Jack's back was sore; the bruises from the morning and the stiff way he had held himself for half the day meant he was feeling it in the evening. But he'd had worse, much worse; a bit of bruising was uncomfortable, but it was nothing like as bad as having to deal with welts or gashes and at least the bruising was in a place that didn't make sitting difficult. Yes, Jack had had much worse in the past. With any luck, a night of rest and it would merely be a bit stiff and uncomfortable by the morning. So Jack was not at all impressed when he got up from his nap, a nap that had done him a world of good, to find out his friends had clearly taken his need for a break as a hint that Jack was in dire straits and had parceled up his route to do the bulk of it for him.
"I'm fine," Jack grumbled; the nap had done him good but left him feeling groggy and a bit grumpy with it. "I just needed a rest and I had that. Hardly feel it now. Was only three beads, plus what Mr. Banks gave, and that didn't even leave a mark." He had actually checked while he stopped in to use the toilet before he and Sean headed out, and he couldn't find where the marks had been on his calves. Michael had played his role well. Jack hadn't quite dared to try and see what his back looked like. There wasn't a good mirror to use anyway, not in the slave's facilities, and he could hardly twist his head to see otherwise.
"Uh-huh," said Charlie, far too knowingly, "And how many hits in those 'three' beads?"
Jack crossed his arms, and refused to answer.
"I'd guess double, to look at it," said Angus, scowling at the memory from that morning.
"It wasn't that many!" Jack refuted instantly, which was a mistake if he wanted the real number hidden, because Angus shot back with, "Five, then," and while Jack had learned the skill of lying to Citizens out of necessity, he had never been good at lying to his friends, so instead he scowled a lot and that was answer enough for everyone.
"Jack, we're not saying you aren't able to do your lights," Fred tried next, "We're saying we can't stop them beating us, or hit 'em back, or…or even get the nurse to give us a painkiller when we need it…but we can help each other. Please let us."
Luckily that worked because leeries have an awkward timing to light the lamps in; start too soon and they'd be in trouble for wasting City gas. Wait too late and some Citizen might complain about a dark street that they didn't quite get to before full dark came on. They worked in the twilight hour, and taking on Jack's extra route had risks, for Jack as well as the others. If someone complained about someone along Jack's route being too slow, it was Jack who the report would apply to no matter who had actually been doing his lamps. And if anyone did happen to stop a leerie and note down a name, and if that name didn't match the person who was assigned those lamps, then both slaves could face consequences.
They were low risks, though. It was rare for anyone to be stopped and rarer still for someone to care enough to notice if the slave stopped had been assigned the work that the slave was doing. Most would assume that someone had directed the slave to do that work; slaves were hardly likely to purposefully take on someone else's work after all, at least to the City's way of thinking. And usually, if a slave started at the right time, unless something very unlucky took place (like Jack's beating that morning), they'd be done with half an hour to spare before the sun fully set. The way they had split Jack's route meant some would be closer to fifteen minutes or, in the case of those furthest from Jack's route to start, something like five, but they weren't stupid enough to divide it in a way that would put someone over.
It did mean they did not have a lot of time to argue with Jack. In fact, had Jack been stubborn, they likely wouldn't have argued at all; they'd have just done it and Jack would have had to accept it as he went along his route and found his lights already lit. Of course, that would have somewhat defeated the purpose of keeping Jack from having to pedal over cobblestones, but it would have saved him the trouble of the ladder and from the danger of moving too slow due to soreness.
Jack did listen though, and accepted their help, and the bit of food his friends had smuggled out for him and Big Sean. Big Sean ate quickly. Jack, who honestly wasn't feeling hungry, used the extra time he now had as an excuse to nibble at his, because he knew exactly how his friends would react if he had tried to pass it back to them.
The others grinned in relief, then went quickly on their way because time was not on their side. Angus took a moment to talk quietly to Jack, to try and make sure he was as 'fine' as he kept claiming, but in the end Jack was left to finish his dinner.
Meanwhile, Jane got it in her head to try and meet the beaten slave by waiting along his lamp route. On any other evening, it would have worked perfectly, as it was rare for slaves to have their routes changed up. Jane even perfectly found the exact lamp where the incident with the apple took place; the vendor had already packed up his stand for the evening, which was just as well because none of them wanted to run into him, but the stand itself was still there and the line to the soup kitchen was only just starting to move for the evening offering. Jane stood under the unlit lamp for almost three quarters of an hour, gloomily watching the line shuffle and wondering if there wasn't more that could be done for those people, when a leerie came speeding along.
