And in came Venus riding her Winged Horse, followed by a starry Serpent that, with its tail tucked into its mouth, bowled along the ring like a hoop.
Last of all came the comets, prancing proudly through the curtains, swinging their braided tails. The music was louder now and wilder, and a golden smoke rose up from the star-dust as the Constellations, shouting, singing, roaring, growling, formed themselves into a ring. And in the centre, as though they dared not go too near his presence, they left a clear, bare circle for the Sun.
He stood, towering above them all, his whip folded in his arms. He nodded lightly to each animal as it passed him with bent head. And then Jane and Michael saw that bright gaze lift from the ring and wander round the audience of stars until it turned in the direction of the Royal Box. They felt themselves growing warmer as his rays fell upon them and, with a start of surprise, they saw him raise his whip and nod his head towards them.
As the lash swung up, every star and constellation turned in its tracks. Then, with one movement, every one of them bowed.
“Are they – can they be bowing to us?” whispered Michael, clutching the Moon more tightly.
A familiar laugh sounded behind them. They turned quickly. There, sitting alone in the Royal Box, was a well-known figure in a straw hat and blue coat with a gold locket round its neck.
“Hail, Mary Poppins, hail!” came the massed voices from the Circus Ring.
Jane and Michael looked at each other. So this was what Mary Poppins did on her Evening Out! They could hardly believe their eyes – and yet, there was Mary Poppins, as large as life, and looking very superior.
“Hail!” came the cry again.
Mary Poppins raised her hand in greeting.
Then, stepping primly and importantly, she moved out of the box. She did not seem in the least surprised to see Jane and Michael, but she sniffed as she went past.
“How often,” she remarked to them across Orion’s head, “have you been told that it is rude to stare?”
She passed on and down to the ring. The Great Bear lifted the golden rope. The Constellations drew apart and the Sun moved a pace forward. He spoke, and his voice was warm and full of sweetness.
“Mary Poppins, my dear, you are welcome!”
Mary Poppins dropped to her knees in a deep curtsey.
“The Planets hail you, and the Constellations give you greeting. Rise, my child!”
She stood up, bending her head respectfully before him.
“For you, Mary Poppins,” the Sun went on, “the Stars have gathered in the dark blue tent, for you they have been withdrawn tonight from shining on the world. I trust, therefore, that you have enjoyed your Evening Out!”
“I never had a better one. Never!” said Mary Poppins, lifting her head and smiling.
“Dear child!” The Sun bowed. “But now the sands of night are running out and you must be in by half-past ten. So, before you depart, let us all, for old times’ sake, dance the Dance of the Wheeling Sky!”
“Down you go!” said Orion to the astonished children, giving them a little push. They stumbled down the stairs and almost fell into the star-dust ring.
“And where, may I ask, are your manners?” hissed the well-known voice in Jane’s ear.
“What must I do?” stammered Jane.
Mary Poppins glared at her and made a little movement towards the Sun. And, suddenly, Jane realised. She grabbed Michael’s arm, and, kneeling, pulled him down beside her. The warmth from the Sun lapped about them with fiery sweetness.
“Rise, children,” he said kindly. “You are very welcome. I know you well – I have looked down upon you many a summer’s day!”
Scrambling to her feet, Jane moved towards him, but his whip held her back. “Touch me not, Child of Earth!” he cried warningly, waving her further away. “Life is sweet and no man may come near the Sun – touch me not!”
“But are you truly the Sun!” demanded Michael, staring at him.
The Sun flung out his hand.
“O Stars and Constellations,” he said, “tell me this. Who am I? This child would know!”
“Lord of the Stars, O Sun!” answered a thousand starry voices.
“He is King of the South and North,” cried Orion, “and Ruler of the East and West. He walks the outer rim of the world and the Poles melt in his glory. He draws up the leaf from the seed and covers the land with sweetness. He is truly the Sun.”
The Sun smiled across at Michael.
“Now do you believe?”
Michael nodded.
“Then, strike up! And you, Constellations, choose your Partners!”
The Sun waved his whip. The music began again, very swift and gay and dancey. Michael began to beat time with his feet as he hugged the Moon in his arms. But he squeezed it a little too tightly for, suddenly, there was a loud pop and the Moon began to dwindle.
“Oh! Oh! Look what’s happening!” cried Michael, almost weeping.
Down, down, down, shrank the Moon until it was as small as a soap bubble, then it was only a wisp of shining light and then – his hands closed upon empty air.
“It couldn’t have been a real Moon, could it?” he demanded.
Jane glanced questioningly at the Sun across the little stretch of star-dust.
He flung back his flaming head and smiled gently at her.
“What is real and what is not? Can you tell me or I you? Perhaps we shall never know more than this – that to think a thing is to make it true. And so, if Michael thought he had the real Moon in his arms – why, then, he had indeed.”
“Then,” said Jane wonderingly, “is it true that we are here tonight, or do we only think we are?”
The Sun smiled again, a little sadly.
“Child,” he said, “seek no further! From the beginning of the world all men have asked that question. And I, who am Lord of the Sky – even I do not know the answer. I am only certain that this is the Evening Out, that the Constellations are shining in your eyes, and it is true if you think it is. . .”
“Come, dance with us, Jane and Michael!” cried the Twins.
And Jane forgot her question as the four of them swung out into the ring in time with the heavenly tune. But they were hardly halfway round before she stumbled and stood still.
“Look! Look! She is dancing with him!”
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 patiently 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 dear three mortal guests. Mary Poppins, goodnight! I do not say Goodbye for we shall meet again. But – for a little time – Farewell, Farewell!”
Then, with a large and gracious movement of his head, the Sun leant 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 if 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 mantelpiece 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!” she said, tossing him his dressing-gown.
“Is it morning already?” said Jane, gazing round the room and feeling 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, looking after the five worst children in the world!”
Mary Poppins sniffed and looked very sorry for herself, as if she hadn’t 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 flushed red with fury.
“You,” she said shortly, “have been having a nice sort of 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. 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, 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?”
“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 behind the ears, there the familiar blue eyes so like a Dutch doll’s, and there were the turned-up nose and the 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. . .”
Chapter Eight
BALLOONS AND BALLOONS
“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 today, Mary Poppins. Robertson Ay sat down on the perambulator this morning. He mistook it for an armchair. 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 downstairs.
“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 mantelpiece. “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 arms and Barbara’s were being pulled very 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 caster; 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 firelighter, 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 offence 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 the 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 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 up on the counter.
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