A short epilogue that I finally came up with. Thank you, all of you that have stayed with me through this alternative journey through the lives of John (call me Jack, everybody does) Robinson and Miss (call me Phryne, although hardly anybody does) Fisher.

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Phryne and Jack managed to weather the storm of the Depression. With Phryne's judicious investments of her legacy it hit her less hard than some and she was able to give back to those less fortunate.

Prudence rattled around in her large home but was unable to sell it and move to somewhere more suitable to her needs. She closed up the parts she didn't use and more than once wondered what would happen to it when she died. It was to go to her son, Guy, but he had no intentions of returning to Australia, his life was with his small family in London and he rarely visited. Phryne, she felt, was closer to her than he ever was.

"DO YOU WANT THE HOUSE STOP MOTHER"

...was the telegram she sent in frustration one day.

The return was just as she expected:

"NO STOP SELL STOP GUY"

Of course she couldn't sell, no one wanted or could afford such a place so, after a long, and frankly rather boring, consultation with her solicitor she changed her will and left it to Phryne to do with as she would.

"Oh, Aunt P," Phryne nearly dropped her teacup when she told her, "what will Guy say?"

"Guy doesn't want it, and I can't sell it, not in the current climate, I just thought you would do something useful with it," Prudence sniffed, "half of it is closed up, as you know but one day ..."

"I'll see it does some good, one way or another," Phryne touched her hand and smiled gently, "it means a lot to you, doesn't it, that I look after it."

"We've had so many wonderful times there, Phryne," she sniffed, "sad ones too, but I prefer to remember the happy times."

"Me too," Phryne nodded and they continued to take their tea in soft silence.

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Jack was not really surprised that Mrs Stanley had changed her will in favour of Phryne, he wasn't fond of Guy, he seemed to dismiss his mother as an old battle axe and he had found that was a long way from the truth. Prudence Stanley had her standards and didn't like letting them drop, but she was fond of Phryne and their children and they had struck up a strong friendship.

When Prudence did die Phryne held a celebration of her life at the house, opening up all the rooms and invited her friends and acquaintances, people she had helped indirectly to come a drink to her and share their stories. Guy did not attend the funeral, too far and with the world on the brink of war, again ...

Bert was beside himself with grief, which was no surprise to Phryne. He had grown close to her aunt bonding over the death of Arthur, two opposites who seemed to gravitate towards each other when times got the better of them. She had stipulated in her will that he should have his choice of anything he wanted to remember her by. He chose a seldom seen photograph of her with Arthur taken shortly before his untimely death. Phryne was touched that he should choose such a thing.

Polly and Bassie were old enough to understand that their great aunt had died and they wouldn't see her any more but all they asked was could there be scallop pies at the funeral tea.

"Because, mumma," Polly had cuddled at one side of Phryne, "that's what she would have wanted."

Phryne had smiled at the memory of Aunt P letting them taste Arthur's favourite treat and how they had both instantly loved them, "of course darling, we must have them, mustn't we."

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True to form her father decided to exasperate her and die during the war, so there was absolutely no way she could attend his funeral. She cried, he was her father, after all and she would miss him. Her mother held a small funeral supported by the friends she had made in London. She wrote to Phryne to say she would completely understand if Bassie did not move to England when he was old enough.

"... after all, darling," she wrote, "there is no estate for him to take stewardship of, just the title."

"We shall see, mother," Phryne had written back, "he is a bit young to understand and we don't want to remind him he now out-ranks his parents." She wished her mother well and asked her to tell her if there was anything she could do, though she doubted it, being so far away. Perhaps, if her mother outlived the war they could meet up again.

Margaret lived to see Bassie turn eighteen and take the title formally, as Baron of Richmond upon Thames. He had won a scholarship to Oxford so would stay with her for as long as he could. The whole family had gone to see him settled, put flowers on Henry's grave and Phryne had seen the solicitor and financial advisor to ascertain her mother was taken care of.

During his years in England, which were just a Phryne expected, long enough for him to get his degree, Bassie, or Sebastian as he now preferred to be known, took much care of his grandmother and took her with him to Melbourne one summer when he perceived her growing frailty.

"I thought she would be better off with you, mother," he confided one evening in the old familiar surroundings of the Wardlow parlour, "I shall come home once I have finished at Oxford and perhaps lease out the London house."

"You are right, darling," Phryne touched his face, so like his father she thought, in looks and deed, "I would hate for me to miss her passing as I did father's though I am sure he only did that to frustrate me."

"Probably, from what you say," he sipped his drink, "so, how's Polly? I thought she might be here."

"She's well and will be here tomorrow," Phryne smiled, as children they had been as thick as thieves, now Polly was studying medicine and followed their old friend Mac around like a puppy. "Mac's coming over as well, and it's about time she retired."

"Ha!" Sebastian laughed, "says you, who is still apprehending the wrong 'uns here. How about you and dad retiring, give up chasing crims round the docks."

"I'm nowhere near old enough to retire," she huffed, "neither is your father. He didn't like it when they insisted he retire from the force, the Detective Agency gave both of us a new lease of life."

"I do worry about you, ma," he touched her arm, "you've been shot at, kidnapped, throttled ... one day ..." his face darkened, "don't let that happen, ma, please."

"We'll take care, love." She looked over at her husband who had just listened to mother and son talk. His hair had grey in it now at the sides, most distinguished she told him, she had streaks of stark white in amongst the dark of her hair, still cut in a bob.

Jack decided to change the subject, it was getting too close to his worries as well, "so, son, what are your plans when you finish at Oxford? Hell raising round Melbourne, drinking, dancing and carousing in the clubs?"

"Dad, honestly," Sebastian laughed, "the title doesn't come with much money, as we all know, I shall look for something that uses my talents. The degree is in English Literature and Music so teaching is a possibility, as long as I can make a living I'll be happy."

"Definitely takes after you, Jack," Phryne smiled.

Jack just tipped his head and smiled that little smile that had captivated her all those years ago, over a corpse.

I shall leave it up to you, dear reader, to determine what Sebastian did with his life, how Jack and Phryne ended theirs and how Polly fared as a doctor. For me Jack and Phryne never die.