The nursery was immaculate, and the last of her things had been packed away into the depths of her carpetbag. Her gloved fingers clasped it tightly together, and with a resounding click, the job was done. That was it. It was time to remove the part of her heart that belonged to this family, to this job well done. It was only a small piece, as they were all she could afford, but it hurt nonetheless. With a swish of her skirts she quickly left the nursery, and then the house as well. The wind played at wisps of her hair that never did manage to stay tied up in a bun, and she closed her eyes as she smelled the oncoming fall air with a sad smile on her face.
Without opening her eyes, she addressed the figure that now stood before her on the street. "I don't suppose you could've waited."
"Waited for you to come 'round again in a few weeks time? I thought you weren't the joking type Mary Poppins," the figure smiled. Mary opened her eyes to find Bert giving her a wicked grin, one that she knew should have no effect on her, but still did just the same.
"Oh? You think I'm joking, do you? I never joke," she sniffed.
"So tell me then, you thought you'd just up and disappear without telling me?"
"And since when must you know every little detail about my coming and going Bert? I'm not some item that belongs to you," she said, her eyes narrowing as she attempted to deduce where his conversation was headed.
"No," Bert said softly, looking now at his well-worn shoes. "But as a friend it's nice to be able to say goodbye."
At this comment Mary softened slightly, but Bert was refusing to make eye contact still, and he missed the momentary lapse in her practically perfect exterior.
"It's never goodbye Bert. And as a friend you must understand that sometimes it's easier if I don't make goodbyes, or farewells, as it were."
They simply looked at each other at this moment, clearly at an impasse and unsure how to proceed, and Mary finally unfurled her umbrella. As she prepared to take flight, Bert caught her wrist. His rough work hands made contact with her smooth and pale skin, and a small electric charge passed between them. Bert looked into her crystal blue eyes.
"Be safe love," he said.
Mary had stopped breathing momentarily. He never touched her, at least, not so forcefully and intimately, and the fierceness in his eyes made her heart stop. She was unsure what to do and for a moment she was afraid that he saw how flustered she was. Immediately she slipped back into her perfect demeanor, and replied, "I always am."
She opened her umbrella and lifted gracefully up and away into the early evening sky. Bert watched until she was out of sight, and then he made his way back to his flat. As Mary flew out of reach, her skin burned at where he had touched her and all her brain could do was attempt to process the four letter word he'd just called her. "Love."
"Now Caroline, young women do not stamp their feet to get attention," Mary scolded as the young girl began a small fit after Mary refused to take her to the park until her work was finished.
"It's not fair!" she whined.
"I didn't say I was fair," Mary replied easily. "Young ladies must finish their work before going on outings."
"Can we go someplace special?" Caroline asked, suddenly lighting up at the idea of an outing with her magical nanny.
"Perhaps. But only if you behave and do your work quietly and correctly," Mary said, one eyebrow raising slightly to show a hint of playfulness lest her charge behave accordingly.
It had only been a week since she'd arrived back in London, and it had been over two months since the last time she saw Bert. She'd managed to simply remove their last conversation from her thoughts, and she did not dwell very long on his choice of words past that first evening. She knew, though, that she'd see him soon, and he'd inevitably mention the incident. After Caroline completed her needlework and her times tables, Mary took her by the hand and led her out of the house and into the park.
"I knew I'd see you this fine afternoon," Bert smiled as Mary tugged Caroline along and up to a row of chalk pictures.
"And how could you possibly know that?" Mary asked, a coy smile on her lips.
"Magic," Bert winked.
"Magic? You can do magic too?" Caroline gasped, looking at this new stranger.
"Not the same kind as Mary Poppins here," Bert laughed, and Mary's mouth became a straight line. It was a look of warning. Caroline's face fell, as she already knew the sort of power Mary held, and was disappointed to find her friend did not share the same talent.
"Mary Poppins promised me a magical outing," Caroline told Bert.
"Did she?" Bert asked, looking up from the young girl to Mary.
"I promised no such thing Caroline," she huffed, crossing her arms in agitation.
"But Mary Poppins," Caroline began to whine.
"I might have taken you somewhere special but now that you've begun to whine in a most improper fashion..."
Caroline sobered up immediately, clasping her hands innocently behind her back and standing up straight. Mary smiled only slightly.
