Phryne had checked on her mother and left Chester Square in the morning. Avoiding her father so blatantly might come across as cowardice, but she felt it was better for her to cool off for some more time before facing him again.

She roamed with deep interest but no fixed plan about the National Gallery and then the British Museum, stopping at Hatchards to buy a gift (or two or three) for Jane. She relished being back to those shelf-panelled rooms where she had spent such a significant part of her allowance – Phryne might be a fan of practical learning but she had always had a voracious need for bookish knowledge in as many subjects as she could and those new available funds did make for quite a change from having read most books from the closest public library. It had been pleasant to find that Mr Carey was the manager now; back in the day, being the young salesman of handsome features with dreamy blue eyes and tremendous book recommendations had made him the object of many crushes by Phryne and her friends.

With carefully wrapped copies of Evelyn Waugh's «Decline and Fall» and Elizabeth Bowen's «The Last September» in her possession, she had lunch at Café Royal and then roamed a bit more around the Victoria and Albert Museum until she had a cup of tea at its Centre Refreshment Room and caught a taxi back to Belgravia to change. She hadn't played tourist in London for a long time but with her mind filled with culture and questions (some ethical) she had enjoyed her day a great deal.

Margaret had invited the Chapmans Senior for dinner and it would keep Henry busy for the night. Her father and the Colonel weren't exactly fans of each other but politeness would rein him in in his best behaviour and Margaret herself would get to spend some time with her best friend, which hadn't happened in a while.

Phryne applauded her mother's cunning and was still in awe of how Margaret had sent Henry packing onwards to one of the guest-bedrooms – from possible staff gossip to habit, among a handful of reasons, she would have never guess Margaret would have it in her.

But enough about her parents. That night was about putting on her fabulous new lamé dress with silver wreath motifs over a midnight-blue background, meeting friends, and dancing for as long as she could stand up.

In the rush of avoiding her father, Phryne had arrived before her party and was sitting by herself.

It was indeed rather early for the Gargoyle standards, so the crowd was sparse considering but not less lively and fuelled by the tireless band, enough joy, and alcohol danced almost furiously.

Phryne finished the glass of champagne with which she had accompanied her meal and joined them, letting the jazz beats lead her movements. She expertly twisted her feet, the tip of her shoes coming in and the heels out, tapping and lifting her legs, her arms and hands cutting through the air with both precision and grace as she put into practice fragments from her extensive library of Charleston steps.

Three or five songs in, Phryne saw Louisa and Darshil coming down the staircase and she left the dance floor to meet them as Louisa clapped in appreciation of her friend's dancing skills.

«Brava!»

Smiling, Phryne bowed her head and greeted each of them with a kiss.

He looked princely in his dinner jacket and Louisa highlighted her own radiant self in a tangerine chiffon and velvet dress.

«How was last night?», Louisa asked as Miss Fisher lead them through the smoky air to the table she had booked.

«Gruelling. We argued once we were inside. It feels that I'm talking to a brick wall most of the time. He seemed to be made aware of how all this is wrecking my mother – the obliviousness is shocking, I know – but I have to confess I don't expect much», she concluded with a sigh.

«I'm sorry», offered Louisa, squeezing Phryne's forearm affectionately.

«I hope your day was more productive», Miss Fisher continued, patting her friend's hand.

« Productive but boring. I had to mark a pile of papers this high and prepare some upcoming classes. I love teaching from the bottom of my heart, I really do, but I sort of hate everything else beyond the actual thing. Thank you for the invitation. I definitely needed to get out».

Darshil chuckled.

«Louisa was nearly climbing the walls and so was I. Funding-review days aren't exactly my favourites».

«We desperately deserve a cocktail and Darshil a ginger ale then», Phryne said.

«Yes, please», groaned Louisa, «just one, though, because it's a school night. Well, maybe two», she reconsidered, raising the according number of fingers in the air.

«Poor Louisa», Darshil said, kissing her hand in a humorous but sincere display of comfort.

