DEATH BEFORE WICKET - Poisoned Pen Press (UK)

Death Before Wicket 1 1
while, had retaliated by kicking the nearest pair of shins, which
belonged to Man D, who resented this, and, aiming at Man B,
struck Man E a sharp blow in the midriff, causing his partner (Miss
F) to scream and bash Man G with a handbag which must have had
a bottle in it, because Man G went down like a sandfilled sack and
Man G’s partner, Miss H, tripped Man I and sat on his head.
From then on, Phryne knew, as inevitably as a Greek tragedy
or an Australian batting collapse, the action would become
general and she didn’t intend to be part of it. She slipped out
of the door into the hot Sydney night. Outside there were only
trams, cops, street singers, a few drunks yelling and the ceaseless
tramp of feet, which was refreshingly serene after the inside of
Centennial Hall. She hailed a cab and went home.
Edmund Brazell woke. A stab of pain went through all his
misused muscles. Then a stab of delight went through some
others. He opened his eyes into a dim light. Very classical, he
thought. A naked nymph was inviting him to play.
S-Stoics, he thought, surrendering without a fight. What
did they know?
999
Dot had prayed all the way through a corona of her rosary before
either of Joss’ parents spoke again.
‘He’s grown into a fine young man,’ said Mrs. Hart. The
woman who looked twenty-five in a favourable light looked fully
fifty in the harsh hospital illumination. She wore no make-up to
fill her wrinkles. Dot had never seen anyone age so fast.
‘No thanks to you,’ snarled Vivian Hart.
‘You must have fed him well,’ said Mrs. Hart, ignoring this
comment.
‘He eats like a horse, comes home and just wolfs down whatever
the housekeeper puts on the table,’ said Vivian Hart. ‘Big
strong boy, Joss.’
‘You never married again?’ asked Mrs. Hart tonelessly.
‘Never needed to,’ said Mr. Hart. ‘Plenty of women around
for a price.’