"That's better. Now what has Bert drawn this fine afternoon?" Mary asked, eyeing her friend's artwork. One scene looked particularly inviting, a field of wildflowers in the country with the sun shining warmly up above. It was simple yet enticing.
"This is pretty," Caroline whispered, eyeing the field as well. She loved the colors of the spring flowers in comparison to the drab grey of London in the fall.
"That's an excellent choice Miss Caroline," Bert smiled.
"And who said you were coming along?" Mary shot at him. Well, so much for holding back the frustration of their previous conversation. Bert merely looked at her in surprise. She relented immediately however, and sighed. "Oh all right..."
Bert smiled and stood up as she wiped his hands on his trousers. Mary took Caroline's hand in hers, then Bert's as well. Again she felt the electric charge she had experienced before, but she ignored it until they were safely inside the drawing and she could release his hand from hers. Caroline immediately went about chasing butterflies in the warm sun, and Mary took a seat in a bed of flowers and soft grass in the shade of a copse of trees. Bert followed suit beside her.
"I get the feeling you're angry at me," Bert began.
"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about. Besides, I am never cross," she replied, picking at invisible threads in her dress.
"You're never angry?" Bert questioned, his eyebrows going up in surprise and obvious disbelief. Although, as far as he could recall, he never had truly seen her get upset.
"What would I have to get angry about?" Mary asked, posing the question innocently.
"I don't know, anything! Bratty kids! Or...or...stubbing your toe."
"Children are always on their best behavior for me, and I'm very careful about where I walk," she replied easily.
Bert shook his head sadly. Mary was often evasive, but this was too much. He was tired of her always dodging his questions, and he knew that she kept a lot from him. Perhaps it was the fact that he'd already slipped up and called her love, but Bert decided to take a risk. He decided to call her out on her behavior. "Sometimes I think being practically perfect isn't very fun or exciting."
Mary felt as if she'd been slapped across the face. She inhaled sharply at the comment and her cheeks reddened. Immediately Bert regretted his comment, and before Mary could show any more emotion in front of him she leapt up to her feet and began striding off through the field in the other direction of him and Caroline.
"Now I've done it," Bert reprimanded himself as he leapt up after Mary. She looked absolutely gorgeous, even as she was storming off in a cream colored lace dress. "Mary!" he called, running after her. Luckily, she was too much of a lady to take off running, and he caught up with her easily. "Mary," he said again, grabbing her by the wrist.
Mary whipped around wildly, facing Bert with a glare and her blue eyes glistening with anger and unshed tears. "Don't you dare do that again," she snapped, throwing off Bert's hold with her other arm.
"Mary I'm-"
"Don't start," she snitted, her breathing was fast and heavy, and she was an imposing figure at her full height.
"So you do get angry," Bert said, a sad look on his face. He looked into her fierce eyes.
"Of course I do Bert! Is that allowed?" she asked rhetorically. "Is this what you want?" she asked, flinging her arms out wildly to indicate the scene that was playing out.
"I...no," Bert resigned.
"Then what do you want Bert?" Mary said, calming down slightly and attempting to retrieve her calm and perfect demeanor back.
"I want to know who you are," he whispered. "And I don't think you'll let me."
"Well we can't always have what we want," she said with a little laugh, it sounded cruel but also sad. She picked up her skirts and began to walk past him and back towards Caroline.
"It seems you can," Bert replied honestly. Once again she whipped around to address him. A sad and knowing smile played at her lips.
"Then you truly don't know the first thing about me."
As she began to walk away from him and back to Caroline, Bert could only wonder at how in a matter of minutes he had managed to rile up Mary Poppins like never before. He knew that this wasn't a sudden outburst of emotion, however. No, he knew it was his fault for saying something he shouldn't have nearly two months before. It was a risk, and to be fair the sentiment simply fell out of his mouth without warning, but Bert didn't regret it. It did make him wonder about Mary's reaction however. Was she angry because he was ruining their perfectly constructed friendship, with which the boundaries were cut and clear, or was she angry because she returned his feelings? Was it because he knew that she wasn't always practically perfect, despite her claims? Unsure how to proceed, Bert merely followed along behind her until he caught up with her and Caroline.
