Mary Poppins Comes Back mp-2

by P. L. Travers

  She heard the Great-Grandfather's sharp command. She felt the four children pressing close about her.

  She shut her eyes tight. "Mary Poppins!" she cried again, "Mary Poppins!"

  A hand caught hers and pulled her away from the circling arms of Christina, Valentine, William and Everard.

  "Heh! Heh! Heh!"

  The Great-Grandfather's cackling laugh echoed through the room. The grasp on her hand tightened and she felt herself being drawn away. She dared not look for fear of those frightening eyes but she pulled fiercely against the tugging hand.

  "Heh! Heh! Heh!"

  The laugh sounded again and the hand drew her on, down stone stairs and echoing corridors.

  She had no hope now. Behind her the voices of Christina and the Triplets faded away. No help would come from them.

  She stumbled desperately after the flying footsteps and felt, though her eyes were closed, dark shadows above her head and damp earth under her feet.

  What was happening to her? Where, oh, where was she going? If only she hadn't been so cross — if only!

  The strong hand pulled her onwards and presently she felt the warmth of sunlight on her cheeks and sharp grass scratched her legs as she was dragged along. Then suddenly a pair of arms, like bands of iron, closed about her, lifted her up and swung her through the air.

  "Oh, help, help!" She cried, frantically twisting and turning against those arms. She would not give in without a struggle, she would kick and kick and kick and—

  "I'll thank you to remember," said a familiar voice in her ear, "that this is my best skirt and it has to last me the Summer!"

  Jane opened her eyes. A pair of fierce blue eyes looked steadily into hers.

  The arms that folded her so closely were Mary Poppins' arms and the legs she was kicking so furiously were the legs of Mary Poppins.

  "Oh!" she faltered. "It was you! I thought you hadn't heard me, Mary Poppins! I thought I should be kept there forever. I thought—"

  "Some people," remarked Mary Poppins, putting her gently down, "think a great deal too much. Of that I'm sure. Wipe your face, please!"

  She thrust her blue handkerchief into Jane's hand and began to get the Nursery ready for the evening.

  Jane watched her, drying her tear-stained face on the large blue handkerchief. She glanced round the well-known room. There were the ragged carpet and the toy-cupboard and Mary Poppins' arm-chair. At the sight of them she felt safe and warm and comforted. She listened to the familiar sounds as Mary Poppins went about her work, and her terror died away. A tide of happiness swept over her.

  "It couldn't have been I who was cross!" she said wonderingly to herself. "It must have been somebody else."

  Mary Poppins went to a drawer and took out the Twins' clean nightgowns.

  Jane ran to her.

  "Shall I air them, Mary Poppins?"

  Mary Poppins sniffed.

  "Don't trouble, thank you. You're much too busy, I'm sure! I'll get Michael to help me when he comes up."

  Jane blushed.

  "Please let me," she said. "I like helping. Besides I'm the eldest."

  Mary Poppins put her hands on her hips and regarded Jane thoughtfully for a moment.

  "Humph!" she said at last. "Don't burn them, then! I've enough holes to mend as it is."

  And she handed Jane the nightgowns.

  "But it couldn't really have happened!" scoffed Michael a little later when he heard of Jane's adventure. "You'd be much too big for the Bowl."

  She thought for a moment. Somehow, as she told the story, it did seem rather impossible.

  "I suppose it couldn't," she admitted. "But it seemed quite real at the time."

  "I expect you just thought it. You're always thinking things." He felt rather superior because he himself didn't ever think at all.

  "You two and your thoughts!" said Mary Poppins crossly, pushing them aside as she dumped the Twins into their cots.

  "And now," she snapped, when John and Barbara were safely tucked in, "perhaps I shall have a moment to myself."

  She took the pins out of her hat and thrust it back into its brown-paper bag. She unclipped the locket and put it carefully away in a drawer. Then she slipped off her coat, shook it out, and hung it on the peg behind the door.

  "Why, where's your new scarf?" said Jane. "Have you lost it?"

  "She couldn't have," said Michael. "She had it on when she came home. I saw it."

  Mary Poppins turned on them.

  "Be good enough to mind your own affairs," she said snappily, "and let me mind mine!"

