Chapter 13: Mars

"Would ya mind coughin' in the other direction, son? Can't afford to get sick."

The advice wasn't given in a very friendly voice and the old man didn't look up from his work for a second.

"Sorry," Jack rasped, trying to cover his mouth with a handkerchief. Sweat was pouring down his temples and his whole body ached somewhere between frozen and glowing. Jack cursed himself for his stubbornness. Perhaps Phryne was right and it was insanity to attempt drawing information from the pale faces around him since everybody was just trying to get through this day without losing their jobs and starving their families. Even if they knew something, how should he ask them? He was fairly certain that Inspector Robinson usually just made up something, but as things stood, he couldn't manage to form a clear thought in his foggy head.

"Cut him some slack, Nichols'n," came a voice to his rescue. "Can't you tell he's in a rotten state?"

Jack glanced at his knight in shining armour. He was impressively tall, but the lack of front teeth probably wouldn't have convinced the average princess. Wesley Miller gave the Inspector a terrifying half smile, without stopping to work.

"Exactly my point," the old man grumbled.

"I remember you coughin' ya lungs out last winter, Grumps," Wenbrock said from the other side. "An' noone gave ya a hard time 'bout it."

"Yeah, and who'd given me that cold, huh?"

"Guys, guys, don't start fighting!"

Mike's voice was so friendly, that Jack felt almost confused, when nobody protested. Instead, silence fell, while plenty of hands kept working. It gave the Inspector time to ponder the awkward conversation with Phryne over breakfast. He couldn't deny that her words had cut him. His anger had also returned with full force. Both emotions, together with the fact that he had been running late, had caused him to leave in a hurry; but looking back, he felt like he'd made a mistake. The more he reran the scene in his mind, the more he started wondering, if she was right? Had he grown overly accostumed to her protecting him, soothing his wounds, holding his hand? She had done an awful lot of all three over the last year and Jack had never stopped to question it. He had always considered it an intimate act, born out of love, not a gracious gift. Yet, could he really blame her if she had grown tired of "saving him"? He had no answer for that.

Phryne was under enormous strain herself right now. While she hadn't uttered a word of complaint after their first night, he could sense that she was miserable. And as much as he wanted to, he just couldn't manage to get her out of here and bring her back to her safe, warm house and her silk sheets. Not without getting further in his investigation and right now, his cold stopped him from even trying to be clever.

In frustration, Jack threw down the pile of leather he had been working on and walked off, mumbling something about having to use the bathroom. A pair of eyes followed him until he reached the door.

With pins and needles, his frozen toes came back to life, as the Inspector stalked across the yard, his fists shoved down his pockets. He didn't need to go, really just longed for some fresh air, in a futile attempt to clear his fuzzy brain. His nose had started to run over the last two hours, which didn't boost his mood in the slightest. In quick resolve Jack hid behind the outhouse and lit himself a cigarette. It wouldn't improve his cold and probably get him fired if he was caught, but right now, he couldn't get himself to care. The more he thought about it, the more obvious it became that the whole undercover job was a terrible idea and bringing Phryne the worst of all. Even though, a tiny voice in his head said, without her, this place would be hell.

But so was watching her slowly turning into a shadow of her usual self. Jack just didn't know what to do about it, only that he was failing her. It was true, she had rescued him on a hundred occasions and now that it was time to return the favour, he couldn't seem to find the right words and gestures anymore.

His lungs responded to the thick smoke with another coughing attack, but after a few drags, Jack began to feel calmer, while he sorted through the mess of thoughts in his head.

Maybe it was the most sensible decision to call the whole thing off. But that would also mean for Phryne to give up on just wandering into the Station. George would go through with his threat; Jack knew him well enough to expect nothing less from him. So the Inspector would just have to get on with it, runny nose and hammering head or not. He was only hoping that Phryne would hang in there long enough, so the Chief Commissioner could get what he wanted.

Still annoyed, Jack dropped his stub and rubbed it out on the icy ground. It wasn't the first one there, so he probably had found the secret hide away of the not-so-well behaved. He had just started heading back across the yard to return the making room, before he would get into any more trouble, when he heard the sobbing. He glanced briefly at the door leading into the suspiciously quiet factory, then turned towards the small shed, where he suspected the person behind the tears was hiding. He found her sitting on the ice cold floor, her skirt wrapped around her bluish legs, shivering – and crying.

Jack wondered what to say. Asking her if she was alright seemed rather pointless, she quite obviously was far from that. So instead he dug through his pockets, looking for an unused handkerchief. He finally found one that was still folded and offered it to the young woman, who started. Instead of taking the piece of cloth from his hands, she wiped her nose with her sleeve, before glancing up at him.

