-three-
Bert stood high atop the St. Paul's Cathedral, spotting for a sweep who was currently cleaning out the main chimney of the church, when he heard the wind. Like always, it was heard before it was felt, and it sounded unlike any normal wind he could hear on an average day. At the sound, Bert's heart all but leapt out of his chest, and began to hammer in his throat.
"Geoff?" He called down to the boy in the chimney.
"You 'appen t' know wot the date is?" he asked, listening as Geoff called back, his voice echoing in the wide floo.
"May third…May…S' been three years already." He said, sounding shocked. Geoff called up, thinking that Bert was talking to him, but there was no answer, Bert had found a replacement spotter, and was running for the lowest edge on the Cathedral's roof, where he jumped off and began running towards the wind.
Finding her at a large blue and grey house in the center of town, he took no time in pulling her into a hug and moving to kiss her, before she stopped him by placing a finger on his lips.
"We can't, dear Friend. It is simply not an option with how our lives are." She said, her voice deeper, her expression more knowledgeable since he last saw her. Feeling his stomach drop, he quickly suppressed his sadness at her words, how she chose to greet him after a three year separation, and smiled instead.
"Righ', ow silly of me. Welcome back then, Mary!" He said, offering her a cordial handshake instead. She smiled politely at him and took his hand.
"pleasure to be back, I dare say. It has been too long, old friend." She said warmly. Releasing his hand, she turned to face the house. Tucking her umbrella under her arm, she straightened her shoulders and cleared her throat.
"My next great adventure." She said, staring at the house. Taking a step forward, she called back over her shoulder at Bert.
"I do hope you'll be available for our traditional Second-Tuesday meetings, Bert! I'm sorry I could not stay and chat as long as we both would have liked." She said pleasantly before making her way up the steps and briskly knocking on the door.
"Mary!" He called, noticing that it was taking a while for the door to open. She looked back, clearly irritated that she had to wait and cocked her head to the side curiously.
"Four more years." He said, reminding her of when the immortality spell was to take effect. She smiled genuinely at him and nodded.
"Four more years." She repeated.
In what seemed like record time, it took Mary one month and thirteen days to get the children in practically-perfect condition. They waited at the door for her on her last day under their parents employ, and with prim and proper poise, bowed politely and wished her all the best. Mary stepped outside of the front door, stood under the archway, and closed her eyes. No wind. Not yet at least. When she opened them, Bert was standing in the street in front of her, smiling in a goofy manner, as he always did. She smiled thinly at him, and tucked her umbrella under her arm. Adjusting her hat as she went, Mary stepped off the porch, and took three careful steps forward before she heard the wind. Long before she felt it, she could always hear it. It sounded of hope and adventure, mystery and the promise of a brand new morning. Mary always welcomed the winds, no matter how much of a state she was in after leaving the children she had governed over. But today, unlike all the other days in which the winds carried her away, she did not welcome them. Before the wind could catch her, Mary hurriedly took the last few steps to meet Bert, and clasped her hands with his.
"I'm sorry, my dear friend. It looks like we're too late." She smiled sadly, squeezing his hands in a comforting manner. Bert turned his head, looking for any sign of the wind and shook his head.
"It ain't 'ere yet, is it? Still got a bit 'o time then." He confirmed before turning and walking, Mary's hand held tightly in his.
"Time for what? Bert, you know as well as I that as soon as that wind gets here, I will have to go. As soon as it finds me, I have to leave…" she repeated, as if confirming for herself rather than for Bert. He glanced at her sideways and grinned, picking up pace.
"Then we run." He said simply, smiling at her in full. Mary scoffed in surprise and made a totting sound before shaking her head quickly.
"No. No, it is out of the question. How on earth would we go anywhere? Anywhere we go, the wind will find me, it would be utterly pointless." She sighed.
"'Ave you ever tried to outrun them, Mary? Or do you jus' assume." He asked, sounding a bit angry at how swift she was to dismiss the idea. The two turned a sharp corner, and under Bert's direction, swiftly progressed down the street to the small cottage Bert called home.
"I've never tried…" Mary confirmed, before continuing
"I've never tried because I never thought it would matter. Bert, why are we at your house? Now is not exactly the time for tea." Mary said, a dry sarcasm leaking into her words.
