The slaves had a bit of a dilemma. And that dilemma was named Jones.
"He's alone in there," warned Fred, who was rather gifted in seeming quiet and unobtrusive and, more importantly, had never earned any particular wrath from Jones. As such, it was safer for him to report his work finished and see who was there to report to. They were hoping it would be anyone but Jones, so it would be safe for those more despised to check in. Only Fred returned with a grim expression and the worst possible news. "And the five-minute warning is about to sound. I think he convinced the others to take an early lunch while he covers."
Ultimately, the only way to get certain slaves past Jones without an unearned punishment was if there were other witnesses ready to intervene in an unfair chastisement. If Jones were alone, he could say the slave in question had done any number of things and give the slave ten full lashes (or as many as could be credited to be ten, which, depending on the implement chosen, could be rather a lot more than ten). Jack and Charlie, under no circumstances, could go in to report their morning work done if Jones was the only free citizen in there. But if they waited, Jones would have a legitimate reason to chastise them for being late to report.
Jones had set them up, they were all certain. He had made sure that Jack or Charlie (or both) would be in trouble by his hand before the day was over.
"And he's smiling," Fred added, rather glumly.
"So what do we do?" asked Angus.
"Have an unpleasant day, I suppose," Jack said, because of course he had given up on avoiding everyone since Angus had found him out anyway. Which was just as well, because his original plan had been to report early. Jones usually went on his own break as early as he could manage (and stayed away as long as he could manage) so reporting early should have been safe. He'd have walked right into Jones's little trap if he had just gone in and would probably at that moment be in a correction room, getting unfair lashes to the fullest extent Jones thought he could get away with. Only, Jack didn't see how that could be avoided, even knowing ahead of time. It's not like he could just not report in until someone else showed up. That would make him late, and he'd likely still get hit.
He tried not to look too upset or scared over the matter. His friends were feeling that already without his adding to it. Angus had crowded himself into Jack's space, not touching but hovering, and he was already clenching and unclenching a fist. Jack was getting a lot of concerned glances that he was trying to ignore. Charlie was too, except he was also glancing at Jack. At Jack's beads. Which is probably what inspired Charlie's suggestion to solve things.
"Or…I go in first…he takes me for a correction, and Jack goes in while we're away…and…"
There were a few protests to this. Firstly, Jack didn't want anyone to sacrifice themselves for him (no matter, as Charlie was quick to point out, that Jack had already been punished that morning so this was a fairer way to do it). Secondly, and the real reason Charlie allowed himself to be talked down, it wouldn't work. If Jack went in and no one was there, he wasn't supposed to just shrug and leave. He was supposed to wait until there was someone to check in to. No one trusted the slaves to manage their own time, so he couldn't just sign himself in and skip off to lunch. As if he would just skip off to lunch while Charlie was getting beaten anyway. And of course everyone who wasn't Charlie did not condone either Charlie or Jack getting beaten as part of their plan.
"Well…if he does me first maybe he'll be lighter on you?" Charlie suggested.
It was still not a good plan, to any of their minds.
"Maybe they'll come back?" Sean suggested, an almost painful hope in his voice. "The other Citizens…the nicer ones…"
And everyone knew it wasn't going to happen. But perhaps something good did come of that painful optimism. Because thinking about a 'nicer' Citizen did spark an idea in Charlie's mind.
"Or…" he said slowly, and everyone was already frowning, ready to jump on him and hold him down to keep him from trying to sacrifice himself. Only Charlie had something quite different to suggest this time. "Or…we go find a Citizen…"
That led to confusion rather than outright rejection because that suggestion made no sense to their minds. They couldn't go track down the other overseers on their break; they had no good reason to and that was as sure to earn a punishment as anything. If it guaranteed the punisher would be someone other than Jones it might still have been worth it, but more likely than not they'd be sent away, back to Jones, and likely everything would be just that bit worse.
But that was not the free Citizen that Charlie had in mind. And it was Charlie's idea (the one that didn't sacrifice himself, or not fully) that allowed Jack to be bicycling through a certain park just as a young boy was being hauled into the air by a kite.
None of this was usual, except that Jack had wanted a bit of space and, surprisingly, his mates had understood and let him enjoy his break. Leeries got an unusually long lunch break; it was the only time of day that the free Citizens expected to see slaves loitering, so it was the only official time the leeries got to make up for their early morning and late evenings. Jack ate with his friends in celebration of their victory, then decided to take a ride to the park where he could have his time to himself, knowing that it wasn't until around 2pm that he was expected back and also feeling shielded against the worst of the punishments should he misjudge the time and arrive late.
