Kerry Greenwood - Introducing the Honourable Phryne Fisher

She exhibited a satin robe and gown, cut in a rather medieval line, with high neck and flowing sleeves. They were edged in white rabbit fur, and were of a deep, mossy green.

‘They are beautiful,’ said Eunice. ‘All right, I will borrow them if you don’t mind.’

‘Of course I don’t mind, old dear. Now what about this hat? It matches the gown, and it has a nice long chin-veil.’

The hat was a Paris model, made by a couturière who actually liked women, and it was small and plain, but superbly made. In the gown and the hat, Eunice Henderson was astonished at how. . well. . really. . how beautiful she looked. So was Phryne, who had not expected such an excellent result.

‘You really do look smashing, Eunice. I think you should stay in bed,’ said Phryne. ‘Dr MacMillan said so, and I have a great deal of respect for her opinions. Wait until she has dressed your face, and then we shall don the glad rags for your young man. Good morning, Jane. What have you got?’ Jane entered, still clad in the bitumen serge, and carrying something small and alive. She held it out to Phryne.

‘He came to my window last night. Can I keep him? Mrs Butler said that she needs a cat to keep down the mice, and he won’t eat much. Please.’

‘Of course you can keep him, Jane. He actually came to you? That is a great compliment.’ She took the kitten, which was so light that she feared it might float away. ‘If Mrs B. will have a cat, then he can stay. Take him out to the kitchen and give him a lot of food. Poor little creature is all skin and bone.’ The kitten, which Phryne had been stroking, purred and gave her thumb a quick lick, then walked off her hand and onto Jane’s shoulder, where he perched, holding on to the plait and balancing with his absurd scrap of a tail.

‘Isn’t he a pretty one,’ commented Miss Henderson. Jane beamed.

‘He will need a bath and a collar,’ said Phryne. ‘We will buy one this morning in town. We are going to get you some clothes, for I cannot stand that dreadful suit a moment longer. Mrs B. will look after the kitten. Have you given him a name?’ Jane paused at the door, the familiar listening look on her face.

‘I think he should be called Ember,’ she said, and vanished in the direction of the washing up and the milk delivery, in both of which Ember took a deep professional interest.

‘She’s coming along,’ commented Miss Henderson. ‘Poor child. Still, she’s fallen on her feet, finding you. As have I. There must be some cat in my family after all.’

Phryne left Dot and Mrs Butler to look after Eunice Henderson, and spent an interesting morning in the shops with Jane. The girl had good, if restrained taste, and seemed to prefer grey and dark blue, which certainly set off her brown-blonde hair and her brown eyes. Phryne bought two suits, shoes and stockings, and sufficient underwear and shirts for a week’s wear. Phryne’s laundry was sent to the Chinese every week. She laughed when Phryne suggested donating her black suit to the poor, and was still chuckling when Phryne stuffed the offending garments into the hands of a woman begging on the street corner near the station.

‘See, that earned us a blessing,’ said Phryne. ‘Giving things away is a good way of acquiring merit, and not too hard on the purse. Here’s our train, now, have we got everything?’ She checked over the parcels. The collar and the flea-soap for Ember; the chrysanthemums, the unspoilt product of a hothouse, for Dot, who doted on them; the small vial of expensive Lalla perfume and a box of Rachel poudré riz for Phryne. The suitcase and all the rest of the clothes were to be sent on by the shops.

‘Yes, that’s everything, and here’s the train.’

They found a corner seat and Phryne talked amiably with the girl all the way home, reflecting that good clothes make a great difference to an adolescent. Her gawkiness had been concealed by fine tailoring, and now she was such a refreshing sight that an elderly gentleman opposite them could not take his eyes off her all the way to St Kilda, and on their way out of the train offered Phryne compliments on her sister.

Phryne laughed, linked arms with Jane, and walked along the sea front. The wind was cold but Jane was warm inside her new woollen topcoat, and her new shoes hardly hurt her feet at all.

‘Miss Fisher?’ asked Jane, tugging at Phryne’s arm.

‘Mmm?’

‘Why are you doing all this for me?’

‘What? For you? Well, there are several reasons. Because that nice policeman asked me to mind you. Because I would not hand a dog over to the Welfare. Because you are a mystery and mysteries interest me. Because you are intelligent and I am interested in establishing a scholarship for intelligent girls. Because you rescue black kittens. Also,’ said Phryne, stopping and turning to face the girl, ‘because I was very poor, as poor as I think you must have been, and I was rescued, and I think that I should return the favour. Does that answer your question?’

‘Yes,’ said Jane, much relieved, and followed Phryne into the house, where luncheon was on the table.

CHAPTER SIX

‘I’m quite content to stay here — only I am so hot and thirsty!’

Lewis Carroll Alice Through the Looking Glass

Three o’clock was approaching, and the house was tense. The only one who seemed unaffected by it was Jane, who spent the afternoon consoling Ember after his bath, which he had not enjoyed at all, and endeavouring to persuade him to accept the collar as a mark of respect, instead of the instrument of feline torture, which was his first impression. She was not succeeding very well, to judge by the number of times Phryne heard her say, ‘Now you have put all your paws into it again, you bad cat!’ There would be a pause while she disentangled the kitten, an interlude while they played paperchase or had one of the light meals which Mrs Butler served to him, and then the litany would begin again. When Phryne looked in at three, both Jane and Ember had fallen asleep on Jane’s bed. Phryne threw the quilt over the two of them and closed the door.

Mrs Butler was worrying about the milk, which might be on the turn, and the dairy had not come today. Dot was worried about the laundry, which had unaccountably lost three socks and one of Phryne’s cherished moss-green pillow cases. Phryne was tense on behalf of Miss Henderson, and Eunice, having surveyed her damaged face in a mirror for the first time, had burst into tears and taken to her bed, refusing to come out from under the covers until Dr MacMillan had threatened that she should not see her young man at all.

This was enough to drag Eunice out from under the sheets, and when she had been anointed and dressed and veiled, she really was stunning. Phryne hoped that this young man was worth all this trouble, while reflecting cynically that no young man ever was.

The doorbell rang. Mr Butler announced ‘Mr Thompson and Mr Herbert’. Aha! Perhaps the young man was as nervous about this visit as Eunice had been. If so, it showed a nice spirit. It would be up to her to entertain the friend, and Phryne sighed. She had sometimes questioned the ways of the All Wise Providence in His construction of young men. She would, however, entertain the companion, however taciturn or even spotty, with as good a grace as she could muster. After all, this was a murder inquiry, and she had deliberately chosen this profession. ‘I could have stayed in Father’s house and arranged flowers for the county,’ she reminded herself, and swept forward to greet the visitors.

To her surprise and delight, they were very good looking. Both young men of medium height, with blond hair in an Eton crop, blue eyes, the fashionable flannel bags and the anyone-for-tennis blazer, the loose white ‘artistic’ shirts and the innovative new wristwatches. Phryne had not seen one of these before. Both of them were as athletic and as sleek as otters. The lithe lines of the shoulder and hip spoke of smooth muscle and hidden power; these were not rowdies, but they were sportsmen of some sort.