He was so quick about it, in fact, that it was probably only the fact that Jane was in his way, leaning against the lamp as she was, that she managed to get a word in before he sped off.
"Excuse me, sir," Jane tried, an unusual enough appellation towards a slave as to get him to pause in trying to politely find his way around her. "I…I notice you have ten beads…"
"Yes, Miss," answered the leerie, polite almost to the point of rudeness. Not that Jane could blame him; it wasn't done to call attention to that kind of thing. He pointedly moved his ladder towards the lamp and she automatically moved out of the way, letting him do his job.
"I…would your name happen to be Jack?" Jane tried next, silently berating herself for her awkwardness. Three quarters of an hour waiting, and she hadn't thought out how to bring up why she was there. She was also genuinely a bit confused, because she remembered a small boy who waved up at her and Michael and followed Bert around…a small dark-haired boy with a beautiful smile. This man was not dark haired in the least, and he was tall…of course boys do grow and there was no reason to expect a short man based off her memory of a child, and hair color can change but…this just wasn't the man she had imagined in her head.
Meanwhile Charlie, for it was Charlie who had taken this bit of Jack's route, was quietly panicking. That was exactly the sort of question he could not answer. This woman, holding papers in her arms, and looking at him with intense purpose, was clearly some City official who was looking for a specific slave and expecting to find him on this route. Charlie could lie, call himself Jack…and then very easily be caught out in the lie. All she had to do was read his name off his collar. Then both Charlie and Jack would be in horrific trouble, for lying and for Jack not doing his own work. In fact, Jack might well be in the worst of the trouble; all Charlie could be gotten for would be doing a job that wasn't his, not shirking his own work. And lying. Lying could get some pretty stiff penalties. The only consolation was that it was Charlie there, and his collar was full for the day; any of his friends might have been in for a beating. On the other hand, Charlie could tell the truth…and Jack would be in trouble still but Charlie wouldn't. It's what Jack would likely prefer happen, and even Angus likely wouldn't blame him for it…but it didn't sit right with Charlie all the same.
And then there was the slave way of answering, the way that all slaves learned in self-defense. Don't lie, never lie, but don't get a fellow slave in trouble.
"Do you know me, Miss?" asked Charlie, neither saying yes or no to the name Jack. Of course, it certainly implied a 'yes', and an irate Citizen might well not care if he later argued 'I never said I was Jack', but it was the best he could do in the circumstances.
He lit the lamp, slid down the ladder, and then hurriedly started for the next lamp, hoping that this would be the end of it. Of course the woman followed, having to jog along to keep up with his quick strides.
"Sorry," she called after him, as if she actually understood that she was interrupting his work, which was another oddity in a Citizen addressing a slave. Most, if they had said that, would have a tone that suggested sarcasm or annoyance. She just sounded a bit flustered. He didn't stop and she didn't stop following.
"My name is Jane Banks and…oh…" she tripped over an uneven bit of pavement and the papers in her arms went flying. Cursing internally, Charlie nonetheless paused in his journey to help her. He couldn't help but glance at one of the flyers, for they were flyers, he was gathering.
"Spruce?" he asked, to himself more than to her, and wondered if this was about the talk of putting up greenery to beautify the streets. No one had approached the leeries yet about any such tasks, but rumors went around the slave quarters quickly, and most everyone hoped the idea would die and they wouldn't be the ones directed towards taking up gardening. Well, Jack had thought it sounded fun, but that was just Jack. Everyone else saw at once that it would likely be extra labor for those already overworked and likely no rewards.
Jane did not say, 'Oh, you can read,' like many a Citizen might have. Instead she said, "Thank you," as he handed her back her flyers, and then actually explained, "the Society for the Protection of the Rights of the Unpaid Citizens of England". Charlie raised an eyebrow, still trying to work out what that had to do with the City or him, or Jack for that matter, even as he turned and went on his way. The woman followed.
"I heard…a young girl came to us this morning and informed me of a slave receiving an unjust beating and I wanted…we want…justice."
They had gotten to the next lamp post and Charlie had leaned his ladder against it, but those unexpected words made him pause. He was finally getting the idea in his head that he and Jack weren't about to get in trouble with the City, that this official looking young woman was something else. What she was saying still made no sense, but he could at least breathe again and allow his heartrate, which had spiked ever since she appeared, to return to something more approaching normal.
"You want…justice?" Charlie asked as he did go up the ladder to do his job, because she might not be trouble directly, but she could still get them in a lot of trouble just by delaying him.
