Flying Too High (20 page)

‘Oh, I say, pity that Phryne is missing this,’ opined Jack Leonard. Dot thought so, too. She went up to Room Six and opened the door. Phryne was half-awake.

‘What’s that delicious smell, Dot? I’ve had the most amazing dream. I was clinging on to the back of a car…hang on. That wasn’t a dream. Dot, where are we?’

‘Queenscliff Hotel, Miss, and breakfast is waiting. Why not wash your face and brush your hair and come down? I’ve never seen a breakfast like it.’

The Queenscliff Hotel was famed for its breakfasts. Phryne put on the black slippers and brushed her hair as ordered. She and Dot descended into a cloud of steam savoury enough to make a glutton swoon. Phryne’s stomach growled reproachfully. Dot felt almost faint with hunger. They passed the formal dining-room and the cocktail bar and burst into the back parlour at something not too short of a run. Jack Leonard gave a cheer as Phryne came in and supplied her with a big plate.

‘Now, Phryne, you must keep up your strength. There won’t always be policemen to carry you around.’

‘So I didn’t dream the policeman either. How odd.’

‘What would you like?’ asked Jack, leading her to a long row of silver chafing dishes. ‘There are kidneys and devilled ham in this one, scrambled eggs in this one, mushrooms in this one, sausages, rissoles, fried eggs and they can make you an omelette in a moment.’

‘This is too much. Get me a bit of everything, Jack, and bless you.’

Phryne sat down at a small table. A waiter took her order for tea and offered her a newspaper, which she waved away. When furnishing the hotel someone had bought a job lot of life-size negro figures made of wood or papier mâché. At the feet of the one with the gold turban sat Candida, eating fruit compote with perfect equanimity. Phryne raised an eyebrow at Molly.

‘She says that the poor man must be lonely, so she’s gone to keep him company,’ Molly explained. ‘Have some of this compote, it’s marvellous. Essence of summer. I wonder where they found melons, pineapple and strawberries at this time of the year?’

Jack placed Phryne’s plate before her and she had demolished it, with three slices of toast and two cups of tea, before he had time to complete one across in the
Times
crossword. Phryne went back to the buffet and gave herself more bacon, scrambled eggs, mushrooms and kedgeree. This she ate with two slices of toast. Dot had found the diversity of things to eat miraculous. All that food! She picked at everything.

Phryne tried the fruit and found it delightful, then stood up and stretched.

‘I bags first bath,’ she said, and Dot raced after her as she fled up the stairs.

Ten minutes later she was lying in a hot bath and Dot was soaping her feet. She was so stiff that she could not possibly have reached them.

‘Oh, your poor toes, Miss!’

‘I suppose it isn’t any use asking you to call me Phryne, is it, Dot?’

‘No. It ain’t right. And you are changing the subject. You’ve bruised them toes so that you won’t be able to put a shoe on your feet for a week. You’ve cut your hands and there’s a little cut on your brow. It won’t cause a scar, Miss,’ commented Dot. ‘Let me have your foot again. I’ve sent your clothes to be cleaned, and they say they’ll be back this afternoon. Miss Candida’s as well. Mrs Maldon wants to get rid of that nightgown. I didn’t think of buying a new one for her. That’s better, Miss. Hang on to my hand and…up we go!’

Dot dried Phryne, clad her in the nightgown, and put her to bed between clean sheets.

Dot took a bath, replaced her chemise, and lay down in her own bed for some sleep. She was rather worn out from worrying about Phryne and Candida and Henry and Bunji.

The Maldons had been given a room with a bath, and the hotel had provided a cot draped with white muslin. Candida was impressed with it. It resembled the cradle of the Princess’ baby in the
Blue Fairy Book
. She was a cleanly little girl and was delighted to see how much dirt coloured the water. When she was finally ready and wrapped up in several towels, her father claimed the bath and firmly shut the door.

Candida surveyed the room. It was lovely. She admired the gold chandelier, and the swags of ivy picked out in gold leaf on the high ceilings. The French windows opened onto the balcony and through them she could see the sea. The heavy curtains of oyster-grey silk had been elaborately draped in order to frame the view. In front of the window was a carved blackwood loveseat, a round low table with a bowl of roses and three delicate-legged chairs. There was an escritoire and matching chair on one side of the fire and a washstand on the other.

