Mary Poppins Comes Back

  They looked at the broken ornament and blinked with astonishment.

  For there, where the blank white gap had been, was a second smiling figure. Beneath the banana tree he sat, leaning – like his unbroken brother – against a shaggy shape. A paw lay lovingly on his breast and his lion – only this morning so sad and tearful – was now showing all his teeth in a grin.

  The two ornaments were exactly alike – the two trees bore the same fruit, the two lions were equally happy and the two huntsmen smiled. Exactly alike – but for one exception. For the second huntsman had a crack in his leg just above his boot – the sort of crack you always find when two pieces of broken china are carefully fitted together.

  A smile swept over Jane’s face as she realised what had happened. She gently touched the crack with her fingers.

  “It’s Albert, Michael! Albert and Rover! And the other –” she touched the unbroken pair – “the other must be Herbert!”

  Michael’s head nodded backwards and forwards like the head of a mandarin.

  The questions rose in them like bubbles and they turned to Mary Poppins.

  But just as the words leapt to their tongues she silenced them with a look.

  “Extraordinary thing,” Mr Banks was saying. “I could have sworn one figure was missing. It just goes to show – I’m getting older. Losing my memory, I’m afraid. Well, what are you two so amused about?”

  “Nothing!” they gurgled, as they flung back their heads and burst into peals of laughter. How could they assure him that his memory was as good as ever it was? How explain the afternoon’s adventure, or tell him that they knew now where the Second Policeman had gone? Some things there are that are past telling. And it’s no use trying – as they knew very well – to say what cannot be said.

  “It’s a long time,” grumbled Mr Banks, “since I could laugh at nothing!”

  But he looked quite cheerful as he kissed them and went downstairs to dinner.

  “Let’s put them side by side,” said Jane, setting the little cracked huntsman next to his crackless brother. “Now they’re both at home!”

  Michael looked up at the mantelpiece and gave a contented chuckle.

  “But what will Miss Andrew say, I wonder? Everything was to be kept safe – nothing broken, nothing mended. You don’t think she’ll separate them, Jane?”

  “Just let her try!” said a voice behind them. “Safe she said they were to be, and safe they are going to stay!”

  Mary Poppins was standing on the hearthrug with the teapot in her hand. And her manner was so belligerent that for half a second Jane and Michael felt sorry for Miss Andrew.

  She looked from them to the mantelpiece, glancing from their living faces to the smiling china figures.

  “One and one makes two,” she declared. “And two halves make a whole. And Faithful Friends should be together, never kept apart. But, of course, if you don’t approve, Michael,” for his face had assumed a thoughtful expression. “If you think they’d be safer somewhere else – if you would like to go to the South Seas and ask Miss Andrew’s permission—”

  “You know I approve, Mary Poppins!” he cried. “And I don’t want to go to the South Seas. I was only thinking. . .” He hesitated. “Well – if you hadn’t been there, Mary Poppins, do you think they’d have found each other?”

  She stood there like a pillar of starch. He was almost sorry he had spoken, she looked so stern and priggish.

  “Ifs and whys and buts and hows – you want too much,” she said. But her blue eyes gave a sudden sparkle, and a pleased smile – very like those on the huntsmen’s faces – trembled about her lips.

  At the sight of it Michael forgot his question. Only that sparkle mattered.

  “Oh, be my lion, Mary Poppins! Put your paw around me!”

  “And me!” cried Jane as she turned to join them.

  Her arms came lightly across their shoulders as she drew them close to the starched apron. And there they were, the three of them, embracing under the Nursery lamplight as though beneath a banana tree.

  With a little push, Michael spun them round. And again a push. And again a spin. And soon they were all revolving gently in the middle of the room.

  “Michael,” said Mary Poppins severely,” I am not a Merry-go-round!”

  But he only laughed and hugged her tighter.

  “The Faithful Friends are together,” he cried. “All the Faithful Friends!”

  Chapter Three

  LUCKY THURSDAY

  “IT’S DOD FAIR!” grumbled Michael.

  He pressed his nose to the window-pane and sniffed a tear away. And, as if to taunt him, a gust of rain rattled against the glass.