"If…when you've finished and if you aren't too…if you or a friend…could come to see us sometime? I would appreciate your aid."
"Jane…Banks," Charlie repeated, who had a slave's capacity for quickly noticing and retaining information even if it didn't fully register when she first spoke because he was still trying to work out how much trouble they were in. Few masters cared to repeat instructions. "Are you related to Michael Banks?"
"My brother," Jane said, feeling surer than ever that this must be Jack. Either she was remembering a different little boy or he had changed a great deal.
"You're brother is a kind man," Charlie said, and then, "Where is your office?" He didn't accept the flyer she tried to thrust at him, pointing out the address at the bottom. It did not look like a safe document for a slave to have on his person. Slaves did have rights and there was nothing technically against the rules to hold such a flyer but…it looked dangerous all the same. He did take note of the address, though.
"I have to finish the lights, now," Charlie said. "I don't know when but…I think someone will come." Then, intuitively feeling that it wasn't as much a risk as it might appear, he added, "I'll let Jack know you asked after him."
And he pedaled quickly on his way before Jane could respond. Jane let him this time without chasing after, feeling flustered and confused over the entire encounter.
Meanwhile, Angus also was finishing up Jack's route, having already done his own. He was in good time yet again. He could help but shake his head in a fond sort of way when he discovered the final lamp along his route already lit; Jack had been there alright. Angus couldn't help himself but to continue on through the park, all lit and no sign of trouble. The stocks and whipping post at the center of the park were empty. They were generally empty; the park attendant not the sort to make use of them often, but it was still reassuring. Cherry Tree Lane was lit up as well, and at first glance still and silent as one might expect in the late evening.
Jack had been there. And he was still there, if his bicycle leaning against the fence at number 17 meant anything. Angus crossed the lane, mostly confused but slightly worried that he'd find Jack passed out or something beside the bike. He wasn't there, though. His ladder was leaned up at the side of the house, at an ideal position to light the lamp protruding from the house, or to hold a conversation with someone at the window. It wasn't their job, lighting house lights, but Angus could well imagine Jack doing it for someone. Especially if this house belonged to who Angus thought it might belong to.
Michael Banks lived on Cherry Tree Lane. And, according to Jack, Mary Poppins was there now as well. The first alone could both explain Jack agreeing to extra work and why he wasn't there now; Michael might well have invited him in. With any luck, it would occur to the free Citizen that a poor slave with a sore back might appreciate some painkillers. Jack wouldn't ask though, likely wouldn't even think of asking. More likely he'd been invited in for a hot drink. On the other hand, Mary Poppins being there…it might not be Michael Banks that Jack was visiting.
So Angus was not as surprised as he might have been when the window by the ladder opened, and a head stuck itself out.
"Oh good, you are here," said a woman's voice, just as if they had planned this meeting. She even had a bit of a tone that suggested Angus had been late. Angus grinned anyway.
"So I am," he said, "And so, it seems, are you. Welcome back, Miss Poppins." She was definitely not a 'Misses'. As Fred had learned once, to his detriment. Angus, who had more sense, went as far as to doff his cap. He could tell she was pleased by that, even in the glow of the lamplight, though she would never acknowledge such a thing with words.
"Jack might need a hand down," she said instead, "He's had some medicine and it's made him…a bit wrong footed."
This, Angus soon learned, was Mary Poppins way of saying Jack was acting high as a kite. Mary Poppins must have been doing something to keep people noticing, because Jack in this state could not be quiet if he tried. He kept singing bits of a song, and trying to do the moves which was detrimental towards getting him down the ladder.
"Had a nice evening, Jack?" Angus asked as he helped him, and he couldn't help but smile at his antics. He mostly didn't begrudge the man a chance for an evening with Mary Poppins either; out of all of them Jack probably needed it the most, though a part of himself couldn't help but be disappointed that he had missed it.
"Went to China…so to speak," Jack answered, with a bit of a giggle, and somehow, they both got to the ground without either of them getting hurt. Not that Jack would likely notice if he had hurt himself. He was clearly feeling no pain right then. Angus rather hoped that whatever Mary Poppins had slipped him would last through the morning.
Angus did not expect Mary Poppins to follow them down, and she didn't, but she did beckon at Angus once they were down to come back up for a word. Angus glanced at Jack, wondering for a moment if he dared leave him alone. Jack seemed content to sit on the ground, though, humming happily towards some flowers, so Angus decided to take the chance and went back up.
