Okay, so I wanted to write this for a while and it should technically be in the crossover section, but I didn't want it there. My reasoning for Rachel once living in London was because I doubt they would change her identity and then leave her in the same area, so she must have come from somewhere else. Besides, London is Mary's hometown- links in nicely. Also, people might say that Mary only looks after children but Rachel was legally still a child when she was a prostitute, as she mentioned she was seventeen.

Hope you guys enjoy :) x

There were three flashes of thunder, rolling across the thick, grey clouds with a terrible boom. Flinching, Amanda Fenshaw stood back from the window, which was covered in grime and damp. It was the best she could afford. When somebody assured her that making thousands of pounds was possible, she didn't realise it meant what had followed after. Most went to her sister and her dying mother, whilst her boss took the majority of whatever was left. Her bedroom consisted of three large mattresses across the floor; all of which were shared with others. Amanda had never felt so degraded in all her life.

Although the forecast had been dire and even cautionary, she was still expected to do her job, standing out in the streets. An umbrella wouldn't cover her exposed body, nor would her well-worn coat. How could any man see her and choose her to do a job? Her hair and make-up would be drenched. Amanda wrung her hands together, peering once more into the torrent of rain. This was not promising.

There was a shuffle near the doorway. Amanda jolted at the sound, mistaking it for another rat, but it was Carrie. She was three years older than her colleague, rounding her at an authoritive age of twenty. Most girls looked to her for help. After all, most girls that were found in this certain company tended to be young. Carrie had dropped her favourite lipstick at the door, scrambling to pick it up. She murmured an apology to Amanda, a cigarette drooping from the corner of her mouth, while her neon pink nails flashed in the dark room. No doubt she hadn't slept. The dark circles under her eyes were pitiful. Amanda wondered if she looked the same.

"I have to go out," she explained uselessly.

Carrie snorted, joining her near the window. "Good luck, chick. Ain't nobody wanting to go out there right now. Luckily for me, I got a few in last night. If I could lend you one wage packet, I would. Not this time."

It was no use anyway. One person's worth of money wasn't enough for what she needed. Melissa was nearing her O-Levels and Amanda wanted nothing more than to offer her younger sister some level of education. She would need stationery, school clothes, and general things for basic living. Melissa was still growing. Sometimes Amanda would become frustrated, questioning why her sister couldn't just stop whatever it was she was doing- growing, learning, living- but that wasn't fair. Her sister hadn't done anything wrong.

"I need to go," she sighed. "School term starts soon."

"Oh, yeah." Carrie smirked, taking the cigarette from her mouth and propping it between her long fingers. "I forget about these kids, you know. It seems so long again now. Shame you have that sister hanging round your neck. Life would be a lot easier without her."

"It's not her fault." Amanda didn't like others to criticise her own family; they had no right. "She didn't ask to be in this position any more than I did."

"Hey, she's living in poverty. You're on your back. That's a different kind of position if you ask me." Carrie giggled at her distasteful joke, patting Amanda on the shoulder. "Never mind, pet. We all do silly things for money, hey."

Amanda was left alone. Checking their only clock, she knew it was time she should be leaving. It was coming to peak time for the men who paid her. Although, the minute hand was always a little slow. Shuddering, she pulled her thin coat tightly around her, hoping the weather would be kinder. No doubt it was going to get worse.

Her shabby car was sitting down the side of their apartment, looking as dismal as she felt. The key had to be jammed into the lock to force the door open. Being inside didn't make her any less cold, in fact, it was perhaps colder. Amanda could see her breath materialise before fading into the frost. After a few minutes, the car managed to warm slightly, mainly due to the working engine than the heating. Flinging her purse onto the passenger seat, Amanda managed to reverse onto the road, flickering a longing glance at her bedroom window. It wasn't luxurious or even comfortable by any means, but it was better than where she was going.

Parking round the back of the building, she could see the place was already brimming with customers. This was not part of her territory, or it wasn't meant to be. If her boss found out, he would be outraged. Amanda had received the tip for this place a few months after she had started from one of the other girls. It had been a sympathetic gesture. Better than standing down an alley. A neon light flashed above the door, two letters always dimmer than the rest. The King of Hearts. It was a nightclub located at the heart of one of the most tragic slums in London. Full of questionable company.

Amanda managed to duck into the side door, her coat raised over her head. The wind had taken a strong turn, blowing mercilessly. An easterly wind. One of the waitresses held the door open for her. She tried to ignore the condoling stare. The staff always recognised which girls were there to work and although they tried to be kind, it made the whole situation worse. Amanda tilted her lips into a grimace, which should have been a smile. Through the toilets and back doors, she made her way into the main room, where clusters of men could be seen gambling, smoking, talking, all whilst leering at the exasperated waitresses. They took notice of her too as she handed her coat to a waiter, conscious of the stares. She had never liked the way they gawked at her. It was almost worse than what happened after. The way they examined her body, from the mini skirt below her bottom to the low-cut top. People liked to tell her she was a good girl, no matter the amount of make-up, the lack of clothes, or the inch of heel. But a good person wouldn't be doing the work she did. Amanda didn't believe it.

