Her shadow lightly waved its hand and the Bird Woman gave a contented chuckle. For now, beneath each grey dove, a dark shadow was flying.
“Feed the birds!” she shouted gaily.
“Tuppence a bag!” said her shadow.
“Tuppence, fourpence, sixpence, eightpence – that makes twenty-four. No, it doesn’t. What’s the matter? I’ve forgotten how to add!”
Mr Banks came slowly across the Park with his bath-robe over his shoulders. His arms were stretched out straight before him and he walked with his eyes closed.
“We’re here, Daddy!” cried Jane and Michael. But Mr Banks took no notice.
“I’ve got my bag and the morning paper – and yet there’s something missing.”
“Take him home, someone!” the shadows cried. “He’s walking in his sleep!”
And one of them – in a shadowy coat and bowler hat – sprang to Mr Banks’ side.
“There, old chap! I’ll do the counting. Come along back to bed.”
Mr Banks turned obediently and his sleeping face lit up.
“I thought there was something missing,” he murmured. “But it seems I was mistaken!” He took his shadow by the arm and sauntered away with it.
“Seeking’s finding – eh, ducky?”The Bird Woman nudged her shadow. “Oh, beg pardon, Your Worship.” She bobbed a curtsey. “I wasn’t addressin’ you!”
For the Lord Mayor and two Aldermen were advancing along the Walk. Their big cloaks billowed out behind them and their chains of office jingled.
“I ’ope I find Your Honour well?” the Bird Woman murmured politely.
“You do not, Mrs Smith,” the Lord Mayor grumbled. “I am feeling very upset.”
“Upset, my boy?” shrieked Mrs Corry, dancing past with the Cow. “Well, an apple a day keeps the doctor away, as I used to remind my Great-Great-Grandson who was thrice Lord Mayor of London. Whittington, his name was. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”
“Your Great-Great-Grandfather you mean!” The Lord Mayor looked at her haughtily.
“Fiddlesticks! Indeed, I don’t. Well, what’s upsetting you?”
“A terrible misfortune, ma’am. I’ve lost—” He glanced around the Park and his eyes bulged in his head.
“That!” he cried, flinging out his hand. For there, indeed, was his portly shadow, doing its best to conceal itself from Fannie and Annie.
“Oh, bother!” it wailed. “What a nuisance you are! Couldn’t you let me have one night off? If you knew how weary I am of processions! And as for going to see the King—”
“Certainly not!” said the Lord Mayor, “I could never agree to appear in public without a suitable shadow. Such a suggestion is most improper and, what is more, undignified.”
“Well, you needn’t be so high and mighty. You’re only a Lord Mayor, you know – not the Shah of Baghdad!”
“Hic-Hic!” The Park Keeper stifled a snigger and the Lord Mayor turned to him sternly.
“Smith,” he declared, “this is your fault. You know the Rules and you break them all. Giving a party in the Park! What next, I wonder? I’m afraid there’s nothing for it, Smith, but to speak to the Lord High Chancellor!”
“It’s not my party, Yer Worship – please! Give me another chance, Yer Honour. Think of me pore old—”
“Don’t you worry about me, Fred!” The Bird Woman snapped her fingers sharply.
And at once the doves clapped their wings and swooped towards the Lord Mayor. They sat on his head, they sat on his nose, they tucked their tail-feathers down his neck and fluttered inside his cloak.
“Oh, don’t! I’m a ticklish man! Hee, hee!” The Lord Mayor, quite against his will, burst into helpless laughter.
“Remove these birds at once, Smith! I won’t be tickled – oh, ha, ha!”
He laughed, he crowed, he guffawed, he tittered, ducking and whirling among the dancers as he tried to escape the doves.
“Not under my chin! – Oh, oh! – Have mercy! Oof! There’s one inside my sleeve. Oh, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, hee! Dear me! Is that you, Miss Mary Poppins? Well, that makes all the – tee-hee! – difference. You’re so re– ho, ho! – spectable.” The Lord Mayor writhed as the soft feathers rustled behind his ears.
“What a wonderful party you’re having!” he shrieked. “Ha, ha! Ho, ho! I should have come sooner. Listen! I hear my favourite tune – ‘Over the hills and far away’!” Hee, hee! Ha, ha! And far away!”
“Is there anything the matter, Your Honour?”The Policeman, with Ellen on his arm, strode towards the revels.
“There is!” The Lord Mayor giggled wildly. “I’m ticklish and I can’t stop laughing. Everything seems so terribly funny – and you in particular. Do you realise you’ve lost your shadow? It’s over there on a swing – hee, hee! – – playing a concertina!”
“No shadow, sir? A concertina?” The Policeman gaped at the Lord Mayor as though he had lost his wits. “Nobody’s got a shadow, Your Honour. And shadows don’t play on concertinas – at least, not to my knowledge.”
“Don’t be so – tee-hee!” – silly, man. Everyone’s got a shadow!”
“Not at this moment, they haven’t, Your Worship! There’s a cloud coming over the moon!”
“Alas! A cloud! It came too soon! When shall we meet again?”
A shadowy wailing filled the air. For even as the Policeman spoke, the bright moon veiled her face. Darkness dropped like a cloak on the scene and before the eyes of the watching children every shadow vanished. The merry music died away. And as silence fell upon the Park the steeples above the sleeping City rang their midnight chime.
“Our time is up!” cried the plaintive voices. “Hallowe’en’s over! Away, away!”
Light as a breeze, past Jane and Michael, the invisible shadows swept.
“Farewell!” said one.
“Adieu!” another.
And a third at the edge of Jane’s ear piped a note on his flute.
“Feed the birds, tuppence a bag!” The Bird Woman whistled softly. And the doves crept out of the Lord Mayor’s sleeve and from under the brim of his hat.
Nine! Ten! Eleven! Twelve! The bells of midnight ceased.
“Farewell! Farewell!” called the fading voices.
“Over the hills and far away!” came the far-off fluting echo.
“Oh, Tom, the Piper’s Son,” cried Jane. “When shall we see you again?”
Then something softer than air touched them, enfolded them and drew them away.
“Who are you?” they cried in the falling night. They seemed to be floating on wings of darkness, over the Park and home.
And the answer came from without and within them.
“Your other selves – your shadows. . .”
“Hrrrrrumph!” The Lord Mayor gave himself a shake as though he were coming out of a dream.
“Farewell!” he murmured, waving his hand. “Though who – or what – I’m saying it to, I really do not know. I seemed to be part of a beautiful party. All so merry! But where have they gone?”