AN: I am on a roll at the moment. Two chapters in as many days. Shame I didn't manage to update one of my other stories but oh well, C'est la vie.

I can't speak french, but i think that means oh well, that's life.


Later that night, Bert was on the landing, going to get a glass of water, when he heard a quiet sniffle. "Bea," he said softly. "Is that you?"

"Yeah," said a small voice. She shuffled into the light and Bert saw the little figure in a large white nightie with her blonde hair in two plaits.

"What's wrong?" he asked, crouching down, glass of water forgotten.

"I had a nightmare," she whispered. "I dreamt that I woke up and you and Miss Mary weren't here and I couldn't find you and they said I had to go and live with my old Papa again."

"We're right 'ere, Bea. We'll always be right 'ere," Bert said, drawing her into a hug.

"I know," she muttered into his shoulder. "But in my dream I was so scared."

"Tell you what," Bert said. "Jus' this once, you c'n sleep with me an' Mary in our bed, 'ow's that sound?" Beatrice smiled hesitantly at him, although the smile came more easily to her face now.

"That sounds great," she whispered. Quietly, Bert walked back into his room, holding Beatrice by the hand and he lifted her up onto the bed before climbing back in himself.


The next morning, Bert woke up to the feeling of a strange weight on his chest. He opened his eyes to see Beatrice's little head resting on his chest and he had one of his arm around her and the other hand resting protectively on her back. One of her little hands was resting next to her head on his chest and the other was curled up beneath her. He then looked up and saw Mary looking at him amused. "Bert Alfred," she said, with a hint of laughter in her voice. "What am I going to do with you?"

"She 'ad a nightmare," he protested. "She was afraid we was gonna vanish in a puff o' smoke an' I di'n't want 'er to sit in the hall all night afraid."

"You were born to be a father, Bert," Mary said softly, and a look of sadness passed across her face.

"'Ey now," Bert said, reaching out to touch her cheek. "We've been through this. It ain't any more your fault we cain't 'ave kids than it's me own fault. 'Sides, we've got Bea now, 'aven't we?"

"I suppose we have," Mary said smiling. There was a soft sighing sound and then Beatrice opened her eyes.

"Papa?" she murmured.

"I'm 'ere," Bert said, wrapping his arms around her.

"Mmm. Mama?" She twisted in Bert's arms and held out her arms to Mary who had unshed tears in her eyes.

"I'm here as well Beatrice," Mary said, lifting Beatrice into her own arms. "Come on, let's get you dressed. As Bert sat up and began to wake up, he mused on the things that distinguish a father from someone who simply shares your blood.


"Come along now, Beatrice," Mary said. "Spit spot."

"Coming," Beatrice said. "Where are we going now?"

"To Mrs Cory's shop. Your father has a weakness for gingerbread, and we can have tea in the little tea shop by the park. Then we need to go to the market to get some fish and then we're off to the dress shop, you simply cannot keep wearing the same two or three dresses all the time." Beatrice ran to catch up with Mary, who had gotten quite a ways ahead.

"When we go to Mrs Cory's shop can I get some sweets?"

"If you're very good we may buy some cakes. Come along now..."

"I know, I know," Beatrice said glumly. "Spit spot." On their way from Mrs Cory's shop to the tea shop, they ran into Bert. He looked worried, which was unlike Bert.

"It's Uncle Albert, Mary," he said.

"Oh, not again."

"'fraid so. Should I take Bea shoppin' while you see 'im?" Mary hesitated for a moment, while Beatrice wondered who Uncle Albert was.

"No, we had better both go. You know what he can be like."

They reached Uncle Albert's house not long after that, with Mary hurrying along ahead while Bert walked slightly slower with Beatrice. "Papa," she said, as she skipped along holding his hand. "Who's Uncle Albert?"

"Uncle Albert is your mother's uncle."

"Is there something wrong with him?" She stopped skipping and looked up at him curiously.

"In a way," Bert said cautiously. Beatrice seemed to accept this as an answer as she started skipping again.

When they entered the living room, Beatrice was amazed to see an older man floating about on the ceiling. "Oh dear Uncle Albert," Mary said. "You promised that you wouldn't do this again. I was trying to run some errands."

