Mary Poppins Comes Back (19 page)

Michael followed her gaze and stood still on his short fat legs, staring.

Mary Poppins and the Sun were dancing together. But not as Jane and he were dancing with the Twins, breast to breast and foot to foot. Mary Poppins and the Sun never once touched, but waltzed with arms outstretched, opposite each other, keeping perfect time together in spite of the space between them.

About them wheeled the dancing constellations: Venus with her arms round the neck of Pegasus, the Bull and the Lion arm in arm and the Three Kids prancing in a row. Their moving brightness dazzled the children's eyes as they stood in the star-dust gazing.

Then suddenly the dance slackened and the music died away. The Sun and Mary Poppins, together yet apart, stood still. And at the same time every animal paused in the dance and stood quietly in its tracks. The whole ring was silent.

The Sun spoke.

"Now," he said quietly, "the time has come. Back to your places in the sky, my stars and constellations. Home and to sleep, my three dear mortal guests. Mary Poppins, good-night! I do not say good-bye for we shall meet again. But—for a little time—farewell, farewell!"

Then, with a large and gracious movement of his head, the Sun leaned across the space that separated him from Mary Poppins and, with great ceremony, carefully, lightly, swiftly, he brushed her cheek with his lips.

"Ah!" cried the Constellations, enviously, "The Kiss! The Kiss!"

But as she received it, Mary Poppins' hand flew to her cheek protectingly, as though the kiss had burnt it. A look of pain crossed her face for a moment. Then, with a smile, she lifted her head to the Sun.

"Farewell!" she said softly, in a voice Jane and Michael had never heard her use.

"Away!" cried the Sun, stretching out his whip. And obediently the Constellations began to rush from the ring. Castor and Pollux joined arms protectingly about the children, that the Great Bear might not brush them as he lumbered by, nor the Bull's horns graze them, nor the Lion do them harm. But in Jane's ears and Michael's the sounds of the ring were growing fainter. Their heads fell sideways, dropping heavily upon their shoulders. Other arms came round them and, as in a dream, they heard the voice of Venus saying—"Give them to me! I am the Homeward Star. I bring the lamb to the fold and the child to its Mother."

They gave themselves up to her rocking arms, swinging lightly with her as a boat swings with the tide.

To-and-fro, to-and-fro.

A light flickered across their eyes. Was that the Dragon going brightly by or the nursery candle held guttering above them?

To-and-fro, to-and-fro.

They nestled down into soft, sweet warmth. Was it the lapping heat of the Sun? Or the eiderdown on a nursery bed?

"I think it is the Sun," thought Jane, dreamily.

"I think it is my eiderdown," thought Michael.

And a far-away voice, like a dream, like a breath, cried faintly, faintly—"It is whatever you think it is. Farewell ... Farewell..."

Michael woke with a shout. He had suddenly remembered something.

"My overcoat! My overcoat! I left it under the Royal Box!"

He opened his eyes. He saw the painted duck at the end of his bed. He saw the mantel-piece with the clock and the Royal Doulton Bowl and the jam-jar full of green leaves. And he saw, hanging on its usual hook, his overcoat with his hat just above it.

"But where are the stars?" he called, sitting up in bed and staring. "I want the stars and Constellations!"

"Oh? Indeed?" said Mary Poppins, coming into the room and looking very stiff and starched in her clean apron. "Is that all? I wonder you don't ask for the Moon, too!"

"But I did!" he reminded her reproachfully. "And I got it, too! But I squeezed it too tight and it bust!"

"Burst!"

"Well, burst, then!"

"Stuff!" said Mary Poppins, tossing him his dressing-gown.

"Is it morning already?" said Jane, opening her eyes and gazing round the room very surprised to find herself in her own bed. "But how did we get back? I was dancing with the Twin stars, Castor and Pollux."

"You two and your stars," said Mary Poppins crossly, pulling back the blankets. "I'll star you. Spit-spot out of bed, please. I'm late already."

"I suppose you danced too long last night," said Michael, bundling unwillingly out on to the floor.

"Danced? Humph, a lot of dancing I get a chance for, don't I—looking after the five worst children in the world!"

Mary Poppins sniffed and looked very sorry for herself and as if she had not had enough sleep.

"But weren't you dancing—on your Evening Out?" said Jane. For she was remembering how Mary Poppins and the Sun had waltzed together in the centre of the star-dust ring.

Mary Poppins opened her eyes wide.

"I hope," she remarked, drawing herself up haughtily, "I have something better to do with my Evening Out than to go round and round like a Careering Whirligig."

"But I saw you!" said Jane. "Up in the sky. You jumped down from the Royal Box and went to dance in the ring."

Holding their breaths, she and Michael gazed at Mary Poppins as her face slowly flushed red with fury.

"You," she said shortly, "have been having a nice sort of a nightmare, I must say. Who ever heard of me, a person in my position, jumping down from——"

"But I had the nightmare, too," interrupted Michael, "and it was lovely. I was in the sky with Jane and I
saw
you!"

"What, jumping?"

"Er—yes—and dancing."

"In the sky?" He trembled as she came towards him. Her face was dark and terrible.

"One more insult——" she said threateningly, "Just
one more
and you'll find yourself dancing in the corner. So I warn you!"

He hurriedly looked the other way, tying the cord of his dressing-gown, and Mary Poppins, her very apron crackling with anger, flounced across the room to wake up the Twins.

Jane sat on her bed staring at Mary Poppins as she bent over the cots.

Michael slowly put on his slippers and sighed.

"We
must
have dreamt it after all," he said sadly. "I wish it had been true."