"What'd ya want?" she asked. Something about her belied her behaviour. There was an accent to her voice that didn't quite go with the slang she was attempting and the tears colouring her voice stood in stark contrast to her defiance. The Inspector waited for a moment, unsure what to do. Of course, he should go inside, he wasn't wanted here. But Jack Robinson could manage to walk away from many things - a woman crying wasn't one of them.

So instead he crouched down beside her, leaning his back against the freezing metal of the shed. The notion that Phryne would kill him if she knew, scittered through his head. The girl didn't seem to care, she was too busy sobbing.

"What's your name?" Jack asked.

"Who wants to know?" the woman sniffed.

"Jack Turner. I'm am new here."

"Yeah, I guessed."

She looked up, tears filling the big muddy pools of grey-green in her eyes. Her next grimace could have been a smile.

"The ones that've been workin' here for a while, couldn't be buggered askin'."

Jack nodded, without responding, instead offering his handkerchief again. This time it was taken and blown into noisily. She didn't hand it back, which made him feel rather grateful.

"Natalija," she finally said.

"Pleased to meet you," Jack said, which earned him a lopsided smile.

"Nah, you're not. You'd rather be inside," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Actually, I'd rather be anywhere but inside," Jack grinned. "But since I am here already, I propose, you tell me the reason for your tears."

There was silence for a long moment, while Natalija battled with herself if she should share her problem with a total stranger. The Inspector could hear his teeth chattering.

"I'm in the pudding club, aren't I," she finally stated quietly. Jack was so busy trying to decipher her accent, that the words didn't sink in at first. Then his eyes widened in surprise.

"And the man?" he asked. The woman shrugged.

"Wanted to get hooked, changed his mind," she admitted. The Inspector had trouble suppressing the curse lying on his tongue.

In the same moment, someone looking vaguely like a woman came storming around the corner.

"What the heck ya think you'r' doin' here, Nowak? There is work waitin' inside, while you sit round here on the floor! Gonna catch yourself death."

She threw a glare at Jack before pulling the girl onto her feet and ushering her back inside. Jack couldn't shake the vague feeling that he might get blamed for Natalija's pudding-situation, if this made the round. Hopefully, by the time it showed, he would be back in St. Kilda, far, far away from here. The Inspector felt oddly guilty about this thought. A heavy hand fell onto his shoulder, before he could question this emotion, making him jump.

"There ya are, Turner. You better come inside, before Reynolds does his rounds. He's not overly active on Saturdays, but you don't wanna cross him the wrong way, trust me."

Jack got up, brushing some dirt off his shoulder and mumbled an apology for leaving his fellow workers alone, when Carter cut him off.

"Don't worry bout it, man, we all have bad days. But we don't wanna get in trouble, so you better get inside and pretend it never happened."

Obediently the Inspector followed him inside. Nobody looked up, when he returned to his spot.

"Dropping out and expectin' to be paid, huh? Think ya special, son?" Nicholson grumbled after a minute of nobody saying a word. Jack felt his temper flare, despite or possibly because of the knowledge that the old man wasn't wrong.

"Shut your trap, Gramp!" Mike's voice was hardly audible, but so cold, that the Inspector winced. It had the required effect. Seconds later, Brad Reynolds walked past them, threw a quick look at their work, barked some orders and vanished again. Jack realised that he had been holding his breath, which his lungs protested with a cough.

"Almost got us into nasty trouble there, Turner," Cromms said quietly, shoving a shoe into his hand.

"That was not my intention," Jack answered calmly, once he could breath again. To his surprise and relief, nobody dug further into the subject. While his fingers worked, Jack thought of Natalija, then of Collins and his wife. How different the world waiting for a child could be. It seemed unfair. He suddenly longed so much to talk to Phryne that he couldn't wait a minute longer to go home. She of all people would understand, he knew. Nobody understood quite like Phryne.

X

Mr. Butler glanced at the girl walking beside him. There was a bounce in her step that made her dress flutter in the cool Autumn wind. Jane was studying the facades of the small houses they passed. Finally she stopped infront of a green fence.

"Number 53. This is it," she announced proudly. Mr. Butler smiled.

"Would you like to tell me, just how you figured this out?" he asked.

"Easy," the young woman said, nonchalantly, pushing the gate open that gave way with a nasty squeak. "I realised that there was not a single picture hanging on the DeWitt's walls, so it occurred to me, that they might have moved recently. Their things hadn't yet found their place."

"So, this is where they used to live?" Tobias asked, trailing behind the enthusiastic girl and praying, that her instinct was right. He flinched, when Jane all but belted down the door. Only seconds later a young blonde woman answered, smiling at the intruders, showing off a row a sparkling white teeth behind her red lipstick.

"Can I help?" she asked, when neither of them spoke for a moment. Jane glanced at her 'governess', then decided that it was her own responsibility.

"Ma'am, I am sorry to intrude, but have you found a dog in this house by chance?"

The young woman seemed confused for a moment, then the smile was back, lighting up the veranda like a small sun.