The great bed was of brass and stood at least two feet off the floor. It was heaped with pillows. Candida climbed up and bounced experimentally.

Molly darkened the windows and took off most of her clothes. She got into the bed and found that Bear and Candida were already there.

‘Bear wants to know when we are going home.’

‘Tomorrow morning. We are just going to have a little sleep. Daddy will be here in a moment. Do you want to sleep in the cot?’

‘Me?’ asked Candida indignantly. ‘It’s for a baby.’

Molly smiled and closed her eyes. When Henry came out of the bathroom, he found both of his women fast asleep.

Phryne woke refreshed and stiff at two o’clock. Dot was still sleeping. The blind let through a little cool winter light, and she could hear the sea. She inspected the clothes that Dot had bought, especially the odd little hat. She put it on and peeped into the mirror. It was striking. The beads added weight, so that it sat down well upon her head. She looped the scarf around her throat.

‘O woman of mystery,’ she said, blowing a kiss to her reflection. She put on the black skirt and the red jersey top, then went downstairs to see if any of the rest of her party were awake.

The desk clerk smiled at her.

‘The rest of them have gone for a walk on the shore, Miss Fisher,’ he said respectfully. ‘The little girl insisted.’

Phryne smiled. Candida was prone to insist. She gathered up her skirt and went down the steps and across the road, following the path to the pier.

It was a cold day, and few people were on the foreshore. Phryne found Candida, her parents, Bunji and Jack sitting on the sand and making rather ineffectual castles.

‘That’s not right,’ said Candida as her castle dissolved before a strong lee wind. ‘Make me an aeroplane, Uncle Jack.’

Jack Leonard moved down the beach a little and found that the damper sand held its shape better. Bunji came with him to advise.

‘Make a Fokker,’ she suggested. ‘Did you see her, Phryne? I had to put her down on the sand. Had a bit of a struggle persuading the old girl to stop, seemed to want to go on into the waves, and that wouldn’t have done, you know. The lifeguard was delighted to watch it for me. He was in the Royal Flying Corps. Fascinating old bird. I think the nose ought to be a bit longer, Jack.’

Jack obediently lengthened the nose. Candida found suitable pebbles for the finer details. Molly and Henry were sitting on a cold stone step. Molly was leaning back into Henry’s embrace. He had his head on her shoulder. Phryne was about to withdraw when Molly held out a hand.

‘We owe it all to you, Phryne. We don’t know how to repay you.’

‘There’s no need to repay me. I wouldn’t have missed it for worlds. The really brave person in this was Bunji. Henry must have told you what a good flier she is.’

‘Great skill,’ agreed Henry. ‘She can scent the air currents, I reckon. Who is this Mike that Candida keeps talking about?’

‘Did you read the Sherlock Holmes stories?’ asked Phryne, seating herself at Henry’s feet.

‘Yes, of course.’

‘“I think we must have an amnesty in that direction,”’ quoted Phryne. ‘He was dragged into the plot by his revolting wife. The monster I delivered to the cops this morning was the prime mover. When Sidney shot the wife and was trying to shoot Candida, Mike realized that he couldn’t go along with it, shoved Candida out into the garden and told her to run. Then he attacked Sid. That’s where I came in. I shot Sid in the wrist and had a conference with Mike. He saved Candida’s life. Even if we all gave character evidence for him he’d be looking at ten years in the pen. So I gave him a hundred quid and told him to go home and report his car stolen. They will suspect him, but they won’t be able to prove anything. He is a good chap, Henry met him.’

‘So it was Mike who kissed Candida goodbye? I’m glad that I met him. I owe him a great deal.’

‘I told him to get in touch with me if he couldn’t get a job. If he does, I’ll turn him over to you.’

‘You did well, Phryne. It would have been awful to have to give evidence against him.’

Molly’s eyes strayed to Candida, engaged in making wheels for the plane. The child was dressed in her blue frock, and had Bear secured to her back with a handkerchief.

