Mary Poppins Comes Back

by P. L. Travers

  “I do!” echoed Jane.

  Mary Poppins sniffed. “Then why not say so at once!” she said snappily. She crossed to the window and waved her hand to summon the Crumpet Man.

  Downstairs the front gate opened quickly with its usual noisy squeak. The Crumpet Man ran up the path and knocked at the Back Door. He was sure of an order from Number Seventeen, for all the Banks family were partial to crumpets.

  Mary Poppins turned away from the window and put a log on the fire.

  Michael gazed at her sleepily for a moment. Then he rubbed his eyes, and, with a start, he woke up completely.

  “I say!” he shouted. “I want my Pig! Where is it, Mary Poppins?”

  “Yes!” joined in Jane. “And I want Alfred! And where are the Blue Duck and Pinnie?”

  “On the top of the cupboard. Where else would they be?” said Mary Poppins crossly.

  They glanced up. There were the four toys standing in a row, exactly as she had left them. And in front of them lay Robinson Crusoe, The Green Fairy Book and Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes. But the books were no longer open as they had been last night. They were piled upon one another neatly and all were firmly closed.

  “But – how did they get back from the Park?” said Michael, very surprised.

  “And where is the Pig’s flute?” Jane exclaimed. “And your concertina!”

  It was now Mary Poppins’ turn to stare.

  “My – what?” she enquired, with an ominous look.

  “Your concertina, Mary Poppins! You played it last night in the Park!”

  Mary Poppins turned from the fire and came towards Jane, glaring.

  “I’d like you to repeat that, please!” Her voice was quiet, but dreadful. “Did I understand you to say, Jane Banks, that I was in the Park last night, playing a musical instrument? Me?”

  “But you were!” protested Michael bravely. “We were all there. You and the Toys and Jane and I. We were dancing with the Fairy-tales inside the Crack!”

  Mary Poppins stared at them as though her ears had betrayed her. The look on her face was Simply Frightful.

  “Fairy-tales inside the Crack? Humph! You’ll have Fairy-tales inside the Bath-room, if I hear One More Word. And the door locked, I promise you! Crack, indeed! Cracked, more likely!”

  And turning away disgustedly, she opened the door with an angry fling and hurried down the stairs.

  Michael was silent for a minute, thinking and remembering.

  “It’s funny,” he said presently. “I thought it was true. But I must have dreamed it.”

  Jane did not answer.

  She had suddenly darted out of bed and was putting a chair against the toy cupboard. She climbed up quickly and seized the animals and ran across to Michael.

  “Feel their feet!” she whispered excitedly.

  He ran his hand over the Pig’s trotters; he felt the grey-flannel hooves of Alfred, the Duck’s webbed feet and Pinnie’s paws.

  “They’re wet!” he said, with astonishment.

  Jane nodded.

  “And look!” she cried, snatching their slippers from under the beds and Mary Poppins’ shoes from the boot-box.

  The slippers were drenched and stained with dew; and on the soles of Mary Poppins’ shoes were wet little broken blades of grass, the sort of thing you would expect to find on shoes that have danced at night in the Park.

  Michael looked up at Jane and laughed.

  “It wasn’t a dream, then!” he said happily.

  Jane shook her head, smiling.

  They sat together on Michael’s bed, nodding knowingly at each other, saying in silence the secret things that could not be put into words.

  Presently Mary Poppins came in with the crumpets in her hand.

  They looked at her over the shoes and slippers.

  She looked at them over the plate of crumpets.

  A long, long look of understanding passed between the three of them. They knew that she knew that they knew.

  “Is today the New Year, Mary Poppins?” asked Michael.

  “Yes,” she said calmly, as she put the plate down on the table.

  Michael looked at her solemnly. He was thinking about the Crack.

  “Shall we too, Mary Poppins?” he asked, blurting out the question.

  “Shall you too, what?” she enquired with a sniff.

  “Live happily ever afterwards?” he said eagerly.

  A smile, half sad, half tender, played faintly round her mouth.

  “Perhaps,” she said thoughtfully. “It all depends.”

  “What on, Mary Poppins?”

