CHAPTER THREE
***
A/N: Some of the dialogue in the sixth section is taken from the first Mary Poppins book.
***
As soon as she woke up she felt it – the Wind was tugging at her, beckoning her, tempting her. It was time for her to leave... but she couldn't leave yet.
Bert was sleeping soundly, his dark hair falling into her eyes. She didn't want to leave him again, but she had to. At least he'd understand... but she would miss him. undetermined
***
The door closed quietly behind her and she stepped almost silently up to her room. Someone had been there – some of her things were in disarray – but as she smoothed the bed sheets she once more saw Mrs. Banks lying on top of them, corset unlaced, skirts hitched up... Mary stifled a moan as another bolt of desire shot through her.
She had resolved to leave that night, but found she couldn't. There was something far more tempting than the siren song of the Wind to keep her here – for a little while longer, at least.
***
Winifred Banks slept in her husband's arms, unaware that Mary Poppins was thinking of her.
***
Only seven hours later, the children were awake, dressed, and fed, ready to go to the park. As they hurried to fetch their coats, Mary watched as Mrs. Banks kissed her husband's cheek lightly as she wished him a good day at work. The familiar, loving gesture hit Mary Poppins hard.
'It should not affect you!' she thought, angry at herself. 'She is his wife!'
But it still hurt.
Perhaps it really was time to leave.
***
'Mrs. Banks, I am leaving,' Mary Poppins said. Winifred Banks swayed a bit, clutching the back of her chair to keep her upright.
'But Mary Poppins! Why?' she cried, stricken.
'It's time for me to go,' she replied, and stepped out of the room, her heels clacking as she stepped quickly along the corridor. Mrs. Banks followed her.
'Mary Poppins, please don't go,' she begged, standing just inside the front door as Mary stepped into the Wind. 'Please, Mary Poppins...'
Mary tried to keep her mind focussed on her duty, tried not to look at Mrs. Banks. She stepped into the wind, where she knew she would be safe from temptation.
Despite her longing to remain, she smiled as the Wind gambolled about her, excited to have her back. It whispered to her, filling her with a joy quite unlike the physical pleasure she received from Bert. This was a higher feeling, more mental than physical, and she could not help but smile.
But then there was Mrs. Banks, pleading with her to stay – and Mary wanted to. But the Wind was too persuasive and she could no longer deny its claim on her. Opening her umbrella, she held on tightly as the Wind rushed around her, enveloping her in its embrace. As she began to rise in the air, she took one last, longing look at Mrs. Banks, who stood there with tears in her eyes.
She could hear the children calling to her, their cries breaking her out of her trance. Turning firmly away from Mrs. Banks, she let the Wind carry her up to the clouds. Only when she was at a safe distance did she let a single tear fall down her cheek, glittering there like a diamond.
***
'Mrs. Banks, I am leaving,' Mary Poppins said. Winifred felt her heart skip a beat. The next few minutes were a blur – she knew she tried to convince her to stay, to no avail. Later, the only thing she would remember with any clarity was the sadness in Mary's eyes, but in that moment, she could not process anything. And she could have sworn she saw the West Wind carry her away... no, that was impossible – probably just another hallucination of her grief-addled mind.
She knew she had to tell the children – it was her duty – and so she mounted the stairs to the nursery.
They were not surprised by her announcement – if anything, they took it better than she had – at least Jane did.
'Did she say she'd come back?' Michael demanded loudly over the sound of the twins' cries. 'Tell me – did she?'
Naturally, she had to scold him, and that was what made Mary's disappearance set in, more than anything. If Mary was still here, she would not have to speak sharply to her son, not have to pick up the twins and try to soothe them, not have to listen to Jane's reproving tone.
'I'm ashamed of you – really I am!' she said, her heart breaking, 'to want back anybody who has treated your Mother so badly. I'm utterly shocked.' But Winifred knew she was lying. Mary had never treated her badly – on the contrary. And just because she had left them did not make her a cruel woman... but Winifred so wanted to believe that it did. She couldn't bear thinking otherwise.
She kissed her children absentmindedly before going downstairs to send Mrs. Brill up to see them. She was going out to dinner with her husband in a few hours, and had to get ready – she couldn't tend to her children. Nor did she want to, especially not now.
She sat down at her vanity and pulled a sheet of paper towards her, beginning to write.
'Dear Mary Poppins...'
Only a few lines into her writing, she stopped, tearing it up. How could she write such things? And even if she felt comfortable writing it, how would it ever reach Mary Poppins? Shaking her head at her foolishness, she tossed the scraps of paper into the unlit fireplace.
***
Mary Poppins was perched atop a cloud when the letter reached her. The scraps of paper Winifred had tossed into the fireplace were fused together now, and Mary gently plucked the letter from the air.
'Dear Mary Poppins,' it began, 'I miss you. The children miss you. Will you come back, please? We need you – I need you. I don't know if I can go on without you. Oh, Mary Poppins, please come back!'
Mary folded the letter neatly, placing it securely in her carpetbag. Choking back a sob ('practically perfect people never allow sentiment to muddle their thinking!') she closed her eyes, trying to block out all memories of the Banks family, especially those memories of its matriarch.
She thought of Bert. She had never said goodbye, but she was sure he would soon learn of his departure. And he would understand – he always did. She would miss him on Her Days, but she would survive. He would, too.
***
Bert, who had heard of Mary's departure from the Banks children the day previous, received a letter from her.
'Dearest Bert,
By now you will have heard of my departure from the Banks children. I hope to return soon. If you need me, write. I will miss you.
Mary.'
He smiled despite his sadness at her departure. She really did love him, even if the letter did not explicitly state it.
He sat down to write his own brief missive.
'My darling Mary,
I miss you. Come back soon.
Bert.'
Tearing up the letter, he tossed it into the fireplace, just as Mrs. Banks had done the day previous, and watched as the scraps of the letter floated up to the sky.
***
Two weeks after Mary's departure, she entered the room she inhabited during her stay with them. It was odd to be back here, after her last time in this room, when she had fantasised about Mary. Sitting down on the bed, she inadvertently slipped her hand under the pillow and was startled to find a letter there, and even more surprised to find it addressed to her.
'Mrs. Banks,' it said in Mary's perfect script, 'I am sorry for my abrupt departure, but even I am ruled by the whims of a higher authority.
Au revoir,
Mary Poppins.'
She clutched the letter to her chest. 'Au revoir' – until we meet again. She would be back.
