‘I have. But I asked him to wait until next year, and he said he didn’t mind a bit. I’m in no hurry, and neither is he.’
‘Congratulations, Annie. If I am any judge of men, he will make you a devoted husband.’ She turned to Annie’s gently glowing sister. ‘And you, Jessie? You look as though you have news also?’
‘Mr Forbes proposed to me last night.’
Phryne dropped her coffee spoon, which fell to the floor with a resounding tinkle. ‘Good gracious! And have you also accepted?’
Jessie was wearing her customary shirt and trousers, but there was a relaxed comfort about her slight figure that Phryne had never seen before. ‘I said I’d think about it. It’s all a bit sudden. I mean, I thought he wanted Annie, but—’ she coloured a deep crimson ‘—he seems to have been more interested in me all along. Or so he says. But he’s very shy. I will need to be more sure of him.’
‘Bloody oath you will.’ Aunty Morag McKenzie drained her tea mug. ‘Girls, I’m saying nothin’ against Kenneth McAlpine. He’s a grown man and knows ’is own mind. Graeme Forbes is still wet behind the ears. Let’s see if ’e grows some character first.’
Phryne turned her gaze to the stranger. ‘You’re very quiet,’ she suggested. ‘May I assume that you are Mrs Janet McKenzie?’
The woman gave a decisive nod. ‘I am. And you must be Miss Phryne Fisher. I have heard a great deal about you.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
And this I know: whether the one True Light
Kindle to Love, or wrath-consume me quite,
One glimpse of it within the Tavern caught
Better than in the Temple lost outright.
Edward Fitzgerald,
The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám of Naishápúr
Aunty Morag raked the circle of faces with a stern look, clearly feeling that it was time she took charge. ‘Look, anything that gets said here goes nowhere else. Got that?’
There was a chorus of nods.
‘Miss Fisher, the reason we’re trespassin’ on your hospitality is because you can’t bloody sneeze anywhere near Daylesford without half-a-dozen nosy neighbours offerin’ youse a hanky and home-brewed cough remedies. An’ if yer wonderin’ ’bout Dulcie and Alice, they’ve gone out for the morning, leavin’ me in charge. That all right with you?’
The table, trembling in a few cases, concurred.
‘Now, here’s the deal today: we’ve left McAlpine in charge of the Temperance. It don’t open on Sunday anyway, so there ain’t much fer the bloke to do ’cept look pleasantly threatenin’. An’ I think youse’d agree ’e’s pretty bloody good at that. I’ve had a visit from Inspector Kelly an’ ’e sends you ’is best regards.’ Aunty Morag paused, and pondered, with the little finger of her left hand exploring the interior of her ear. ‘Oh yair, ’e also told me to tell ya ’e’s bin right through McAlpine’s house and there’s nuthin’ wrong. The horse and the cat are fine, and some brother of his is lookin’ after the place.’
‘I am very glad to hear it. So it’s safe for McAlpine to return.’
‘Yair. I wouldna put it past that bastard to’ve had more little surprises in store, but apparently the hand grenade was ’is best shot. Did it go off?’
‘It did, and my teeth are still reverberating from the aftershock. Mick Kelly is a singularly fearless man.’
‘Yair, well, ’e didn’t want to put your life at risk, did he? But ’e’s gone off home to Ballarat. An’ I think ya know why, don’tcha?’
‘Yes, I think I do.’ Phryne looked again at this terrifying old woman and wondered vaguely why she wasn’t leading regiments into battle. ‘Because his murder case is now solved, and he doesn’t want to feel obliged to notice anything that might not add up.’
‘Yep. Now, I’m gonna hand over to Janet to tell her story.’
Phryne looked the woman over. Her print dress was old and had been skilfully mended a number of times. She might have been forty, though she looked older. Her hair was cut short, but had been subjected to some moderately skilled hairdressing, and her natural curl was held in place by a phalanx of hairpins. Her eyes were pale blue, and looked ancient, but her wrinkled hands looked strong and capable.
She looked the two girls over with regretful fondness. ‘Annie, Jessie, I barely know what to say. Please believe me that I had no idea that that—’ she shuddered ‘—creature was not my husband until it was, well, too late for second thoughts. When he came home from the war, bearded and injured, I think I suspected something was wrong.’ She folded her hands on the table and bent her head, as if listening to voices from the distant past. ‘But he knew so much! He recounted our courtship with a hundred details. He even knew certain things about me that—that only a husband should know. I fear that my lost love spoke very much out of turn to his false friend.’
