Read Online Away With The Fairies by Kerry Greenwood - Free Book Online

of birds. They might easily be shouting ‘Go away!’ or ‘I’m the best,’ or even ‘Shut up, you blokes, I’ve got a splitting headache!’ An old clothes merchant dragged past a barrow on which were bundled, shabby and ashamed, the fashions of yesteryear. He seemed rather well dressed for a humble puller of barrows. Few labourers wore watch chains.
    ‘Miss Fisher, yes?’ he grinned around his cigar. Phryne dropped her apple core.
    ‘Good heavens, Mr Katz,’ she exclaimed. Then she fumbled for some suitable expression of regret that the person she had last seen as a prosperous cabinet-maker was reduced to manual labour of this type. He held up a hand.
    ‘No, no, no need for the “Good heavens, Mr Katz”, Miss Fisher. I’m helping out my cousin. He’s moving his stock, rent’s gone up through the roof, poor Sol.’
    ‘A mitzvah ,’ said Phryne, smiling. ‘A good deed.’ She had always liked Mr Katz.
    ‘And the reward for the chance of a mitzvah ? Another mitzvah . Nice to know that I can still haul a barrow, nu ?’
    ‘Strong as an ox,’ agreed Phryne.
    ‘Oy, don’t tell my Minnie that you saw me, Miss Fisher! She’ll plotz . Hey, you’re going into there? Women’s Choice , maybe?’
    ‘I’m doing their fashion notes,’ said Phryne. Mr Katz leaned on the handle of his barrow. She suspected that however strong he was, he was glad of a chance to rest.
    ‘Tell them to buy second hand,’ he said. ‘Lots of good schmutter around. Here, see …’ He burrowed through his load. ‘This, it’s Worth, see, the label? Little work, sew on a few more sequins, good as new, better than new. Prewar fabric, you don’t get satin like this any more. For you …’ he grinned again, as his mercantile nature warred with his sense of obligation. ‘For you, nothing at all.’
    The Worth label was plain to see. The dress had been a full skirted, heavy Edwardian ball dress in a startling shade of plum, which had faded to an enchanting bluish purple under its torn muslin overlay. It definitely had possibilities. The material, as Mr Katz had said, was of superb quality.
    ‘How much would you charge for it in the shop?’ asked Phryne.
    Mr Katz shrugged. ‘Two pounds, maybe three if the customer was exigent. Solly believes in spoiling the Egyptians. Only the rich can really afford bad manners.’
    ‘Here’s three,’ said Phryne. ‘No, I insist. You’ve given me an excellent idea and the dress is worth it for the fabric alone. Give me the address of Sol’s shop, too, if you please.’
    Mr Katz extracted the dress, loaded it into Phryne’s arms, and said, ‘Solly’s just along from you in Hardware Lane, Miss Fisher. Come in and have a look! No obligation to buy,’ he concluded, as Phryne opened the street door and he took up the handles of the barrow again. ‘Mind you don’t tell my Minnie, Miss Fisher!’
    The office was in its usual uproar when she climbed the stairs. Miss Grigg had returned and was slowly and grimly pecking away at a Smith Addison as though it was a bear trap which at any moment might snap shut and injure her. Miss Herbert was typing quickly, angling her head so that gasper smoke flowed past her eyes. Miss Phillips was surveying a lot of broken crockery, making notes in a small book with a sharp pencil. Mrs McAlpin was polishing lenses and placing them back in their padded boxes as placidly as a church committee worker polishing the communion plate. To add to the illusion, she was singing softly as she worked. ‘Oh worship the King, all glorious above, we gratefully sing, his power and his love.’
    Miss Prout was arguing with Mrs Charlesworth.
    ‘It’s the way magazines are going,’ she said loudly. ‘More gossip, more advertisements, more photographs, more games— cartoons, even. Look at this.’ She flung down a volume with a bright cover emblazoned New York True Confessions . ‘See? How many readers can we drag in—shop girls, clerks, factory girls—if we could run “The