Dead Man's Chest by Kerry Greenwood Read Free Book Online Page B

fingers of gin in the glass, Ruth dear, then fill it up with ice and lemonade. I must have swum for miles.’
    ‘And I must have walked for miles,’ groaned Dot, easing off her shoes. ‘Put on the kettle, Ruth, I need tea.’
    ‘All ready,’ replied Ruth, whipping off another muslin cloth to reveal the tea urn simmering. Ruth made the tea with dispatch, not forgetting to warm the pot and slick the cup in boiling water. Dot smiled at her earnest expression.
    ‘You’re doing really well,’ she told Ruth.
    ‘I hope so,’ Ruth replied. ‘This is what I always wanted, and now it’s very scary.’
    ‘That’s the way of it with wishes,’ said Dot, after her first deep ambrosial sip. ‘You have to be careful because you might get exactly what you want. But you make a heavenly cup of tea, my dear. For that alone you could get a job.’
    ‘Try one of the cheese sandwiches,’ offered Jane, not coming out of her book. ‘They’re really creamy. And sort of salty. And just a little bit oniony.’
    ‘So they are,’ agreed Dot, taking one more.
    Phryne flew in a little later, her hair still wet, dressed in one of her long Chinese gowns. ‘I’m starving,’ she exlaimed, accepting the gin squash. ‘What do we have here? Looks scrumptious.’ She sampled. ‘Is scrumptious. Well done, Ruth dear. Now do sit down and stop hovering. How does dinner look?’
    ‘It looks good,’ Jane said, still reading. ‘We came up with a nice mathematical method of selecting dishes. I boned the leg of lamb.’
    ‘You are so deft,’ said Phryne affectionately. ‘In the good old days you would have been very good at picking locks, embroidery, petit point, lacemaking.’
    ‘I can’t see the point of handicrafts,’ said Jane.
    ‘It’s soothing to have something to occupy your hands while you are thinking,’ said Dot.
    ‘Not while there are books in the world,’ said Jane flatly.
    ‘Have you been for a walk today?’ asked Dot. She was worried by Jane’s habit of taking a supply of literature into her room and refusing to come out until she ran out of books. Young girls ought to take exercise or they risked green-sickness, Dot’s grandmother had always said.
    ‘I’m going for a swim with Ruth later,’ said Jane, crossing her fingers.
    Dot took another cup of tea. Phryne poured herself another drink. For the first time she felt that she was actually on holiday.
    ‘How was the kitchen maid from the Mason household?’
    ‘I don’t think she liked me giving her orders, Miss Phryne,’ said Ruth gravely. ‘And she wanted to talk all the time and drink tea.’
    ‘Not one of the world’s workers, then.’
    ‘No,’ said Jane. ‘And Tinker doesn’t like her. Also, she trod on Molly’s tail and didn’t apologise.’
    ‘That was discourteous,’ agreed Phryne. ‘One cannot avoid occasionally treading on Molly, she does spread herself rather, but one should say sorry when one does.’
    ‘She says Mrs Cook will send the other maid tomorrow. She didn’t like us, either.’ Jane seemed unconcerned.
    Dot put down her empty cup and picked up her shoes.
    ‘That was a nice lunch, and I’m going to lie down for a while. I walked a long way.’
    ‘Where to?’ asked Phryne.
    ‘Just around the shops. Then I went down to the docks to look at the fishing boats. There’s a whole fleet setting out from here, you know. Well, coming in, at this hour. Quite nice shops,’ said Dot, who had not expected anywhere outside the city to resemble civilisation. She was already debating whether her intended, Hugh Collins, an amiable police constable (who had said he was coming down to see Dot and perhaps do a little fishing after he finished his fraud case), would like her in a soft shift of ivory cotton with sportive orange starfish dancing around the hem.
    She mounted the stairs, shoes in hand, resolving to see if the dress was still there tomorrow. Phryne paid very well. Dot had money to spend on treats for herself, if she felt she