Mary Poppins Comes Back

  Miss Tartlet, wheeling towards the Post Man, took his hand in hers. And as she touched him his feet slithered off the floor into the air. Then away they went, hand in hand, and over and over, like a pair of bouncing footballs.

  “How lovely it is!” cried Miss Tartlet happily. “Oh, Post Man dear, we’re seeing life for the first time. And such a pleasant view of it! Over we go! Isn’t it wonderful?”

  “Yes!” shouted Jane and Michael, as they joined the wheeling dance of the Post Man and Miss Tartlet.

  Presently Mr Turvy, too, joined in, awkwardly turning and tossing through the air. Mary Poppins and her umbrella followed, going over and over evenly and neatly and with the utmost dignity. There they all were, spinning and wheeling, with the world going up and down outside, and the happy cries of Miss Tartlet echoing through the room.

  “The whole of the Town

  Is Upside Down!”

  she sang, bouncing and bounding.

  And up on the shelves the cracked and broken hearts twirled and spun like tops, the Shepherdess and her Lion waltzed gracefully together, the grey-flannel Elephant stood on his trunk in the boat and kicked his feet in the air, and the Toy Sailor danced a hornpipe, not on his feet but his head, which bobbed about the Willow-pattern plate very gracefully.

  “How happy I am!” cried Jane, as she careered across the room.

  “How happy I am!” cried Michael, turning somersaults in the air.

  Mr Turvy mopped his eyes with his handkerchief as he bounced off the window-pane.

  Mary Poppins and her umbrella said nothing, but just sailed calmly round, head downwards.

  “How happy we all are!” cried Miss Tartlet.

  But the Post Man had now found his tongue and he did not agree with her.

  “’Ere!” he shouted, turning again. “’Elp! ’Elp! Where am I? Who am I? What am I? I don’t know at all. I’m lost! Oh, ’elp!”

  But nobody helped him and, firmly held in Miss Tartlet’s grasp, he was whirled on.

  “Always lived a quiet life – I have!” he moaned. “Behaved like a decent citizen too. Oh, what’ll my wife say? And ’ow shall I get ’ome? ’Elp! Fire! Thieves!”

  And, making a great effort, he wrenched his hand violently from Miss Tartlet’s. He dropped the letter into the cake-tin and went wheeling out of the door and down the stairs, head over heels, crying loudly:

  “I’ll have the law on them! I’ll call the Police! I’ll speak to the Post Master General!”

  His voice died away as he went bounding farther down the stairs.

  Ping, ping, ping, ping, ping, ping!

  The clock outside in the Square sounded six.

  And at the same moment Jane’s and Michael’s feet came down to the floor with a thud, and they stood up, feeling rather giddy.

  Mary Poppins gracefully turned right-side-up, looking as smart and tidy as a figure in a shop-window.

  The Umbrella wheeled over and stood on its point.

  Mr Turvy, with a great tossing of legs, scrambled to his feet.

  The hearts on the shelf stood still and steady, and no movement came from the Shepherdess or the Lion, or the grey-flannel Elephant or the Toy Sailor. To look at them you would never have guessed that a moment before they had all been dancing on their heads.

  Only Miss Tartlet went whirling on, round and round the room, feet over head, laughing happily and singing her song.

  “The whole of the Town

  Is Upside Down,

  Upside Down,

  Upside Down!”

  she chanted joyfully.

  “Miss Tartlet! Miss Tartlet!” cried Mr Turvy, running towards her, a strange light in her eyes. He took her arm as she wheeled past and held it tightly until she stood upon her feet beside him.

  “What did you say your name was?” said Mr Turvy, panting with excitement.

  Miss Tartlet actually blushed. She looked at him shyly.

  “Why, Tartlet, sir. Topsy Tartlet!”

  Mr Turvy took her hand.

  “Then will you marry me, Miss Tartlet, and be Topsy Turvy? It would make up to me for so much. And you seem to have become so happy that perhaps you will be kind enough to overlook my Second Mondays.”

  “Overlook them, Mr Turvy? Why, they will be my Greatest Treats,” said Miss Tartlet. “I have seen the world upside down today and I have got a New Point of view. I assure you I shall look forward to the Second Mondays all the month!”

