For all of my readers out there who are actually waiting on the updates, (and I know there are a few of you,) I apologize for the delay. To tell the truth, I might have some gaps in posting this time around as I am in a stressful phase right now. But I'll try and bring you the goods as fast as I can.

And again my gratitude goes out to the people who left a comment or two. It's good to feel appreciated and inspires me to keep going. As I am currently really struggling to find the energy to push on with chapter 30, I'm especially grateful for all help. So, thank you!

Chapter 9: Eternity

Jack could hear his stomach growling, when he listened closely. Mostly the sound was however covered by the noise the men and the machinery made. He felt the cold creep up his pants legs. His feet were already frozen, where they stood on the floor, which could hardly be called that. There was grass visible at the edges of the metal box that passed as a factory hall. His hands didn't really have time to get cold, they were fervently dancing over the pieces of leather he was fitting together, before handing the half done shoe to the next man. Sweat was pouring down the Inspectors temples. The headache hadn't let up since the morning and he wasn't sure if it was still caused by the remains of too much whisky or the penetrating fumes of boot polish hanging in the air. Not that it really mattered. He found, that despite the constant movement, his fingers had started to feel numb, his back was aching, half from the mistreatment of sleeping on a floor and half by the strange stance he was trapped in. The table was slightly too low for him, leaving him crouched over. He didn't want to know how the men dealt that were much taller than him. He had briefly introduced himself to some of them, before they had been urged to get to work. There was a giant by the name of Wesley Miller, a tall, skinny bloke called Edward Wenbrock, then Oliver Cromss, who was probably the only one who actually had a good height to work at the table as he was small and about as wide as he was high, Jim Ferren, a young kid who Jack had to battle down the urge to drag out of here and return to the school he belonged in and „Gramp" Nicholson, a man who despite his high age made still for a rather impressive appearance, while his wrinkly hands danced over the leather like they never had done anything else in their life. They probably hadn't.

"Don't fall asleep there," a voice urged. Jack realised that in an effort to follow his real occupation, he had drifted off from the job at hand. The pair of eyes that looked at him were a clear shade of blue under a head of dirty blonde hair. The man had only slipped through the door at the last moment and so Jack had never gotten a chance to find out who he was. Right now, he looked at the Inspector in a mixture of friendly amusement and annoyance and Jack handed over the piece he was holding in a hurry.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"First day?" the guy asked, without slowing down.

"Second," Jack answered, taking the next shoe from Oliver.

"Welcome to hell," the man grinned. Jack wasn't sure, if he was kidding. He got the answer a moment later.

"Don't worry. They're not that bad here. And the pay's decent."

A pound a week for this sort of labour, was not what Jack would've called decent. Even though he had a sneaky suspicion, that his new bosses might have taken the chance to slim down his wages in comparison to the man they had sacked. The Inspector shuddered at the thought to actually have to raise a family like this. But he shut up, working on in silence for some time longer.

"Just moved here, did ya?" the guy asked after three more shoes had passed through their hands.

"Came down from Richmond," Jack answered, trying to keep up with the conversation and his workload.

"Wife and kids?"

"Just wife," Jack answered honestly. Thank God, Jane was not here. He knew she had experienced poverty even more than Phryne and he would be damned if he ever dragged her to a dreadful place like this one again.

"Lucky you," the man said to his surprise. The Inspector looked up, causing a shoe to drop onto his work bench. He scrambled to pick it back up, but the man had seen his reaction.

"Don't get me wrong. Love them to bits, but the buggers are damn expensive to keep fed."

Jack nodded with his jaw clenched. He truthfully wanted to point out that his co-worker was clueless on just how lucky he was. But then, the Inspector could imagine that in a world like this, children were as much baggage as they were a blessing. Yet another person crowding the house, needing food, clothes and time; all of which were sparse in this part of town. No, if he was honest, he didn't really envy the man.

Jack had Jane and Phryne and no financial pressure anymore. He truly had feared becoming rich. Taking money from Miss Fisher and pretending that it was his own, had just seemed wrong - even after she had assured him that she would never consider him a gold digger. But he had also been unable to shake the thought that he wasn't supposed to be a rich man. Like he attempted something that fate hadn't meant and would be severely punished for trying to step out of line and aim for the stars. And yet, his yearning to be Phryne's husband had overruled all care. It had been very different than he had anticipated. A couple of wedding vows and a little paperwork later, he was free from all financial worry and it had felt as if a weight had lifted from him. Strangely satisfying. It wasn't as if he went on a spending spree. He didn't actually touch any of it, left the investing to Phryne and her bankers, who had so far managed to carefully navigate around the cliffs of the recession.

Despite this, he had taken some reading material to the parlour on a few occasions, to ensure he was up to scratch. It wouldn't hurt to know what he was up against, should the need arise. But just the knowledge that it was there to take care of them and their family was good enough.

While his fingers fiddled yet another piece of leather into yet another shoe, he glanced at the sombre faces of the men working around him, wondering how many of them slept badly at night, worrying how to feed their families. He really was a lucky man.

