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It was slightly before 9pm when Dot and Phryne pulled up to House of Fleuri. The Hispano had just passed under the arch behind the shop when they caught a glimpse of a foot. Then a leg. Then a torso, neck, head, and, finally, a very familiar fedora. Phryne stopped the car and both women turned and tilted their heads to look up simultaneously.
“Is that who I think it is?” Phryne asked.
“Afraid so, miss,” Dot replied with a grimace.
From his position hanging off the ladder, the man sighed, adjusted the box in his hand, and then nodded politely to his would be rescuers. No point in being rude as well as caught.
“Evening,” called Jack Robinson to the women below.
Still in the car, Phryne closed her eyes, and slowly placed her head against the wheel.
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An hour later - with Dot returned safely home to her husband, and Madam Fleuri assured the robber she had telephoned Phryne about was nothing of the sort - Phryne closed the parlour doors and poured two whiskys from the cart. When Jack joined her, she looked up at him with one perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised.
“Oh, did you want one too?” she asked, swallowing a full finger in one shot.
He rolled his eyes and took the second glass, walking back over to his chair and sitting down.
Phryne refilled her glass, sauntered over and took her seat beside him.
“So…” she began.
Jack looked up from his glass, but did not respond.
“Do you want to tell me what that was about?” she asked.
“Not especially,” he replied. “Is that an option?”
“Not even a little bit,” she assured him. Phryne put her glass down on the table and turned the full force of her attention on him. “What were you thinking?”
“Phryne…” he began with a sigh.
“Breaking and entering, Jack? You're lucky Madam called me and not the police!”
“Well, technically I didn’t break anything. The window was already open.”
“And like Peter Pan, you just flew in?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Ha ha. No,” he said humorlessly. In response, Phryne rummaged around her table for a pen. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Well if you’re going to justify all your reasons for break and enter I’m going to take notes for the next time I’m caught,” she replied.
“Again, I didn’t break anything. As it happens I requisitioned the ladder from a worksite around the corner and simply used it to enter… creatively.”
“Ordinarily I’d make a bawdy joke about that last bit, Jack, but I find I’m in no joking mood.”
“You’re making too much of this, Phryne.”
“You know, I don’t think I am. You’ve been like this for days.”
“Like what?” he asked.
“Secretive. Reckless. Cancelling dinners with me, too busy to even return my phone messages. Last night, Charlie saw you at The Green Mill of all places. You even called out of work yesterday, which I’ve never known you to do.”
“How did you know that?” he asked in surprise.
“Because I’m a very good detective,” she shot back. Then she grabbed her drink, took a sip and added, “And because I brought you lunch.”
“Ah,” he said, finishing his own drink and placing the glass on the side table.
“Well you can at least tell me what’s in the box that was worth risking both your neck and your heretofore untarnished criminal record. Unless it’s new lingerie for me, of course, in which case I applaud the extraordinary effort,” she remarked dryly, leaning back in her chair and cooly crossing her legs at the ankle.
“It’s not for you,” he said without thinking, then grimaced when he saw the look of hurt on her face. Because five days ago Phryne wouldn’t have even considered the idea that Jack was buying lingerie for someone else. But a lot had happened in five days and now... now it would be foolish not to.
“It’s also not lingerie,” he assured her. When he didn’t elaborate further, she sighed and leaned forward in the chair. Taking the glass in both hands, she looked down at the small amount of brown liquid still in the glass.
“Jack… I’m worried. You’ve been acting strangely for days. Can you please just tell me what’s going on?”
Jack ran his hand through his hair and stood up. Then he walked over to the piano and picked up the box that sat on top. He opened it carefully and pulled out the intricate lace piece inside.
It was a calf length, Juliet Cap wedding veil. And it was stunning.
Phryne stood and walked over to where Jack stood, holding the piece gently. She ran her hand over the lace and sucked in a small breath.
“As lovely as this is, Jack, and it is lovely, I’m afraid it’s only raised more questions for me. And I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to absolutely insist that you answer some of them.”
“Alright,” he finally agreed with an air of resignation, carefully returning the veil to the box. Phryne returned to her seat as Jack collected his empty glass and walked back to the bar cart to pour another drink for himself.
“The last two years I was in France,” he began, his back still towards her as he poured, “I served with a man named Robert Hanover. Bobby,” he amended, turning finally and joining her again in the chairs.