"I'm sorry my dear," Uncle Albert said, laughing. "But I can't seem to stop. I love to laugh..."

"Oh not again," Mary sighed.

"I love to laugh," Uncle Albert sang. "Loud and long and clear. I love to laugh (hahahaha). It's getting worse every year." Mary heard a chuckle behind her and she turned to glare at Bert, who tried to look appropriately solemn, which was difficult with laughter still bubbling inside him.

"The more I laugh," Uncle Albert sang. "The more I'm filled with glee. The more I laugh (hahahaha),. The more I'm a merrier me." This time Bert couldn't help laughing. Beatrice gasped, and Mary rolled her eyes, when he floated up to join Uncle Albert.

"We love to laugh," they sang. "Loud and long and clear. We love to laugh (hahahaha). So everybody can hear." When Mary looked down to see if Beatrice was laughing as well, she saw that the girl was grinning widely, wearing the biggest smile Mary had seen on her face since the day she met her.

Maybe this won't be so bad after all, Mary thought. She could do with some lessons in how to laugh.

"The more we laugh," Bert and Uncle Albert sang. "The more we're filled with glee. The more we laugh (hahahaha). The more we're a merrier we." Mary was about to admonish them for acting like children when she heard a small giggle beside her and she looked to see Beatrice holding one hand in front of her mouth and giggling. She met Bert's gaze with her own and Bert and Uncle Albert began to sing again. "The more we laugh (hahahaha). The more we're filled with glee. The more we laugh (hahahaha). The more we're a merrier we." Beatrice's giggle turned into a full throated laugh and she floated up to join Uncle Albert and Bert.

"And who are you?" Uncle Albert asked.

"Beatrice," she said, still giggling.

"It's so nice to meet you," Uncle Albert said, shaking her hand, which made Bert howl with laughter at the memories, and even brought a smile to Mary's lips.

A few minutes later, Mary pulled out a pocket watch and sighed. "It time for tea Uncle Albert. You know how I hate having my schedule interrupted."

"I know, my dear. I have a perfect tea laid out, all ready for us." It was on a table on the floor, just like it had been all those years ago with Jane and Michael. Mary sighed.

"I do hope you're not going to make a habit of this, Uncle Albert," she said, as the tea table slowly floated up to join them on the ceiling.

"Will you be joining us, my dear?" Uncle Albert asked.

"Well I can't very well stand around down here, can I?" Mary asked.

They had their tea sat in mid-air, like Mary did most times she took children to see Uncle Albert, and the other three laughed at all of Uncle Albert's jokes, Mary watching in joy every time Beatrice laughed. The old one about a man with a wooden leg named Smith even made Mary laugh, although she did hide it rather well. When they'd all drunk their tea though, Mary sighed. "I'm afraid it's time for us to go, Uncle Albert."

"Oh dear," Uncle Albert said, sinking back to floor level. "That's so sad." He sat on the floor and looked at them despondently as they left. "Must you leave?"

"We'll come back and visit soon," Beatrice promised, giving the old man a hug. "Promise."


That night, Mary had trouble getting Beatrice to go to sleep. She was sat up in bed, laughing about the visit to Uncle Albert. Normally, when she was with her charges, Mary pretended that their magical outings had simply never happened, but she didn't need to be so circumspect here at home. "Oh I can't sleep, Mama," Beatrice said earnestly. "I'm simply too excited." May smiled, feeling the warm feeling she got every time the little girl called her Mama.

"Well then," she said, sitting on the edge of Beatrice's bed. "Stay awake, don't close your eyes.

Stay awake, don't fall asleep,

Though your pillow's soft and deep,

You're not sleepy as you seem,

Stay awake, don't nod and dream.

Stay awake, don't nod and dream." A soft whuffly noise told her that her favourite lullaby had done it's trick again and she carefully made Beatrice more comfortable and tucked her in before creeping out of the room. All in all, she thought to herself. That was a fine day's work.


Hopefully i managed to get the lyrocs right, it's been a while since I've watched the film.

Hope you're enjoying the story.

Catkin Thief