‘Do you want to?’
‘More than anything else.’
‘Then you shall. But not tonight. I shall see you Friday at the glee club singalong, and you shall come home with me again, if you like. Today’s Wednesday. That should give you time to recover.’
‘I’ll never recover,’ declared Lindsay Herbert gallantly, and escorted Phryne down to breakfast.
Lindsay was just about to leave when the doorbell rang and Mr Butler allowed a crestfallen Alastair to enter. The student was bearing a huge bundle of out-of-season roses and did not even start when he came face to face with Lindsay and Phryne.
‘I came to say how sorry I was about that scene yesterday,’ he said in a low voice, thrusting the flowers at Phryne. She side-stepped neatly.
‘Take them to Miss Henderson, she’s the one you have hurt,’ Phryne’s voice was cold. ‘You didn’t do me any harm.’
‘Lindsay, old man, I’m sorry,’ said Alastair, and Lindsay took his hand and shook it warmly.
‘That’s all right, Alastair. I’ll wait for you and we shall go to training together.’
Lindsay sat down in the hall and Alastair went to make peace with his fiancee.
From the cry of delight which Phryne heard from outside the door, where she was unashamedly listening, it seemed that he had succeeded. He came out five minutes later, collected Lindsay, and went off down the path, a picture of humility.
Dot wondered that Phryne shut the door behind them with such a vindictive slap.
The phone rang as she was walking down the hall, and Phryne took the call herself.
‘Yes, this is Miss Fisher. . yes, the Honourable Phryne Fisher,’ Dot heard Phryne say impatiently. ‘A missing girl? Where was she last seen?’ She was scribbling notes on the telephone book. ‘I see, outside Emily MacPherson? Someone actually saw her go? Good. A description of the abductor please. . yes. Portly but respectable. . all right. Do you have a photograph of her? Good. And some idea of her destination? Oh, dear. I see. Gertrude Street, eh? She has been seen there? By whom? Never mind, I suppose that I don’t need to know that, really. Send me the photograph and I’ll do what I can. Yes, Mr Hart, I will reassure her that you still want her. . of course. Send the photograph as soon as you can. You shall have her home soon if that is where she is. Goodbye.’
‘What is it, Miss?’
‘Troubles rarely come singly, Dot. That was a Mr Hart who wants me to retrieve his daughter Gabrielle from a brothel in Fitzroy, whence she was enticed from outside the Emily MacPherson School of Domestic Science by a portly but respectable gentleman. And her father wants her back, convinced that she has been mesmerised. It sounds highly unlikely to me. However, I shall take the photo and do the brothel rummage with Klara. She knows everyone on Gertrude Street. Nothing I can do until the picture arrives. Now who is calling, for God’s sake?’
It was the estate manager. Phryne stamped into her salon and awaited him with scant patience. She was not in the mood for business.
Phryne spent an irritating morning arguing with Mr Turner who wanted her to buy more shares. Phryne was acquiring land, and selling off her speculative shares, sometimes even at a loss. The only ones she consented to keep were beer, tobacco and flour.
‘I don’t care,’ she finally shouted, out of all patience with the man. ‘I don’t care if shares in some Argentinian gold mine are going cheap. They can’t be cheap enough for me. I want houses and I want government stocks, and that’s all I want, except perhaps some more jewellery. That is my last word, and if you do not carry out my wishes, I will find a solicitor who can. Mr Butler, see Mr Turner out!’
Mr Turner left, taking his hat more in sorrow than in anger, and Mr Butler shut him out. Mr Turner turned back on the porch, as though he had thought of yet another stock which Miss Fisher might find more acceptable, but Mr Butler had locked the door. Mr Butler was sorry that his mistress was in such a tiz, and put his head around the kitchen door to warn his wife that lunch had better be early and good, because Miss Fisher was going to need a drink.