“Bobby was from Melbourne as well and we bonded, you know, as you do when you find a piece of home in hell. I told him about my family, Rosie. And he told me about his - a wife and a young daughter. Angela.” Jack swiveled the liquid around in his glass for a moment, staring at the movement as though hypnotized by it or the past or both. Eventually he stopped; the brief spell broken, he continued his story.
“Bobby was a brave soldier and a good friend, Phryne. He saved my neck more times than I can even count. But one day he caught a bullet in the leg. It must have hit an artery because… he didn’t have much time. Just enough to ask me to do something for him - to look after his kid. Angie was only 11 at the time. He wanted to make sure she grew up with some support, even if she couldn’t have her dad.”
Jack paused again, and Phryne was startled to suddenly realize how tightly she was gripping her glass. This story wasn’t unique, which was maybe why it hurt so very much to hear. She relaxed her grip and waited for him to continue.
“So I did. I looked in on the family as often as I could. I was there more than I was home some weeks those first few years. Peggy - Bobby’s wife - appreciated it in the beginning, but as she and Angie established themselves more and more as a family of two, I think… I think she needed the space and I gave it to her. For several years now, I’ve only gone over for the occasional Sunday dinner, special event, that kind of thing. And then, a few weeks ago, I got an invitation to Angie’s wedding. Which frankly feels impossible, because I swear I was teaching the kid to ride a bike just last week,” he added before polishing off the last of his whisky and setting the glass down on the side table. Phryne knew there was more to it than that. That Angie growing up would have reminded Jack just how long his friend had been gone, how much else the man had missed in the intervening decade. But if Jack didn’t want to bring that up, then neither would she, and so Phryne left it alone in favor of more practical concerns.
“So all this subterfuge and running around is to plan a wedding?” Phryne asked. “I’m afraid I still don’t understand.”
“The wedding was supposed to be in October, but the groom’s mother is ill and took a turn for the worse last week. Apparently it’s not looking good. Angie and her young man wanted to make sure his mother would be well enough to attend, so they moved the wedding up. To tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow!” Phryne exclaimed. “Is that even legal?”
“Apparently so. They posted the banns early because they were so excited, which turned out to be a good stroke of luck. In any case, last Thursday Peggy called me and asked if I could help out. There was so much to do, they needed all the help they could get.”
“I’d wager they needed you, Jack Robinson,” she replied softly. “But continue.”
“So yes, I’ve been running around for the last few days helping run all sorts of errands. I’ve been to the photographer, the officiant, the florist…”
“And The Green Mill?” she asked.
“I was there to drop off a deposit to the trumpet player,” he explained.
“And tonight?”
“Apparently the House of Fleuri closed early today for a private function offsite. But Angie’s veil was still inside. So I…”
“Got creative?” she supplied.
“Exactly,” he said. “I left the check for the veil inside,” he assured her. “So there was no theft either.”
“Ah,” she said once he was done. “Well, that’s… a very good explanation, I suppose.”
“You suppose?” he asked. “Should I have done better?”
“No, no,” she said, with a wave of her hand in the air. “I suppose I’m just wondering why didn't you ask for my help. This seems a fairly obvious overlap of my skill sets. The venn diagram where ‘sartorial expertise’ meets ‘break and enter know-how’ is basically just an oval with the words 'Phryne Fisher' written inside."
“I don't know,” he said. “It just felt like sometime I had to do alone.”
“I see,” she said, worrying her bottom lip slightly. No one but Jack would have probably even noticed.
“I've hurt you,” he noted, saying it aloud as the realization struck.
“A little. I'll get over it.”
“I... that wasn't my intention, Phryne. I’m sorry.”
“I know. It's just... you still keep everything so separate,” she said, the words coming out in a tumble. She stood then and began pacing the parlour. “We’ve been romantically involved for six months, Jack. And we’ve been friends for much longer and I still have to wait and wonder and pry to discover these things about you. Would you have even told me about this wedding if I hadn't found you dangling out a window?”
Jack sighed and looked down.
“So that’s a ‘no’ then,” she confirmed, finally ending her movements around the room at the mantelpiece and picking at the flowers in the vase in frustration. A minute later her hand finally stilled but she stayed where she was, not looking at him. “Are you ashamed of me, Jack?” she asked quietly. She hated giving voice to the question, but she wasn’t a woman who shied away from hard truths and she wouldn’t be anyone’s shameful little secret.
“What?” he asked, his head snapping up immediately at her words. In a moment he was on his feet and in another he was at her side. “Not at all. Never,” he said, tilting her face up to look at him so she could see for herself that he was telling the truth.
“Then why?” she asked.