Annie reached out her spotless white arm and took Janet McKenzie’s hand in hers. Mrs McKenzie resumed, with a grateful look at Annie. ‘Girls, the pub is still yours. Your late father Luke owned it, and it should go to you. Under Luke’s will it went to my husband, however. The will of the man purporting to be my husband, however, is recent. It was signed and witnessed only last year, and I don’t think it can be contested, unless we expose him as a fraud. He was a monster, but he could have done so much worse. He could have left the hotel to anyone, but I think he liked you girls and was grateful in his own way for all the work you did there.’
With a supreme effort of self-control Phryne sat frozen in her chair and gave no betraying sign of discomfort. But Aunty Morag’s eyes were boring into her, and the fierce chin jerked downwards. Phryne realised that Miss McKenzie had already guessed the deceased’s terrible secret.
‘So what we are planning to do is to let things take their course,’ Janet went on. ‘The deceased may go to his grave as my husband and his will shall stand, despite him being a multiple murderer. If we let it come out that he was an impostor, we’ll never hear the end of it. We’d have to go back to Luke’s will, and that leads to a dead end because Frederick never made a will, poor man. I begged him to before he went to the war, but it appears he didn’t. I’ve searched everywhere and I can’t find it.’ Tears rolled down her cheeks. Annie squeezed her hand again. Jessie offered a white handkerchief and Janet McKenzie blew her nose with considerable force.
‘I don’t know about that,’ Phryne offered. ‘He may have made a will and Mr Strangeways found it and destroyed it. He was already in possession of the pub, and nobody would question his tenure.’
Jessie looked at Phryne in surprise. ‘Was that his name? Oh, of course. That little disc I found. Is that what made you realise he wasn’t who he said he was?’
Phryne nodded, and chose her words with care, aware of Aunty Morag’s black eyes still bearing down upon her like a battery of field guns. ‘Yes, it was. I don’t even know why he kept it. But I couldn’t get my head around the fact that he would be happy to wipe out Annie’s suitors wholesale. It didn’t make sense to me. But his motive, since he was an impostor, was clear enough.’ She made her body relax and smiled her most winning smile. ‘He didn’t want Annie getting married, because she’d probably leave the pub and that would be bad for business. He was a wicked man, but I think he was mentally ill. Completely bonkers, in fact, though he hid it well. You may think it’s a stupid reason to commit murders, and you’d be right. But he wasn’t in his right mind. The war did things to people’s sanity.’
‘Was he ever in the war at all?’ Jessie demanded, leaning her clenched fists against the tabletop.
‘Well, yes, Jessie, I think he must have been. How else could he have got to know your real uncle? And while it seems your uncle was indiscreet in his reminiscences of home, war breaks down a lot of barriers. This story has happened before. There was a famous case in France in the sixteenth century featuring a man called Martin Guerre. An impostor came home from the wars and supplanted the dead Martin Guerre in his own home. So yes, the only way this story makes any sense is if Strangeways and
your uncle were mates in the war.’
‘And how did you realise he was the murderer?’ Jessie persisted.
‘Remember our card night? That endplay he engineered to get home in six diamonds was brilliant—far too clever for the harmless drunk we all thought him. And I don’t think I ever saw him really drunk. I think that was all pretence.’
Annie’s clear white brow furrowed. ‘I wondered about that too. He never drank a lot, Jessie, but he acted drunk.’
‘Yes, he did.’ Janet McKenzie took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair. ‘And I was completely fooled by that. I wondered the same thing, because he never seemed to drink that much. He didn’t mistreat me. I think he even loved me at first. But when that seemed to die away I had nothing to keep me there. I noticed he liked the girls, and they seemed to like him. But I couldn’t bear sharing my bed with him a moment longer. Once he had got what he wanted, he stopped even pretending to care for me. So Aunty Morag took me and Robert in. Robert’s eight now,’ she added with quiet pride.
‘Like you took us in when Dad was killed in the war.’ Annie looked upon her fearsome aunt with a fond indulgence Phryne was barely able to credit. The girl turned back to Mrs McKenzie. ‘Now that the impostor is dead, could we invite you back to the pub? It is your proper home. It really should be yours.’