  All day the storm had raged. And Michael, because he had a cold, was not allowed to go out. Jane and the Twins had put on gum-boots and gone to play in the Park. Even Annabel, wrapped in a mackintosh, had sailed off under the parrot umbrella, looking as proud as a queen.

  Oh, how lonely Michael felt! It was Ellen’s Day Out. His mother had gone shopping. Mrs Brill was down in the kitchen. And Robertson Ay, up in the attic, was asleep in a cabin trunk.

  “Get up and play in your dressing-gown. But don’t put a toe outside the Nursery!” Mary Poppins had warned him.

  So there he was, all by himself, with nothing to do but grumble. He built a castle with his blocks, but it tumbled down when he blew his nose. He tried cutting his hair with his penknife, but the blade was far too blunt. And at last there was nothing left to do but breathe on the rainy window-pane and draw a picture there.

  The Nursery clock ticked the day away. The weather grew wetter and Michael grew crosser.

  But then, at sunset, the clouds lifted and a line of crimson shone from the West. Everything glittered in rain and sun. Rat-tat-tat – on the black umbrellas, the Cherry-Trees dropped their weight of water. The shouts of Jane and John and Barbara floated up to the window. They were playing leap-frog over the gutters on their way home from the Park.

  Admiral Boom came splashing past, looking like a shiny sunflower in his big yellow sou-wester.

  The Ice Cream Man trundled along the Lane, with a waterproof cape spread over his tricycle. And in front of it the notice said:

  DON’T STOP ME

  I WANT MY TEA

  He glanced at Number Seventeen and waved his hand to the window. Michael, on any other day, would gladly have answered back. But today he deliberately took no notice. He huddled on the window-seat, glumly watching the sunset, and looking over Miss Lark’s roof at the first faint star in the sky.

  “The others ged all the fud,” he sniffed. “I wish I could have sobe luck!”

  Then footsteps clattered on the stairs. The door burst open and Jane ran in.

  “Oh, Michael, it was lovely!” she cried. “We were up to our knees in water.”

  “Then I hobe you catch a code!” he snapped. He gave a guilty glance round to see if Mary Poppins had heard. She was busy unwrapping Annabel and shaking the rain from her parrot umbrella.

  “Don’t be cross. We all missed you,” said Jane in a coaxing voice.

  But Michael did not want to be coaxed. He wanted to be as cross as he liked. Nobody, if he could help it, was going to alter his bad mood. Indeed, he was almost enjoying it.

  “Dode touch be, Jade. You’re all wet!” he said in a sulky voice.

  “So are we!” chirped John and Barbara, running across to hug him.

  “Oh, go away!” he cried angrily, turning back to the window. “I dode want to talk to any of you. I wish you’d all leave be alode!”

  “Miss Lark’s roof is made of gold!” Jane gazed out at the sunset. “And there’s the first star – wish on it! How does the tune go, Michael?”

  He shook his head and wouldn’t tell, so she sang the song herself.

  “Star light

  Star bright,

  First star I’ve seen tonight,

  Wish I may

  Wish I might

  That the wish may come true

&n
bsp; That I wish tonight.”

  She finished the song and looked at the star.

  “I’ve wished,” she whispered, smiling.

  “It’s easy for you to sbile, Jade – you havvd got a code!” He blew his nose for the hundredth time and gave a gloomy sniff. “I wish I was biles frob everywhere! Sobewhere I could have sobe fud. Hullo, whad’s that?” he said, staring, as a small dark shape leapt on to the sill.

  “What’s what?” she murmured dreamily.

  “John! Barbara! And you too, Jane! Take off your coats at once. I will not have supper with Three Drowned Rats!” said Mary Poppins sharply.

  They slithered off the window-seat and hurried to obey her. When Mary Poppins looked like that it was always best to obey.

  The dark shape crept along the sill and a speckled face peeped in. Could it be – yes, it was! – a cat. A tortoiseshell cat with yellow eyes and a collar made of gold.

