The Sun spoke.
“Now,” he said quietly, “the time has come. Back to your places in the sky, my Stars and Constellations. Home and to sleep, my dear three mortal guests. Mary Poppins, goodnight! I do not say Goodbye for we shall meet again. But – for a little time – Farewell, Farewell!”
Then, with a large and gracious movement of his head, the Sun leant across the space that separated him from Mary Poppins and, with great ceremony, carefully, lightly, swiftly, he brushed her cheek with his lips.
“Ah!” cried the Constellations enviously. “The Kiss! The Kiss!”
But as she received it, Mary Poppins’ hand flew to her cheek protectingly, as though the kiss had burnt it. A look of pain crossed her face for a moment. Then, with a smile, she lifted her head to the Sun.
“Farewell!” she said softly, in a voice Jane and Michael had never heard her use.
“Away!” cried the Sun, stretching out his whip. And obediently the Constellations began to rush from the ring. Castor and Pollux joined arms protectingly about the children, that the Great Bear might not brush them as he lumbered by, nor the Bull’s horns graze them, nor the Lion do them harm.
But in Jane’s ears and Michael’s the sounds of the ring were growing fainter. Their heads fell sideways, dropping heavily upon their shoulders. Other arms came round them and, as if in a dream, they heard the voice of Venus saying – “Give them to me! I am the Homeward Star. I bring the lamb to the fold and the child to its Mother.”
They gave themselves up to her rocking arms, swinging lightly with her as a boat swings with the tide.
To and fro, to and fro.
A light flickered across their eyes. Was that the Dragon going brightly by or the Nursery candle held guttering above them?
To and fro, to and fro.
They nestled down into soft, sweet warmth. Was it the lapping heat of the Sun? Or the eiderdown on a Nursery bed?
“I think it is the Sun,” thought Jane dreamily.
“I think it is my eiderdown,” thought Michael.
And a far-away voice, like a dream, like a breath, cried faintly, faintly – “It is whatever you think it is. Farewell. . . Farewell. . .”
Michael woke with a shout. He had suddenly remembered something.
“My overcoat! My overcoat! I left it under the Royal Box!”
He opened his eyes. He saw the painted duck at the end of his bed. He saw the mantelpiece with the Clock and the Royal Doulton Bowl and the Jam-jar full of green leaves. And he saw, hanging on its usual hook, his overcoat with his hat just above it.
“But where are the Stars?” he called, sitting up in bed and staring. “I want the Stars and Constellations!”
“Oh? Indeed?” said Mary Poppins, coming into the room and looking very stiff and starched in her clean apron. “Is that all? I wonder you don’t ask for the Moon too!”
“But I did!” he reminded her reproachfully. “And I got it too! But I squeezed it too tight and it bust!”
“Burst!”
“Well, burst, then!”
“Stuff!” she said, tossing him his dressing-gown.
“Is it morning already?” said Jane, gazing round the room and feeling very surprised to find herself in her own bed. “But how did we get back? I was dancing with the Twin stars, Castor and Pollux.”
“You two and your stars!” said Mary Poppins crossly, pulling back the blankets. “I’ll star you. Spit-spot out of bed, please! I’m late already.”
“I suppose you danced too long last night,” said Michael, bundling unwillingly out on to the floor.
“Danced? Humph, a lot of dancing I get a chance for, looking after the five worst children in the world!”
Mary Poppins sniffed and looked very sorry for herself, as if she hadn’t had enough sleep.
“But weren’t you dancing – on your Evening Out?” said Jane. For she was remembering how Mary Poppins and the Sun had waltzed together in the centre of the star-dust ring.
Mary Poppins opened her eyes wide. “I hope,” she remarked, drawing herself up haughtily, “I have something better to do with my Evening Out than to go round and round like a Careering Whirligig”
“But I saw you!” said Jane. “Up in the sky. You jumped down from the Royal Box and went to dance in the ring.”
Holding their breaths, she and Michael gazed at Mary Poppins as her face flushed red with fury.
“You,” she said shortly, “have been having a nice sort of nightmare, I must say. Who ever heard of me, a person in my position, jumping down from—”
“But I had the nightmare too,” interrupted Michael, “and it was lovely. Jane and I saw you!”
“What, jumping?”
“Er – yes – and dancing.”
“In the sky?” He trembled as she came towards him. Her face was dark and terrible. “One more insult. . .” she said threateningly, “just one more and you’ll find yourself dancing in the corner. So I warn you!”
He hurriedly looked the other way, and Mary Poppins, her very apron crackling with anger, flounced across the room to wake up the Twins.
Jane sat on her bed staring at Mary Poppins as she bent over the cots. Michael slowly put on his slippers and sighed. “We must have dreamt it after all,” he said sadly. “I wish it had been true.”
“It was true,” said Jane in a cautious whisper, her eyes still fixed on Mary Poppins.
“How do you know? Are you sure?”
“Look!” Mary Poppins’ head was bent over Barbara’s cot. Jane nodded towards it. “Look at her face!” she whispered in his ear.
Michael regarded Mary Poppins’ face steadily. There was the black hair looped behind the ears, there the familiar blue eyes so like a Dutch doll’s, and there were the turned-up nose and the red, shiny cheeks.
“I can’t see anything—” he began, and broke off suddenly. For now, as Mary Poppins turned her head, he saw what Jane had seen.
Burning bright, in the very centre of her cheek, was a small, fiery mark. And, looking closer, Michael saw that it was curiously shaped. It was round, with curly, flame-shaped edges, and like a very small sun.
“You see?” said Jane softly. “That’s where he kissed her.” Michael nodded – once, twice, three times.
“Yes,” he said, standing very still and staring at Mary Poppins. “I do see. I do. . .”
Chapter Eight
BALLOONS AND BALLOONS
“I WONDER, Mary Poppins,” said Mrs Banks, hurrying into the Nursery one morning, “if you will have time to do some shopping for me?”
And she gave Mary Poppins a sweet, nervous smile, as though she were uncertain what the answer would be.
Mary Poppins turned from the fire where she was airing Annabel’s clothes.
“I might,” she remarked, not very encouragingly.
“Oh, I see. . .” said Mrs Banks, and she looked more nervous than ever.
“Or again – I might not,” continued Mary Poppins, busily shaking out a woollen jacket and hanging it over the fire-guard.
“Well – in case you did have time, here is the list and here is a Pound Note. And, if there is any change left over, you may spend it!”