Mary Poppins in the Park

CHAPTER SIX Hallowe'en

Mary Poppins!" called Michael. "Wait for us!"

"W-a-a-a-i-t!" the wind echoed, whining round him.

It was a dusky, gusty autumn evening. The clouds blew in and out of the sky. And in all the houses of Cherry Tree Lane the curtains blew in and out of the windows. Swish-swish. Flap-flap.

The Park was tossing like a ship in a storm. Leaves and litter-paper turned head-over-heels in the air. The trees groaned and waved their arms, the spray of the fountain was blown and scattered. Benches shivered. Swings were creaking. The Lake water leapt into foamy waves. Nothing was still in the whole Park as it bowed and shuddered under the wind.

And through it all stalked Mary Poppins, with not a hair out of place. Her neat blue coat with its silver buttons was neither creased nor ruffled, and the tulip sat on her hat so firmly that it might have been made of marble.

Far behind her the children ran, splashing through drifts of leaves. They had been to Mr. Folly's stall for nuts and toffee-apples. And now they were trying to catch her up.

"Wait for us, Mary Poppins!"

In front of her, on the Long Walk, the perambulator trundled. The wind whistled through the wheels, and the Twins and Annabel clung together for fear of being blown overboard. Their tasselled caps were tossing wildly and the rug was flapping loose, like a flag.

"O-o-o-h!" they squeaked, like excited mice, as a sudden gust tore it free and carried it away.

Someone was coming down the path, bowling along like a tattered newspaper.

"Help!" shrilled a high, familiar voice. "Something has blown right over my hat! I can't see where I'm going."

It was Miss Lark, out for her evening walk. Her two dogs bounded on ahead and behind her the Professor straggled, with his hair standing on end.

"Is that you, Mary Poppins?" she cried, as she plucked the rug away from her face and flung it upon the perambulator. "What a dreadful night! Such a wild wind! I wonder you're not blown away!"

Mary Poppins raised her eyebrows and gave a superior sniff. If the wind blew anyone away, it would not be herself, she thought.

"What do you mean — a dreadful night?" Admiral Boom strode up behind them. His dachshund, Pompey, was at his heels, wearing a little sailor's jacket to keep him from catching cold.

"It's a perfect night, my dear lady, for a life on the ocean wave!

Sixteen men on a dead man's chest

Yo, ho, ho! And a bottle of rum.

You must sail the Seven Seas, Lucinda!"

"Oh — I couldn't sit on a dead man's chest!" Miss Lark seemed quite upset at the thought. "Nor drink rum, either, Admiral. Do keep up, Professor, please. There — my scarf has blown away! Oh, goodness, now the dogs have gone!"

"Perhaps they've blown away, too!" The Professor glanced up into a tree, looking for Andrew and Willoughby. Then he peered short-sightedly down the Walk.

"Ah, here they come!" he murmured vaguely. "How strange they look with only two legs!"

"Two legs!" said Miss Lark reproachfully. "How absent-minded you are, Professor. Those aren't my darling, precious dogs — they're only Jane and Michael."

The Admiral whipped out his telescope and clapped it to his eye.

"Ahoy, there, shipmates!" he roared to the children.

"Look!" shouted Michael, running up. "I put out my hand to hold my cap and the wind blew a leaf right into it!"

"And one into mine the same minute!" Jane panted behind him.

They stood there, laughing and glowing, with their packages held against their chests and the star-shaped maple leaves in their hands.

"Thank you," said Mary Poppins firmly, as she plucked the leaves from between their fingers, gave them a scrutinising glance and popped them into her pocket.

"Catch a leaf, a message brief!" Miss Lark's voice shrieked above the wind. "But, of course, it's only an old wives' tale. Ah, there you are, dear dogs — at last! Take my hand, Professor, please. We must hurry home to safety."

And she shooed them all along before her, with her skirts blowing out in every direction.

Michael hopped excitedly. "Was it a message, Mary Poppins?"

"That's as may be," said Mary Poppins, turning up her nose to the sky.

"But we caught them!" Jane protested.

"C. caught it. G. got it," she answered, with annoying calm.

"Will you show us when we get home?" screamed Michael, his voice floating away.

"Home is the sailor, home from the sea!" The Admiral took off his hat with a flourish. "Au revoir, messmates and Miss Poppins! Up with the anchor, Pompey!"

"Ay, ay, sir!" Pompey seemed to be saying, as he galloped after his master.

Michael rummaged in his package.

"Mary Poppins, why didn't you wait? I wanted to give you a toffee-apple."

"Time and tide wait for no man," she answered priggishly.

He was just about to ask what time and tide had to do with toffee-apples, when he caught her disapproving look.

"A pair of Golliwogs — that's what you are! Just look at your hair! Sweets to the sweet," she added conceitedly, as she took the sticky fruit he offered and nibbled it daintily.

"It's not our fault, it's the wind!" said Michael, tossing the hair from his brow.