"You look like you need a stiff one."

This was not the first time she had heard that joke. Laughing, Amanda tried to make it look genuine. She clutched her hands together.

"Would you be offering?"

"I'm a gentleman, aren't I?" the stranger joked.

He was not an unusual sight to other men she had worked with. Middle-aged, the beginnings of grey hair, and a slight port belly, he would not have stood out to her in a crowd. She thought it rather ironic that he was part of a crowd and he would end up being another blurred face.

"Then whiskey, please," she decided.

He whistled lowly. "Rather strong for a girl like you, huh?"

But he still bought her the drink and she sat on the stool beside him. The cushion was broken, the covering having rubbed off. Nobody had thought to fix it. She took the drink, downing half of what was there. Amanda smiled once more at the man, repressing the urge to cough as the liquor ran down her throat, but she didn't mind. Not really. It helped ease her pain.

The man leant toward her, his hand resting on her knee. It was rough and heavy. "So, what's your name, love?"

"Amanda."

She hated her name. Once, she would have been impartial, but repeating her name to all those people had left her slightly bitter to the sound. No, she no longer liked her name. He seemed to inch closer with each second and she tried to ignore the stench of his breath. Her smile never once wavered.

"That's a nice name." He paused. "For a nice girl. I'm Ray."

A name she would forget once he had disappeared from the doorway, leaving nothing but his cheap cologne and the etchings of unquenchable guilt. Amanda tried to put her hand atop of his, the one that rested on her knee, but she couldn't bring herself to.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Ray."

Her voice wavered, hinting at the disgust she was finding harder to disguise. He didn't notice. Ray was practically pressed against her, his knee pushing his way between hers. This was not how Amanda had envisioned spending her teenage years.

Ray stumbled into the wall, although he still managed to keep his arm firmly around her waist. Amanda almost fell with him. She was tempted to push him away but the money was nearly in her hand. The thought of Melissa, stuck in the same position as she was, spurred her to remain close to this vile man. The thunder had elapsed from the clouds while she was in the club, but the rain and wind was still relentless. Amanda noted the wind had stopped whirling to the east but it could still be felt against her bare skin.

Ray pulled her toward the wall where he had fell, surprising her as she stumbled into the bricks. Her palms scuffed against the stone and she exclaimed in surprise. He didn't seem to notice or care. Amanda flashed a hateful glance but Ray had pinned her against the wall, his arms pressing on the stone, either side of her head.

"Maybe we should get inside," she suggested.

They weren't covered in the rain, her hair beginning to plaster against her head. No doubt her makeup would be ruined. She wouldn't be able to find anyone else in that state.

"Lighten up a little, babe," he laughed coarsely.

He pressed her body against hers, leaving hot, wet kisses across her shoulders and neck. Amanda felt her body stiffen, concentrating on the jutting of stone against her back rather than him near her. She raised her face toward the sky, closing her eyes as she tried to ignore what was happening. It was for money. It was for her family. Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain in the side of her neck.

"Ow, what the hell?!" she shouted.

Amanda pushed him away from her as best as she could. He didn't move far back, dazed from the quick succession of her protest, but slowly growing indignant at her refusal to participate. Her hand shot up to the mark where he had bit her. It wasn't a small mark and he had bitten her quite hard. That was not what she had expected. Ray grabbed her upper arms, slamming her back into the wall.

"Look here, girl. I'm paying for this shit and I can do what the hell I want. You understand me?"

Her bottom lip trembled. Whatever she did, there was a limited chance that she would be able to avoid having sex with him. This man would do it either way.

"You just took me by surprise," she uttered, embarrassed by how feeble she sounded.

Ray jerked forward to bite her again on the shoulder. Amanda tried to wipe a frustrated tear. One of the most important things to remember in her job was to never cry, not in front of the customers.

"Well, I never!" came a shrill voice.

Ray fell to the side, clutching his head in pain, releasing a string of curse words. Behind him was a woman with her umbrella in hand, having hit the man sharply in the back of the head with the handle. Amanda was startled to see the handle was in the shape of a green parrot's head. Usually, she would have been frightened at what may happen next. Situations like this could lead into them being assaulted, loss of money, and a bad night altogether. However, the woman gave an air of comfort, despite having hit the man.

Scrambling to his feet, Ray hesitated when he saw the woman, dressed primly, and despite the unceasing rain, she was not a slight bit wet. He moved forward and within a second, the lady had pointed her umbrella at him.

