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It had been a highly enjoyable day. Christmas Dinner had been excellent, an impressive goose with all the trimmings. The enormous pile of presents gathered under the tree had been distributed amongst all the recipients. A vigorous game of charades had sapped what little remaining energy anyone had, and both Jane and Dot had retired to bed some time earlier, leaving just Jack and Phryne in the parlour, entwined around each other on the chaise longue.
“I feel somewhat honoured Jack, that you felt able to spend the day with us, rather than working” Phryne smiled at Jack, kissing the edge of his mouth lightly.
“Well, after four years I rather felt it was someone else’s turn” replied Jack softly, running his fingertips along her cheek gently; a touch he knew always made her smoulder.
“And I hope you consider us family, Jack, however unconventional that might be” said Phryne, wrapping an arm around Jack’s bicep, leaning in to him as he sat against the back of the chaise.
“I find I am very pleased that you include me in that group, Phryne.” Jack kissed her fully on the lips; well, if she was going to smoulder directly at him, he wasn’t going to miss out on the opportunity which was presented. Jack pulled Phryne more closely to him, wrapping his arms around Phryne as she settled between his legs. They deepened the kiss, and as they did Jack reflected that it was remarkable how greatly his life had changed in the space of twelve months.
This time last year he had spent Christmas Day working; an occurrence which had become usual. Phryne, ‘Miss Fisher’ as he had always thought of her then, had intruded on his grudging solitude in her usual tempestuous manner. Now he got to spend the day with her, and her collection of waifs and strays; and as her partner, her ‘paramour’, her lover. He still struggled sometimes to quite believe it was all real.
Phryne leaned forwards, pressing herself somewhat firmly into Jack’s chest. She felt a solid object digging into her breast. Phryne assessed the situation, continuing to kiss Jack as she did. It wasn’t Jack’s warrant card; that was bigger and thinner; and it wasn’t his personal wallet, which he kept in his other inside pocket. Phryne wondered what Jack was concealing. Her natural inquisitiveness aroused, Phryne broke the kiss and sat up.
She tapped the box from the outside of Jack’s jacket, “now Jack, if this, was in your trouser pocket, I’d ask if you were pleased to see me, but as it is, I’ll just ask whether you’ve got anything interesting in there?” she fluttered her eyelashes at him.
“Is a man never allowed to keep anything secret?” he asked, attempting to appear exasperated.
“Of course you are Jack, I was merely displaying an interest. If you don’t want to tell me…” she pouted slightly, attempting an air of innocence.
Jack swallowed nervously, “If you must know Phryne, it’s a present. For you” he added, seeing the questioning look on Phryne’s face.
“Oh” replied Phryne. “But you already gave me a present Jack. The scarf is delightful, I have just the dress to match it, and knowing your aversion to fashion it was really very thoughtful of you to go to the trouble” Jack’s present had been unwrapped eagerly by Phryne earlier that day; it was a glorious fantasy of peach chiffon, and Phryne had allowed her mind to wander to the possibility of modelling it, and it alone, for Jack later in the evening.
Jack coughed lightly, “I wanted to give you this,” he reached in his pocket and produced a small black box, wrapped with red ribbon, “when it was just the two of us. It’s a little, risky” he scrunched his eyes slightly.
Phryne looked at the box, it had the distinct air of having been designed to contain jewellery, and she suddenly panicked. Jack and Phryne had discussed marriage; she had made it very clear that she was not prepared to even consider the possibility, and Jack had seemed to accept her stance. He was not, surely, going to try to push her on this. “Jack?” she asked.
Jack saw the panic and moved to reassure her, “not, that, risky, Phryne. You have made your position more than clear, and I respect it”, he offered the box to her, “It is, a gesture” he said slowly.
Phryne plucked the box from Jack’s palm, and tentatively pulled the bow of the ribbon free. She discarded the ribbon to the coffee table, and took a deep breath as she flipped open the box. She scrunched her face in confusion; it was not jewellery. She lifted the small silver coloured item from the box. It was a key, and there was a key ring attached; a metal rendering of a robin, enamel colours highlighting the bird’s features, its chest a bright red. “It’s a key” she said, “what is it a key for?” she asked, “And does the Robin mean anything?”
“Ah” responded Jack, his nervousness rising, “now that might be a clue” he smiled, he was gambling on Phryne’s inability to refuse a puzzle.
Phryne reflected, the key was obviously for something domestic, and the key ring was obviously carefully considered; Jack did everything with careful consideration. “Oh” she said, drawing the word out slowly. A probable realisation dawned.
“Now, Jack, would I be right in thinking that the robin was the closest you could find to ‘Robinson’, whilst also being subtle enough to avoid scandalous suggestions?”
“Very good” said Jack, smiling.
“Hmm. And I would therefore suggest that this is a key to your house, Jack” added Phryne.
“Yes” confirmed Jack.
“Why?” asked Phryne.
“Well, partially because you are a part of my life, and I feel that this is a logical next step…”
“And also?” asked Phryne, reading Jack like a book and knowing there was more.
“And partially because, and I believe these are the exact words of Mrs Pearson at number five, ‘Far be it from me, Mr Robinson, to cast any aspersions about your private life, but your lady friend seems far too eager to repeatedly break into your house at all times of day and night, and frankly, it is lowering the tone of the street. Please do something about it’. I think, Phryne, that she may have seen you trying to scramble through a window.”
“That window was not even locked Jack. Very careless of you” Phryne responded, flirtatiously.
“So this is me, doing something about it. Please start using the key, Phryne, rather than your lock picks. There are only so many times I can afford to replace a loosened lock barrel”
Since they had developed their relationship, and Jack had, in a haze of lust one evening told Phryne his address, he had become strangely accustomed to coming home from a shift and finding Phryne in his house; either in the lounge, or the small study, or on one glorious occasion, entirely naked on his hearth rug. He had decided not to ask how she had repeatedly obtained entry for fear that he would have to add to her already lengthy list of potential criminal charges.
“Well, this is, potentially awkward” Phryne said. She knelt up on the chaise, and reached over to the bookshelf. She leant away from the chaise and pulled open one of the drawers, retrieving a box of her own, before sliding the drawer shut and returning to her position between Jack’s legs. She offered her box to Jack. It was blue, wrapped with a blue ribbon.
“And this is?” asked Jack, puzzled himself now.
“Also, somewhat risky. Also, a gesture. Also, one for opening when it was just the two of us” said Phryne, keeping one hand on top of the box. “And this does make me slightly concerned as to exactly how similarly we think sometimes”. She removed her hand from the box, and sat back on her bent legs.
Jack removed the ribbon and opened the box. Another key; another key ring. This was a Kingfisher, the enamel mostly blue with highlights of orange and green. “Ah” he said, with a tone of bemusement, “the nearest you could find to ‘Fisher’?” he queried.
“Without entirely causing you to be scandalised, Jack” Phryne smiled at him, “because you are an important part of my life, Jack, and I want you to know that you are welcome in my home, at any time. Even when your shift has finished appallingly late. I want to wake up sometimes and find you in bed beside me. And I really don’t care what my neighbours think, but I suspect you are less, adept, with lock picks than I am” she grinned at him.
“I may surprise you yet. Thank you, Phryne. Happy Christmas” he stroked a hand up her thigh, his eyes darkening.
Phryne knelt forward, “Happy Christmas Jack” she responded, kissing him once more.