And Jack had mostly been enjoying his break out in the open air, ignoring the way the park keeper kept glaring towards him and mumbling something about 'miscreant slaves better stay off the grass if he knows what's good for him'. Jack was used to free Citizens not caring for his presence and the park keeper was all grumble and no bite anyway. The one time he had actually enacted his threats on Jack, at the stern behest of a lady (another wrong place, wrong time deal where Jack got the blame for something he had nothing to do with) he had only awkwardly given him a few swats with a broad wooden paddle, over his clothes, the kind that was more loud noise than actual pain. Jack had almost felt embarrassed for him, and if anyone had bothered to contest the hits, Jack likely would have gotten a second beating. It hadn't even hurt particularly in the moment, let alone after. So the park keeper could glare and grumble all he wanted; as far as Jack was concerned it was just part of the background of this particular park, like the bird song and the splash of the fountain.
What was not usual to the park were the screams of children calling for help, or that the help needed was to stop a small boy being dragged off into the sky by a kite.
The thing about magic is, the world can be bright and rainbowy or dark and grim or just ordinary and it will still likely find its way to creep in around the edges, through forgotten places and imperfect dreams. If a magical Nanny exists as a part of London, she must be in Every London or she is nowhere. And Mary Poppins would be the first to sniff at the idea that she is nowhere.
She was only practically perfect, to every meaning of that word, not uselessly perfect or broadly perfect or wholly perfect. She wore practical clothes that were meticulously in style and she stepped in sync to a dance only she could see and she had a way of gaslighting anyone who suggested what she did was in any way magical that was at once aggravating and, to Jack at least, somehow endearing. And she was not all powerful. She wasn't there to free all the slaves or to save all the abused children of London. Or so she said. Of course, she also said animals cannot possibly talk after spending an hour talking to them. Still, the slaves continued to exist in her city and children continued to face abuse and she did not appear to everyone who might be said to need magical assistance. And tragedies still happened even to families she favored. Michael's wife died and there was no one to intervene. Jack, who Mary Poppins seemed to like, was still a slave and still faced the potential for abuse on a daily basis.
Maybe, being practically perfect, she could see her limitations. And maybe that allowed her to do what she could without feeling the burden of everything she couldn't. A person like her needed to be able to let go and sometimes let abuses happen, because if she stretched herself out trying to help everyone, in the end no one would be helped.
There was no saying why she chose the Banks household. Certainly, there were worse off. Maybe it was because, once upon a time, two children wrote a letter and invited her in. And once she is in, she is in. Or maybe it was because she doesn't believe in comparing miseries and rating one worse than the other. A suffering child is a suffering child, even if the child has a loving (if misguided) parent and enough to eat and proper clothes when another one has none of those things. Or maybe she has a way of seeing who can be saved and who cannot. The only person who could answer any of those maybes is the one person who never would.
Georgie Banks found a kite and was dragged away, and his brother and sister were sternly directed to not follow him through the bush and were still young enough and well brought up enough to respect adult authorities enough to not just ignore him, and the end result was a City Slave in the right place at the right time (for once) rescuing the boy and hauling down a woman from the sky.
Jack's back ached rather to do it, but he never considered not helping, and the reward was as shocking as it was delightful. He knew his day was turning up, but he hadn't expected it to this degree.
"Mary Poppins, as I live and breathe," he said, fondness and pleasure at their meeting filling his voice. He wasn't even particularly put off when she frowned at him in response; he knew like he knew his own bones, like something instinctual and part of him, that despite no hint of it being in her tone he could take her scowl as an expression of fondness and a show of concern.
"What trouble have you been getting up to today, Jack?" she demanded by way of greeting, her eyes on the ten beads now adorning his collar.
"Bit of trouble this morning over an apple," Jack explained, "The rest more for show, courtesy of Mr. Banks."
Charlie's plan had relied on Michael firstly being a good man, for all he was a free Citizen and they were slaves and so he had no reason to abide by the rules of slavery, like 'help other slaves'.
