The key felt heavy in Phryne's hand. Well, not the object itself since it was a piece of brass in a discreet leather key-ring embossed with her father's coat of arms in golden ink (which, truth be told, had been a rather restrained choice by Henry).

It was having it in her possession that discomfited her. It felt strangely intimate for, after all, this house wasn't hers and, thanks to the entailment laws attached to the barony, would never be.

Usually, Hewitt would always be ready to open the door when the bell rang, but Margaret didn't want Phryne to feel under control in any way, so she had given her the key to move as she pleased. Miss Fisher rarely had any qualms about walking into a place with her head held high, even if – or particularly if – her presence wasn't wished for but navigating coming and going at her ease into the Chester Square house after her two-year absence wasn't easy.

She took a deep breath, put the key back into her handbag, and rang the bell.

«Good afternoon, Miss Fisher», the butler said formally as he moved aside to let her come through. As expected, he had taken just seconds to reach the door.

«Good afternoon, Hewitt», she said with a social smile.

«His Lordship would like to give you a word in the dining room».

Of course, he would, Phryne nearly said out loud. She nodded and thanked him instead.

As she walked ahead, the faint sound of politely-maneuvered cutlery came into focus from the room on her right. On her way to Chester Square, Phryne had wondered if she would say something if she came across her parents but she hadn't drawn a conclusion. There was no need now, it had been chosen for her.

«At last, dear daughter», Henry boomed, setting his fork down. «Are these proper hours for a lady to come back home?»

His tone managed to be both condescending and mocking at the same time and Phryne had to steel herself not to scream.

«I didn't realise I was one with a curfew this time. I thought we were still keeping yours from the trip», she replied cuttingly.

Henry looked as if the piece of meat he had bitten into meanwhile had turned out to be made of stone after all.

«Good afternoon, Mother», Phryne continued, turning her attention to Margaret, her voice much softer.

«Hello, Phryne. Did you have a good time? », she asked sincerely, smiling at her daughter. She had felt close to mortified when Henry had told Hewitt to call Phryne in but hadn't wanted to contradict his orders – the staff didn't need to be made aware of their issues more than what they had certainly picked up already. «And thank you for telephoning, it left me much more at ease».

«I did. It's wonderful to meet my friends again. You're welcome. I might fuss a little if it were Jane going out in the morning and not coming back for a day without at least telling me she was alright. I'm sorry your evening was certainly less amusing».

«Oh, Phryne, that's a very cruel thing to say», Henry retorted apparently recovered from the indigestible bite, meaning his implied role in the course of the evening more than any possible disrespect towards Margaret.

«That's enough, Henry», Margaret said, her gaze sharp on her husband. Phryne's remark might have been a bit out of step but he had started it all and as the parent he had the obligation to rise above such things.

«If you excuse me… Ah, and It's very unlikely I'll have dinner at home. Don't wait up», Phryne said with a nod and left, going upstairs.

Phryne ditched her coat, the hat, and handbag, throwing them onto her bed. She knew she shouldn't let herself get into such a state, caving in to it was giving more power to Henry and his behaviour than what he was worth, but she seemed to have run out of all the control she had managed to gain over the years in the course of Henry's return to Australia and the needed trip to bring him back to London.

She took a deep breath. She had woken up on Diana and Simon's sofa with the already high sun pouring in through the gaps in the curtains.

At the end of the night, everyone had piled up in Louisa's car and when she had asked where to drop Phryne so she could plan the best route, Miss Fisher had stayed silent for an instant. Diana had glanced at Phryne and replied on her behalf:

«With us».

Phryne had smiled at her in appreciation and acknowledgement. She had hardly ever felt beholden to 'was supposed to', at particularly now at her current age, but it did feel she had been supposed to go back to Chester Square even if she didn't look forward to capping such a memorable night with the return to a place which was brimming with so much tension, regardless of the fact that it was tremendously late and the chances of actually coming across someone were very low.

Many had been the times Phryne had run away to the Chapmans' when she had felt smothered by Henry's callousness, disdain, and recklessness, Margaret appeared completely forlorn to do anything and Phryne had felt small and as easily breakable as a twig. Back then, she had hungrily made her way there, walking for most of the path and daring to take the underground by herself for the rest, hurt beyond belief but attuned to her surrounds as girls and women always have to be.

In spite of being clearly assured it wasn't the case, Phryne had never wanted to overstay her welcome and limited her time there to a night at maximum but for her that respite in Putney had felt like a breath of fresh air after walking through a dense curtain of smoke and she felt again able to take on whatever words and actions Henry threw at her.

It had been a long time ago, but that interaction with her father almost made her want to rush out the door and make her way back to Doughty Street, even if she had money to check-in into one of London's grand hotels right that minute. Diana would gladly take her – she had actually said so, she might only had the sofa to offer her but it was heartfelt and if they had managed to sleep on a truckbed in the middle of a muddy war field as they had, the sofa didn't sound so bad, did it?

Phryne would gladly dive into the pleasant familiarity of Diana's green dressing gown which she had since they were girls and still wore - «it's the most comfortable piece of clothing I own, I've already told Simon and my mother that I want to be buried in it» -, of feeding Shakespeare with pieces of ham, listening to Simon do his voice exercises as he warmed up for that night's performance, sitting at the table as they talked with no limits, seeing if she could still remember the steps to properly develop photographs as Diana had once taught her, seeing her friends deliriously happy and feeling happy herself for being with them.

It would be an appealing perspective anyway, but it was even more in sharp contrast with the stifling kind of familiarity currently ongoing at her parents' house, namely regarding Henry, with barbs lurking underneath any interaction, something akin to resentment always hanging over, the wish to come across each other as little as possible. The consideration and fondness she felt for her mother were the only reasons why she wasn't throwing her newly bought clothes into a bag and leaving right in that instant, but if Phryne wanted to be honest with herself, she wouldn't offer any guarantees about how long she could manage to live like this.

Phryne was looking forward to meeting Maud to see her paintings but she wanted to change and take a bath before.

She walked into the dressing room and opened the wardrobe door, to find her purchases neatly hung from the rail or folded and stored in drawers, certainly put way by the maid. She made a mental note to thank her when she saw her at last and to leave a tip.

Phryne picked out a pair of wool cream trousers and a velvet cherry-coloured coat.

On one hand, she didn't want to burden her mother with having to keep an eye on Henry and steering the boat more than what she already had to, but maybe if she kept herself out of the house as much as possible, only remaining in when she inevitably had to, she might be able to stretch her patience and to protect herself enough to endure for another day more.


A/n: So, this time it took less than a year to update this story. It's a small and not very pleasant chapter (Henry is the worst, gah) but I hope you find something appealing about it nevertheless.

I hope it doesn't take very long to be able to post the new chapter but since I'm still writing it, at this time I don't have any idea about when it can be.

Thank you, Magpieblues and Lillibelle for reading this story and for your comments. I'm very pleased to know you enjoyed Phryne's night out with her friends. I hope you continue enjoying this story.

Thank you all for your time. And remember that I always love to hear from you. Your feedback is appreciated as always.