  "I only wanted to help—" Jane began.

  "I can help myself, thank you!" said Mary Poppins, sniffing.

  Jane turned to exchange looks with Michael. But this time it was he who took no notice. He was staring at the mantel-piece as if he could not believe his eyes.

  "What is it, Michael?"

  "You didn't just think it, after all!" he whispered, pointing.

  Jane looked up at the mantel-piece. There lay the Royal Doulton Bowl with the crack running right across it. There were the meadow grasses and the wood of alders. And there were the three little boys playing horses, two in front and one running behind with the whip.

  But — around the leg of the driver was knotted a small white handkerchief and, sprawling across the grass, as though someone had dropped it as they ran, was a red-and-white checked scarf. At one end of it was stitched a large white label bearing the initials—

  M.P.

  "So that's where she lost it!" said Michael, nodding his head wisely. "Shall we tell her we've found it?"

  Jane glanced round. Mary Poppins was buttoning on her apron and looking as if the whole world had insulted her.

  "Better not," she said, softly "I expect she knows."

  For a moment Jane stood there, gazing at the cracked Bowl, the knotted handkerchief and the scarf.

  Then with a wild rush she ran across the room and flung herself upon the starched white figure.

  "Oh," she cried, "oh, Mary Poppins! I'll never be naughty again."

  A faint smile twinkled at the corners of Mary Poppins' mouth as she smoothed out the creases from her apron.

  "Humph!" was all she said….

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Topsy-Turvy

  Keep close to me, please!" said Mary Poppins, stepping out of the Bus and putting up her umbrella, for it was raining heavily.

  Jane and Michael scrambled out after her.

  "If I keep close to you the drips from your umbrella run down my neck," complained Michael.

  "Don't blame me, then, if you get lost and have to ask a Policeman!" snapped Mary Poppins, as she neatly avoided a puddle.

  She paused outside the Chemist's shop at the corner so that she could see herself reflected in the three gigantic bottles in the window. She could see a Green Mary Poppins, a Blue Mary Poppins and a Red Mary Poppins all at once. And each one of them was carrying a brand-new leather hand-bag with brass knobs on it.

  Mary Poppins looked at herself in the three bottles and smiled a pleased and satisfied smile. She spent some minutes changing the hand-bag from her right hand to her left, trying it in every possible position to see how it looked best. Then she decided that, after all, it was most effective when tucked under her arm. So she left it there.

  Jane and Michael stood beside her, not daring to say anything but glancing across at each other and sighing inside themselves. And from two points of her parrot-handled umbrella the rain trickled uncomfortably down the backs of their necks.

  "Now then — don't keep me waiting!" said Mary Poppins crossly, turning away from the Green, Blue and Red reflections of herself. Jane and Michael exchanged glances. Jane signalled to Michael to keep quiet. She shook her head and made a face at him. But he burst out—

  "We weren't. It was you keeping us waiting—!"

  "Silence!"

  Michael did not dare to say any more. He and Jane trudged along, one on either side of Mary Poppins. Sometimes they had t
o run to keep up with her long, swift strides. And sometimes they had to wait about, standing first on one leg and then on the other, while she peered into a window to make sure the hand-bag looked as nice as she thought it did.

  The rain poured down, dancing from the top of the umbrella on to Jane's and Michael's hats. Under her arm Jane carried the Royal Doulton Bowl wrapped carefully in two pieces of paper. They were taking it to Mary Poppins' cousin, Mr. Turvy, whose business, she had told Mrs. Banks, was mending things.

  "Well," Mrs. Banks had said, rather doubtfully, "I hope he will do it satisfactorily, for until it is mended I shall not be able to look my Great-Aunt Caroline in the face."

  Great-Aunt Caroline had given Mrs. Banks the bowl when Mrs. Banks was only three, and it was well-known that if it were broken Great-Aunt Caroline would make one of her famous scenes.

  "Members of my family, ma'am," Mary Poppins had retorted with a sniff, "always give satisfaction."

  And she had looked so fierce that Mrs. Banks felt quite uncomfortable and had to sit down and ring for a cup of tea.

  Swish!