"Dreaming again!"

The voice wasn't unfriendly, maybe a little impatient. Jack shook his head.

"No, my fingers are falling asleep," he managed to say. While he had been a little absent, his hands hadn't stopped working for a second, but the numbness had started to crawl up his arms by now.

"You've not done this before, have you?" Oliver asked from the other side, shoving another shoe into his hands.

"Never," Jack admitted, silently adding 'and I was rather hoping I never would have to'. He glanced at the big clock on the wall across the room. It wasn't even lunch time yet. The day was stretching into eternity.

X

"When, Josh? Just gimme a date so I can shut up my Mum!"

The young man, sitting on a narrow brick wall, jumped down, grabbing the woman's hands.

"I'm sorry," he said.

She stared at him, her mouth agape.

"You're kiddin'!"

He shrugged, chewing on his lip. Any moment she'd burst into tears and he hated, when she cried.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "My father would kill me and no mistake."

He probably should've seen it coming. But the slap echoing of the walls hurt mostly on the inside. He wasn't sure if he deserved it. Maybe for being so stupid. While Josh was still clutching onto his burning cheek, she stalked off in the other direction. He wanted to call after her that she was heading towards the tip, where for sure she didn't want to go. But there was no point to it. She wouldn't listen to him. He had messed up.

X

"So, what does your husband do?" Phryne asked, after she had a cup of tea and a tiny cube of the burned offering that Adelheid had presented her instead of a cake. She also had tried for what must have been 30 minutes to draw some interesting information from the two women, sitting at her kitchen table – so far, in vain. Maggy shrugged.

"He works over at James & Willerson's. Not the best place but the pay's decent."

Phryne frowned briefly. A strange coincidence.

"I believe that's where Jack found work as well," she smiled, returning to her role as harmless neighbour.

"How is he dealing then?" Adelheid asked, after swallowing her bite of cake, that she ate with healthy appetite. "He didn't exactly look like the labourer type if you don't mind me sayin'."

Phryne laughed. Part of her wanted to crawl into the corner and weep. Jack in a factory was really not something she wanted to think too much about. She had had plenty of time to witness what this kind of job did to men – and women. It had driven her own father to drink.

"He's not," she heard herself say. "He used to be an accountant. Very boring sort of work."

Adelheid giggled at this, like she had made a good joke.

"He didn't sound particularly boring last night," Maggy quipped.

Phryne forgot her act and gaped openly at her neighbours, before she caught herself. Then she smiled cheekily.

"I didn't say that he was boring. Only his occupation."

"Jack... such a beautiful name."

Adelheid sounded quite absorbed in memories and Phryne was wondering if she thought of a particular incident.

"Yeah, also very rare," Maggy frowned, draining her cup. Mrs. Robinson glanced at her, rolling her eyes. She felt she was starting to get the hang of this. Adelheid pulled her lips into a pout.

"Just because it's a common name doesn't mean the men attached to it are common," she said pointedly. "I knew a Jack once..."

Phryne poured herself another cup, offering Maggy one, who shook her head.

"Haven't we all...?" she heard her mumble under her breath, while her new friend continued.

"Very handsome," the blonde said, lost in fond dreams, "also very, very married."

"Adelheid!" Maggy scolded, laughing.

Phryne smirked to herself and leaned back. So this promised to finally get interesting. Her neighbour seemed to have slipped deeply into her memories, gently touching her bright coloured lips, as if she could still feel Jack's lips burning on them.

"He kissed like a wildfire," she revealed.

"If I remember correctly, the flame was drowned very quickly by the appearance of his wife," Maggy threw in dryly, causing Adelheid to blush. Sheepishly the blonde stirred in her cup.

"I will admit, he was too good a husband to take this slip up lightly. A shame really."

There was certain glitter in her eyes, as her smile returned and she started to talk about something entirely unrelated.

Phryne didn't know what to feel. She was torn between a touch of unnecessary jealousy and equally uncalled for relief. She had never for a moment doubted Jack's word and yet it was nice to hear from the horse's mouth that the incident had happened exactly as he had recalled it. Besides possibly the wildfire. She would have to ask him about that, the lady detective decided. But the more she got to know Adelheid, the less she understood Jack's attraction to her.

"Oh my," her neighbour suddenly said with a glance at her watch. "We keep chatting and chatting and the kids are gonna be home any moment. I better get cooking. You coming, Mags?"

"Sure," the other woman sighed, pulling herself to her feet. Phryne couldn't shake the impression that the ever babbling Adelheid ground on her nerves at times. She watched the two women leave, waving them goodbye in the door with a friendly and completely fake smile on her face, before she slammed the door shut and collapsed into her bed to sleep off the massive hangover still haunting her.

X

Jack sat on a box, his back leaned against an ice cold metal wall.

"Turner?"