"Well, the quicker you're into it the quicker you're out of it!" She thrust the perambulator forward under the groaning trees.

"Look out! Be careful! What are you doin'?"

A howl of protest rent the air as a figure, clutching his tie and his cap, lurched sideways in the dusk.

"Remember the bye-laws! Look where you're goin'! You can't knock over the Park Keeper."

Mary Poppins gave him a haughty stare.

"I can if he's in my way," she retorted. "You'd no right to be there."

"I've a right to be anywhere in the Park. It's in the Regulations." He peered at her through the gathering dark and staggered back with a cry.

"Toffee-apples? And bags o' nuts? Then it must be 'Allowe'en! I might 'ave known it—" His voice shook. "You don't get a wind like this for nothin'. O-o-ow!" He shuddered. "It gives me the 'Orrors. I'll leave the Park to look after itself. This is no night to be out."

"Why not?" Jane handed him a nut. "What happens at Hallowe'en?"

The Park Keeper's eyes grew as round as plates. He glanced nervously over his shoulder and leant towards the children.

"Things," he said in a hoarse whisper, "come out and walk in the night. I don't know what they are quite — never 'avin' seen them — ghosts, perhaps, or h'apparitions. Anyway, it's spooky. Hey — what's that?" He clutched his stick. "Look! There's one of them up there — a white thing in the trees!"

A light was gleaming among the branches, turning their black to silver. The wind had blown the clouds away and a great bright globe rode through the sky.

"It's only the moon!" Jane and Michael laughed. "Don't you recognise it?"

"Ah—" The Park Keeper shook his head. "It looks like the moon and it feels like the moon. And it may be the moon—but it may not. You never can tell on 'Allowe'en!"

And he turned up his coat-collar and hurried away, not daring to look behind him.

"Of course it's the moon," said Michael stoutly. "There's moonlight on the grass!"

Jane gazed at the blowing, shining scene.

"The bushes are dancing in the wind. Look! There's one coming towards us — a small bush and two larger ones. Oh, Mary Poppins, perhaps they're ghosts?" She clutched a fold of the blue coat. "They're coming nearer, Mary Poppins! I'm sure they're apparitions!"

"I don't want to see them!" Michael screamed. He seized the end of the parrot umbrella as though it were an anchor.

"Apparitions, indeed!" shrieked the smallest bush. "Well, I've heard myself called many things — Charlemagne said I looked like a fairy and Boadicea called me a goblin — but nobody ever said to my face that I was an apparition. Though I dare say" — the bush gave a witchlike cackle—"that I often look like one!"

A skinny little pair of legs came capering towards them and a wizened face, like an old apple, peered out through wisps of hair.

Michael drew a long breath.

"It's only Mrs. Corry!" he said, loosing his hold on the parrot umbrella.

"And Miss Fannie and Miss Annie!" Jane waved in relief to the two large bushes.

"How de do?" said their mournful voices, as Mrs. Corry's enormous daughters caught up with their tiny mother.

"Well, here we are again, my dears — as I heard St. George remark to the Dragon. Just the kind of night for—" Mrs. Corry looked at Mary Poppins and gave her a knowing grin. "For all sorts of things," she concluded. "You got a message, I hope!"

"Thank you kindly, Mrs. Corry. I have had a communication."

"What message?" asked Michael inquisitively. "Was it one on a leaf?"

Mrs. Corry cocked her head. And her coat — which was covered with threepenny-bits — twinkled in the moonlight.

"Ah," she murmured mysteriously. "There are so many kinds of communication! You look at me, I look at you, and something passes between us. John o' Groats could send me a message, simply by dropping an eyelid. And once — five hundred years ago — Mother Goose handed me a feather. I knew exactly what it meant—'Come to dinner. Roast Duck'!"

"And a tasty dish it must have been! But, excuse me, Mrs. Corry, please — we must be getting home. This is no night for dawdling — as you will understand." Mary Poppins gave her a meaning look.

"Quite right, Miss Poppins! Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and — Now, who was it first told me that — Robert the Bruce? No, I've forgotten!"

"See you later," said Fannie and Annie, waving to Jane and Michael.

"Later?" said Jane. "But we're going to bed."

"There you go — you galumphing giraffes! Can't you ever open your mouths without putting your feet into them? They mean, my dears," said Mrs. Corry, "they'll be seeing you later in the year! November, perhaps, or after Christmas. Unless, of course" — her smile widened—"unless you are very clever! Well, good night and sleep well!"

She held out her little wrinkled hands and Jane and Michael both sprang forward.

"Look out! Look out!" she shrieked at them. "You're stepping on my shadow!"

"Oh — I'm sorry!" They both jumped back in alarm.

"Deary goodness — you gave me a turn!" Mrs. Corry clapped her hand to her heart. "Two of you standing right on its head — the poor thing will be distressed!"

They looked at her in astonishment and then at the little patch of black that lay on the windy grass.