The gesture made a couple of eyebrows raise, even at a place as supposedly modern as the Gargoyle. It might not be mentioned openly but there were some people very uncomfortable by Darshil's presence there as well as by their marriage (or, to put it more accurately, his marriage to someone like Louisa, as if she hadn't ecstatically said 'yes' when he had proposed between two bookshelves of the Chemical Society library). He tried not to, but it bothered him and feeling their eyes on him was why he didn't often take to the dance floor. Nevertheless,he wasn't going to disappear completely and always chose to defy them by having a wonderful time with his wife and friends instead.

Phryne asked the waiter nearby for their drinks and they resumed talking about the band. They must congratulate David – it was wonderful.

«Hello, hello. I'm sorry I'm late», Maud said as she approached their table in a rush of olive green chiffon decorated with geometric shapes. « I was working and lost track of time», she said, going around to greet her friends with a kiss. «Lydia says hello but she had to stay and work. One of the books she's currently editing is running behind as the author is getting finicky».

«One does what one has to do», said Louisa.

«Diana and Simon?», Maud asked as she sat down.

«It's a fellow actor's birthday and they went for drinks with the cast», replied Phryne.

The waiter came to deliver their drinks and went out with the order for a Gin Fizz for Maud.

They had talked lively for a couple of hours and had danced to a handful of songs when, after a quick glance at her wristwatch, Louisa said:

«I'd love to stay but I'm supposed to teach a morning class tomorrow. The gall, to be honest».

«One does what one has to do», Phryne said, smiling. Maud and Darshil laughed.

«I just share words of wisdom with you, my friends. Words of wisdom», Louisa said with a theatrical shrug.

«Can I get a lift?», Maud asked her.

«Where to?» Louisa said, lifting an imaginary chauffer's hat.

«Home, please».

«And you, Miss Fisher?»

«I'm going to stay for a while, actually, as I am on sort of holiday and don't feel like going home straight away». Phryne hoped everybody would be asleep when she returned – that evening had been exactly what she needed after her charged exchange with her father and she didn't want to ruin her mood like it had happened the previous night.

«Fully understood, dear», Louisa said, getting up from her chair and hugging Phryne tightly.

Miss Fisher hugged her back.

«Thank you».

Louisa didn't reply and kissed her on the cheek.

Maud hugged Phryne too, angry with Henry on her behalf all over again as she had been when her friend had told her about it on the telephone some hours ago and sympathetic in the deeply personal way only one who has had difficult trouble with their family could be.

Phryne was so touched by her friends' care and attention. Alongside Mac, these London friends were the oldest she had. They had been through so much together, including, in one capacity or another, an actual war.

«Chin up», Louisa said, playfully touching Phryne's face.

«Always», she replied, with a smile.

«And a hug for you too», Phryne continued, turning to Darshil, who had stood apart without meaning to intrude.

«I wouldn't hold it against you if you didn't», he said.

«That's nice to know», Phryne said with a laugh.

Not sure about children, but I would like to have a husband, Louisa had told her one day years ago, but he has to be the most extraordinary.

And she had found one, as Darshil was intelligent, hard-working, funny, deeply caring, and handsome, not to mention immensely proud and supportive of his wife's accomplishments and utterly in love with her, something Louisa reciprocated with equal fervour.

«We'll talk tomorrow», Louisa said, taking Darshil's arm.

«Yes. Have a nice day», Phryne said.

Maud waved at her and the three of them made their way to the stairs.

Phryne signalled the waiter for a different cocktail.

The Singapore Sling was brought to her, she drank it and happily cut to the dance floor again, dancing mostly alone but not refusing to briefly partner up as long as it wasn't a waltz (which, truth thankfully be told, wasn't very frequent at the Gargoyle).

Seven songs in, the limbs were tired and the cocktail long gone. She sat down, trying to catch her breath and get a sliver of rest. Her shoes were too new for all that commotion and while she had wanted to soldier on, there's only so much one can do when one's feet feel on fire.

She was waiting for another Singapore Sling when she noticed a dashing vision of a man in navy blue and gold making his way towards her.

«Anthony», Phryne whispered rather dreamily.

«Captain Holland at your service», he said in that tremendous velvet voice, his cap tucked under his arm.

«How do you do, Captain?», Phryne said, reaching out her hand, which Anthony (always Anthony, never Tony) gallantly took to kiss and hugging him afterwards.

«Better still for seeing you, I hope I'm not intruding», he replied with that close-lipped but sincere smile he had developed out of self-consciousness over his, Phryne had thought and told him, charmingly crooked teeth.

