Chapter Sixteen
Phryne's composure was hard tested when she came to speak to the rest of the victims. Their fear was still palpable. Many were beaten and bruised; they had long since given up hope, and the idea that their hell was ending could not easily be accepted. Still, they supported one another onto the buses that would take them to a safe house, where they would be able to eat, bathe, rest and decide what to do next. Squeezing Jack's hand in farewell, Phryne went with them; a friendly arm around the shoulders here, a quiet word there did something to restore the faith that these women had utterly lost in human nature. He remained behind to help finish up the search for papers – he was after watertight convictions for the Melbourne branch too, and Cooper wouldn't thank him for skimping the job.
It was the early hours of the afternoon before she finally returned to the Savoy. Jack was waiting for her; together they undressed and stumbled into bed, content simply to lie in one another's arms. The happiness and satisfaction of resolving the case was tempered by the horror of the women's plight; and it was a long time before Phryne's eyes closed. A little later, Jack was woken by a slight noise; she was muttering in her sleep, whimpering a little.
He gathered her close and kissed her temple, whispering reassuring nonsense to her until she settled without apparently waking.
As her breathing deepened again, he rested his head on his hand and gazed at her face, imprinting every element on his memory against the day when they would surely once again be separated. And he treated himself to one, very private luxury.
"I love you, Phryne Fisher" he breathed, and gently rested his head back on the pillow behind hers, his face nestled in the familiar scent of her hair.
Her eyes briefly flickered open and she stared into the shaft of golden sunlight falling through the half-open curtains, and the dust motes dancing in the heat. Then her eyes drifted closed. They both slept.