  Michael pressed his nose to the pane. And the cat pressed its nose to the other side and looked at him thoughtfully. Then it smiled a most mysterious smile and, whisking off the window-sill, it sprang across Miss Lark’s garden and disappeared over the roof.

  “Who owns it, I wonder?” Michael murmured, as he gazed at the spot where the cat had vanished. He knew it couldn’t belong to Miss Lark. She only cared for dogs.

  “What are you looking at?” called Jane, as she dried her hair by the fire.

  “Dothing!” he said in a horrid voice. He was not going to share the cat with her. She had had enough fun in the Park.

  “I only asked,” she protested mildly.

  He knew she was trying to be kind and something inside him wanted to melt. But his crossness would not let it.

  “As I oddly adswered!” he retorted.

  Mary Poppins looked at him. He knew that look and he guessed what was coming, but he felt too tired to care.

  “You,” she remarked in a chilly voice, “can answer questions in bed. Spit-spot and in you go – and kindly close the door!”

  Her eyes bored into him like gimlets as he stalked away to the Night Nursery and kicked the door to with a bang.

  The steam-kettle bubbled beside his bed, sending out fragrant whiffs of balsam. But he turned his nose away on purpose and put his head under the blankets.

  “Dothing dice ever happeds to be,” he grumbled to his pillow.

  But it offered its cool white cheek in silence as if it had not heard.

  He gave it a couple of furious thumps, burrowed in like an angry rabbit, and immediately fell asleep.

  A moment later – or so it seemed – he woke to find the morning sun streaming in upon him.

  “What day is today, Mary Poppins?” he shouted.

  “Thursday,” she called from the next room. Her voice, he thought, was strangely polite.

  The camp bed groaned as she sprang out. He could always tell what she was doing simply by the sound – the clip-clip of hooks and eyes, the swish of the hairbrush, the thump of her shoes and the rattle of the starched apron as she buttoned it round her waist. Then came a moment of solemn silence as she glanced approvingly at the mirror. And after that a hurricane as she whisked the others out of bed.

  “May I get up too, Mary Poppins?”

  She answered “Yes!”, to his surprise, and he scrambled out like lightning in case she should change her mind.

  His new sweater – navy blue with three red fir-trees – was lying on the chair. And for fear she would stop him wearing it, he dragged it quickly over his head and swaggered in to breakfast.

  Jane was buttering her toast.

  “How’s your cold?” she enquired.

  He gave an experimental sniff.

  “Gone!” He seized the milk jug.

  “I knew it would go,” she said, smiling. “That’s what I wished on the star last night.”

  “Just as well you did,” he remarked. “Now you’ve got me to play with.”

  “There are always the Twins,” she reminded him.

  “Not the same thing at all,” he said. “May I have some more sugar, Mary Poppins?”

  He fully expected her to say “No!” But, instead, she smiled serenely.

  “If you want it, Michael,” she replied, with the ladylike nod she reserved for strangers.

  Could he believe his ears? he wondered. He hurriedly emptied the sugar bowl in case they had made a mistake.

  “The post has come!” cried Mrs Banks, bustling in with a package. “Nothing for anyone but Michael!”

  He tore apart the paper and string. Aunt Flossie had sent him a cake of chocolate!

  “Nut milk – my favourite!” he exclaimed, and was just about to take a bite when there came a knock at the door.

  Robertson Ay shuffled slowly in.

  “Message from Mrs Brill,” he yawned. “She’s mixed a sponge cake, she says, and would like him to scrape the bowl!” He pointed a weary finger at Michael.

  Scrape the cake-bowl! What a treat! And as rare as unexpected!

  “I’m coming right away!” he shouted, stuffing the chocolate in his pocket. And, feeling rather bold and daring, he decided to slide down the banisters.

  “The very chap I wanted to see!” cried Mr Banks, as Michael landed. He fumbled in his waistcoat pocket and handed his son a shilling.

  “What’s that for?” demanded Michael. He had never had a shilling before.

  “To spend,” said Mr Banks solemnly, as he took his bowler hat and bag and hurried down the path.

  Michael felt very proud and important. He puffed out his chest in a lordly way and clattered down to the kitchen.