"But I didn't think shadows could feel," said Jane.

"Not feel! What nonsense!" cried Mrs. Corry. "They feel twice as much as you do. I warn you, children, take care of your shadows or your shadows won't take care of you. How would you like to wake one morning and find they had run away? And what's a man without a shadow? Practically nothing, you might say!"

"I wouldn't like it at all," said Michael, glancing at his own shadow rippling in the wind. He realised, for the first time, how fond he was of it.

"Exactly!" Mrs. Corry snorted. "Ah, my love," she crooned to her shadow. "We've been through a lot together — haven't we? — you and I. And never a hair of your head hurt till these two went and stepped on it. All right, all right, don't look so glum!" She twinkled at Jane and Michael. "But remember what I say — take care! Fannie and Annie, stir your stumps. Look lively — if you possibly can!"

And off she trotted between her daughters, bending sideways now and again to blow a kiss to her shadow.

"Now, come along. No loitering," said Mary Poppins briskly.

"We're keeping an eye on our shadows!" said Jane. "We don't want anything to hurt them."

"You and your shadows," said Mary Poppins, "can go to bed — spit-spot!"

And sure enough that was what they did. In next to no time they had eaten their supper, undressed before the crackling fire and bounced under the blankets.

The nursery curtains blew in and out and the night-light flickered on the ceiling.

"I see my shadow and my shadow sees me!" Jane looked at the neatly brushed head reflected on the wall. She nodded in a friendly way and her shadow nodded back.

"My shadow and I are two swans!" Michael held his arm in the air and snapped his fingers together. And upon the wall a long-necked bird opened and closed its beak.

"Swans!" said Mary Poppins, sniffing, as she laid her coat and tulip hat at the end of her camp-bed. "Geese more like it, I should say!"

The canvas creaked as she sprang in.

Michael craned his neck and called: "Why don't you hang up your coat, Mary Poppins, the way you always do?"

"My feet are cold, that's why! Now, not another word!"

He looked at Jane. Jane looked at him. They knew it was only half an answer. What was she up to tonight, they wondered. But Mary Poppins never explained. You might as well ask the Sphinx.

"Tick!" said the clock on the mantelpiece.

They were warm as toast inside their beds. And their beds were warm inside the nursery. And the nursery was warm inside the house. And the howling of the wind outside made it seem warmer still.

They leaned their cheeks upon their palms and let their eyelids fall.

"Tock!" said the clock on the mantelpiece.

But neither of them heard….

"What is it?" Jane murmured sleepily. "Who's scratching my nose?"

"It's me!" said Michael in a whisper. He was standing at the side of her bed with a wrinkled leaf in his hand.

"I've been scratching it for ages, Jane! The front door banged and woke me up and I found this on my pillow. Look! There's one on yours, too. And Mary Poppins' bed is empty and her coat and hat have gone!"

Jane took the leaves and ran to the window.

"Michael," she cried, "there was a message. One leaf says 'Come' and the other 'Tonight.'"

"But where has she gone? I can't see her!" He craned his neck and looked out.

All was quiet. The wind had dropped. Every house was fast asleep. And the full moon filled the world with light.

"Jane! There are shadows in the garden — and not a single person!"

He pointed to two little dark shapes — one in pyjamas, one in a nightgown — that were floating down the front path and through the garden railings.

Jane glanced at the nursery walls and ceiling. The night-light glowed like a bright eye. But in spite of that steady, watchful gleam there was not a single shadow!

"They're ours, Michael! Put something on. Quick — we must go and catch them!"

He seized a sweater and followed her, tip-toeing down the creaking stairs and out into the moonlight.

Cherry Tree Lane was calm and still, but from the Park came strains of music and trills of high-pitched laughter.

The children, clutching their brown leaves, dashed through the Lane Gate. And something, light as snow or feathers, fell upon Michael's shoulder. Something gentler than air brushed against Jane's cheek.

"Touched you last!" two voices cried. And they turned and beheld their shadows.

"But why did you run away?" asked Jane, gazing at the transparent face that looked so like her own.

"We're guests at the Party." Her shadow smiled.

"What party?" Michael demanded.

"It's Hallowe'en," his shadow told him. "The night when every shadow is free. And this is a very special occasion. For one thing, there's a full moon — and it falls on the Birthday Eve. But come along, we mustn't be late!"

And away the two little shadows flitted, with the children solidly running behind them.

The music grew louder every second, and as they darted round the laurels they beheld a curious sight.

The whole playground was thronged with shadows, each of them laughing and greeting the others and hopping about in the moonlight. And the strange thing was that, instead of lying flat on the ground, they were all standing upright. Long shadows, short shadows, thin shadows, fat shadows, were bobbing, hobnobbing, bowing, kowtowing, and passing in and out of each other with happy cries of welcome.

In one of the swings sat a helmeted shape, playing a concertina. It smiled and waved a shadowy hand, and Jane and Michael saw at once that it belonged to the Policeman.

