Mary Poppins Comes Back (8 page)

"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 William 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!"

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.