"But Mary Poppins," Caroline had begun to whine once more as Bert came within range.
"I said that it's time to go Caroline, and we really must do something about all this whining you've managed today," Mary huffed. Bert suddenly felt bad, he knew he was the reason that Caroline's outing had been cut short. It also served to infuriate him a little. If only she were honest with him, none of this would have happened. Instead, like always, she intended on disappearing. "Take my hand," Mary instructed, placing hers in Caroline's. She didn't even turn to Bert, but merely stuck out her palm in his direction. Sheepishly he took it, and couldn't help but smile a little at the feel of it in his own. Instantly he found himself back in the park, and before he could even blink, Mary's back was to him as she strode off. "Good day Bert," she called over her shoulder, because even Mary Poppins wasn't improper enough to just stomp away without saying goodbye. Bert was simply left dumbfounded and alone.
It was dark and quiet in the nursery, the only sounds were of Caroline's breathing, soft and slow with sleep, and the clack of knitting needles as Mary sat in the corner of her end of the room, working on a scarf. She had been furious with herself, and Bert, for the entire rest of the day. Luckily, Caroline managed to behave until falling asleep. Mary had never shown so much emotion in front of Bert, and she was afraid that it had been too obvious that she had been ruffled by his sentiment. She had no idea how someone could be so infuriating while so devilishly handsome at the same time. Her needles clacked together, louder and faster, as her thoughts tossed and turned. She wanted to stay upset with him but all she could think about was how beautiful he was earlier that afternoon in a crisp white shirt, sitting beside her in the sunshine. If only things were that easy.
After dropping a few rows of her knitting Mary heaved a frustrated sigh, threw her work onto the bed, and put on her coat. It was getting rather chilly at night so she bundled up with a scarf and some gloves, and made her way over to the window so she could sneak up to the roof. She didn't even bother with the umbrella, after all, it wasn't necessary for her to achieve flight. Mary only used it to help guide her on long trips to new destinations, and of course, she loved the design of it regardless. As she gently rose up from the window and to the eave of the roof above the nursery, she was greeted by a gentleman sitting on her intended perch.
"Hullo," Bert said softly. Mary was eye to eye with him, and probably too close for comfort. She had stopped flying and remained floating gracefully in front of Bert and the roof.
"And what exactly are you doing on my roof?" Mary asked, irritated.
"Come now Mary, this isn't your roof!" Bert said with a smile. Mary rolled her eyes. "Besides, there's room for the two of us," he said, moving over on the tiles to make room for her.
"No, I don't think so," Mary said, eyeing the small patch of roof Bert had designated as hers. The eave wasn't too small that she was afraid she wouldn't fit, but if she sat beside him so closely she didn't know what she might do.
"So you're just going to float there then?" Bert asked, giving her another wicked grin. Mary's heart did a flip.
"No I think I'll just go to bed," she said as she gracefully began to fly back down to the window. Bert reached out from the roof and made to grab her wrist. The motion of her heading downwards started to pull Bert off the roof and he was very close to falling. Immediately Mary felt the weight of him as he scrambled to grab hold of her or the house and she shot back up in front of him, placing her hands on his arms to steady him.
"PLEASE!" she shouted, helping Bert to regain his balance, "kindly do not fall off the roof," she finished quietly as he steadied himself. Her heart was pounding, and if she hadn't flown back to help him he certainly would have fallen off the house. He simply smiled at her.
"Thanks for the catch," he said softly.
"You are honestly the most infuriating man I have ever had the misfortune to know," Mary said dryly and with a serious glint in her eye. She sighed and rose into the air once more and then landed gracefully, one foot in front of the other, on the eave beside Bert. She picked up her skirts and sat down carefully beside him, their shoulders and hips touching.
"I'm going to choose to take that as a compliment," Bert laughed.
"Cheeky," Mary muttered. In the glow of the moon and starlight his warm eyes twinkled, and she knew she was in for it now. "You never told me why you're on my roof."
"It's not your-"
"Why are you up here?" she glared.
"I was thinking about you," Bert answered honestly. He was gazing out across London, watching the twinkling lights with a soft smile on his lips.
"Oh? And you thought you'd come and sit on my roof. And then attempt to fall off,"
"That was unintentional," Bert said sheepishly. Mary smiled, amused at the memory now that the danger had passed.