  She laughed shyly, and gave Mr Turvy her other hand. And Mr Turvy, Jane and Michael were glad to see, laughed too.

  “It’s after six o’clock, so I suppose he can be himself again,” whispered Michael to Jane.

  Jane did not answer. She was watching the mouse. It was no longer standing on its nose but hurrying away to its hole with a large crumb of cake in its mouth.

  Mary Poppins picked up the Royal Doulton Bowl and proceeded to wrap it up.

  “Pick up your handkerchiefs, please – and straighten your hats,” she snapped.

  “And now—” She took her umbrella and tucked her new bag under her arm.

  “Oh, we’re not going yet, are we, Mary Poppins?” said Michael.

  “If you are in the habit of staying out all night, I am not,” she remarked, pushing him towards the door.

  “Must you go, really?” said Mr Turvy. But he seemed to be saying it out of mere politeness. He had eyes only for Miss Tartlet.

  But Miss Tartlet herself came up to them, smiling radiantly and tossing her curls.

  “Come again,” she said, giving a hand to each of them. “Now do. Mr Turvy and I–” she looked down shyly and blushed – “will be in to tea every Second Monday – won’t we, Arthur?”

  “Well,” said Mr Turvy, “we’ll be in if we’re not out – I’m sure of that!”

  He and Miss Tartlet stood at the top of the stairs waving goodbye to Mary Poppins and the children – Miss Tartlet blushing happily, and Mr Turvy holding Miss Tartlet’s hand and looking very proud and pompous. . .

  “I didn’t know it was as easy as that,” said Michael to Jane, as they splashed through the rain under Mary Poppins’ umbrella.

  “What was?” said Jane.

  “Standing on my head. I shall practise it when I get home.”

  “I wish we could have Second Mondays,” said Jane dreamily.

  “Get in, please!” said Mary Poppins, shutting her umbrella and pushing the children up the winding stairs of the bus.

  They sat together in the seat behind hers, talking quietly about all that had happened that afternoon.

  Mary Poppins turned and glared at them.

  “It is rude to whisper,” she said fiercely. “And sit up straight. You’re not flour-bags!”

  They were quiet for a few minutes. Mary Poppins, half-turning in her seat, watched them with angry eyes.

  “What a funny family you’ve got,” Michael remarked to her, trying to make conversation.

  Her head went up with a jerk.

  “Funny? What do you mean funny, pray – funny?”

  “Well – odd. Mr Turvy turning Catherine wheels and standing on his head—”

  Mary Poppins stared at him as though she could not believe her ears.

  “Did I understand you to say,” she began, speaking her words as though she were biting them,” that my cousin turned a Catherine wheel? And stood on—”

  “But he did,” protested Michael nervously. “We saw him.”

  “On his head? A relation of mine on his head? And turning about like a firework display?” Mary Poppins seemed hardly able to repeat the dreadful statement. She glared at Michael.

  “Now this,” she began, and he shrank back in terror from her wild darting eyes, “this is the Last Straw. First you are impudent to me and then you insult my relations. It would take very little more – Very Little More – to make me give notice. So – I warn you!”

  And with that she bounced round on her seat and sat with her back to them. And even from the back she looked angrier than they
had ever seen her.

  Michael leant forward.

  “I – I apologise,” he said.

  There was no answer from the seat in front.

  “I’m sorry, Mary Poppins!”

  “Humph!”

  “Very sorry!”

  “And well you might be!” she retorted, staring straight ahead of her.

  Michael leant towards Jane.

  “But it was true – what I said. Wasn’t it?” he whispered.

  Jane shook her head and put her finger to her lip. She was staring at Mary Poppins’ hat. And presently, when she was sure that Mary Poppins was not looking, she pointed to the brim.

  There, gleaming on the black shiny straw, was a scattering of crumbs, yellow crumbs from a sponge cake, the kind of thing you would expect to find on the hat of a person who had stood on their head to have Tea.

  Michael gazed at the crumbs for a moment. Then he turned and nodded understandingly to Jane.

  They sat there, jogging up and down as the bus rumbled homewards. Mary Poppins’ back, erect and angry, was like a silent warning. They dared not speak to her. But every time the bus turned a corner they saw the crumbs turning Catherine wheels on the shining brim of her hat. . .