He ran his hand through his hair again, and she resisted the urge to follow suit. This conversation needed to be had, and she would not be distracted by his beautiful locks.
“Did I ever tell you about my house?” he finally asked, and her eyebrows furrowed as she struggled to connect his dots.
“Your house?” she asked, slightly confused. Jack had an apartment he rented in Richmond.
“It was white with blue shutters. Two stories, fair sized kitchen, huge library. Small rose garden in front, large vegetable garden in the back. Two lemon trees, and I used to prune them just so, so that when I sat in my chair, I could tilt one way to catch the sun on my face, then shift slightly to read a book in the shade. I loved that house.”
Phryne smiled at his description. His small apartment met his needs and suited him well, but what he was describing… that was the house she had always imagined for him in her mind.
“I loved that house,” he repeated. “And after Rosie left, she told me to keep it. It always meant more to me and she was trying to be kind. But... that house was full of memories. Fights and laughter, tears and quiet - every single nook and cranny crammed full of an ‘us’ that was no more. I couldn’t stay. I had to sell it. And I loved that house.”
“I don’t understand, what does this have to do - ”
“Phryne, if we ended things now, at the very least I’d need to find a new office. I suppose... I suppose I’d rather not have to find a new life as well.”
“I see,” she said.
“Do you?” he asked.
“Well I understand the impulse, even if I don’t share it.”
“That’s because you’re less cautious than me. More brave,” he said.
“More reckless, you mean,” she corrected.
“That too,” he agreed with a small smile.
Phryne looked down at the flowers again, lost in thought.
“I’m not,” she said quietly, eyes still on the vase.
“Not what?” he asked.
“Reckless. Careless. Whatever you want to call it.”
“Phryne, I didn’t mean it as a bad thing. You’re just not… like me. With regard to this.”
“I…” Phryne looked up from under her lashes to meet his eyes again. “Jack, before I came back to Melbourne, I spent the better part of 10 years travelling the world. And that whole time I was very, very careful. Careful not to stay too long, careful not to get too attached, careful with my spending, and my itinerary, and my heart. And I had a wonderful time. But it was also a little lonely.”
“I have a hard time picturing you lonely,” he noted.
“I said a little. But yes, I was. Because being so careful… it can cut you off from the world, Jack. And it doesn’t quite protect you as much as you hope it will. But between leaving Europe and arriving in Melbourne, something happened to me. It wasn’t a drastic change, but somehow coming home after so many years away, I just felt… a little less cautious, I suppose. And look what happened.” She gestured around the room, though she was clearly indicating much grander consequences than a parlour.
“I employed a terrified maid I’d only just met. Bought a new cab for total strangers. Hired a butler sight unseen and purchased a house on a whim. I took in a child. And I told a very dour, terribly disapproving policeman to call me Phryne, though he never ever did. None of which was especially careful of me, but all of which have made me incredibly happy.”
“Even the dour, disapproving policeman?” he asked with a small, secret smile.
“Especially the dour, disapproving policeman,” she confirmed, nodding her head in mock seriousness. Then she took his lapels in her hands and pulled him ever so slightly closer. “You’re not a careless person, Jack, which is very good because I can’t stand careless people. But perhaps you could stand to be just a little less careful from time to time? It might make you incredibly happy too.”
“You make me incredibly happy,” he said, placing his hands on her hips, and his lips on her own, and proving it with a kiss. When he pulled back he reached into his suit coat jack and handed her a wedding invitation.
She looked at it with a raised eyebrow. “Withholding evidence as well, Jack? My, you really are taking my lifestyle out for a test drive this week.”
He rolled his eyes at her and took it back.
“Despite what it says on the card, the wedding is actually tomorrow at noon. And despite my ill-considered actions over the last week, I really would be ever so honored if you would accompany me. As my date.”
“Leaving it to the last minute a bit, aren’t you Inspector? What if I have nothing to wear?”
“Even better,” he sassed with a wiggle of his eyebrows, and she laughed at his cheek.
“I would be delighted, Jack,” she said, reaching up to touch his face.
“This is new for me,” he admitted after a moment, catching her hand in his own and holding it to his cheek. “These boundaries I have… they’ve been in place for a very long time. But you, Miss Fisher, you make me want to break though. Or try very hard to, at any rate.”
“It’s new for me too,” she reminded him. “I guess we’ll just have to go out on the ledge together. Though Madam will certainly pitch a fit if we keep doing it at her salon. French,” she added with a knowing look.
He laughed and then asked, “In that case, who will rescue whom?”
“We’ll take turns,” she decided.
And so, they did.