"I can't come down; I need to be ready to catch the children," Mary Poppins told him, waving vaguely towards a bowl at the center of the room. At least, he supposed that must be what she meant; the room was otherwise empty, not even beds, and no children were floating up on the ceiling. If Angus looked closely, he could almost see tiny images racing along the bowl's edge.
"China," Angus muttered to himself.
"Jack didn't want to share that he was hurt, ridiculous boy," said Mary, and from her the term 'boy' sounded entirely appropriate and not like how most free Citizens used it. She'd likely call Michael 'boy' too; it had nothing to do with Jack being a slave and everything to do with Mary being Mary Poppins. "The salve the penguins put on his back should help but mostly it needs time. Give all the boys one spoonful tonight and let Jack have…let's say half a spoon…in the morning and it should help." And she handed over an unmarked vial with a spoon attached by a bit of twine. Then she spun around just in time for something to go flying off the bowl. It was like a trick of the eyes; the bowl was not particularly far away but somehow the things flying through the air seemed to fall a great distance, getting bigger and bigger the closer they came until at last, and with far less violence than the fall implied, three beds dropped to their place and then three children fell on those.
The children, surprisingly for such excitement, all lay still with their eyes closed, though they stirred just enough for Angus to be certain he was not staring at three dead children.
"Are they alright?" he couldn't help but ask anyway, even if it did earn a look from Mary Poppins as if to ask 'what do you take me for?'. The look did make him say, "Right, of course they'll be fine."
The smallest boy started squirming about, as if in distress, and Mary Poppins went to his side. Angus took that as his cue to leave, and he slid down the ladder, medicine bottle in hand.
"Penguins, huh?" Angus asked as he helped the man up, still careful of his back. Whatever 'salve' had been applied, Mary Poppins had as good as said his back was still in bad shape. Whether Jack would feel it or not; Angus would be careful of it.
Jack smiled at him, high on adventure and whatever it was that was in the medicine, and said, "We did the 'Dirty Rascal' together."
"What…all of it?" Angus asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Double time," Jack answered, and then started humming as Angus directed them to their bikes. Angus had a moment of worry that Jack would be too uncoordinated to pedal himself, but if anything he went faster than Angus, who had had a long day of work and no magic to renew his energy.
Back at the slave quarters, Jack and Angus had enough of a tale to share that Charlie almost forgot to mention his own run in with Miss Banks. Angus doled out Mary Poppin's medicine as directed, feeling rather like a child playing at being father, as if he were the one who was magical, when the medicine changed color depending on the recipient. They had a bit of fun comparing flavors. Some actually tripped them up in identifying them; sweets were not a common occurrence for slaves and when Fred said his brown spoonful wasn't coffee but something sweet and good, none of them was familiar enough with chocolate to guess it. Big Sean said his was like strawberries, but not, and Davy said his was fizzy but couldn't explain what he meant by that. Like soda water, he said, but lemony.
It didn't leave them as loopy as Jack (Angus suspected painkillers were part of Jack's medicine), and despite the excitement soon they were all heading for their beds. It was only because Jack said, "Was rude, really, vising Mr. Bank's children and him not knowing…I suppose a nanny's permission was authority enough…" that Charlie remembered his own tale.
"I ran into Jane Banks today," he said, and then, "Or rather, she ambushed me. Trying to find our Jack but got me instead. I just about pissed myself when she asked if I were Jack, thinking she were some official out to check on us."
"I wasn't there, I was in a bowl," Jack said, so solemnly that it got a grin from his friends almost as much as Charlie's story did. Nothing in that moment felt impossible or dangerous. They felt that if Jones had run into the room at that moment, wielding a whip, they'd have nothing to fear.
Then Charlie explained about SPRUCE, or as much as he knew of it, which wasn't much.
"Free Citizens trying to look out for slave rights?" Big Sean asked, and all of them found that much more puzzling and unlikely than that Jack had visited a bowl that evening. Then the other Sean tried to sneak an extra spoonful from the bottle and distracted everyone when he spit it out, making faces.
"What'd you taste this time?" asked Fred, trying and mostly failing to not laugh at Sean. They all felt that whatever horrid thing it had tasted of, Sean had brought it on himself.
"Vinegar and some sort of fish, I think," he said.
Then they went to bed because slaves rise early and slept well because there are few other ways to sleep when Mary Poppins takes a hand in things.
Jack did not rise first, for once, but his groaning woke Angus. It turned out, there was exactly one-half spoonful left of medicine in the bottle.
It also turned out that, despite the spectacular coloring on his back (Angus and pretty much everyone in the room got a look because Jack had needed help with his nightshirt), Jack did feel well enough to do his own route.