"Got your invitations?" he cried. "No human beings allowed in without a special pass!"

Jane and Michael held up their leaves.

"Good!" The Policeman's shadow nodded. "Bless you!" he added, as a shape beside him was seized with a fit of sneezing.

Could it be Ellen's shadow? Yes — and blowing a shadowy nose!

"Good evening!" murmured a passing shape. "If any evening's good!"

Its dreary voice and long face reminded Jane of the Fishmonger. And surely the jovial shadow beside it belonged to the Family Butcher! A shadowy knife was in his hand, a striped apron about his waist, and he led along an airy figure with horns upon its head.

"Michael!" said Jane in a loud whisper. "I think that's the Dancing Cow!"

But Michael was too absorbed to answer. He was chatting to a furry shape that was lazily trimming its whiskers.

"My other part," it said, miaowing, "is asleep on the mantelpiece. So, of course — this being Hallowe'en — I took the evening off!" It adjusted a shadowy wreath of flowers that was looped about its neck.

"The Cat that looked at the King!" exclaimed Jane. She put out a hand to stroke its head, but all she felt was the air.

"Well, don't let him come near me!" cried a voice. "I've quite enough troubles as it is, without having cats to deal with."

A plump, bird-like shape tripped past, nodding abstractedly at the children.

"Poor old Cock Robin — and his troubles!" The shadowy Cat gave a shadowy yawn. "He's never got over that funeral and all the fuss there was."

"Cock Robin? But he's a Nursery Rhyme. He doesn't exist!" said Jane.

"Doesn't exist? Then why am I here?" The phantom bird seemed quite annoyed. "You can have a substance without a shadow, but you can't have a shadow without a substance — anyone knows that! And what about them — don't they exist?"

It waved a dark transparent wing at a group of airy figures — a tall boy lifting a flute to his mouth, and a bulky shape, with a crown on its head, clasping a bowl and a pipe. Beside them stood three phantom fiddlers holding their bows aloft.

A peal of laughter burst from Michael. "That's the shadow of Old King Cole. It's exactly like the picture!"

"And Tom, the Piper's son, too!" Cock Robin glared at Jane. "If they're shadows, they must be shadows of something—deny it if you can!"

"Balloons and balloons, my deary ducks! No arguing tonight!" A cosy little feminine shape, with balloons bobbing about her bonnet, whizzed through the air above them.

"Have the goodness, please, to be more careful. You nearly went through my hat!"

A trumpeting voice that was somehow familiar sounded amid the laughter. The children peered through the weaving crowd. Could it be? — yes, it was — Miss Andrew! Or rather, Miss Andrew's shadow. The same beaked nose, the same small eyes, the grey veil over the felt hat and the coat of rabbit fur.

"I haven't come from the South Seas to have my head knocked off!"

Shaking its fist at the Balloon Woman, Miss Andrew's shadow protested loudly. "And who's that pulling my veil?" it cried, turning on two little dark shapes, who dashed away, screaming with terror.

Jane and Michael nudged each other. "Ours!" they whispered, giggling.

"Make way! Move on! The Prime Minister's comin'!" A shadow in a peaked cap waved the children aside.

"Oh, it's you, is it? Well, remember the Bye-laws! Don't get in anyone's way." The phantom face — moustache and all — was exactly like the Park Keeper's.

"I thought you'd have been too frightened to come. You said it was spooky!" Jane reminded him.

"Oh, I'm not frightened, Miss — it's 'im. My body, so to speak. A very nervous chap 'e is — afraid of 'is own shadow. Ha, ha! Excuse my little joke! Make room! Move on! Observe the rules!"

The Prime Minister's shadow floated by, bowing to right and left.

"Greeting, friends! What a wonderful night. Dear me!" He stared at Jane and Michael. "You're very thick and lumpish!"

"Hsssst!" The shadow of the Park Keeper muttered in his ear. "Invitation… special occasion… friends of… whisper, whisper."

"Ah! If that's the case, you're very welcome. But do be careful where you tread. We don't like to be stepped on."

"One of them's stepping on me, I think!" A nervous voice seemed to come from the grass.

Michael carefully shifted his feet as the shadow of the Keeper of the Zoological Gardens came crawling past on all fours.

"Any luck?" cried the crowd excitedly.

"Hundreds!" came the happy reply. "Red Admirals. Blue Admirals. Spotted Bermudas. Pink Amazons. Chinese Yellows!"

He waved the shadow of his net. It was full of butterfly shadows.

"Well, I know one you haven't got — and that's an Admiral Boom!" A shadow in a cocked hat, with a spectral dachshund at its heels, elbowed its way through the throng. "Very rare specimen indeed. Largest butterfly in the world! All hail, my hearties!"

"Yo, ho, ho! And a bottle of rum!" The shadows yelled in reply.

The Admiral's shadow turned to the children.