Charlie and Jack had gone to him alone because there was no need to drag others into things if their judgement of his character had turned out flawed. They knew where his office was, of course; they knew where all the offices were. Not all slaves could read, but they knew important things that could save them from trouble, and knowing where to go when sent to bring tea to someone or to clean a spill in someone's room was vital. They also knew Michael shared his office with two others, though generally only two were in it at any given time, and they were less sure of how his coworker would respond.
As luck would have it, Michael Banks was alone. Jack knocked because it was him Michael knew and had been kind towards, and it was a relief to hear Michael Banks's voice call "Enter."
It was less of a relief to see Mr. Banks's expression, which was visibly annoyed; not a promising start to their mission. In fact, Michael had been alone by design; he wanted to do some searching for the shares he knew were somewhere in the bank, and he didn't particularly want his coworkers to know about it. So he had encouraged his current coworker to an early break, intending to then go on break himself (it's not like someone had to be in the office at all times) so he wouldn't be doing his search during his working hours because Michael had a certain integrity that many higher up in the bank lacked. He had just clocked himself out, in fact, hadn't even time to dig out the key to his lockbox, let alone set out to find it (luckily for Jack and Charlie, who would have had no clue where to go if they had found the office empty) when the knock had come. He assumed, when two slaves entered, that they had been sent on some official purpose rather than being there for themselves and naturally he scowled, expecting his break to have to be put off.
"Excuse me, Mr. Banks," began Jack, then stopped, suddenly uncertain of how to say it. The scowl on Mr. Banks's face, which had somewhat slid off because he wasn't the sort of man to scowl at the messenger, started to return at the dithering.
Charlie, sensing they were losing their chance, jumped in with all the tact of a hammer. "If you please, sir," he said, "If you care at all about slaves, we would like you to intervene before we are beaten half to death."
Because there was no time and if this wasn't going to work, they needed to know now and sometimes the only way to say a thing was just to say it.
Jack looked at Charlie a bit shocked by his bluntness, and Michael Banks fully lost his scowl in order to gape a bit in confusion.
"There's an overseer as hates us," Charlie explained as quickly and as well as he could, "And we know he intends to hurt us whether he has a reason or not, and in the past he's hit in places not allowed or too many…as many as he thinks he can get away with, and he arranged for us to report to him with no one around to say we didn't deserve whatever he says we did and…and I don't know how far he'll go but Jack's already hurt…" Jack frowned at him then, but Charlie had seen him getting out of Mr. Banks's car and that suggested at least some concern towards Jack's well-being and Charlie didn't care how annoyed Jack got if his words could help him.
And then they both waited to see if Mr. Banks could help them or if they had just made a big mistake and approached the wrong man and made everything worse. A lot could go wrong for them if Mr. Banks told the wrong people that two slaves were trying to make trouble for an overseer.
"…Do you need me to go with you when you report so he can't say you did something?" Michael asked, because he might sometimes daydream when he shouldn't, and he might have trouble remembering people, and he might be bad at household finances, but he was not a stupid man or a cruel one.
"Yes, please," Jack started to say, but once again Charlie spoke, because that wasn't actually what he was hoping for himself.
"Actually," said Charlie, "I wouldn't put it past Mr. Jones," it wouldn't do to not use respectful terms towards a Citizen while talking to a Citizen, "to have some legitimate cause he could get away with even if you came with us."
"Then how do you think I can help?" Michael asked.
Some ten minutes later, just in time to be on time, Charlie and Jack went in to face Jones. Alone.
"I hear there was a man in the woman's toilet!" Jones informed Jack gleefully. "A complaint was made about a dirty monkey of a slave, some kind of pervert trying to spy on young ladies."
There might have even been a real complaint; it didn't take much to set off some people. Some people went through life just looking for ways to get others into trouble. Jack supposed it made them feel important and grand or something; he couldn't fully understand it himself. Jack was more inclined to try and make things easier on everyone.
Yes, it might have been a real complaint. Jack never noticed any women in all his time cleaning, though. He'd been careful, and the bank's designer hadn't been entirely wrong in the number of visiting ladies. The biggest danger was in the toilets off the lobby, of course; those were the ones a visitor was likely to use and there were more lady visitors than there used to be, now that women had more rights and therefore more financial opportunities. He'd waited to do that one until the usual midmorning lull; after the early birds had done their transactions and before the lunch crowd hurried in. He'd seen no one in any of the lady's toilets. More than likely, no one had complained. But there was potential. Someone could have. It was a lie, but not one Jack could prove or that Jones would even need to justify later. Jones never intended Jack to get away that morning without a punishment.