"Lucky I caught you. Falling from that height is never an experience you want to have."
Bert turned to look at her and his eyebrows went up in question and amusement. "Are you suggesting, Mary Poppins, that you have?"
"There's a lot you don't know about me," Mary sighed softly, choosing to no longer look at his puzzled face, but out at all of London. The pair were quiet for a moment as Bert's guilt from earlier in the day washed over him, and Mary's thoughts continued to pester her.
Finally she spoke up. "Did you know I was engaged once?"
Bert simply stared at her, wondering if he heard her right. Mary had been engaged? To be married? He couldn't imagine Mary being married to anyone, not even him. Bert swallowed a lump in his throat. Where had this come from?
"You were engaged?"
"When I was eighteen I was engaged to be married to Alexander Wrothburn."
Bert wanted to ask a thousand questions, but he saw the far away look in Mary's eyes as she looked out across the city, and he knew she would answer them all in time.
"My parents arranged it. I didn't really have a say in the matter. He had an enormous fortune, and my mother hoped to benefit from my joining his family. Like always I was told to obey, and so I did."
They were both quiet for a moment as this information settled in.
"Did you love him?" Bert whispered.
"Of course not!" Mary said forcefully, her eyes getting wide. "But as a young lady I didn't really have a choice. He was an awful man. Rude, aggressive, loud and overbearing. I couldn't stand to be near him. When he..."
Mary faltered, and Bert quietly took her gloved hand in his to comfort her. She didn't shy away, and Bert knew it had to be hard for her to reveal this about herself. She swallowed and after a moment she carried on.
"When he kissed me..." she closed her eyes and breathed out steadily through her nose. "I had to get out."
"What did you do?" Bert breathed. He'd never ever imagined that Mary had dealt with so much at a young age. He had no idea she'd ever been engaged, and she'd never spoken about her family in front of him. For whatever reason though she had decided to open up to him, and he hung on her every word.
"I flew away," she said simply, her eyes downcast. Bert squeezed her hand and smiled. It was a simple statement that nearly made him chuckle, but very quickly he realized why Mary was always flying just out of reach. Such an experience would leave anyone running when things got difficult.
"You find it amusing, but it was the biggest turning point of my entire life," Mary whispered.
"I just think it's funny, in a way, that you're always flying off when you feel trapped or uncomfortable," Bert said, revealing that he did know deep down exactly why she was always disappearing on him. "Not all of us can just disappear when things get rough. It's amusing in the sense that, well, of course you can just fly away."
"Yes but you see, that was my first time."
"Your first time...running away?" Bert asked, confused.
"That was my first time flying," Mary replied easily, a small smile creeping into the curve of her lips. She looked at Bert and her eyes twinkled. "I'd never used magic before in my life."
"You...didn't?"
"I suppose you've always thought of me as possessing my abilities since birth," Mary stated, one of her eyebrows quirking up in her customary fashion, daring him to suggest he thought differently. Bert merely nodded. He couldn't imagine her otherwise. "In fact, I never knew I possessed such a gift until that very day."
"So you mean to tell me that the very day you decided you wanted to disappear from it all, you just up and fly away on your very first try? You just...wot, wished for it hard enough?" Bert asked, astounded. He was being sarcastic but she was being honest.
"That's almost precisely how it happened. I never realized, and perhaps it was there all along, but suddenly I wanted it so badly...to be free. To live my life, to do as I pleased, and to be rid of Mr. Wrothburn, that one evening I packed up all of my belongings and left the house in the dead of night. I took off running and before I knew it my feet had left the ground and I was off into the sky."
Mary smiled at her former self and she looked up at the stars twinkling above the city. Bert never took his eyes off her, and he struggled to keep his jaw from falling off. Of all things he'd imagined about Mary's past and the secrets she held, this wasn't at all what he thought would have happened.
"But then..." Bert began, but he was unsure what to even ask her in this moment.
"I took up residence with an estranged uncle whom I'd never met in London," she smiled, knowing Bert could followe her story. "I very quickly learned he had a few gifts as well, and everything else came naturally. I refused to let him take me under his wing without doing my fair share, and after I got a handle on the rest of my abilities I set out to be a nanny. It seemed the best course of action at the time, and I couldn't be more happy with how things have turned out."
