Red-Handed
"If we keep the change, we may have enough money for a sweet each. That's more than we could hope for with her."
Michael glanced over his shoulder, as if the shadow of their nanny had appeared across the tablecloth. When he was sure they hadn't been heard, he glanced back at Jane. His meticulous plan must not be discovered. Not if he wanted it to come true.
Unsure, Jane's mouth contorted into a grimace. "But Robertson Ay said he would share the bourbons with us and they're chocolate…"
"Fine," Michael whispered furiously. "Take the easy way out but think about the sweets we could have. Them and the bourbons."
Jane supposed he had a point. If there was a chance to have both then why not seize the opportunity? She held her breath, listening to the silence that surrounded them as they hid under the kitchen table, concealed by the cloth draped over it.
"Okay," she eventually agreed. "If we are good and she doesn't need to buy the fish this week, I'm sure we will get a sweet each. We'll have to make sure John and Barbara don't upset her."
"Something will upset her," he reasoned, perhaps too brazenly.
The table cloth was flung upwards on all sides. All they saw were the familiar black boots, the polished silver buttons twinkling in the morning light. They knew the plan was ruined.
"What have we here?" came the crystal-clear voice, all the more threatening for its loveliness. "A whisper has more meaning than noisy talk! To whisper is to be rude."
"What does that proverb mean, Mary Poppins?" Jane asked, peering up from under the table. "I'm sure you whisper from time to time."
Mary Poppins sniffed warningly.
"I have no need to whisper. Never whisper to the deaf; it is the same as winking at the blind." She was already bustling out of the kitchen, not once checking if they had moved. "And children who don't have their coats and hats on in the next five minutes will not receive any treats."
With that, the two scrambled out from under the table. Michael was already pink in the face with excitement.
"Oh, boy." He leant over to whisper in Jane's ear. "Plan Sweet Shop is still happening."
"Don't whisper, Michael," Jane chastised. "You know she can hear us."
Michael's smile dwindled slightly before fixing itself back into place. "She heard us and she's still considering buying us sweets. She must be in a good mood for once."
He was already sprinting off, clattering up the stairs before slowing into a walk at the demand of a passing Mary Poppins. Jane followed after him, much more subdued. She supposed if he couldn't behave himself, there were always the smuggled bourbons from Robertson Ay.