"And you," Jones added towards Charlie, still with a nasty smile, "Late to report…and so rude with the things you said. I'll be filling your collars before I'm done."
"Excuse me, sir," Jack said, polite in the way only a slave could be, which is to say perfect deference that still, somehow, and without Jack expressing it in tone or expression, held a certain level of pride and disdain, "But we have already received the allowed hits for today."
And for the first time, Jones actually looked at the collars he had spoken of 'filling' to find them already full. Both men already had ten beads.
"What?!" Jones said, too shocked at being so thwarted to even be angry about it yet.
"You see, the cleaning supplies on the first floor are across from the forgeries office, and I got a bit turned around," Jack explained, "You know how stupid slaves can be about directions. And the Citizen at work was not pleased with the intrusion."
"And I went in to stop him when I saw the mistake," Charlie added, "Only I tripped and supplies got spilled and…well, he was not pleased with us."
The shock was being overtaken by rage now; they could see it growing in Jones's face.
"Well…I contest those hits then; show me and we'll see if you got your due!"
Contested hits did not count as hits. And that is why it had taken them ten minutes to report and not two. Michael Banks had had a proper Citizen's upbringing in the best school George Banks could afford for his son. As such, he knew how to give a beating. It was not a skill he used often (never with his own slave, nor his children) but muscle memory did not easily forget.
Jack and Charlie rolled up their pants, much as they had done for Michael Banks in the correction room; if it had been Jones in there with them, they'd have had to likely remove all their clothes even covering places Jones had no intention of hitting. Jones couldn't hit forbidden places easily if they were covered. And at any rate he seemed to enjoy his power over people and in making them as uncomfortable as he could. He never touched inappropriately, at least not Jack (who had a reputation for not remaining silent; there were some abuses no free Citizen could get away with if only because the City did not want to deal with the uncomfortable situation of a free Citizen's child being born a slave or vice versa and this was one abuse where the abuser would actually be punished rather than the abused for speaking out). Jones did what he thought he could get away with, but he was a coward at heart. On the other hand, not all slaves had Bert's training in slave rights and speaking out, quite the opposite in fact, and Jack couldn't be certain Jones had never molested a different slave. He had that kind of slimy look about him as if he were capable of any abuse.
Unfortunately for Jones, the rolled-up pants legs revealed clear red lines on the back of their calves; three and four on each leg for Jack and five even on each leg for Charlie.
Michael had chosen a cane for the purpose, something he was familiar with from his school days which he knew to not be too severe but that would leave clear marks. It had stung when he applied them, though in Jack's case the sting was actually a bit helpful; downplay things as he did his back still ached from his earlier beating, and a body can only feel so much pain at once; the lesser pain momentarily overrode the greater. And this was the kind of beating that was more in the spirit of what the punishment was meant to be; something that would be uncomfortable to receive and would smart for a bit but wouldn't impede a slave's ability to work at all. Michael was skillful enough that these marks likely wouldn't even be visible after an hour or so. Contesting hits had to happen within the hour, because marks weren't expected to show past that.
Jones was annoyed for multiple reasons; if they had been beaten, he'd have preferred it to be a severe beating. There were a lot of ways to make things better or worse for a slave. For instance, if Jones had been inclined to cane their claves (unlikely as there were far worse implements and places to hit) he'd have at the very least made sure each strike hit both calves at once. It was allowed to do one calf at a time, though, which was why they each had three to five to a calf, not seven and ten. He also would have hit the same place multiple times or crossed the hits against each other. Jones would have aimed to welt and draw blood and bruise. Michael had been careful to not do that.
Which left Jones impotently frothing at the mouth and trying to work out how he could beat them anyway. Jack had been beaten earlier, and not on the calves, and if Jones were careful to layer hits on hits it would be Jack's word against his that it happened at all. He couldn't get Charlie that way, this time, but Jack annoyed him more than Charlie anyway. Charlie's offense was almost accidental; Jack had purposefully defied him. He never intended for Jack to just walk away that morning. In his darkest of hearts, the depths he didn't admit to even to himself, it had occurred to him that, without witnesses, who would know who had done it if someone beat the slave half to death. Or further than half. No witnesses at all, just some blood for a slave to clean up later. Sure, everyone would know who had done it. But the City wouldn't want the story to be that a city employee had so abused his authority; they'd rather pretend to believe Jones innocent under the flimsiest of excuses than let that be the story that got around. Sure, Jones would likely be either relocated or quietly fired for some other, unrelated, lesser offence. But he would still get to live the rest of his life remembering how he literally got away with murder.