"I would highly suggest you make your back home. Men who involve themselves in trouble will find that they soon can't rid of it. If you do not, you will be charged promptly for the assault of this young lady here. Do I make myself clear?"

"How are you going to do that?" he spat.

"Well, if I can't do anything with you, I am sure my friends will. You see, they are all over the city. They live on the rooftops and they don't like men who think it's okay to treat women as you do. Now off with you, you scoundrel."

Ray considered what she had said, one hand still hovering over where he had been hit. He glanced upward, as if checking there were no men peering over the rooftops. When he saw no-one, he backed away from the mysterious woman.

"You're crazy, lady."

"If you must think so, fine. I suggest it's time you left."

He ran off, probably back to his parked car, which in his state was not a sensible option. Amanda was still staring at her saviour- this irregular, brash woman. The lady seemed to remember she was there, putting up her umbrella and holding it over Amanda's head. She didn't seem concerned for her own well-being.

"Now, let's get you cleaned up, shall we?" she urged, her voice kind.

Amanda didn't argue, despite not knowing who the woman was. She was shorter than Amanda, but only because of her platform shoes, and she was dressed like nobody she'd ever seen. Wearing a blue coat, fastened with buttons from top to bottom, a red bowtie could be seen peeping through at the base of her neck. A grey skirt fell down to her ankles where black boots could be seen beneath. What was most bizarre, besides the parrot head umbrella, was the black hat atop her head, laced with a black ribbon, cherries, and daises.

Following her stupidly, this woman led her through the streets of London, not once questioning where it was she was going. The slums turned into respectable neighbourhoods and Amanda wondered where they were going. Evidently, the woman was affluent to some degree. Her clothes and her proper English accent suggested so. Neither of them said anything to each other, but the woman would occasionally peer over her shoulder to offer a comforting smile.

Eventually, they stopped outside of a particular house. It appeared to be one of a Victorian build, alone between an array of vintage based shops. The house almost looked squashed between the others, thinning out closer to the top and jutting above the roofs of the other buildings. With a click, the front door opened but Amanda was certain she hadn't seen any key, or even the woman reach out for the door. It swung open and the lights abruptly glowed in the hallways of the house. The woman stepped in, beckoning for Amanda to follow. She did so with a quick glance into the street behind. In the most anxious recesses of her mind, she still thought her boss would find her and punish her for not finishing a job.

"I stay here when I am not working," the woman told her. "It is my uncle's house. Unfortunately, he is away in the Bahamas at the moment. I think he would have really heightened your spirits tonight, but never mind, it's only you and me."

Amanda didn't mind. Somehow, the house radiated a sense of security and she trusted that instinct. She recalled that the woman had never said her name, nor had she asked.

"I hope you don't mind me asking but what's your name?"

The front door closed behind her as the woman hung her coat and hat onto a hat stand.

"You are perfectly within your right to ask me such a question," she answered. "I am Mary. Mary Poppins, if you will. And you are?"

"Amanda."

Amanda knew in her line of work that telling her full name was a mistake. Yet, the woman never pressed for anything further, offering another smile.

"Well, Amanda, let's get you out of those wet clothes, shall we?"

She was led upstairs where she was offered a nightgown, typical of a vintage design. The whole house and this Mary Poppins seemed indicative of Victorian culture. Nevertheless, Amanda enjoyed the way the nightgown covered her whole body, whilst still being airy and light. She twirled, feeling a laugh bubble to the surface. There was a light knock on the door, followed by Mary Poppins bustling into the room with a thick blanket to cover the bed.

"I couldn't stay," Amanda protested.

"I could not allow you to return onto those streets, not in that state. You need good rest, good food, and a moment of peace. If you are worried about the money, don't be. We can work things out."

Amanda felt tears rising. "I can't work this out. I can't…"

She tried to say something but it seemed to catch in her throat. Mary put the blanket down on the bed, hurrying over to pull her into a tight hug.

"I promise you and I never make promises I can't keep."

Amanda decided to believe her, clinging onto the woman's crisp shirt as if Mary was the last hope she had. Maybe she was.

Mary had tucked her into bed in the spare bedroom, singing a particularly lovely song, smoothing back Amanda's fringe with a soft smile. For the first time in years, Amanda felt entirely safe and content. It would seem foolish for a girl on the brink of womanhood to accept a lullaby as she tried to sleep, but an exception could be made this once. Her eyelids had begun to droop at the sound of the song and soon she was asleep, unconcerned like she hadn't been in years. Halting at the door, Mary Poppins observed the girl as she slept, seeing pathways ahead of her like a trail of numerous stars, all glistening with potential. Before Mary had come across this girl in the streets, she had known her name. Her name now and her name to be.

"Good night, Rachel Mason. Sleep tight."