesn't mean I don't care anymore."

Hugh looked at her with big eyes, nodding.

"I'm sorry, too, Dottie. I hate arguing with you. I couldn't get a wink of sleep last night."

"Me neither," his wife admitted. "Well, maybe an hour or two."

"I heard you snoring," he grinned.

Dorothy lifted her chin.

"I have you know, Hugh Collins, that I do not snore."

Her husband chose not to disagree with her and instead just grinned, briefly taking her hand. He then let himself be talked into a cup of strong coffee and a slice of toast, before he really had to leave, if he wanted to avoid another meeting with Inspector Morgan.