Mrs McKenzie gave Jessie a nervous look. ‘That’s very kind of you, Annie. But are you sure? Jessie? What do you think?’
Jessie looked her aunt straight in the eye. ‘Mrs McKenzie, please do come home.’
‘Well, I suppose you could do with another hand. But only if you’re sure? Maybe on three months’ trial, to see if we suit?’
Aunty Morag gave a sharp nod. ‘Good idea. You don’t know how this is gonna work out, do ya? And what about you, Annie? You gonna stay on at the pub after you get married?’
Annie folded her hands in front of her and nodded. ‘Yes. For as long as I can. It’s our pub. Yours, Jessie’s and Mrs Mac’s and mine. We’ve worked hard for it. I don’t want to abandon it. And Mr McAlpine—Kenneth—says he’s happy to sell his farm to his brother after we get married.’
Dot had not said a word, but she was watching everyone’s faces carefully, and noticed that a beatific smile had spread across Janet McKenzie’s face. It was not a face accustomed to smiles, and some of the necessary muscles seemed to be creaking with underuse, but she lifted her head and gave a gentle laugh. ‘Mrs Mac! You girls used to call me that when you were children. All right. Three months, yes? And it’s all right to bring young Robert?’
‘Of course!’ Jessie and Annie exclaimed in a dead heat.
‘All right, that’s settled then. I’ll go and pick up your things and bring them to the pub this arvo, Janet.’ Aunty Morag rose, and inclined her chin towards Phryne. ‘Glad to meet you, Miss Fisher. I c’n see why you’re a famous detective. You know how ter keep yer trap shut, too. Most young wimmin can’t do it, fer some reason.’ She dipped her head towards Dot. ‘You’re good at it, too, Miss. Keep it up!’
The company listened to the roar of Aunty Morag’s truck exploding into life and grinned at each other. ‘She’s a wonderful woman,’ Mrs Mac observed. ‘She brought the girls up when their mother died, and their father went off to war. I had a difficult confinement—the poor little mite was stillborn, you know—and I was struggling to look after them myself, when one day that truck came roaring up to the pub and she took the kids away with her.’
‘What was it like, living with her?’ Dot wanted to know.
‘She was a bit hard on us.’ Jessie’s eyes were unfocused, thinking over her childhood. ‘But she kept us safe, fed and well looked after. One day Annie and I got lost in the forest. We were only seven and nine, and we were terrified, because last century there were three children got lost not far from her house and they were never found until long afterwards.’
‘Dead, I assume?’ Phryne had not heard this story.
‘I’m afraid so. And we both knew we’d been silly and we thought we were going to die, too. It got dark, and I thought I knew the way home and it turned out I didn’t. It was a cold, wet night with no stars to steer by. So I put my arms around Annie and we sat under a tree, waiting for morning.’
‘What happened then?’ Dot prompted.
‘She found us,’ answered Annie. ‘It must have been past midnight. She had a kero lantern, and I think she must have scoured the woods up and down, like Rat looking for Mole in The Wind in the Willows, until she found us. I can still remember seeing a ghostly light through the trees and I thought it was the Banksia Men coming to take us away.’
‘I hope you weren’t punished too much.’ Dot was finding this tale harrowing.
Jessie laughed gently. ‘No. She said we’d already punished ourselves. She put us both to bed and we slept until lunchtime.’
‘So when did she send you back to the pub?’ Phryne asked.
Mrs Mac sighed. ‘People in town were being so tiresome about it. They said the girls were being held captive by a wicked witch in a gingerbread cottage. Until the minister put them all in their place, that is. He was quite forthright about it. But they still talked, and Aunty Morag said they’d better go home to us.’
‘I can imagine. We’ve met the minister; he is a man of forceful character. So Aunty Morag sent them to you?’
‘I was fourteen, and Jessie was sixteen,’ answered Annie. ‘And we started helping around the pub and learning the business. It was fun.’
‘After school, I hope?’
‘Oh yes. Aunty Morag sent us to school. We got teased about her, but I didn’t care.’ Jessie flicked her head defiantly, as if confining schoolyard gossip to the rubbish bin.
‘I did.’ Annie looked sorrowful. ‘But Jessie and I talked it over and we decided we’d been enough of a burden to Aunty Morag. And Mrs Mac said yes please.’