"Welcome aboard!" it said, winking. '"Catch a leaf, a message brief — only an old wives' tale — hey? Ah, here she comes! Your servant, ma'am."

The cocked hat bowed to a broad shadow that was sailing through the see-saw. It was dressed in a shadowy swirl of skirts, and a swarm of little weightless shapes fluttered about its head.

"The Bird Woman!" whispered Jane to Michael.

"Who are you callin' an old wife? Feed the birds! Tuppence a bag!"

A cry of pleasure went up from the crowd as everyone greeted the new arrival. The children saw their own reflections running to kiss her cheeks, and as though — tonight—they were the shadows, they hurried after them.

The party was growing more and more lively. The whole Park was ringing with laughter. And above the voices, high and sweet, came the reedy note of the flute.

"Over the hills and far a way!" played Tom, the Piper's son.

And in Cherry Tree Lane the people lying in bed listened and huddled under the blankets.

"It's Hallowe'en!" each said to himself. "Of course I don't believe in ghosts — but listen to them shrieking!"

They would have been surprised, perhaps, had they dared to look out of the window.

Every second the crowd thickened. And it seemed to the children as they watched that everyone they had ever known had a shadow at the party. Was that Aunt Flossie's? They could not tell. She was there and gone again. And surely those were John's and Barbara's flitting among the leaves!

"Well, lovies?" murmured the Bird Woman's shadow, as it smiled at the four young faces — a girl with her airy shape beside her and a boy arm-in-arm with his double.

"Quack-quack!" said a voice at the same moment.

"Oh, Goosey Gander, wait for us!" And away went the airy children.

The Bird Woman's shadow gathered its skirts and made room on the bench for Jane and Michael.

"My!" she exclaimed, as her arms went round them. "You're solid and no mistake!"

"That's because we're real," said Jane.

"Bones and toe-nails and hair and blood," Michael kindly informed her.

"Ah!" The Bird Woman's shadow nodded. "I expect you 'ad a Special Ticket. It isn't everyone gets the chance. But you're not tellin' me — are you, lovies? — that shadders isn't real?"

"Well — they go through things. And they're made of nothing—" Jane tried to explain.

The Bird Woman shook her shadowy head.

"Nothin's made of nothin', lovey. And that's what they're for — to go through things. Through and out on the other side — it's the way they get to be wise. You take my word for it, my loves, when you know what your shadder knows — then you know a lot. Your shadder's the other part of you, the outside of your inside — if you understand what I mean."

"Don't explain! It's no use. They don't understand anything!"

The portly shadow of Cock Robin came tripping past the bench.

"They told me only a moment ago that Cock Robin never existed. Well, who was buried, I'd like to know! And why were the birds a-sighing and a-sobbing? Take care, Bo-peep! Do look where you're going. Those lambs of yours nearly knocked me over!"

A shadow carrying a crook was skimming through the crowd. And behind her a flock of curly shapes gambolled on the lawn.

"But I thought Bo-peep had lost her sheep!" cried Michael in surprise.

"That's right!" The Bird Woman's shadow chuckled. "But 'er shadder always finds them."

"We've been looking for you everywhere!" a trio of voices grunted. Three furry shadows scattered the sheep and bore Bo-peep away.

"Oh!" exclaimed Jane. "They're the Three Bears. I hope they'll do nothing to hurt her."

"Hurt her? Bless you, why should they? A shadder never did anyone harm — at least, not as I know of. See! The four of 'em — dancin' together as friendly as can be!"

The Bird Woman's shadow surveyed the scene, beating time to the Piper's flute. Then suddenly the music changed and she started up with a cry. "'Ere they are at last, lovies! Get up on the bench and look!"

"Who are here?" demanded Michael. But even as he spoke, he knew.

The music of the concertina had changed to a stately march. The shadows were clearing a path in their midst. And down between the waving lines came a pair of familiar figures.

One of them was small and old, with elastic-sided boots on her feet and threepenny-bits on her coat.

And the other — oh, how well they knew it — was carrying a parrot-headed umbrella and wearing a tulip-trimmed hat.

Turn! Turn! Tee-um, turn, turn! the concertina boomed.

On they came, the two figures, graciously bowing to all spectators and followed by the bulky forms of Fannie and Annie Corry. Solid flesh and bone they were amid the transparent shapes, and the children saw that their four shadows were firmly attached to their heels.

A shout of rapture rose from the throng.

And the sleepers in Cherry Tree Lane shuddered and thrust their heads under their pillows.

"A Hallowe'en welcome, Mary Poppins! Three cheers for the Birthday Eve!"

"'Ip, 'Ip, 'Ooray!" yelled the Bird Woman's shadow.

"Whose birthday is it?" Jane enquired. She was standing on tip-toe on the bench, trembling with excitement.

"It's 'ers—Miss Mary Poppins'—tomorrer! 'Allowe'en falls on the day before, so of course we make a night of it. Feed the Birds! Tuppence a bag!" she shouted to Mary Poppins.