"I don't know what to say," Bert said honestly, he looked at Mary's porcelain face, her cheeks flushed red from embarrassment.
"Don't say anything then," Mary smiled, but there was something new in this smile when she turned back to face him.
"Do you...have you seen your family? Since then?" Bert asked, as he still attempted to process everything his best friend had just told him.
"Only once," Mary said softly. "After that first night I was terrified. I was terrified I had even achieved flight at all," she chuckled. Bert smiled. "I had no idea such a thing was possible, and I wasn't very good at it."
Bert laughed at this. He struggled to imagine Mary not being perfect at everything, even though he knew deep down that she had her own flaws. To him, everything she did was perfect, flaws and all. If anything, her flaws and weaknesses made him love her more.
"I came back home a few days later. I apologized to my parents, but kindly told them that they no longer held any sway over the choices I made in my life, including an engagement to a certain Mr. Wrothburn. I gave them the ring and told them to let him down for me. We had a rather loud and long argument which ending in my taking away their voices momentarily."
Bert shifted slightly, and Mary picked up on his apprehension. She was aware that she was revealing more of her character than ever before, and perhaps a slight temper, but at this point she knew he had always known there was more to her than what she had presented on the outside. Besides, more and more the veil of perfection fell away in his presence, and she was so very tired of keeping up appearances.
"I couldn't get a word in otherwise," she explained. "Once I had silence I very politely told them that this was who I was, and if they couldn't accept it then I would never bother them again. I would ask nothing of them so long as they never asked anything from me. I suppose I terrified them because after returning their speech they simply stared at me in horror, so I left," Mary finished with a slight shrug of her shoulders.
After a few moments of awkward silence, Mary made to get up from the roof. Bert had been silent and looking out at the glittering lights of London once more. She assumed that it had been too much for him, and perhaps revealing the truth was just a tad much. Sensing that he was uncomfortable and that she had crossed a line, she decided it was best to go.
Bert was attempting to fit all of this new information about Mary in with what he already knew about her, and suddenly she made to leave. As she began to stand up, he leapt to action, and grabbed Mary by the wrist. It was becoming common for him, and he knew the last time he did so had infuriated her. This time though, she froze. He pulled her back to her perch beside him. Her head whipped around to look him in the eyes, and for the first time Bert was certain he was seeing the real Mary Poppins. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears, her cheeks were flushed and pink from telling her deepest secrets, and her gorgeous mouth was turned down slightly at the edges. She looked lost, hopelessly and utterly lost, and all Bert could do was smile at her.
"What?" Mary finally asked, concerned that Bert was off his rocker, that somehow everything she'd just told him had sent him over the edge. He had the silliest and stupidest grin on his face.
"Just this," he said with a wicked grin of his, and he leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. She didn't shy away, and she closed her eyes briefly. He pulled away slowly, still smiling, and Mary slowly opened her eyes.
"And what, pray tell, was that for?" she asked, breathless.
"For finally letting me know who you are love," Bert said.
"There's that word again," Mary said, her voice shaky.
"No point in hiding how I feel about ya, for the same reason there's no point in you hiding who you are."
"Herbert Alfred, that is probably the most important thing you've ever said to me," Mary smiled.
"There's time for even more important ones you know," Bert smiled. He sensed the new charge in the air, and the change in Mary's demeanor. It was new territory they had both entered this evening, and Bert didn't want to push it. "But this is enough for now. I understand how exhausting it must be for ya to tell me all of that."
"Actually I'm...well, I'm relieved. And glad that I did so. I feel as if a burden has been lifted," Mary smiled. "I never meant to lie to you, you know."
"You weren't lying Mary, you just weren't ready to let me in. And that's ok," Bert shrugged, showing that there were no hard feelings between the two of them. "I'm a little at fault anyways. I pushed ya earlier to open up and I shouldn't have."
"I'm glad you did," Mary smiled, and she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. Bert took her hand in his once more and they both smiled at each other before gazing up at the stars once more. After a moment, Bert let out a soft chuckle.
"What?" Mary asked, one of her eyebrows going up in question.
"You fell off a roof once?"