  “Good – is it, dearie?” said Mrs Brill, as he tasted the sticky substance.

  “Delicious,” he said, smacking his lips.

  But before he had time for another spoonful a well-known voice floated in from the Lane.

  “All hands on deck! Up with the anchor! For I’m bound for the Rio Grande!”

  It was Admiral Boom, setting out for a walk.

  Upon his head was a black hat, painted with skull-and-crossbones – the one he had taken from a pirate chief in a desperate fight off Falmouth.

  Away through the garden Michael dashed to get a look at it. For his dearest hope was that some day he, too, would have such a hat.

  “Heave her over!” the Admiral roared, leaning against the front gate and lazily mopping his brow.

  The autumn day was warm and misty. The sun was drawing into the sky the rain that had fallen last night.

  “Blast my gizzard!” cried Admiral Boom, fanning himself with his hat. “Tropical weather, that’s what it is – it oughtn’t to be allowed. The Admiral’s hat is too hot for the Admiral. You take it, messmate, till I come back. For away I’m bound to go – oho! – ’cross the wide Missouri!”

  And spreading his handkerchief over his head, he thrust the pirate’s hat at Michael and stamped away, singing.

  Michael clasped the skull-and-crossbones. His heart hammered with excitement as he put the hat on his head.

  “I’ll just go down the Lane,” he said, hoping that everybody in it would see him wearing the treasure. It banged against his brow as he walked and wobbled whenever he looked up. But nevertheless, behind each curtain – he was sure – there lurked an admiring eye.

  It was not until he was nearly home that he noticed Miss Lark’s dogs. They had thrust their heads through the garden fence and were looking at him in astonishment. Andrew’s tail gave a well-bred wag, but Willoughby merely stared.

  “Luncheon!” trilled Miss Lark’s voice.

  And as Willoughby rose to answer the summons he winked at Andrew and sniggered.

  “Can he be laughing at me?” thought Michael. But he put the idea aside as ridiculous and sauntered up to the Nursery.

  “Do I have to wash my hands, Mary Poppins? They’re quite clean,” he assured her.

  “Well, the others, of course, have washed theirs – but you do as you think best!”

  At last she realised, he thought, that Michae
l Banks was no ordinary boy. He could wash or not, as he thought best, and she hadn’t even told him to take off his hat! He decided to go straight in to luncheon.

  “Now, away to the Park,” said Mary Poppins, as soon as the meal was over. “If that is convenient for you, Michael?” She waited for his approval.

  “Oh, perfickly convenient!” He gave a lordly wave of his hand. “I think I shall go to the swings.”

  “Not to the Lake?” protested Jane. She wanted to look at Neleus.

  “Certainly not!” said Mary Poppins. “We shall do what Michael wishes!”

  And she stood aside respectfully as he strutted before her through the gate.

  The soft bright mist still rose from the grass, blurring the shapes of the seats and fountains. Bushes and trees seemed to float in the air. Nothing was like its real self until you were close upon it.

  Mary Poppins sat down on a bench, settled the perambulator beside her and began to read a book. The children dashed away to the playground.

  Up and down on the swings went Michael, with the pirate’s hat bumping against his eyes. Then he took a ride on the spinning-jenny and after that, the loop. He couldn’t turn somersaults, like Jane, for fear of dropping the hat.

  “What next?” he thought, feeling rather bored. Everything possible, he felt, had happened to him this morning. Now there was nothing left to do.

  He wandered back through the weaving mist and sat beside Mary Poppins. She gave him a small, preoccupied smile, as though she had never seen him before, and went on reading her book. It was called Everything a Lady Should Know.

  Michael sighed to attract her attention.

  But she did not seem to hear.

  He kicked a hole in the rainy grass.

  Mary Poppins read on.

  Then his eye fell on her open handbag which was lying on the seat. Inside it was a handkerchief, and beneath the handkerchief a mirror and beside the mirror her silver whistle.

  He gazed at it with envious eyes. Then he glanced at Mary Poppins. There she was, still deep in her book. Should he ask her again for a loan of the whistle? She seemed to be in the best of humours – not a cross word the whole day long.