  Chapter Five

  THE NEW ONE

  “BUT WHY MUST we go for a walk with Ellen?” grumbled Michael, slamming the gate. “I don’t like her. Her nose is too red.”

  “Sh!” said Jane. “She’ll hear you.”

  Ellen, who was wheeling the perambulator, turned round.

  “You’re a cruel, unkind boy, Master Michael! I’m only doing my duty, I’m sure. It’s no pleasure to me to be going for a walk in this heat – so there!”

  She blew her red nose on a green handkerchief.

  “Then why do you go?” Michael demanded.

  “Because Mary Poppins is busy. So come along, there’s a good boy, and I’ll buy you a penn’orth of peppermints.”

  “I don’t want peppermints,” muttered Michael. “I want Mary Poppins.”

  Plop-plop! Plop-plop! Ellen’s feet marched slowly and heavily along the Lane.

  “I can see a rainbow through every chink of my hat,” said Jane.

  “I can’t,” said Michael crossly. “I can only see my silk lining.”

  Ellen stopped at the corner, looking anxiously for traffic.

  “Want any help?” enquired the Policeman, sauntering up to her.

  “Well,” said Ellen, blushing, “if you could take us across the road, I’d be obliged. What with a bad cold, and four children to look after, I don’t know if I’m on my head or my feet.” She blew her nose again.

  “But you must know! You’ve only got to look!” said Michael, thinking how Perfectly Awful Ellen was.

  But the Policeman, apparently, thought differently, for he took tight hold of Ellen’s arm with one hand, and the handle of the perambulator with the other, and led her across the street as tenderly as though she were a bride.

  “Ever get a Day Off?” he enquired, looking interestedly into Ellen’s red face.

  “Well,” said Ellen. “Half-days, so to speak. Every second Saturday.” She blew her nose nervously.

  “Funny,” said the Policeman. “Those are my days too. And I’m usually just around here at two o’clock in the afternoon.”

  “Oh!” said Ellen, opening her mouth very wide indeed.

  “So!” said the Policeman, nodding at her politely.

  “Well, I’ll see,” said Ellen. “Goodbye.”

  And she went trudging on, looking back occasionally to see if the Policeman was still looking.

  And he always was.

  “Mary Poppins never needs a policeman,” complained Michael. “What can she be busy about?”

  “Something important is happening at home,” said Jane. “I’m sure of it.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve got an empty, waiting sort of feeling inside.”

  “Pooh!” said Michael. “I expect you’re hungry! Can’t we go faster, Ellen, and get it over?”

  “That boy,” said Ellen to the Park railing, “has a heart of stone. No, we can’t, Master Michael, because of my feet.”

  “What’s the matter with them?”

  “They will only go so fast and no faster.”

  “Oh, dear Mary Poppins!” said Michael bitterly.

  He went sighing after the perambulator. Jane walked beside him counting rainbows through her hat.

  Ellen’s slow feet tramped steadily onward. One-two. One-two. Plop-plop! Plop-plop!

  And away behind them in Cherry Tree Lane the important thing was happening.

  From the outside, Number Seventeen looked as peaceful and sleepy as all the other houses. But behind the drawn blinds there was such a stir and bustle that, if it hadn’t been Summer-time, a passer-by might have thought the people in the house were Spring-cleaning or getting ready for Christmas.

  But the House itself stood blinking in the sunshine, taking no notice. After all, it thought to itself, I have seen such bustlings often before and shall probably see them many times again, so why should I bother about it?

  And just then, the front door was flung open by Mrs Brill, and Doctor Simpson hurried out. Mrs Brill stood dancing on her toes as she watched him go down the garden path, swinging his little brown bag. Then she hurried to the Pantry and called excitedly:

  “Where are you, Robertson? Come along, if you’re coming!”

  She scuttled up the stairs two at a time with Robertson Ay, yawning and stretching, behind her.

  “Sh!” hissed Mrs Brill. “Sh!”

  She put her finger to her lips and tiptoed to Mrs Banks’ door.

  “Tch, tch! You can’t see nothing but the wardrobe,” she complained, as she bent to look through the key-hole. “The wardrobe and a bit of the winder.”

  But the next moment she started violently.

