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At the end of another whimsical evening, Mary took a sweeping glance over her charges. Knackered out by the afternoon’s adventures, the three were fast asleep, drifted off away to the place where lost things could be found. Deep in slumber, they were angelic: Annabel’s frown disappeared; John’s pout was gone; and Georgie, holding Gillie tightly, let out a content sigh. Quietly satisfied, Mary returned to the balcony where Jack still stood, gazing at the starry skies with a thoughtful frown.
“It’s getting late, Jack.”
His body startled, before he straightened himself. “Right you are, Mary Poppins,” a quick smile was proffered, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “As always.”
Mary raised her eyebrows curiously, “Is there something you wanted to say, Jack?”
She was always so perceptive, and particularly with him. She noticed everything: averted eyes, the fidgeting of his hands, and the slump of his shoulders as he turned to face her.
“Oh, nothing,” he shook his head. “Nothing important.”
Ah.
“Is it about Jane?”
“Jane?”
Ignoring his nonplussed voice, she stepped past him and gazed out, watching the faint shimmer of moonlight bounce in the dark streets. “I’ve noticed you two have gotten quite close,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Jane and you--”
“--We’re not.”
Never had he interrupted her before.
She paused, and he cleared his throat embarrassedly, face a darker shade of red. “We’ve become good friends,” he stepped up beside her, adding, “Just friends.”
Oh.
“Friends are always great to have,” she replied airily, waving it off. “She’s a very nice girl, Jack. Smart, loyal, compassionate.”
There was no answer.
Uncharacteristically quiet, he stared out into the world as she'd done moments ago, but his solemn eyes were fixed far away in the distance, seeing something she could not see. Illuminated by the street lamp, there was a faint crease between his eyebrows, a hint of the same frown as before.
"Is there something else troubling you then?"
"Someone else," the words slipped out, and he shook his head. "It doesn't matter anyway. I'm just a leerie, ain't I?"
“There’s no such thing as just a leerie, Jack,” she reprimanded gently, reaching to touch his arm. “You work very hard to keep the streets safe while everyone sleeps. Without you, who would have helped Georgie with his kite? Or the Banks, when they needed to save their home?”
A pause.
She looked at him, and waited for his answer - a cheerful smile, a bob of his head. Because he was her friend, Jack reminded himself. She cared about him, even if he was a penniless lamplighter. For all of his life, he had been nameless and faceless in the shadows, and still she saw something good in him - something worthwhile. It would not do to disappoint her.
The moment had passed, the tension had snapped and curled in on itself and he felt able enough to brave a faint smile. “Of course, Mary Poppins.”
“Well then,” her hand retracted, returning to her side. They both turned back to the night sky, the twinkling stars, and it was a few more moments until she spoke again. “If not Jane, then who?”
Of course she had seen through him - his half-hearted response had not satisfied her.
“She’s a proper lady,” he heard himself say. The words came tumbling out. “The most proper lady I’ve ever known. She’s brilliant and adventurous, with a wicked sense of humor.”
“Oh?”
“She’s beautiful, too - with gorgeous blue eyes and a bewitching smile. She has a knack for everything; there’s nothing she can’t do. And most of all, she sees the good in everyone, big or small. There’s no one quite like her.”
. . . It could have been the way he’d refused to look at her, instead staring down at his shoes, or it could have been the way he spoke: honest and good, the way he did everything else in his life. Or, it could have been for the fact that she had been listening to him, intently staring at his face, feeling the beginnings of an unfamiliar flutter in her chest.
It could have been any of those, or all of them.
"Jack."