Miss Fisher, however, did not get the chance. Another caller hung on the bell, and this time Mr Butler was faced with a tall, raw-boned woman, who demanded, ‘Where’s my niece?’
Mr Butler was about to tell her to drink beer next time, because gin obviously gave her the heeby jeebies, when she flourished a photograph torn out of a newspaper. It was Jane’s photograph.
‘Perhaps you should speak to Miss Fisher, then, Mrs. .’
‘Miss,’ she snarled. ‘Miss Gay.’
Mr Butler went regretfully to Phryne to warn her that someone had come to remove Jane. Phryne came out into the hall with outstretched hand, at the same time as Jane emerged from her room, with Ember riding on her shoulder.
‘There she is. My niece. I want her back!’
‘Do you?’ asked Phryne unpleasantly. ‘I see. Jane, do you remember this. . lady?’
Jane had shrunk back against the wall, frightened by the strident voice and the clutching hand.
‘Of course she remembers me!’ shrieked Miss Gay, who seemed to be singularly badly named. ‘I’m her Aunt Jessie and she’s my niece Jane Graham, and if you didn’t know her name why did you call her Jane?’
‘I plucked a name out of the air, and I don’t think she recalls you, do you, Jane?’
Jane shook her head, numbly. Phryne turned Miss Gay by the sleeve.
‘Leave me your address, and some proofs that she is your niece, and I’ll have my lawyer look them over. I really can’t release Jane into your custody until I am sure that she is your relative. And possibly not then. What were you about, to let her get that thin, and be on a train to Ballarat all on her own?’
‘I pinned her ticket into her pocket, and she was lucky to get the job, going as a skivvy in a doctor’s house, she was, though I suppose they’ve got someone else now. Don’t listen to her if she says that I mistreated her. . I treated her like one of my own, so I did, when her mother died, and then her grandmother died. .’
‘Yes, thank you, Miss Gay, what is your address?’ asked Phryne, and wrote it down. ‘I’ll be in touch with you in due course, or my solicitor will. You are the girl’s legal guardian, I assume? Appointed by a court? No? I thought not. Good morning, Miss Gay.’
Phryne stepped back as she gave the woman a shrewd push and shoved her out of the house in mid- sentence.
‘Quick, Mr Butler, shut that door, bolt it and bar it, don’t let anyone in. I am not at home to anyone, not even a long lost relative or a man telling me I have won Tatt’s. Gosh, what a morning! Jane? Where are you?’
Jane was crushed into the corner of her bed, with an indignant Ember in her arms, and Phryne did not touch her. She sat down on the end of the bed and said casually, ‘I’m not going to give you up, you know. That woman has no claim on you. Even if you are Jane Graham, and it’s a nice name, I like it, she can’t make you live with her. She isn’t your guardian and she may not be your closest relative. So don’t worry. I’ll call my solicitor and have him draw up adoption papers at once. In fact, I’ll call him now. Have you remembered anything?’
‘Sort of. I began to remember when Ember scratched on the window. My name is Jane Graham. I recall my grandmother but I don’t remember that woman at all. As far as I know, I’ve never seen her before. What’s the address, Miss Fisher?’
‘Seventeen Railway Crescent, Seddon.’
Jane shook her head again. ‘No.’
‘Not a bell?’
‘No.’
‘You can tell me the truth, you know. I’ve given you my word that you shall stay with me, and I am not forsworn.’
‘Miss Fisher, I am telling you the truth. I don’t recall the address and I don’t know the name. I can remember everything up to my grandmother’s death. Then it’s all a fog.’
‘What was in the parcel we took with us on the train?’
‘Rachel coloured rice powder and Lalla perfume, a collar for Ember and some flea-soap, and. . and. . there was something else. . the chrysanthemums for Dot. I think that’s all.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with your memory, is there, Jane?’
Jane shook her head, so that the heavy plaits danced.
‘No. I can remember everything that happened from the time I was on Ballarat station, but nothing of the past since my grandmother’s funeral.’