  “On you,” she said quietly, as she carried the crumpets to the fire. . .

  Chapter Eight

  THE OTHER DOOR

  “IT WAS A Round-the-Mulberry-Bush sort of morning, cold and rather frosty. The pale grey daylight crept through the Cherry Trees and lapped like water over the houses. A little wind moaned through the gardens. It darted across the Park with a whistle and whined along the Lane.

  “Brrrrrr!” said Number Seventeen. “What can that wretched wind be doing – howling and fretting around like a ghost! Hi! Stop that, can’t you? You’re making me shiver!”

  “Whe-ew! Whe-ew! What shall I do?” cried the wind, taking no notice.

  Number Seventeen gave itself a little shake. “Fanciful – that’s what I am!” it said sensibly. “I must have slept too long. What’s that?”

  A raking noise came from inside the house. Robertson Ay was removing the ashes and laying fresh wood in the fireplaces.

  “Ah, that’s what I need!” said Number Seventeen, as Mary Poppins lit a fire in the Nursery. “Something to warm my chilly old bones. There goes that mournful wind again! I wish it would howl somewhere else!”

  “Whe-ee! Whe-ee! When will it be?” sobbed the wind among the Cherry Trees.

  The Nursery fire sprang up with a crackle. Behind their bars the bright flames danced and shone on the window-pane. Robertson Ay slouched down to the broom cupboard to take a rest from his morning labours. Mary Poppins bustled about, as usual, airing the clothes and preparing the breakfast.

  Jane had wakened before anyone else, for the howl of the wind had disturbed her. And now she sat on the window-seat, sniffing the delicious scent of toast and watching her reflection in the window. Half of the Nursery shone in the garden, a room made entirely of light. The flames of the fire were warm on her back, but another fire leapt and glowed before her. It danced in the air between the houses beneath the reflection of the mantelpiece. Out there another rocking-horse was tossing his dappled head; and from the other side of the window another Jane watched and nodded and smiled. When Jane breathed on the window-pane and drew a face in the misty circle, her reflection did the very same thing. And all the time she was breathing and drawing, she could see right through herself. Behind the face that smiled at her were the bare black boughs of the Cherry Trees, and right through the middle of her body was the wall of Miss Lark’s house.

  Presently the front door banged and Mr Banks went away to the City. Mrs Banks hurried into the drawing-room to answer the morning’s letters. Down in the kitchen Mrs Brill was having a kipper for breakfast. Ellen had caught another cold and was busily blowing her nose. And up in the Nursery the fire went pop! and Mary Poppins’ apron went crackle! Altogether, except for the wind outside, it was a peaceful morning.

  Not for very long, however. For Michael burst in with a sudden rush and stood in the doorway in his pyjamas. His eyes had a silver, sleepy look as he stood there staring at Mary Poppins. He stared at her face and he stared at her feet with an earnest, measuring, searching gaze that missed out no part of her. Then he said “Oh!” in a disappointed voice and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

  “Well? What’s the matter with you?” she enquired. “Lost sixpence and found a penny?”

  He shook his head dejectedly. “I dreamed you had turned into a beautiful princess. And here you are just the same as ever.”

  She bridled and gave her head
a toss. “Handsome is as Handsome does!” she said with a haughty sniff. “I’m perfectly well as I am, thank you! I’m satisfied, if you’re not.”

  Princess, indeed, you could see her thinking. As if any princess in the world wouldn’t give her eyes to be Mary Poppins!

  He flew to her side and tried to appease her.

  “Oh, I am satisfied, Mary Poppins!” he said eagerly. “I just thought that if the dream had come true it would be – er – a sort of change.”

  “Change!” she exclaimed with another sniff. “You’ll get all the changes you want soon enough – I promise you, Michael Banks!”

  He looked at her uneasily. What did she mean by that, he wondered.

  “I was only joking, Mary Poppins. I don’t want any changes, really! I only want you – for always!”

  And suddenly it seemed to him that princesses were very silly creatures with nothing to be said in their favour.

  “Humph!” said Mary Poppins crossly, as she plonked the toast on the table. “You can’t have anything for always – and don’t you think it, sir!”