«My friends have left some time ago, but you still wouldn't if they were here. I thought you were overseas», Phryne said when hey parted and sat down, Anthony putting the cap on the chair next to him. «Have you come all the way from Portsmouth to see me or, for one night and one night only, has HMS Vermillion docked on the Thames?»

«We've just returned from the Caribbean two days ago, in fact. I was in Portsmouth trying to get my land legs back when I heard you were in London, came here, and took a guess you would be at the Gargoyle. I just stopped at the Savoy to change into my uniform», he said, that sly flash of thrill in his brown eyes.

Oh, the Savoy, Phryne thought, for a brief moment. Her arms looped over his shoulders, his hands on her waist, tangled bodies on tangled sheets, laughter going as high the bubbles of the by-then tepid champagne once brought by room service.

«I'm flattered but I don't want you to get in trouble by coming into such a den of sin like a nightclub dressed so and risking sullying the honour of the Royal Navy», she said, amused.

«Worry not, there's a very civilian overcoat and briefcase for me to hide the cap in the coat room to protect my identity outdoors».

«Very well», she said, moving the conversation away from clothing and the removal of such. «Dear Peter is a terrible gossip», Phryne continued, yet not meaning to chastise their friend.

«It wouldn't be him otherwise and we wouldn't like that person», Anthony said, honestly.

«We wouldn't indeed», agreed Phryne with a chuckle.

«I guess this is what a sailor on leave does to get a drink around here», he said in a low tone of voice, signalling a waiter to come to their table.

«How can I help you, sir?», the man in his thirties with dark blond hair said, subtly eyeing the Captain rank insignia on Anthony's uniform.

«Fellow Matelot?», Anthony asked, his words without malice.

«Not me, sir. My brother's the one with the navy, HMS Wakefield. I served with the 32nd Battalion of the Royal Fusiliers.»

«Good ship with good men», Anthony said, always excellent at putting people at ease by the certainty that resounded in his voice.

The waiter bowed in appreciation.

«The oldest Balvenie you have, please».

«Of course, sir», the waiter said, taking the direction of the bar.

«What brought you to London? That, strangely, Peter didn't tell me».

«Family issues», Phryne replied.

«How's Australia? I haven't been back since I visited you there the last time». Her tone quickly picked up by Anthony.

Phryne wanted to nod a silent thank you, but didn't. It would only make them feel awkward. They did talk and he was a good listener but they very rarely delved into their personal lives – since the beginning, it had been supposed to be a light and enjoyable liaison and both were aware of it and satisfied with the arrangement.

«I'm afraid I barely know myself, even if it only took 19 days do get here by plane, which is much faster than your boats». She said the second part in jest, purposely riling him up, but there was a certain tinge of pain in her voice.

The regular telegrams she had gotten, mostly from Mac, let Phryne know that everyone was healthy and things were going well but they were starting to feel rather insufficient at times.

Anthony took a sip of the whisky the waiter had brought meanwhile.

«Don't badmouth what's so dear to me», he groaned, his hand over his heart feigning offense, in spite of how, influenced by tales lived by a great-uncle, Frederick Marryat's stories, and the sailors in the Jane Austen's books he borrowed from his sisters, the Navy had been a childhood dream for him.

Phryne laughed and patted his forearm.

«Maybe the honour of a dance would bring us back to agreement? »,he offered, his gaze alight with the current invitation and a promise for later, if she were up to it.

That look released a pleasant familiar buzz through Phryne and she had to briefly avert facing Anthony.

Contrarily to what Jack had feared, there hadn't been that many interesting men in her path or maybe she hadn't noticed them among all the things one must do while managing a cross-continent plane journey, not to mention policing a rogue father.

Phryne knew she had caught some attention during her trip and, since arriving in London, in her forays into the city, but this was the first time the context was perfect to allow for a more immediate follow-up. Herself, she had been involved in her share of liaisons started (or which had lasted for) nights exactly like this, with their electric ambiance, the easy conversation, the cocktails, the proximity of dancing bodies.