The rosy face beneath the tulip smiled at her in acknowledgment. Then it glanced up at the two children and the smile disappeared.

"Why aren't you wearing a dressing-gown, Michael? And, Jane, where are your slippers? A fine pair of scarecrows you are — to come to an evening party!"

"Aha! You were cleverer than I thought! Taking care of your shadows, I hope!" Mrs. Corry grinned.

But before the children had time to reply, the

The shadows were clearing a path in their midst

music changed from a solemn march to a reeling, romping dance.

"Choose your partners! Time's running out! We must all be back on the stroke of twelve!" The voice of the Policeman's shadow rose above the laughter.

"Pray give me the pleasure, dearest friend!" The shadow of the Father Bear bowed to Mrs. Corry.

"A-a-way, you rolling river!" The Admiral's shadow grasped Miss Andrew's and whirled it through a litter-basket.

The Fishmonger's shadow raised its hat to another that looked like Mrs. Brill; the shadow of the Mother Bear floated to Old King Cole. The Prime Minister's shadow and Aunt Flossie's jumped up and down in the fountain. And Cock Robin propelled a languid shape whose head hung down on its chest.

"Wake up, wake up, my good shadow! Who are you? Where do you live?"

The shadow gave a loud yawn and slumped against Cock Robin. "Mumble, mumble. Broom cupboard. Over across the Lane."

Jane and Michael glanced at each other.

"Robertson Ay!" they said.

Round and round went the swaying shapes, hand reaching out to hand. And the children's shadows were everywhere — darting after the Baby Bear or hugging the Dancing Cow.

"Really!" Mrs. Corry trilled. "I haven't had such an evening out since the days of Good Queen Bess!"

"How frivolous she is!" said her daughters, as they lumbered along together.

As for Mary Poppins, she was whirling like a spinning-top from one pair of arms to another. Now it would be the Admiral's shadow and next it would be Goosey Gander's turn. She danced a polka with Cock Robin's shadow and a waltz with the Park Keeper's. And when the transparent Butcher claimed her, they broke into a mad gallop, while her own shadow stuck to her shoes and capered after her.

Twining together and interlacing, the vaporous shapes went by. And Jane and Michael, watching the revels, began to feel quite giddy.

"I wonder why Mary Poppins' shadow isn't free — like the others? It's dancing beside her all the time. And so is Mrs. Corry's!" Jane turned with a frown to the Bird Woman's shadow.

"Ah, she's cunning — that Mrs. Corry! She's old and she's learnt a lot. Let 'er shadder escape — not she! Nor Fannies and Annie's either. And as for Mary Poppins' shadder—" A chuckle shook the broad shape. "It wouldn't leave 'er if you paid it — not for a thousand pound!"

"My turn!" cried the shadow of Old King Cole, as he plucked Mary Poppins from the Butcher's arms and bore her off in triumph.

"Mine, too! Mine, too!" cried a score of voices. "Haste, haste, no time to waste!"

Faster and faster, the music played as the fateful hour drew nearer. The merriment was at its peak — when suddenly, above the din, came a shrill cry of distress.

And there, at the edge of the group of dancers, stood a small white-clad figure. It was Mrs. Boom, in her dressing-gown, with a lighted candle in her hand, looking like an anxious hen as she gazed at the lively scene.

"Oh, please—" she pleaded. "Will somebody help me? The Admiral's in such a state. He's threatening to sink the ship because he's lost his shadow. Ah, there you are!" Her face brightened, as she spied the shape she sought. "He's ranting and roaring so dreadfully — won't you please come home?"

The Admiral's shadow heaved a sigh.

"I leave him for one night in the year — and he threatens to sink the ship! Now, that's a thing I'd never do. He's nothing but a spoiled child — no sense of responsibility. But I cannot disoblige you, ma'am—"

He waved his hand to his fellow-shadows and lightly blew a kiss each to Mary Poppins and Mrs. Corry.

"Farewell and Adieu to you, sweet Spanish ladies!" he sang as he turned away.

"So kind of you!" chirped Mrs. Boom, as she tripped beside him with her candle. "Who's that?" she called, as they came to the Gate. "Surely it can't be you, Miss Lark?"

A night-gowned figure was rushing through it, wrapped in a tartan shawl. And beside her, two excited dogs snatched at the trailing fringes.

"It can! It is!" Miss Lark replied, as she dashed across the lawn. "Oh, dear!" she moaned, as she came to the swings. "I dreamed that my shadow had run away — and when I woke up it was true. Alas, alas, what shall I do? I can't get along without it!"

She turned her tearful eyes to the dancers and her eyebrows went up with a jerk.

"Goodgraciousme, Lucinda Emily! What are you doing here? Dancing? With strangers? In the Park? I wouldn't have thought it of you."