  There was Jane, right in the middle of a puddle.

  "Look where you're going, please!" snapped Mary Poppins, shaking her umbrella and tossing the drips over Jane and Michael. "This rain is enough to break your heart."

  "If it did, could Mr. Turvy mend it?" enquired Michael. He was interested to know if Mr. Turvy could mend all broken things or only certain kinds. "Could he, Mary Poppins?"

  "One more word," said Mary Poppins, "and Back Home you go!"

  "I only asked," said Michael sulkily.

  "Then don't!"

  Mary Poppins, with an angry sniff, turned the corner smartly and, opening an old iron gate, knocked at the door of a small tumble-down building.

  "Tap-tap-tappity-tap!" The sound of the knocker echoed hollowly through the house.

  "Oh, dear," Jane whispered to Michael, "how awful if he's out!"

  But at that moment heavy footsteps were heard tramping towards them, and with a loud rattle the door opened.

  A round, red-faced woman, looking more like two apples placed one on top of the other than a human being, stood in the doorway. Her straight hair was scraped into a knob at the top of her head and her thin mouth had a cross and peevish expression.

  "Well!" she said, staring. "It's you or I'm a Dutchman!"

  She did not seem particularly pleased to see Mary Poppins. Nor did Mary Poppins seem particularly pleased to see her.

  "Is Mr. Turvy in?" she enquired, without taking any notice of the round woman's remark.

  "Well," said the round woman in an unfriendly voice, "I wouldn't be certain. He may be or he may not. It's all a matter of how you look at it."

  Mary Poppins stepped through the door and peered about her.

  "That's his hat, isn't it?" she demanded, pointing to an old felt hat that hung on a peg in the hall.

  "Well, it is, of course — in a manner of speaking." The round woman admitted the fact unwillingly.

  "Then he's in," said Mary Poppins. "No member of my family ever goes out without a hat. They're much too respectable."

  "Well, all I can tell you is what he said to me this morning," said the round woman. 'Miss Tartlet,' he said, 'I may be in this afternoon and I may not. It is quite impossible to tell.' That's what he said. But you'd better go up and see for yourself. I'm not a mountaineer."

  The round woman glanced down at her round body and shook her head. Jane and Michael could easily understand that a person of her size and shape would not want to climb up and down Mr. Turvy's narrow rickety stairs very often.

  Mary Poppins sniffed.

  "Follow me, please!" she snapped the words at Jane and Michael, and they ran after her up the creaking stairs.

  Miss Tartlet stood in the hall watching them with a superior smile on her face.

  At the top landing Mary Poppins knocked on the door with the head of her umbrella. There was no reply. She knocked again — louder this time. Still there was no answer.

  "Cousin Arthur!" she called through the key-hole. "Cousin Arthur, are you in?"

  "No, I'm out!" came a far-away voice from within.

  "How can he be out? I can hear him!" whispered Michael to Jane.

  "Cousin Arthur!" Mary Poppins rattled the door-handle. "I know you're in."

  "No, no, I'm not," came the far-away voice. "I'm out, I tell you. It's the Second Monday!"

  "Oh, dear — I'd forgotten!" said Mary Poppins, and with an angry movement she turned the handle and flung open the door.

  At first all that Jane and Michael could see was a large room that appeared to be quite empty except for a carpenter's bench at one end. Piled upon this was a curious collection of articles — china dogs with no noses, wooden horses that had lost their tails, chipped plates, broken dolls, knives without handles, stools with only two legs — everything in the world, it seemed, that could possibly want mending.

  Round the walls of the room were shelves reaching from floor to ceiling and these, too, were crowded with cracked china, broken glass and shattered toys.

  But there was no sign anywhere of a human being.

  "Oh," said Jane in a disappointed voice. "He is out, after all!"

  But Mary Poppins had darted across the room to the window.

  "Come in at once, Arthur! Out in the rain like that, and you with bronchitis the winter before last!"

  And to their amazement Jane and Michael saw her grasp a long leg that hung across the window-sill and pull in from the outer air a tall, thin, sad-looking man with a long drooping moustache.

