Flying Too High Read Online Free Page B

thought that you would rather bring your own things.’
    ‘Yes, Miss, it’s fine. Nice view over the yard, and my suite fits in perfect. I’m sure we’ll be very happy here. Your tea, Miss.’
    Phryne drank her tea, and paid attention to the raised voices in the yard. Mr Butler and the plumber appeared to be exchanging hearty curses. Phryne noticed that Dot still looked rather pinched and suggested, ‘Come up and have a look at your room, Dot. You’ll want to see how the furniture fits in. Thanks for the tea, Mrs B. I hope we’ll be here about eleven tomorrow.’
    Dot raced up the stairs to the first floor, where Phryne had a bedroom in moss green and a sitting-room in marine tones. She opened the door to her own little stair. It was carpeted with brown felt, had an enchanting twist in the middle and led into the attic room.
    Because it was at the top of the house it was always warm, and Dot, who had been chilled to the bone since early childhood, luxuriated in heat. She had chosen the furniture herself: a plain bed, wardrobe and dressing-table, a wash-stand and jug, and a table and padded chair by the window. It was all painted in Dot’s favourite collection of colours; oranges and beiges and browns. Covering her bed was a bedspread made of thousands of velvet autumn leaves. Dot sank down on it with delight.
    ‘I saw it in the market, and thought that you’d like it,’ said Phryne’s voice behind her. ‘Here are your keys, Dot. This is the room and this is the door at the bottom of your stair. I’ve got a spare pair and Mrs Butler has them in her bunch so she can clean, but otherwise you are on your own. I’ll just go and look at my bed-hangings.’ Phryne went out, closing the door behind her.
    Dot rubbed her face on the velvet, then smoothed it into place again. Of all presents she had been given in her short life, and they had not been many, this was the best. This space was hers alone. No one else had any rights in it. She could put something down and it would remain there. She could lock her door and no one had a right to make her unlock it. Her mistress might be vain, promiscuous, and vague, not to mention prone to frightening Dot to death, but she had given Dot a great gift and had sufficient tact to go away and let her enjoy it. Dot sat in her padded chair, stared out to sea and loved Phryne from her heart.
    Phryne inspected her bed-hangings, which were black silk embroidered with green leaves, and her mossy sheets, which were dark to show off her white body. Her carpet was green and soft as new grass, and her mirrors appropriately pink, and framed in ceramic vine leaves. All she needed now was a bacchanalian lover to match the room.
    She smiled as she surveyed her male acquaintance. No one leapt to mind. However, something would come along. She might leave it for awhile until she found out how her staff would react. She had yet to meet the plumber-conquering Mr Butler. Phryne calculated that she had given Dot enough time to enjoy her room and called softly, ‘Dot? Let’s go and have dinner, or would you like to stay? You can come along in the morning, and help me pack.’
    Phryne did not hear the feet on the stairs, but Dot’s voice was close. ‘Oh, can I stay, Miss?’
    ‘Certainly. Come to the hotel at about eight, though. We’ve got a lot to do.’
    ‘Oh, yes, Miss,’ breathed Dot.
    Phryne collected her coat and drove back to the city. She telephoned a flying friend she knew from her schooldays, and asked her to dinner, to re-acquaint herself with the aeroplane world.
    ‘Bunji’ Ross was a bracing young woman with an Eton crop and shoulders like a wrestler. She had begun life as a track rider, but had been discovered to be female and thrown out of the stables. She had no chance of becoming a jockey as she was too tall and heavy but found that the same qualifications that had made her a good rider made her a good flier. She had sharp reflexes, strong hands and most importantly, she never