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Phryne was deliberately letting her mind wander. How she’d gotten roped into attending this latest charity luncheon was no less than extortion. From Dot! Her loyal companion and friend. But puppy dog eyes and a need for serious repairs at Dot’s church eventually broke Phryne’s resolve. Any other time she’d just have written a check and gone about her day, but Dot had assured her that her presence at the luncheon would definitely entice other wealthy ladies to attend if they knew the Honorable Miss Fisher would be present. If for no other reason than to gossip about whatever distinctive creation she’d recently purchased at the House of Fleuri.
So here she was, taking small spoonsful of flummery (nowhere near as good as Mary’s now that Aunt Prudence’s cook had been teaching) and deliberately ignoring the latest speaker, a woman so boring that she would have keeled over in horror had she known Phryne’s knickers were purple silk. And that Jack had torn them once after a case when they’d caught a drug smuggler at the docks who had almost shot them both but ran out of ammunition just as Phryne got close enough to knock him out with an iron hook that had been dangling from a crane. After Jack’s constables led him away in cuffs, Jack had started to yell, but things took a turn and they’d ended up in the back of the Hispano and, well….
A sly smile began to creep over her delicate features as she remembered the rather erotically-charged moment, but when someone across the table from her coughed, Phryne suddenly remembered she was in a church and thought it might be rather prudent if she kept her thoughts on the straight and narrow. Affixing a serious expression, she focused on the speaker like Dot would have. Bless her.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we cannot begin to thank you for your attendance at our luncheon today. Repairing the church’s kitchen will not only benefit our own parish, but with the global financial crisis, you’ll help to feed hundreds of Melbourne’s men, women, and children who are in desperate need of care. It is my great pleasure to introduce you to our church treasurer, Mrs. Agnes Wilhelm, who will explain how your donations will be used. Thank you.”
A light smattering of applause echoed through the room and a woman that looked to be older than Australia shuffled up to the podium. She was rather bent from age and had a difficult time getting from her chair to the front of the room. Phryne’s immediate response was to pity Mrs. Wilhelm but once the lady had gotten everything squared away, things took a turn for the infinitely better.
“G’day, everyone. I know you’re all bored to tears so I’ll keep this as brief as possible even though Mildred Hansom would keep you all here until the end of the week.” The said Mrs. Hansom gasped and everyone at the table’s mouth opened slightly.
“We thank you for the money you’re donating. Goodness knows we need it, especially since that kitchen’s needed updating for years and we could’ve had it fixed five years ago but Chester Zarka decided to take the money and use it to buy some ugly shrubs to put by the front gates and of course he didn’t take care of them so they all died. ‘Course I wasn’t treasurer then, but Chester’s brother Milton was and them two was thick as thieves so that’s how they got away with it.”
There was a distinct rumbling around the room and an uncomfortable shuffling by the priest. Phryne decided right then and there that Agnes Wilhelm was her most favorite person ever.
“We’re planning on getting a new roof on the building, along with getting a new stove, which we have to replace because someone told a visiting priest—what was his name again? Rose? Green? Copper? I’da know…some color. Anyway, the Father decided one day to make his own lunch because Victoria Anderson was too busy having a smoke and flirting with the seminary students, which is probably why three of ‘em decided not to become priests and it’s a shame young people today are so easily led, but what’s done is done. So, the Father makes his own lunch only he can’t cook and it’s a blessing he was the only one eating it because he died a month later and after that no one wanted to use that stove which is ridiculous because I don’t think he was cooking yellow fever on the burner, but everyone thought it’d be disrespectful to continue using it.
“We’ll also need to repair the plumbing and put a fresh coat of paint on the walls to cover up the hideous mural that Father Grogan’s late cousin did.”
That did get an audible response from more than a few of the guests. Phryne did her best not to start laughing out loud.
“Samuel Jameson actually said he thought it was a beautiful interpretation of The Last Supper and told Father Grogan’s cousin so, but I told him what he should have said was nothing because the disciples looked indecent and I’ll not even comment on our Lord not having a nose.”
Internally, Phryne had already decided to double her contribution.
“After we finish that, we’ll repair the floors which have been scuffed beyond recognition because no one around here tells the young people not to do crazy dances at the social functions and I don’t wonder that the devil himself isn’t inhabiting the piano player because at the last dance, he actually started playing something called “Inka Dinka Doo”. He’s in my prayers.”
Finally finding his senses, Father O’Leary lept up from his chair and put his arm around the elderly spitfire. “Thank you so much Mrs. Wilhelm for your report on the kitchen’s status and I’m sure that these wonderful donors would like to give you a round of applause for your service to our church.” He turned and gave a pointed look to one man at the table and the clapping became deafening. Mrs. Wilhelm looked as though she wanted to continue, but Father O’Leary was already directing her back to her chair and she just went with it.
At that, the luncheon was over, and people were starting to make for the doors before Mrs. Wilhelm remembered something about them they’d rather not have announced. Phryne stayed at her seat as she wrote out her check and turned to see Father O’Leary at her side.
“Miss Fisher! It’s lovely to see you here today. I do hope you’re well.”
“I’m doing very well, Father. Today’s luncheon was certainly manna for the stomach as well as the soul.” She couldn’t help but give a wicked grin at that.
“Er, yes, well—it was that indeed.” Mopping his forehead, he left a very amused Miss Fisher to chuckle and couldn’t wait to relay the story to Dot.