"It
was
true," said Jane in a cautious whisper, her eyes still fixed on Mary Poppins.

"How do you know? Are you sure?"

"Quite sure. Look!"

Mary Poppins' head was bent over Barbara's cot. Jane nodded towards it. "Look at her face," she whispered in his ear.

Michael regarded Mary Poppins' face steadily. There was the black hair looped back behind the ears, there the familiar blue eyes so like a Dutch doll's, and there were the turned-up nose and the bright red shiny cheeks.

"I can't see anything——" he began and broke off suddenly. For now, as Mary Poppins turned her head, he saw what Jane had seen.

Burning bright, in the very centre of her cheek, was a small fiery mark. And, looking closer, Michael saw that it was curiously shaped. It was round, with curly, flame-shaped edges and like a very small sun.

"You see?" said Jane softly. "That's where he kissed her."

Michael nodded—once, twice, three times.

"Yes," he said, standing very still and staring at Mary Poppins. "I do see. I do..."

I wonder, Mary Poppins," said Mrs. Banks, hurrying into the Nursery one morning, "if you will have time to do some shopping for me?"

And she gave Mary Poppins a sweet, nervous smile as though she were uncertain what the answer would be.

Mary Poppins turned from the fire where she was airing Annabel's clothes.

"I might," she remarked, not very encouragingly.

"Oh, I see——" said Mrs. Banks, and she looked more nervous than ever.

"Or again—I might not," continued Mary Poppins, busily shaking out a woollen jacket and hanging it over the fire-guard.

"Well—in case you
did
have time, here is the List and here is a Pound Note. And if there is any change left over you may spend it!"

Mrs. Banks put the money on the chest of drawers.

Mary Poppins said nothing. She just sniffed.

"Oh!" said Mrs. Banks, suddenly remembering something. "And the Twins must walk to-day, Mary Poppins. Robertson Ay sat down on the perambulator this morning. He mistook it for an arm-chair. So it will have to be mended. Can you manage without it—and carry Annabel?"

Mary Poppins opened her mouth and closed it again with a snap.

"I," she remarked tartly, "can manage anything—and more, if I choose."

"I—I know!" said Mrs. Banks, edging towards the door. "You are a Treasure—a perfect Treasure—an absolutely wonderful and altogether suitable Treas——" Her voice died away as she hurried down the stairs.

"And yet—and yet—I sometimes wish she wasn't!" Mrs. Banks remarked to her great-grandmother's portrait as she dusted the Drawing-room. "She makes me feel small and silly, as though I were a little girl again. And I'm not!" Mrs. Banks tossed her head and flicked a speck of dust from the spotted cow on the mantel-piece. "I'm a very important person and the Mother of five children. She forgets that!" And she went on with her work thinking out all the things she would like to say to Mary Poppins but knowing all the time that she would never dare.

Mary Poppins put the list and the Pound Note into her bag and in no time she had pinned on her hat and was hurrying out of the house with Annabel in her arms and Jane and Michael, each holding the hand of a Twin, following as quickly as they could.

"Best foot forward, please!" she remarked, turning sternly upon them.

They quickened their pace, dragging the poor Twins with a shuffling sound along the pavement. They forgot that John's arm and Barbara's were being pulled nearly out of their sockets. Their only thought was to keep up with Mary Poppins and see what she did with the change from the Pound Note.

"Two packets of candles, four pounds of rice, three of brown sugar and six of castor; two tins of tomato soup and a hearth-brush, a pair of housemaid's gloves, half-a-stick of sealing-wax, one bag of flour, one fire-lighter, two boxes of matches, two cauliflowers and a bundle of rhubarb!"

Mary Poppins, hurrying into the first shop beyond the Park, read out the list.

The Grocer, who was fat and bald and rather short of breath, took down the order as quickly as he could.

"One bag of housemaid's gloves——" he wrote, nervously licking the wrong end of his blunt little pencil.

"Flour, I said!" Mary Poppins reminded him tartly.

The Grocer blushed as red as a mulberry.

"Oh, I'm sorry. No offense meant, I'm sure. Lovely day, isn't it? Yes. My mistake. One bag of house—er—flour."

He hurriedly scribbled it down and added——

"Two boxes of hearth-brushes——"

"Matches!" snapped Mary Poppins.

The Grocer's hands trembled on his pad.

"Oh, of course. It must be the pencil—it seems to write all the wrong things. I must get a new one. Matches, of course! And then you said——?" He looked up nervously and then down again at his little stub of pencil.

Mary Poppins, unfolded the list, read it out again in an angry, impatient voice.

"Sorry," said the Grocer, as she came to the end. "But rhubarb's off. Would damsons do?"

"Certainly not. A packet of tapioca."

"Oh, no, Mary Poppins—not Tapioca. We had that last week," Michael reminded her.

She glanced at him and then at the Grocer, and by the look in her eye they both knew that there was no hope. Tapioca it would be. The Grocer, blushing redder than ever, went away to get it.

"There won't be any change left if she goes on like this," said Jane, watching the pile of groceries being heaped upon the counter.

"She might have enough left over for a bag of acid-drops—but that's all," Michael said mournfully, as Mary Poppins took the Pound Note out of her bag.

"Thank you," she said, as the Grocer handed her the change.

"Thank
you!
" he remarked politely, leaning his arms on the counter. He smiled at her in a manner that was meant to be pleasant and continued, "Keeps nice and fine, doesn't it?" He spoke proudly as though he, himself, had complete charge of the weather and had made it fine for her on purpose.