"Friends — not strangers!" a voice replied, as a shadow decked in scarves and beads fluttered out of the crowd. "I'm gayer than you think, Lucinda. And so are you, if you but knew it. Why are you always fussing and fretting instead of enjoying yourself? If you stood on your head occasionally, I'd never run away!"

"Well—" Miss Lark said doubtfully. It seemed such a strange idea.

"Come home and let us try it together!" Her shadow took her by the hand.

"I will, I will!" Miss Lark declared. And her two dogs looked at each other in horror at the thought of such a thing. "We'll practise on the drawing-room hearthrug. Professor! What are you doing out at night? Think of your rheumatism!"

The Lane Gate opened with a creak and the Professor ambled over the grass with his hand clasped to his brow.

"Alack!" he cried. "I've lost something. But I can't remember what it is."

"L-look for L-lost P-property in the 1-litter-b-basket!" a trembling voice advised him. The Park Keeper, dodging from bush to bush, was edging towards the dancers.

"I 'ad to come." His teeth chattered. "I must do my duty to the Park no matter what goes on!"

From behind the big magnolia tree he stared at the rollicking scene.

"Golly!" he muttered, reeling backwards. "It's enough to give you the shivers! Ow! Look out! There's one of 'em comin'!"

A shadow broke away from the rest and floated towards the Professor.

"Lost something, I heard you say. And can't think what it is? Now, that's a strange coincidence — I'm in the same plight!"

It peered short-sightedly at the Professor and a sudden smile of recognition spread across its face.

"My dear fellow — can it be? It is. We've lost each other!"

A pair of long, transparent arms enfolded the tweed jacket. The Professor gave a crow of delight.

"Lost and found!" He embraced his shadow. "How beautiful are those two words when one hears them both together! Oh, never let us part again! You will remember what I forget—"

"And vice versa!" his shadow cried. And the two old men wandered off with their arms round each other.

"But I tell you it's against the Rules!" The Park Keeper pulled himself together. "'Allowe'en ought to be forbidden. Get along off, you ghosts and shadows! No dancin' allowed in the Park!"

"You should talk!" jeered Mary Poppins, as she capered past with the Cat. She nodded her head towards the swings and the Park Keeper's face grew red with shame.

For there he beheld his own shadow dancing a Highland Fling!

Tee-um, turn. Tee-um, turn.

Tee-um, tee-um, tee-um.

"Stop! Whoa there! Have done!" he shouted. "You come along with me this minute. I'm ashamed of you — breakin' the rules like this. Lumme, what's 'appenin' to me legs?"

For his feet, as though they lived a life of their own, had begun to hop and skip. Off they went — tee-um, tee-um! And by the time he had reached his shadow he, too, was doing the Highland Fling.

"Now, you keep still!" he warned it sternly, as they both slowed down together. "Be'ave yourself like a 'uman bein'!"

"But shadows are so much nicer!" his shadow said with a giggle.

"Fred! Fred!" hissed an anxious voice, as a head in an old-fashioned nightcap came round the edge of a laurel.

"Benjamin!" the Park Keeper cried. "What do you think you're doin'?"

"Searching for my shadow, Fred," said the Keeper of the Zoological Gardens. "It ran away when I wasn't looking. And I dare not face the Head Keeper unless I have it with me! A-a-ah!" He made a swoop with his net.

"Got you!" he cried, triumphantly, as he scooped up a flying shape.

His shadow gave a ghostly laugh, clear and high and tinkling.

"You've got me, Benjamin!" it trilled. "But you haven't got my treasures. You shan't have them to put in a cage — they're going where they belong!"

Out of the net came an airy hand. And a cluster of tiny flitting shapes sped away through the sky. One alone fluttered over the dancers as though looking for something. Then it darted down towards the grass and settled on the left shoulder of Mary Poppins' shadow.

"A birthday gift!" piped a voice from the net, as the Keeper of the Zoological Gardens carried his shadow home.

"A butterfly for a birthday!" The friendly shadows whooped with delight.

"That's all very well," said a cheerful voice. "Butterflies is all right in their place — but what about my birdies?"

Along the path came a buxom woman, with a tossing, cooing crowd of doves tumbling all about her. There was one on her hat, one on her shawl; a dove's bright eye peered out from her pocket and another from under her skirt.

"Mum!" said the Park Keeper, anxiously. "It's late for you to be out."

Keeping a firm hold of his shadow, he hurried to her side.

"I know it, lad. But I 'ad to come. I don't so much mind about my own — but my birdies 'ave lost their shadders!"

"Excuse me, lovies!" said the Bird Woman's shadow, as she smiled at Jane and Michael. "But I 'ave to go where I belong — that's the law, you know. Hey, old dear!" it called softly. "Lookin for me, I wonder?"

"I shouldn't wonder if I was!" The Bird Woman gave her shadow a calm and humorous glance. "I got the birds, you got the shadders. And it's not for me to say which is best — but they ought to be together."

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 bathrobe 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 behind 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?"