He found that his head automatically flew around. Strange, how quickly a name could grow on you. He half feared that he would be scolded for sitting here. His feet demanded a few minutes of rest. But instead of anyone causing trouble, the nameless man stood in front of him, handing him a cup of tea.

"I don't think I introduced myself yet," he stated. "The lads spilled the beans on you. It's Mike Carter."

Jack shook the offered hand after relieving the other man from the second cup.

"Thank you," he said. The hot porcelain burned against his numb fingers.

"No worries," the man quipped, climbing onto another box. He watched Jack's attempts to get the steaming tea into his complaining stomach.

"It gets easier," he said.

Jack nodded at him, trying a smile.

"Sure will," he said after a long moment of tea-filled pause. "Have you been living here long?"

"All my life," Mike grinned, showing a gap between his teeth. "So has my wife Mag's. Both Collingwood kids."

Jack looked closely at the man. He somehow had thought him to be about his own age, but he must have been quite a bit younger. He still couldn't help but wonder though, if he had known Phryne as a child. What a shame that he couldn't just ask him.

"Another one?" Carter asked. Jack shook his head, pointing at his still half-filled cup.

"Thank you. I think I might have to go outside."

"You better hurry. Not too much of our break left."

Jack sighed, straightening himself with some hesitance. Mike waved him off, as he stumbled on stiff legs towards where he seemed to remember the location of the toilet. Crossing the yard, Jack spotted two men lurking in a corner, apparently fighting. Casually, he walked closer, his heart pounding in his chest, wondering what he would say if he was caught. Something told him, they wouldn't just give him a slap on the fingers for eavesdropping. He recognised one of them as a foreman, the other one he had never seen. He crept closer, trying to not look too suspicious.

"He can't just do that! We are actually making shoes here!"

"Leave it, Brad! He can do whatever the hell he wants. And the boss wont raise his voice at him. Wouldn't dare to, being afraid he'll lose his tongue in a hurry."

Jack's jaw clenched in his hiding spot, behind a wall.

"So, we'll just have to deal with his random shit, yes?"

"Exactly, just keep your mouth shut and your head down."

"And what do I get out of that, huh? Barely enough to keep my wife happy."

The other man slowly measured 'Brad' with his eyes, a hint of humour glimmering in his irises, that Jack could see, even though he was still standing some metres away.

"She gets to keep ya in one piece. That's gotta be good enough."

Undistinguishable mumbling was the only answer and the two men wandered off, leaving a breathless Inspector Robinson behind. His bladder reminded him of his intentions, before he had been sidetracked. His head spinning, he relieved himself, before returning back inside. So it was true. There was someone here pulling the threads. Somebody who people feared to cross. And it wouldn't have surprised him, if it was just the man he was looking for. Taking up his work again, the Inspector glanced at the men surrounding him. Either of them probably knew something. So this wasn't a useless exercise just to keep the appearance up, it was actually investigating. The adrenaline flooding his veins, let the leather spin faster in his hands. Things were back on track.

X

Wind brushed over his bare scalp. Mr. Butler grinned and gripped the steering wheel tighter. He didn't often get to drive the Hispano-Suiza, mostly due to his Mistress own joy in driving – despite the protest of her passengers. But she had introduced him to the car in case of emergencies. And picking up Jane from school to go sleuthing definitely classed as such, he had decided. Spinning around a corner and scaring a poor horse to death, he hit the brakes, slowing to a more sedate pace, before he arrived at the front gate of Jane's school. It was perfect timing. The girl was just wandering through the gates with a bunch of friends, who looked at him strangely. One of them giggled, and Mr. Butler wondered for a moment if he should be offended. Really, there was nothing funny about him driving such a car, was there? The look of cheeky pride displayed on Jane's face made the thought disappear. So she had told them. Jane climbed in, throwing her books onto the back seat.

"So, where do we start?" she asked.

"I was rather hoping, you would have figured that out by now, Miss Jane," Tobias said, driving slowly over the cobbles.

"Mr. B, could you do me a favour please?"

"Anything in my power, Miss,"

"The girls were all excited about you and the Hispano and you're driving like my grandmother right now."

Mr. Butler grinned, pushing his foot down. The red convert sped up, flying towards the end of the street.

"I wasn't aware that you had a grandmother, Miss," he yelled against the wind.

"I don't think I've ever met her," Jane yelled back. "But this is definitely not how she is driving," she laughed. "This is more my mother's style."

Mr. Butler felt oddly proud about this comparison. They drove on for a while in companionable silence, then the servant pulled over, jumping out to help the girl down.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"At Miss Marion's house, Miss. I took the liberty of assuming that was where we were heading."

Jane nodded.

"You know, you would make a very good assistant sleuth Mr. Butler," she said.

"I do try," Tobias smiled. "Would you like me to wait outside?"

Jane looked worried for a moment, then she nodded.

"I'll be back soon. I just need to talk to her again."

"I shall be right here, Miss."

And so, Mr. Butler sat back in the Hispano and waited for his Mistress to return from her outing.