Mary Poppins Comes Back mp-2

by P. L. Travers

  "I hate everybody!" she said, and rapped sharply on the watering-can.

  Robertson Ay sat up with a start.

  "Help! Murder! Fire!" he cried, waving his arms wildly.

  Then he rubbed his eyes and saw Jane.

  "Oh, it's only you!" he said, in a disappointed voice as if he had hoped for something more exciting.

  "You're to go and do the knives at once," she ordered.

  Robertson Ay got slowly to his feet and shook himself.

  "Ah," he said sadly, "it's always something. If it's not one thing, it's another. I ought to be resting. I never get a moment's peace."

  "Yes, you do!" said Jane cruelly. "You get nothing but peace. You're always asleep."

  A hurt, reproachful look came over Robertson Ay's face, and at any other time it would have made her feel ashamed. But to-day she wasn't a bit sorry.

  "Saying such things!" said Robertson Ay sadly. "And you the eldest and all. I wouldn't have thought it — not if I'd done nothing but think for the rest of my life."

  And he gave her a sorrowful glance and shuffled slowly away to the kitchen.

  She wondered if he would ever forgive her. And, as if in reply, the sulky creature inside her said, "I don't care if he doesn't!"

  She tossed her head and went slowly back to the Nursery dragging her sticky hands along the fresh white wall because she had always been told not to.

  Mary Poppins was flicking her feather duster round the furniture.

  "Off to a funeral?" she enquired as Jane appeared.

  Jane looked sulky and did not answer.

  "I know somebody who's looking for Trouble. And he that seeks shall find!"

  "I don't care!"

  "Don't Care was made care! Don't Care was hung!" jeered Mary Poppins, putting the duster away.

  "And now—" she looked warningly at Jane. "I am going to have my dinner. You are to look after the little ones and if I hear One Word—" She did not finish the sentence but she gave a long threatening sniff as she went out of the room.

  John and Barbara ran to Jane and caught her hands. But she uncurled their fingers and crossly pushed them away.

  "I wish I were an only child," she said bitterly.

  "Why don't you run away," suggested Michael. "Somebody might adopt you."

  Jane looked up, startled and surprised.

  "But you'd miss me!"

  "No, I wouldn't," he said stoutly. "Not if you're always going to be cross. Besides, then I could have your paint-box."

  "No, you couldn't," she said jealously. "I'd take it with me."

  And, just to show him that the paint-box was hers and not his, she got out the brushes and the painting-book and spread them on the floor.

  "Paint the clock," said Michael helpfully.

  "No."

  "Well, the Royal Doulton Bowl."

  Jane glanced up. The three little boys were racing over the field inside the green rim of the bowl. At any other time she would have liked to paint them but to-day she was not going to be pleasant or obliging.

  "I won't. I will paint what I want."

  And she began to make a picture of herself, quite alone, brooding over her eggs.

  Michael and John and Barbara sat on the floor watching.

  Jane was so interested in her eggs that she almost forgot her bad temper.

  Michael leaned forward. "Why not put in a hen — just there!"

  He pointed to a spare white patch, brushing against John with his arm. Over went John, falling sideways and upsetting the cup with his foot. The coloured water splashed out and flooded the picture.

  With a cry Jane sprang to her feet.

  "Oh, I can't bear it. You great Clumsy! You've spoilt everything!"

  And, rushing at Michael, she punched him so violently that he, too, toppled over and crashed down on top of John. A squeal of pain and terror broke from the Twins, and above their cries rose Michael's voice wailing "My head is broken! What shall I do? My head is broken!" over and over again.

  "I don't care, I don't care!" shouted Jane. "You wouldn't leave me alone and you've spoilt my picture. I hate you, I hate you, I hate—!"

  The door burst open.

  Mary Poppins surveyed the scene with furious eyes.

  "What did I say to you?" she enquired of Jane in a voice so quiet that it was terrible. "That if I heard One Word — and now look what I find! A nice party you'll have at Miss Lark's, I don't think! Not one step will you go out of this room this afternoon or I'm a Chinaman."