Mrs Mac looked doleful. ‘I knew by then that my so-called husband was nothing of the kind. And even though I had a child of my own, I realised I was lonely. I thought the girls would brighten the place up. And you certainly did, my dears. Until I wanted to get away because I couldn’t bear that man anymore.’
‘Thanks, Mrs Mac. Look, I shall intrude no further.’ Phryne looked around the table. ‘Oh, by the way, were the scarves your idea?’
This produced some blank looks right around the table. If this had been Aunty Morag’s idea—which she strongly suspected—then the secret had not been passed on as yet. Although if the girls’ marriages turned out badly, Phryne was certain that Scarves and Knitting would be introduced into their lives. She smiled brightly. ‘I appear to have been chosen by Aunty Morag to drive you back to town.’
‘We can walk. No need to trouble yourself.’ Mrs Mac was suddenly on her dignity again: hands folded, shoulders hunched, and face reminiscent of a barbed-wire entrenchment.
‘Well, yes, you can, Mrs Mac, but you needn’t. Because we’re going home. It’s been wonderful here, and I wouldn’t have missed it for worlds, but I have urgent business back in town. Before that, however, I would very much like to take you three back to the Temperance. Dot?’
‘Yes, Miss?’
‘I want you to go and get my good blue overcoat and the matching hat. I’ll just leave a note for our hosts, so Dulcie and Alice don’t think we’ve slipped town without paying.’
Dot gasped, and then understanding dawned. ‘As you say, Miss.’
Mrs Mac almost proved obdurate. Three times Phryne expostulated before she finally relented. She sat in the front seat, and the three young women squashed in at the back. As Phryne drove up the hill into Daylesford, the churches were emptying their flock, with everyone in their Sunday best and doubtless refreshed by invigorating hymns and sermons. Phryne had timed her run to perfection. She drew up outside the Presbyterian church and stopped the car, leaving the motor just ticking over. As the admiring crowd gathered around the car, Janet McKenzie, resplendent in her new dark blue ensemble, lifted her head and acknowledged the crowd. Which
began to applaud. No one knew who began it, but suddenly the entire congregation joined in.
Reverend McPherson strode around to the passenger side. ‘Janet McKenzie, as I live. In the name of the Lord, I bid you welcome.’
Mrs Mac attempted to rise in her seat, and tottered. The minister made a decisive gesture of demurral. ‘No, do not trouble! I hope to see you here next Sunday?’
‘Indeed you will, Reverend.’ She opened her mouth to say more, but could not.
Phryne intervened. ‘Minister, it has been a pleasure to know you. We are going home to Melbourne today, but I hope to return before too long to this wonderful town.’
The minister inclined his head with the gravity of an alderman laying a foundation stone. ‘Miss Fisher, may the Lord make His face to shine upon you, and Miss Williams also. And you too, Annie and Jessie.’
Phryne waved a gloved hand at the congregation and engaged first gear. The applause broke out anew as they trundled along the road back towards the Temperance Hotel.
As soon as the car had stopped, Annie climbed out and assisted Mrs Mac out of the passenger seat. At once Mrs Mac made her way around the front of the car and looked Phryne in the eye. ‘That was a kind deed, Miss Fisher. Thank you.’
Phryne descended to the footpath and received a loving embrace from Annie. It was like being kissed by a goddess: inevitable, pleasing, and somehow not as perilous as it perhaps ought to have been. ‘Do come back soon,’ the girl enthused. ‘And thank you so much!’
‘It was my pleasure. I’m happy to have been of service. Good luck to all of you. I think you will find life more enjoyable hereafter.’
‘Goodbye.’ Dot waved from the back seat, feeling a little left out, and trying not to resent it. Just as Phryne was about to depart, Annie put both hands on the back door and gave Dot a kiss.
‘Safe journey, Dot.’
And somehow Dot’s world seemed to be filled with orange blossom as well.
When they got back to the Mooltan, Dulcie and Alice had returned. Phryne settled up while Dot packed their luggage, and she and Dot received more unexpected embraces from them both as they made their goodbyes, as well as an affectionate embrace from Tamsin the cat, who rubbed herself against Phryne’s cheek as if hoping for more valerian. Dulcie and Alice waved them off, arm in arm and looking radiantly happy.
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