"I expect you're over-tired, your worship!" The Policeman, closely followed by Ellen, drew him away to the Long Walk and the gate that led to the City.

Behind them marched the Aldermen, solemn and disapproving.

"I expect I am," the Lord Mayor said. "But it didn't feel like that…"

The Park Keeper glanced around the Park and took his mother's arm. Darkness filled the sky like a tide. In all the world, as far as his watchful eyes could see, there were only two points of light.

"That there star," he said, pointing, "and the night-light in Number Seventeen — if you look at 'em long enough, mum, you can 'ardly tell which is which!"

The Bird Woman drew her doves about her and smiled at him comfortably.

"Well, one's the shadder of the other! Let's be goin', lad…"

Michael came slowly in to breakfast, looking back over his shoulder. And slowly, slowly, a dark shape followed him over the floor.

"My shadow's here — is yours, Jane?"

"Yes," she said, sipping her milk. She had been awake a long time, smiling at her shadow. And it seemed to her, as the sun shone in, that her shadow was smiling back.

"And where else would they be, pray? Take your porridge, please."

Mary Poppins, in a fresh white apron, crackled into the room. She was carrying her best blue coat and the hat with the crimson tulip.

"Well — sometimes they're in the Park," said Jane. She gave the white apron a cautious glance. What would it say to that? she wondered.

The coat went on to its hook with a jerk and the hat seemed to leap to its paper bag.

"In the Park — or the garden — or up a tree! A shadow goes wherever you go. Don't be silly, Jane."

"But sometimes they escape, Mary Poppins." Michael reached for the sugar. "Like ours, last night, at the Hallowe'en Party!"

"Hallowe'en Party?" she said, staring. And you would have thought, to look at her, she had never heard those words before.

"Yes," he said rashly, taking no notice. "But your shadow never runs away — does it, Mary Poppins?"

She glanced across at the nursery mirror and met her own reflection. The blue eyes glowed, the pink cheeks shone and the mouth wore a small complacent smile.

"Why should it want to?" she said, sniffing. Run away? The idea!

"Not for a thousand pounds!" cried Michael. And the memory of the night's adventure bubbled up inside him. "Oh, how I laughed at the Lord Mayor!" He spluttered at the very thought. "And Mrs. Corry! And Goosey Gander!"

"And you, Mary Poppins," giggled Jane. "Hopping about all over the Park — and the butterfly on your shadow's shoulder!"

Michael and Jane looked at each other and roared with mirth. They flung back their heads and held their sides and rolled around in their chairs.

"Oh, dear! I'm choking! How funny it was!"

"Indeed?"

A voice as sharp as an icicle brought them up with a jerk.

They stopped in the middle of a laugh and tried to compose their faces. For the bright blue eyes of Mary Poppins were wide with shocked surprise.

"Hopping about? With a butterfly? At night? In a public place? Do you sit there, Jane and Michael Banks, and call me a kangaroo?"

This, they could see, was the last straw. The camel's back was broken.

"Sitting on Goosey Gander's shoulder? Hopping and flying all over the Park — is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"Well, not like a kangaroo, Mary Poppins. But you were hopping, I think—" Michael plunged for the right word as she glared at him over the teapot. But the sight of her face was too much for him. Out of the corner of his eye he looked across at Jane.

"Help me!" he cried to her silently. "Surely we did not dream it?"

But Jane, from the corner of her eye, was looking back at him. "No, it was true!" she seemed to say. For she gave her head a little shake and pointed towards the floor.

Michael looked down.

There lay Mary Poppins' shadow, neatly spread out upon the carpet. Jane's shadow and his own were leaning up against it, and upon its shoulder, black in the sun, was a shadowy butterfly.

"Oh!" cried Michael joyfully, dropping his spoon with a clatter.

"Oh, what?" said Mary Poppins tartly, glancing down at the floor.

She looked from the butterfly to Michael and then from Michael to Jane. And the porridge grew cold on their three plates as they all gazed at each other. Nothing was said — there was nothing to say. There were things, they knew, that could not be told. And, anyway, what did it matter? The three linked shadows on the floor understood it all.

"It's your birthday, isn't it, Mary Poppins?" said Michael at last, with a grin.

"Many happy returns, Mary Poppins!" Jane gave her hand a pat.

A pleased smile crept about her mouth, but she pursed her lips to prevent it.

"Who told you that?" she enquired, sniffing. As if she didn't know!

But Michael was full of joy and courage. If Mary Poppins never explained, why, indeed, should he? He only shook his head and smiled.

"I wonder!" he said, in a priggish voice exactly like her own.

"Impudence!" She sprang at him. But he darted, laughing, away from the table, out of the nursery and down the stairs, with Jane close at his heels.

Along the garden path they ran, through the gate and over the Lane and into the waiting Park.

The morning air was bright and clear, the birds were singing their autumn songs, and the Park Keeper was coming towards them with a late rose stuck in his cap….

Chelsea, London March 1952