Jack, thankfully ignorant of Jones's darkest plans for him, was only aware that he had escaped a cruelly severe beating like those Jones had administered in the past, over the top but usually not to the point where a report could be made against him. Charlie, who may or may not have had an inkling of what they were avoiding, quietly stood and waited to see how things played out. And if he had made private plans to protect his friend if things went south, well…they didn't go south.
Mostly because Michael Banks, as planned, strolled into the room then.
"Are you two still here?" he demanded, sounding as imperious and annoyed as a free Citizen could be when faced with the delinquent slaves he had just punished. Then, towards Jones, "Excuse me, sir, I need the paperwork for their correction."
That was even true; while all City employees had the authority to correct City slaves (unlike the apple vendor, who did not, and had to call on the authority of a passing officer to do the deed), those not in habitual position to have the care of slaves did not generally carry around the necessary forms involved.
This was the one downside of the whole affair; the correction would be going into their records, and slaves who managed to get the full ten hits in a single day were considered somewhat in disgrace and more apt to future difficulties. There was little chance of Jack joining Angus to watch a film anytime soon, for one, or even for drinks on his own credit (and Jack wasn't the type to accept loans from friends, no matter how ready his friends were to share their credits with him). If it happened enough times, Jack and Charlie faced a very real threat of reassignment to less pleasant jobs.
The end result was that Jones could not contest the hits or apply his own at all when the very one who had just snatched the beating out of his hands was standing in front of him. Nor could he even continue the pretense that Charlie, or Jack for that matter, had been late when Michael Banks was present and able to correct him. He might have tried anyway if he thought the man annoyed enough with the slaves he had just beaten to turn a blind eye, but Jones was a coward and Michael was being so meticulous in getting the facts right for the paperwork it seemed unlikely he was the sort to turn a blind eye. Michael even managed to overturn the supposed report of Jack leering at some woman when he glanced at it, and said, "Nonsense; the boy was in my office at that time and it's nowhere near those facilities; must have been some other slave; they're all capable. Did she leave a description?"
She had, or rather, Jones had one that matched Jack too perfectly and could not easily be applied to a different slave. Which was just as well because Jack would have felt horrible if he had escaped an undue beating only to have some other slave take it.
Michael Banks took so long about the paperwork, and insisted on doing it all in the office for the sensible reason that he had someone official there who could make sure it was done correctly and it could be filed at once, that all the other slaves managed to come in and report, and Jones had no excuse to punish anyone. He tried, a time or two, to suggest a slave who looked a bit like Jack might be the one in the toilet, only for Michael to look closely, shake his head, and point out some feature the report stated that the slave didn't have. The most damning evidence Jones had included had been that the slave had three beads, and those few other slaves who happened to have beads didn't look a thing like Jack.
So in the end, Jones couldn't report anyone for being late, or for ogling women, or for being rude, and he had to actually properly make sure Michael Banks's report was correct because if it wasn't Michael Banks would be sure to say who helped him, and Michael made a point of saying, 'Mr. Jones', again and again, making it clear he would remember who helped him.
They celebrated by going to lunch together, even Michael though he didn't usually dine at establishments that accepted slave credits, and Michael Banks didn't even seem to fully notice he hadn't had the chance yet to search the bank for his father's shares. At any rate, Michael was only a part time worker; he decided he could just do the deed after his shift ended which was usually at around two.
Michael returned to the bank, those slaves who weren't leeries and who didn't have more than the usual thirty minutes also went on their way. Those who were leeries mostly stayed together to quietly enjoy the rest of their break (quietly, because rowdy slaves got in trouble, and it was no good escaping one punishment only for half the crowd to merit a different one).
Jack did enjoy being with his friends, but also sometimes he had a need to be alone, often in response spending his time with his friends. Usually, being a leerie allowed for all the time he needed, but that morning had been so full he now found himself pulling away.
Angus and his other friends let him, reluctantly but understanding.
And then it seemed his afternoon was to be even fuller because Mary Poppins had found new children to be in charge of and Jack had found himself with a front row seat.