  "I don't want to go. I'd rather stay here." Jane put her hands behind her back and sauntered away. She did not feel a bit sorry.

  "Very good."

  Mary Poppins voice was gentle but there was something very frightening in it.

  Jane watched her dressing the others for the party. And when they were ready Mary Poppins took her best hat out of a brown-paper bag and set it on her head at a very smart angle. She clipped her gold locket round her neck and over it wound the red-and-white checked scarf Mrs. Banks had given her. At one end was stitched a white label marked with a large M.P., and Mary Poppins smiled at herself in the mirror as she tucked the label out of sight.

  Then she took her parrot-handled umbrella from the cupboard, popped it under her arm and hurried the little ones down the stairs.

  "Now you'll have time to think!" she remarked tartly, and, with a loud sniff, shut the door behind her.

  * * *

  For a long time Jane sat staring in front of her. She tried to think about her seven eggs. But somehow they didn't interest her any more.

  What were they doing now, at Miss Lark's? she wondered. Playing with Miss Lark's dogs, perhaps, and listening to Miss Lark telling them that Andrew had a wonderful pedigree but that Willoughby was half an Airedale and half a Retriever and the worst half of both. And presently they would all, even the dogs, have chocolate biscuits and walnut cake for tea.

  "Oh, dear!"

  The thought of all she was missing stirred angrily inside Jane and when she remembered it was all her own fault she felt crosser than ever.

  Tick-tack! Tick-tock! said the clock loudly.

  "Oh, be quiet!" cried Jane furiously, and picking up her paint-box she hurled it across the room.

  It crashed against the glass face of the clock and, glancing off, clattered down upon the Royal Doulton Bowl.

  Crrrrrrack! The Bowl toppled sideways against the clock.

  Oh! Oh! What had she done?

  Jane shut her eyes, not daring to look and see.

  "I say — that hurt!"

  A clear reproachful voice sounded in the room.

  Jane started and opened her eyes.

  "Jane!" said the voice again. "That was my knee!"

  She turned her head quickly. There was nobody in the room.

  She ran to the door and opened it. Still nobody!

  Then somebody laughed.

  "Here, silly!" said the voice again. "Up here!"

  She looked up at the mantel-piece. Beside the clock lay the Royal Doulton Bowl with a large crack running right across it and, to her surprise, Jane saw that one of the painted boys had dropped the reins and was bending down holding his knee with both hands. The other two had turned and were looking at him sympathetically.

  "But—" began Jane, half to herself and half to the unknown voice. "I don't understand." The boy in the Bowl lifted his head and smiled at her.

  "Don't you? No, I suppose you don't. I've noticed that you and Michael often don't understand the simplest things — do they?"

  He turned, laughing, to his brothers.

  "No," said one of them, "not even how to keep the Twins quiet!"

  "Nor the proper way to draw bird's eggs — she's made them all wriggly," said the other.

  "How do you know about the Twins — and the eggs?" said Jane, flushing.

  "Gracious!" said the first boy. "You don't think we could have watched you all this time without knowing everything that happens in this room! We can't see into the Night-Nurse
ry, of course, or the bath-room. What coloured tiles has it?"

  "Pink," said Jane.

  "Ours has blue-and-white. Would you like to see it?"

  Jane hesitated. She hardly knew what to reply, she was so astonished.

  "Do come! William and Everard will be your horses, if you like, and I'll carry the whip and run alongside. I'm Valentine, in case you don't know. We're Triplets. And, of course, there's Christina."

  "Where's Christina?" Jane searched the Bowl. But she saw only the green meadow and a little wood of alders and Valentine, William and Everard standing together.

  "Come and see!" said Valentine persuasively, holding out his hand. "Why should the others have all the fun? You come with us — into the Bowl!"

  That decided her. She would show Michael that he and the Twins were not the only ones who could go to a party. She would make them jealous and sorry for treating her so badly.

  "All right," she said, putting out her hand. "I'll come!"

  Valentine's hand closed round her wrist and pulled her towards the Bowl. And, suddenly, she was no longer in the cool Day-Nursery but out in a wide sunlit meadow, and instead of the ragged nursery carpet, a springing turf of grass and daisies was spread beneath her feet.