Their history went way back, from the night they had met at a party at Peter's house and ended at the Savoy and which got repeated when both schedules and will allowed it, a meeting once in Los Angeles and even twice in Australia, when Navy missions and exercises had brought him to those places where she was. The certainty of a pleasurable good time didn't dull the edge of excitement that came with the prospect of each encounter and she couldn't deny that the memories of their previous rendezvous had already crossed her mind that evening even before the Savoy remark.

«I guess we can try and see if that works», Phryne replied, «and keep on for as many dances as my feet can take – new shoes, you see -, drink a couple more of these», she continued raising her glass,« talk and be here until David kicks us out, but there will be no Savoy tonight».

She didn't owe him any apology or justification but while Phryne might cut an encounter short if her partner revealed himself lacking eventually, she also didn't purposely string along a man she as fond of for an entire evening and then send him back to his hotel room alone at the last minute.

As always, she was as sure of what she wanted as she was of what she didn't. Would she reject Anthony if her and Jack were stuck in the stalemate that had covered most of their relationship (if she could call it like that; it hadn't gotten any easier to define but, for the sake of the argument, she needed a word)? Probably not. Most certainly not, she would have to say to be honest with herself, which she invaribly was. If that were the case, she would probably be the one leading the way towards the Strand.

Yet, the memory of that kiss at the airfield and the newly wide-open romantic overture wasn't the main reason she wanted to be completely clear from the start. She simply didn't feel like sleeping with Anthony as she hadn't felt like joining the dashing Korean businessman she had exchanged looks with at the bar of The Raffles in Singapore, the enthralling local actor she had met in Karachi, the captivating Finnish attaché she had briefly met at the Hotel Sacher as she relished a piece of the eponymous chocolate cake, the interesting fellow countrymen she met along the way. It was as simple as that. Being able to know herself and her feelings this well made her feel very privileged; not all people were that lucky.

«Phryne, I like and respect you too much to insult your intelligence by denying that the thought of us together after getting out of here had ever crossed my mind», Anthony said, without stopping looking at her. «But that's not the main or only reason I came to London when I heard you were here anyway. Meeting you was».

«I appreciate the honesty», Phryne said, knowing him well enough to be sure that he was being genuine.

«Let's dance then, Captain Holland?», she said with a smile, getting up and reaching out her hand.

«It will be a pleasure, Miss Fisher», he replied, his face warm with friendship, holding her hand.

And so they did, taking some time off from time to time for refreshments, conversation, and rest until it was time to go.


A/n: First of all, I hope you and yours are as well as one can be in the current circumstances.

I hope Phryne's adventures in England can bring you some distraction from *waves hands around*.

Thank you for reading this chapter. It has taken a while to see the light of day but here it is at last (it hasn't taken a year this time #progress), namely regarding the handling of Phryne and Anthony's evening. I knew from the start that she wouldn't sleep with him, but I was having a hard time coming up with a way that seemed organic for her beyond Jack's existence and where Anthony didn't come up as a creep - which he wouldn't be. I can only wish that came across and that the conclusion is satisfactory for those who read it.

Hatchards does exist and it's said to be the oldest bookshop in London. Mr Carey is fictional.

The Café Royal that exists today inside the hotel with the same name is not the same Phryne would have visited, a landmark of London's café society since the 1890s. That one closed in 2008 and the fittings and furniture were auctioned off. The refurbished hotel has opened in 2012.

Victoria and Albert's museum refreshment rooms were the first museum café/restaurant of the world, opening in the 1860s, while most museums opened theirs in the 20th century (thank you V&A website).

Portsmouth means the location of the real Naval Base to which Anthony would be 'attached' (I hope this is correct as is the use of 'Matelot'; I was divided between 'Jack' and the former but the research I did offered better odds for that one- please forgive me if its use is not accurate), the Savoy Hotel does exist in London's The Strand and it's still one of the most luxurious hotels of the city today, and the 32nd Battalion of the Royal Fusiliers was a real batallion. The HMS Vermillion and HMS Wakefield are fictional elements of the Royal Navy's real V and W class destroyers. The Raffles Hotel in Singapore as well as the Hotel Sacher and the cake do exist as well.

Next chapter is supposed to offer country vistas and houses. I can't pinpoint when it will be up, but I hope you'll still be interested in this story by then.

Thank you again for reading this instalment. Your feedback is welcome as always. Stay safe.