  “Except you!” he retorted confidently, smiling his mischievous smile.

  A strange expression came over her face. But Michael did not notice it. Out of the corner of his eye he had seen what Jane was doing. And now he was climbing up beside her to breathe on another patch of window.

  “Look!” he said proudly. “I’m drawing a ship. And there’s another Michael outside drawing one igzackly like it!”

  “Um-hum!” said Jane, without looking up, as she gazed at her own reflection. Then suddenly she turned away and called to Mary Poppins.

  “Which is the real me, Mary Poppins? The one in here or the one out there?”

  With a bowl of porridge in her hand, Mary Poppins came and stood between them. Each time she breathed, her apron crackled, and the steam from the bowl went up with a puff. In silence she looked at her own reflection and smiled a satisfied smile.

  Then: “Is this a riddle?” she demanded, sniffing.

  “No, Mary Poppins,” Jane said eagerly. “It’s something I want to know.”

  For a moment they thought, as they looked at her, that she might be going to tell them. For her eyes grew soft and she lifted her hand as though to lay it on Jane’s shoulder. Then, apparently, she thought better of it, for she gave her head a scornful toss and turned away to the table.

  “I don’t know about you,” she said conceitedly, “but I’m glad to say that I’m real wherever I happen to be! Dress yourself, Michael, if you please! And Jane, you come to breakfast!”

  Under the gleam of those steely eyes they hurried to obey her. And by the time breakfast was over and they were sitting on the floor building a Castle out of rubber bricks, they had quite forgotten their reflections. Indeed, had they looked, they would not have found them, for the fire had settled to a rosy glow and the bright flames had gone.

  “That’s better!” said Number Seventeen, snuggling closer into the earth.

  The warmth from the fire crept through its bones and the house came alive as Mary Poppins went scuttling about it.

  Today she seemed even busier than usual. She sorted the clothes and tidied the drawers, sewed on odd buttons and mended socks. She put fresh papers on the shelves, let down the hems of Jane’s and Barbara’s frocks, and stitched new elastic into John’s hat and Michael’s. She collected Annabel’s old clothes and made them into a bundle for Mrs Brill’s niece’s baby. She cleaned out the cupboards, sorted the toys and put the books straight in the bookcases.

  “How busy she is! It makes me quite giddy!” said Michael in a whisper.

  But Jane said nothing. She gazed at the crackly, bustling figure. And a thought that she could not quite get hold of was wandering round in her mind. Something – was it a memory? – whispered a word that she couldn’t quite catch.

  And all through the morning, the Starling sat on the Next Door chimney and screeched his endless song. Every now and then he would dart across the garden and peer through the window at Mary Poppins with bright anxious eyes. And the wind went round and round the house, sighing and crying.

  The hours went by and lunch time came. And still Mary Poppins went on bustling like a very tidy tornado. She put fresh daffodils in the jam-jar; she straightened the furniture and shook out the curtains. The children felt the Nursery tremble beneath her ministering hand.

  “Will she never stop!” Michael complained to Jane, as he added a room to the Castle.

  And at that moment, as though Mary Poppins had heard what he said, she suddenly stood still.

  “There!” she exclaimed, as she looked at her handiwork. “It’s as Neat as a Pin. And I hope it remains so!”

  Then she took down her best blue coat and brushed it. She breathed on the buttons to make them shine and pinned the starfish brooch on her collar. She tweaked and pulled at her black straw hat till the daisies stood up as stiff as soldiers. Then she took off her wide crackling apron and buckled the snake-skin belt round her waist. The message written on it was clearly visible: “A Present from the Zoo,” it said, in large snaky letters.

  “You haven’t worn that for a long, long time,” said Michael, watching with interest.

  “I keep it for Best,” she replied calmly, as she twitched the belt into place.

  Then she took her umbrella from the corner and polished the parrot-head with beeswax. And after that, with a quiet smile, she plucked the Tape Measure from the mantelpiece and popped it into the pocket of her coat.

  Jane lifted her head quickly. Somehow, the sight of that bulging pocket made her feel strangely serious.

  “Why don’t you leave the Tape Measure there? It’s perfectly safe, Mary Poppins.”