  "Hooray!" said Valentine, William and Everard, dancing round her. She noticed that Valentine was limping.

  "Oh," said Jane. "I forgot! Your knee!"

  He smiled at her. "Never mind. It was the crack that did it. I know you didn't mean to hurt me!"

  Jane took out her handkerchief and bound it round his knee.

  "That's better!" he said politely, and put the reins into her hand.

  William and Everard, tossing their heads and snorting, flew off across the meadow with Jane jingling the reins behind them.

  Beside her, one foot heavy and one foot light, because of his knee, ran Valentine.

  And as he ran, he sang—

  "My love, thou art a nosegay sweet,

  My sweetest flower I prove thee;

  And pleased I pin thee to my breast,

  And dearly I do love thee!"

  William and Everard's voices came in with the chorus,

  "And deeeee-arly I do lo-o-ove thee!"

  Jane thought it was rather an old-fashioned song, but then, everything about the Triplets was old-fashioned — their long hair, their strange clothes and their polite way of speaking.

  "It is odd!" she thought to herself, but she also thought that this was better than being at Miss Lark's, and that Michael would envy her when she told him all about it.

  On ran the horses, tugging Jane after them, drawing her away and away from the Nursery.

  Presently she pulled up, panting, and looked back over the tracks their feet had made in the grass. Behind her, at the other side of the meadow, she could see the outer rim of the Bowl. It seemed small and very far away. And something inside her warned her that it was time to turn back.

  "I must go now," she said, dropping the jingling reins.

  "Oh, no, no!" cried the Triplets, closing round her.

  And now something in their voices made her feel uneasy.

  "They'll miss me at home. I'm afraid I must go," she said quickly.

  "It's quite early!" protested Valentine. "They'll still be at Miss Lark's. Come on. I'll show you my paint-box."

  Jane was tempted.

  "Has it got Chinese White?" she enquired. For Chinese White was just what her own paint-box lacked.

  "Yes, in a silver tube. Come!"

  Against her will Jane allowed him to draw her onwards. She thought she would just have one look at the paint-box and then hurry back. She would not even ask to be allowed to use it.

  "But where is your house? It isn't in the Bowl!"

  "Of course it is! But you can't see it because it's behind the wood. Come on!"

  They were drawing her now under dark alder boughs. The dead leaves cracked under their feet and every now and then a pigeon swooped from branch to branch with a loud clapping of wings. William showed Jane a robin's nest in a pile of twigs, and Everard broke off a spray of leaves and twined it round her head. But in spite of their friendliness Jane was shy and nervous and she felt very glad when they reached the end of the wood.

  "Here it is!" said Valentine, waving his hand.

  And she saw rising before her a huge stone house covered with ivy. It was older than any house she had ever seen and it seemed to lean towards her threateningly. On either side of the steps a stone lion crouched, as if waiting the moment to spring.

  Jane shivered as the shadow of the house fell upon her.

  "I can't stay long—" she said, uneasily. "It's getting late."

  "Just five minutes!" pleaded Valentine, drawing her into the hall.

  Their feet rang hollowly on the stone floor. There was no sign of any human being. Except for herself and the Triplets the house seemed deserted. A cold wind swept whistling along the corridor.

  "Christina! Christina!" called Valentine, pulling Jane up the stairs. "Here she is!"

  His cry went echoing round the house and every wall seemed to call back frighteningly,

  "HERE SHE IS!"

  There was a sound of running feet and a door burst open. A little girl, slightly taller than the Triplets and dressed in an old-fashioned, flowery dress, rushed out and flung herself upon Jane.

  "At last, at last!" she cried triumphantly. "The boys have been watching for you for ages! But they couldn't catch you before — you were always so happy!"

  "Catch me?" said Jane. "I don't understand!"

  She was beginning to be frightened and to wish she had never come with Valentine into the Bowl.

  "Great-Grandfather will explain," said Christina, laughing curiously. She drew Jane across the landing and through the door.