  “My Glory-goodness!” she shrieked, as the door burst open suddenly and she fell back against Robertson Ay.

  For there, framed against the light, stood Mary Poppins, looking very stern and suspicious. In her arms she carried, with great care, something that looked like a bundle of blankets.

  “Well!” said Mrs Brill breathlessly. “If it isn’t you! I was just polishing the door-knob, putting a shine on it, so to say, as you came out.”

  Mary Poppins looked at the door-knob. It was very dirty.

  “Polishing the key-hole is what I should have said!” she remarked tartly.

  But Mrs Brill took no notice. She was gazing tenderly at the bundle. With her large red hand she drew aside a fold of one of the blankets, and a satisfied smile spread over her face.

  “Ah!” she cooed. “Ah, the Lamb! Ah, the Duck! Ah, the Trinket! And as good as a week of Sundays, I’ll be bound!”

  Robertson Ay yawned again and stared at the bundle with his mouth slightly open.

  “Another pair of shoes to clean!” he said mournfully, leaning against the banisters for support.

  “Mind you don’t drop it, now!” said Mrs Brill anxiously, as Mary Poppins brushed past her.

  Mary Poppins glanced at them both contemptuously.

  “If I were some people,” she remarked acidly, “I’d mind my own business!”

  And she folded the blanket over the bundle again and went upstairs to the Nursery. . .

  “Excuse me, please! Excuse me!” Mr Banks came rushing up the stairs, nearly knocking Mrs Brill over as he hurried into Mrs Banks’ bedroom.

  “Well!” he said, sitting down at the foot of the bed. “This is all Very Awkward. Very Awkward indeed. I don’t know that I can afford it. I hadn’t bargained for five.”

  “I’m so sorry!” said Mrs Banks, smiling at him happily.

  “You’re not sorry, not a bit. In fact, you’re very pleased and conceited about it. And there’s no reason to be. It’s a very small one.”

  “I like them that way,” said Mrs Banks. “Besides, it will grow.”

  “Yes, unfortunately!”
he replied bitterly. “And I shall have to buy it shoes and clothes and a tricycle. Yes, and send it to school and give it a Good Start in Life. A very expensive proceeding. And then, after all that, when I’m an old man sitting by the fire, it will go away and leave me. You hadn’t thought of that, I suppose?”

  “No,” said Mrs Banks, trying to look sorry, but not succeeding. “I hadn’t.”

  “I thought not. Well, there it is. But, I warn you! I shall not be able to afford to have the bathroom retiled.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” said Mrs Banks comfortingly. “I really like the old tiles best.”

  “Then you’re a very stupid woman. That’s all I have to say.”

  And Mr Banks went away, muttering and blustering through the house. But when he got outside the front door, he flung back his shoulders, and pushed out his chest, and put a large cigar in his mouth. And, soon after that, he was heard telling Admiral Boom the news in a voice that was very loud and conceited and boastful. . .

  Mary Poppins stooped over the new cradle between John’s and Barbara’s cots and laid the bundle of blankets carefully in it.

  “Here you are at last! Bless my Beak and Tail-feathers – I thought you were never coming! Which is it?” cried a croaking voice from the window.

  Mary Poppins looked up.

  The Starling who lived on the top of the Chimney was hopping excitedly on the window-sill.

  “A girl. Annabel,” said Mary Poppins shortly. “And I’ll thank you to be a little quieter. Squawking and croaking there like a packet of magpies!”

  But the Starling was not listening. He was turning somersaults on the window-sill, clapping his wings wildly together each time his head came up.

  “What a treat!” he panted, when at last he stood up straight. “What a Treat!” Oh, I could sing!”

  “You couldn’t. Not if you tried till Doomsday!” scoffed Mary Poppins.

  But the Starling was too happy to care.

  “A girl!” he shrieked, dancing on his toes. “I’ve had three broods this season and – would you believe it? – every one of them boys. But Annabel will make up to me for that!”

  He hopped a little along the sill. “Annabel!” he burst out again. “That’s a nice name! I had an Aunt called Annabel. Used to live in Admiral Boom’s chimney, and died, poor thing, of eating green apples and grapes. I warned her! I warned her! But she wouldn’t believe me! So, of course—”