  "You ought to be ashamed of yourself," said Mary Poppins crossly, keeping a firm hold of Mr. Turvy with one hand while she shut the window with the other. "We've brought you some important work to do and here you are behaving like this."

  "Well, I can't help it," said Mr. Turvy apologetically, mopping his sad eyes with a large handkerchief. "I told you it was the Second Monday."

  "What does that mean?" asked Michael, staring at Mr. Turvy with interest.

  "Ah," said Mr. Turvy turning to him and shaking him limply by the hand. "It's kind of you to enquire. Very kind. I do appreciate it, really." He paused to wipe his eyes again. "You see," he went on, "it's this way. On the Second Monday of the month everything goes wrong with me."

  "What kind of things?" asked Jane, feeling very sorry for Mr. Turvy but also very curious.

  "Well, take to-day!" said Mr. Turvy. "This happens to be the Second Monday of the month. And because I want to be in — having so much work to do — I'm automatically out. And if I wanted to be out, sure enough, I'd be in."

  "I see," said Jane, though she really found it very difficult to understand. "So that's why—?"

  "Yes," Mr. Turvy nodded. "I heard you coming up the stairs and I did so long to be in. So, of course, as soon as that happened — there I was — out! And I'd be out still if Mary Poppins weren't holding on to me." He sighed heavily.

  "Of course, it's not like this all the time. Only between the hours of three and six — but even then it can be very awkward."

  "I'm sure it can," said Jane sympathetically.

  "And it's not as if it was only In and Out—" Mr.

  Turvy went on miserably. "It's other things, too. If I try to go up stairs, I find myself running down. I have only to turn to the right and I find myself going to the left. And I never set off for the West without immediately finding myself in the East."

  Mr. Turvy blew his nose.

  "And worst of all," he continued, his eyes filling again with tears, "my whole nature alters. To look at me now, you'd hardly believe I was really a happy and satisfied sort of person — would you?"

  And, indeed, Mr. Turvy looked so melancholy and distressed that it seemed quite impossible he could ever have been cheerful and contented.

  "But why? Why?" demanded Michael, staring up at him.

  Mr. Turvy shook his head sadly.

  "Ah!" he said solemnly. "I should have been a girl."
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  Jane and Michael stared at him and then at each other. What could he mean?

  "You see," Mr. Turvy explained, "my Mother wanted a girl and it turned out, when I arrived, that I was a boy. So I went wrong right from the beginning — from the day I was born you might say. And that was the Second Monday of the month."

  Mr. Turvy began to weep again, sobbing gently into his handkerchief.

  Jane patted his hand kindly.

  He seemed pleased, though he did not smile.

  "And, of course," he went on, "it's very bad for my work. Look up there!"

  He pointed to one of the larger shelves on which were standing a row of hearts in different colours and sizes, each one cracked or chipped or entirely broken.

  "Now, those," said Mr. Turvy, "are wanted in a great hurry. You don't know how cross people get if I don't send their hearts back quickly. They make more fuss about them than anything else. And I simply daren't touch them till after six o'clock. They'd be ruined — like those things!"

  He nodded to another shelf. Jane and Michael looked and saw that it was piled high with things that had been wrongly mended. A china shepherdess had been separated from her china shepherd and her arms were glued about the neck of a brass lion; a toy sailor whom somebody had wrenched from his boat, was firmly stuck to a willow-pattern plate; and in the boat, with his trunk curled round the mast and fixed there with sticking-plaster, was a grey-flannel elephant. Broken saucers were riveted together the wrong way of the pattern and the leg of a wooden horse was firmly attached to a silver Christening mug.

  "You see?" said Mr. Turvy hopelessly, with a wave of his hand.

  Jane and Michael nodded. They felt very, very sorry for Mr. Turvy.

  "Well, never mind that now," Mary Poppins broke in impatiently. "What is important is this Bowl. We've brought it to be mended."

  She took the Bowl from Jane and, still holding Mr. Turvy with one hand, she undid the string with the other.

  "H'm," said Mr. Turvy. "Royal Doulton. A bad crack. Looks as though somebody had thrown something at it."

  Jane felt herself blushing as he said that.

  "Still," he went on, "if it were any other day, I could mend it. But to-day—" he hesitated.