"Please do come in. I assumed you would be missing her!"

She stepped aside and called into the back.

Seconds later a light brown bundle of fur shot past her, on a mission to inspect the visitors. Before Jane could stop her, she had jumped up and licked once across the teenager's face. Jane managed in time to squeeze her eyes shut, before she got a rough tongue bath. The still nameless lady laughed.

"I'm so sorry, she is terribly badly behaved. Though I do guess that would be more your fault than mine. She showed up in the garden three days ago and could not be convinced to leave. So we just took her in and spread the word, hoping that someone would come for her. And here you are."

Jane managed to calm the excited dog down enough to return to the floor, where she ran circles around Mr. Butlers legs.

"Actually, she is not our dog," he explained. The smile on the woman's face faded, making room for confusion.

"But we do know where she belongs," Jane cut in, before things could take a turn for the worse.

"And your Mistress actually misses you very, very much, Lucy," she said tenderly, rubbing the bitch behind her ears. A pair of big brown eyes focused on her, almost as if the dog understood.

"So, you are friends of her owner then?" the lady of the house asked, watching the strange girl patting the dog who had started to grow on her and her husband, with a mixture of feelings.

"Not quite," Mr. Butler started, but didn't get any further.

"We are private detectives, you might say," Jane grinned. Both adults stared at her, but neither had the heart to protest, while Lucy again started covering the girl's face in saliva.

X

Mrs. Turner was meanwhile in the best of moods. After a lengthy chat with Adelheid she had found new hope. And once Jack would hear of her progress, he would probably forget her little slip of the tongue. Things were looking up. Now she only needed to get him back into shape for the investigations awaiting them. A spring in her step, Phryne wandered down Smith Street, once again pushing open the door to Mr. Banning's little shop. The owner wasn't in today, but instead a young lady, who shared a slight resemblance with him. Phryne was greeted with a friendly smile and little later she walked back onto the street, her basket filled satisfyingly. Wandering along the pavement, she enjoyed the autumn sun falling onto her face and the mumbling of women and men rushing around, trying to find their own goods. The smell of apples drew her to the street display of a green grocer, the glossy red fruit reminding her of her brief journey into the world of fruit farming at the estate of Jack's family in Daylesford. She picked up one, holding it to her nose and feeling like Eve in paradise.

"You gonna buy that, dear? 'Cause I don't think people will appreciate you sticking it in your face otherwise."

Phryne started, then turned to look at an old woman, so covered in wrinkles that she blended in with her lettuce, smiling at her kindly, despite the harsh words.

"I'll have three of them, please," she said, skilfully hiding her embarrassment. "I also need some carrots if you have and celery."

While the elderly woman picked up what she needed, Phryne had another look around, tempted to pick out more fruit, before she stopped herself. Buying too many things would not only make it a terrible strain to carry her groceries home, it would also not convince her neighbours of her supposed poverty. She handed the lady two oranges and an onion to add to her groceries and walked away happily with her treasures. The basket was quite heavy by now, but nevertheless she called into a butcher. She was inspecting the naked chickens hanging up on their feet behind the counter, when she heard a male voice beside her.

"Phryne?"

She turned. A skinny man stood in front of her. Phryne placed him instantly. There were faces in the world you just couldn't forget.

"Phryne Fisher?" he asked. "I almost didn't recognise you - you have grown up a fair bit since I last saw you."

Mrs. Robinson's heart was beating in her ears. What could she do? Ignore him? Hardly. But celebrate a reunion was much too dangerous in the current situation.

"I'm sorry?" she said, shaking her head slowly. "I believe this is a misunderstanding."

The man's face fell.

"Eddie Wenbrock?" You don't remember me?"

"I'm terribly sorry," Phryne repeated. "I don't think we've ever met. I only just moved here with my husband. Fanny Turner."

She extended her hand. The man stared at her critically for a moment, before accepting the offered gesture.

"My apologies," he mumbled. "I truly thought you are an old friend from school days."

Phryne felt terrible. She had always liked "Lanky Eddie" and she was quite certain that Janey had had a little crush on him at some point. In fact, she would have loved to have a tea with him and remember their school time, share their memories of her little sister. But she couldn't. It was too dangerous. Mechanically she made her order with the butcher's wife and waited, while Eddie bought his rabbit from the butcher's daughter. Before leaving, Wenbrock turned.

"Fanny Turner, you say? Not Jack Turner's wife, is it?"

Phryne, who had just been busy, trying to nestle the small chuck between the other groceries, looked up.

"You know Jack?"

"Working with him at James & Willerson's," Eddie beamed. "Just knocked off actually and I'd better get on my way home. It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Turner. I think our Jack might be a lucky fellow."

He lifted his hat at her and gave her a good natured wink, before disappearing. Phryne couldn't help but smile. She really always had liked Eddie.