Saying nothing, Bert released her hand to unlock the front door, and ushered her inside. His house was dark compared to the unseasonably sunny winters day, and it took the both of them a good minute before the sunspots left their eyes and they could see properly again. Bert walked down the narrow hallway and into a small room, where he came out a few seconds later carrying a modest brown suitcase. He smiled at Mary, who was looking at him in a puzzled manner, and gestured for her to follow him further down the hallway. He led her to a large wooden door, closed, with a thick iron handle and lock. Rifling through his key ring for the right one, Bert produced a large cast iron key that matched the lock and opened the door. Inside the room was darker than any other part of the house. He felt along the wall for a light switch, and flicking it on, revealed a room filled with memories. The dark wood paneled walls held countless photographs on three sides, along with an abundance of letters, drawings, and cards from various holidays or occasions. His brush from ages ago was hung on the wall by a few pegs, a kite pinned on either side of it. There was a sturdy wood table neatly decorated with knick-knacks and bric-a-bracs that once belonged to friends like Admiral Boom, or Uncle Albert, or countless numbers of sweep-mates.
Mary's heart ached upon entering the room, realizing in a second that while she had decades of keeping busy and making memories that would eventually replace her old ones, Bert had decades to reminisce, and to mourn, and to commemorate. She was not surprised that the room was locked, she imagined Bert would only open it once every so often, when he was feeling particularly sad, or lonely, and he would come and sit in the large red chair that occupied the corner and talk to ghosts. Mary always made it a point to not allow for sentimentality, but she could see now, upon entering this room, this world Bert had concocted, that sometimes sentimentality was needed. It was a key component in making sure that when flooded with scents and images from the past, that one does not burst into hysterics, as Mary felt like she was about to do. Bert took her hand and led her into the room, turning her away from the memorabilia and instead, directed her to the fourth wall, that she could not see past the doorway. This wall, unlike the paneled chestnut that other three were comprised of, had been painted over with a specific kind of paint; one that allowed you to draw on it with chalk. It had been invented sometime in the early 1990s, and when it was introduced, Mary was in a small town in Colorado. The family she was working for had painted a wall as such for their children, and at first glance, Mary wondered what wonders Bert could create if he had a wall like this in his house. She could see now, what he would have done with it.
Along the wall were hundreds upon hundreds of drawings, all of them actual places. Each drawing was from the perspective of inside a house, looking out over whatever land or city scape happened to be outside the door in that particular area, and Mary could not help but wonder why Bert had chosen to draw these in such a peculiar manner. She looked over to him inquisitively and he responded first with a small shrug.
"One 'undred years, spend a great deal 'o time travelin' after you left fer th' last time. Kept 'opin that maybe I'd bump into you where I 'appened to be at th' time." He admitted sheepishly.
"Wosn't th' only reason I travelled tho'!" He added hastily, once seeing Mary's expression, which somewhat resembled pity.
"Nah, I jus'…got bored. There wos nuttin' left fer me 'ere after a while, an' so there wos no point in stayin'. Though' maybe I'd find summ'ere else, but London kept callin' me back. So back I came…'aven't left since 1986. Whenev'r I travelled, wherever I traveled, I always took up a lit'l shack some'ere…a cottage, summin' small, not too costly, that coul' be mine, yunno? An' I'd draw a lit'l picture o' this room, an' when I got back, I would draw that room on this 'ere wall. So if I ever wanted to go again, all I 'ad to do wos use me drawrin's." He explained. Mary nodded, impressed with the amount of time Bert had taken to do all of this and felt a strange surge in the pit of her stomach when she realized what exactly Bert had brought her in here for.
"We could run." She said, placing her hand gently on one of the drawings. Bert smiled and nodded.
"Wind can't catch up with yeh if it don't know where you'll be. An' by th' time it find yeh, we'll be two shakes from comin' back 'ere an' choosin' a diff'rent place to 'ide." He explained, clearly excited at the prospects at stake. Mary nodded, absently staring at the wall before sighing.
"Oh. But the wind means that there are children who need me, Bert. I can't just abandon them…" she said, sounding a little guilty.
"Mary, there will always be oth'r nannies. None as wond'rful as you, that's true, but there will always be someone else." He explained, a pleading tone in his voice.
"Yer always thinkin' of others…why not do summin fer yerself fer once?" Bert tacked on, hoping that it would be the icing on the cake. Apparently, it worked, because with a stern look, Mary nodded and gazed at the wall intently. She pointed a finger and tapped it against a picture.
"That one." She confirmed.