  "Heh! Heh! Heh! What's this?" demanded a thin, cracked voice.

  Jane stared and drew back against Christina. For at the far end of the room, on a seat by the fire, sat a figure that filled her with terror. The firelight flickered over a very old man, so old that he looked more like a shadow than a human being. From his thin mouth a thin grey beard straggled and, though he wore a smoking cap, Jane could see that he was as bald as an egg. He was dressed in a long old-fashioned dressing-gown of faded silk, and a pair of embroidered slippers hung on his thin feet.

  "So!" said the shadowy figure, taking a long curved pipe from his mouth. "Jane has arrived at last."

  He rose and came towards her smiling frighteningly, his eyes burning in their sockets with a bright steely fire.

  "I hope you had a good journey, my dear!" he croaked. And drawing Jane to him with a bony hand he kissed her cheek. At the touch of his grey beard Jane started back with a cry.

  "Heh! Heh! Heh!" He laughed his cackling, terrifying laugh.

  "She came through the alder wood with the boys, Great-Grandfather," said Christina.

  "Ah? How did they catch her?"

  "She was cross at being the eldest. So she threw her paint-box at the Bowl and cracked Val's knee."

  "So!" the horrible old voice whistled. "It was temper, was it? Well, well—" he laughed thinly, "now you'll be the youngest, my dear! My youngest Great-Granddaughter. But I shan't allow any tempers here! Heh! Heh! Heh! Oh, dear, no. Well, come along and sit by the fire. Will you take tea or cherry-wine?"

  "No, no!" Jane burst out. "I'm afraid there's been a mistake. I must go home now. I live at Number Seventeen Cherry Tree Lane."

  "Used to, you mean," corrected Val triumphantly. "You live here now."

  "But you don't understand!" Jane said desperately. "I don't want to live here. I want to go home."

  "Nonsense!" croaked the Great-Grandfather. "Number Seventeen is a horrible place, mean and stuffy and modern. Besides you're not happy there. Heh! Heh! Heh! I know what it's like being the eldest — all the work and none of the fun. Heh! Heh! But here—" he waved his pipe, "here you'll be the Spoilt One, the Darling, the Treasure, and never go back any more!"

  "Never!" echoed Wi
lliam and Everard dancing round her.

  "Oh, I must. I will!" Jane cried, the tears springing to her eyes.

  The Great-Grandfather smiled his horrible toothless smile.

  "Do you think we will let you go?" he enquired, his bright eyes burning. "You cracked our Bowl. You must take the consequences. Christina, Valentine, William and Everard want you for their youngest sister. I want you for my youngest Great-Grandchild.

  "Do you think we will let you go?" he enquired

  Besides, you owe us something. You hurt Valentine's knee."

  "I will make up to him. I will give him my paint-box."

  "He has one."

  "My hoop."

  "He has out-grown hoops."

  "Well—" faltered Jane. "I will marry him when I grow up."

  The Great-Grandfather cackled with laughter.

  Jane turned imploringly to Valentine. He shook his head.

  "I'm afraid it's too late for that," he said sadly. "I grew up long ago."

  "Then why, then what — oh, I don't understand. Where am I?" cried Jane, gazing about her in terror.

  "Far from home, my child, far from home," croaked the Great-Grandfather. "You are back in the Past — back where Christina and the boys were young sixty years ago!"

  Through her tears Jane saw his old eyes burning fiercely.

  "Then — how can I get home?" she whispered.

  "You cannot. You will stay here. There is no other place for you. You are back in the Past, remember! The Twins and Michael, even your Father and Mother, are not yet born; Number Seventeen is not even built. You cannot go home!"

  "No, no!" cried Jane. "It's not true! It can't be!" Her heart was thumping inside her. Never to see Michael again, nor the Twins, nor her Father and Mother and Mary Poppins!

  And suddenly she began to shout, lifting her voice so that it echoed wildly through the stone corridors.

  "Mary Poppins! I'm sorry I was cross! Oh, Mary Poppins, help me, help me!"

  "Quick! Hold her close! Surround her!"