"That was...I...er," Mary struggled. She'd already said so much about herself that to suddenly embarrass herself further was one step too far.
"Oh come on now love," Bert chuckled. "Ya got to tell me now."
"I don't have to do anything Mr. Alfred," Mary sneered, turning to glare at her companion. "Hasn't a single word I've said tonight sunk in?"
"You can't leave me hangin' like that now, don't start a story you can't finish!" Bert whined.
"You're worse than Caroline. And I'll do no such thing," she sniffed. "In fact..." Mary smiled and with a twinkle in her eye, she swiftly rose up from her perch, just out of reach hanging in the air before Bert.
"Oi! That's not fair!" Bert laughed. "Don't you be flying off this time just because you don't wanna tell me something."
"I never said I was fair," Mary replied cheekily. She crossed her arms and remained floating gracefully just out of Bert's reach.
"All right then," Bert said, an idea coming to him. "If you come back here and tell me your story, I'll draw your favorite spot for tea next week."
Mary's smug smile turned into a sincere one as Bert's proposition tumbled about in her brain. She liked this idea, but she didn't quite want to give in. Sensing her struggle, Bert sweetened the deal.
"I'll even make sure there's raspberry jam cakes and lemon tarts."
"You're bribing me?" Mary asked, incredulous, and she laughed a peal of musical notes that made Bert's heart race.
"Yes," he replied flatly.
She narrowed her eyes at him. She took a moment before a slow smile won out across her face. "You're very good." She rose ever so slightly and alighted perfectly back in her place beside Bert on the eave of the roof. "I didn't fall of a roof per se, but I did fall from about this height once."
"And?" Bert prodded, smiling.
"And I was still very new to flying, so I lost my concentration for a moment and fell."
"Shouldn't a fall from that height kill you? Or at least, you know, do a good bit of harm?" Bert asked, concerned. After all, he nearly fell off the roof earlier that evening, and he'd had his fair share of falls and scrapes on the rooftops.
"I suppose so, yes. But part of the gift of magic is that my body has ways of helping me from harm. I fell because I lost concentration, but before I hit the pavement my brain took over and I stopped just inches from the ground. It didn't hurt terribly but the sensation of being a toy yo-yo is not pleasant by any means."
Bert tried to hide a laugh behind his hand. Mary sighed and rolled her eyes.
"Oh go on then, have a laugh at me. It's your fault anyways," she huffed.
"How is that my fault?!" Bert spluttered, still laughing.
"I fell because I was paying too much attention to your chalk pictures," Mary admitted with a blush. Bert stopped laughing as he realized what she'd just said. "I hadn't met you yet, obviously, but they caught my eye from up above the park and I was trying so hard to view them that I lost concentration and fell."
"Well I'm very sorry," Bert smiled, apologizing with sincerity despite his grin. "I didn't mean to make you fall."
"On the contrary, it's what led to my wanting to meet you. We wouldn't be having this conversation right now if it weren't for that incident," Mary replied with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
"You do realize that I'll only be asking you for more stories from here on out," Bert said as he looked into Mary's eyes. He hadn't realized until now just how lucky of a man he was. He thought he knew, but he had no idea.
"Only if you'll share some in return," Mary answered with a sly smile.
"That sounds like a fair deal. And a date."
"Tuesday as always?"
"I believe I've promised you raspberry jam cakes and lemon tarts," Bert laughed.
"And I won't soon forget it. Now I suppose I should be off to bed, Caroline will need me in top shape if she's going to stop that incessant whining of hers," Mary smiled.
"Don't fall on the way down," Bert said as Mary stood up beside him on the roof.
"Did I mention that you were the most infuriating man I've ever had the misfortune to know?" Mary glared as she stepped off the roof and slowly flew her way back down to the window sill. Bert peeked over the roof and gave her a smug smile.
"I think ya did."
"I think it needed repeating," Mary said, her face showing her annoyance. After a moment though she smiled up at Bert as a quick wave of her hand caused the window to open for her. "Goodnight Bert."
"Goodnight Mary. Sweet dreams love."
As Mary slipped back into the nursery, Bert couldn't wipe the stupid grin he had off his face. Of course, he wouldn't even try to, not with how happy he was. And who could blame him? Not every man gets to call Mary Poppins love.