  There was a pause. Mary Poppins appeared to be considering the question.

  “I have my reasons,” she said at last, as she gave a superior sniff.

  “But it’s always been on the mantelpiece, ever since you came back!”

  “That doesn’t mean that it always will be. What’s good for Monday won’t do for Friday,” she replied with her priggish smile.

  Jane turned away. What was the matter with her heart? It suddenly felt too big for her chest.

  “I’m lonely,” she said in a whisper to Michael, taking care not to look at him.

  “You can’t be lonely as long as I’m here!” He put his last brick on the roof of the Castle.

  “It’s not that kind of loneliness. I feel I’m going to lose something.”

  “Perhaps it’s your tooth,” he said, with interest. “Try it and see if it wobbles.”

  Jane shook her head quickly. Whatever it was she was going to lose, she knew it was not a tooth.

  “Oh, for just one more brick!” sighed Michael. “Everything’s done but the chimney!”

  Mary Poppins came swiftly across the room.

  “There you are! That’s what it needs!” she said. And she stooped and put one of her own dominoes in the place where the chimney should be.

  “Hooray! It’s completely finished!” he cried, glancing up at her with delight. Then he saw that she had placed the box of dominoes beside him. The sight of them made him feel queerly uneasy.

  “You mean. . .” he said, swallowing. “You mean – we may keep them?”

  He had always wanted those dominoes. But never before had Mary Poppins allowed him to touch her possessions. What did it mean? It was so unlike her. And suddenly, as she nodded at him, he too felt a pang of loneliness.

  “Oh!” he broke out, with an anxious wail. “What’s wrong, Mary Poppins? What can be the matter?”

  “Wrong!” Her eyes snapped angrily. “I give you a nice respectable present and that’s all the thanks I get! What’s wrong indeed! I’ll know better next time.”

  He rushed at her wildly and clutched her hand. “Oh, I didn’t mean that, Mary Poppins! I – thank you. It was just a sudden idea I had—”

  “Those ideas are going to get you into trouble one of these fine bright days. You mark my
words!” she snorted. “Now, get your hats, please, all of you! We’ll go for a walk to the Swings.”

  At the sight of that familiar glare their anxiety melted away. She was so like her usual outraged self that nothing, they thought, could really be wrong. They flew to get ready, shouting and laughing, and knocking the Castle down as they ran.

  The thin Spring sun shone over the Park as they hurried across the Lane. The greyness of the morning had vanished and the moaning wind had gone with it. Green smoke hung around the Cherry Trees where the small new leaves were sprouting. The scent of primroses was in the air and the birds were rehearsing their songs for Summer.

  “I’ll race you to the Swings!” shouted Michael.

  “We’ll have them all to ourselves!” cried Jane. For nobody else was in the clearing where the five swings stood and waited.

  In no time they had scrambled for places and Jane and Michael, John and Barbara were each on a swing of their own. Annabel, looking like a white woollen egg, shared hers with Mary Poppins.

  “Now – one, two, THREE!” cried Michael loudly, and the wings swayed from the cross-beam. Slowly and gently they went at first. And then, as the children worked their feet, the swings began to go faster. The taut ropes trembled within their hands; the wooden seats rocked in the moving air. Higher and higher the children swung, swooping like birds through the delicate sunlight. Up they went with their heads to the sky and down they came with their feet to the earth. The trees seemed to spread their branches below them; the roofs of the houses nodded and bowed.

  “It’s like flying!” Jane cried happily, as the earth turned a somersault under her feet. She glanced across at Michael. His hair was tossing in all directions as he rode through the air. The Twins were squeaking like excited mice. And beyond them, with a dignified air, Mary Poppins swung backwards and forwards. One hand held Annabel on her knee and the other grasped her umbrella. Up, up, she went, till her black straw hat was higher than the trees, then down she came with her neat black toes pointed towards the lawn. Her eyes, as she rode her flying swing, shone with a strange bright gleam. They were bluer than Jane had ever seen them, blue with the blueness of far-away. They seemed to look past the trees and houses, and out beyond all the seas and mountains, and over the rim of the world.