‘I don’t think she’s suffered too much,’ said Phryne, ‘though she’ll probably have nightmares. She didn’t see the woman fall when she was shot and she escaped Siddy’s attentions.’

‘I was wondering about that. He’s a child-molester, isn’t he?’ asked Henry. ‘I…didn’t know how to ask her.’

‘No need. He may have had designs on her originally, but when she came out from under the ether Sid told me that she was sick all over him.’

Henry laughed aloud. ‘That’s my girl!’

***

Dinner in the formal dining-room was hilarious. Phryne purchased good champagne and after a while everyone was happy. The food was excellent, from the entrée of cream of pumpkin soup, through an exquisite cheese souffle, a
filet mignon à chasseur
, and sherberts made of peach, nectarine, pomegranate, lemon, orange and grapefruit. The coffee was fragrant and the handmade chocolates remarkable.

Phryne, who had bagged the quaint hat, ate as though she had been fasting for some months. Dot was freshly surprised at each course. Candida, who had been allowed to stay up by special permission, had presided over the ceremonial burning of the nightgown, the last trace of her captivity. She was engaged in assisting Bear to eat his chocolates. Golden candlelight from the tall sconces glittered off the massive silver epergnes and dishes; the log fire burned brightly. Tall vases of lilies and gum tips lent the air a delicate scent. Of all endings to adventure, this was the best possible.

‘To Candida!’ cried Phryne, and raised her glass. Uncle Jack allowed the child to take a sip from his glass. The bubbles tickled her nose. She chuckled. She knew that it was the custom to respond to a toast. She clutched Bear close to give him confidence, and stood up on her chair.

‘Uncle Jack, Aunty Bunji, Mummy, Daddy, Dot and Phryne,’ she began. The table was silent. Candida was overcome with sudden affection.

‘Thank you for finding me and bringing me Bear,’ she said, then launched herself into Phryne’s arms, and kissed her moistly on the cheek.

Chapter Thirteen

He that dies pays all debts

The Tempest,
Shakespeare

Returned in good order to Melbourne, Phryne spent Thursday afternoon cleaning the car with Mr Butler’s assistance. She gave her household an edited account of her adventures, and did not go out until Thursday afternoon to St Kilda. She wanted to find Klara. As Klara was locally notorious, this did not prove difficult.

A thin little gutter sparrow sat in a café, staring into an empty cup of tea. She looked up as Phryne walked in and smiled with genuine tenderness.

‘Phryne! Come and buy me some tea. I’m parched. Got a job for me?’

Phryne bought the tea, which she would not have touched for quids, and explained. Ancient eyes started out of a childish face.

‘And they’ll kill him the next day?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll do it for ten quid. If I didn’t have to make a living I’d do it for nothing. Sidney Brayshaw, eh? Bonzer. Will you make the arrangements?’

‘Can you? I don’t know if Briggs is still at Pentridge.’

‘Sure. Give me another twenty to square them.’

Phryne produced the money.

‘You won’t fail me, Klara? I gave my word.’

‘No. I’ll not fail,’ promised Klara, tracing a cross with a grubby forefinger on the flat breast of her gym tunic. Phryne left quickly. She found Klara unsettling.

***

Thursday night was appointed for Phryne’s seduction of the delightful Dr Fielding. It was not until Mrs Butler was asking her what she fancied for dinner that she remembered.

‘Oh, hell, I forgot. Mrs B., I asked that nice young doctor to dinner.’

‘You have been busy lately, Miss,’ agreed Mrs Butler. ‘So we won’t quarrel about it this time.’

Phryne took the hint and smiled. ‘I hope that there won’t be a next time,’ she said pleasantly. ‘Can you manage a simple, light dinner?’

‘Vegetable soup, lamb chops, green beans,
pommes de terre Anna
? Apple pie and cream?’ suggested Mrs Butler.

‘Good. Very nice. Then coffee and liqueurs in my sitting-room upstairs. Can Mr B. take care of the fire? And leave the woodbox full. After he’s brought the coffee, Mrs B., I don’t want to be disturbed.’