Dear Readers,

I'm late - I know, I know! I apologize so very much! I've got this horrible problem of thinking backwards about this story - I've been brewing still about the end of things and even events that will probably never make it into the final chapters. Oh dear! But this chapter underwent a few renovations of its own, namely that the next chapter will finish off the retelling of this particular event beginning below.

Before I keep going, I want to sincerely thank Steeleafan, Gabrielle, Temple, redneckqueen-93, Steggy Likes Juice Boxes, and LadyLizaElliott for their over-abundance of kindness and support! You guys keep me going and are the reason for all of this! Thank you so, so much! I'd like to reply to a few questions/comments here. Firstly, I will admit that by the end of the story, you will find out the purpose of "Every Second Tuesdays." I'll go so far as to say in two, perhaps three chapters, that will be discussed. I adored my "writer encouragement" as well, and it really motivated me! Thank you very, very much! And lastly, one of my most favorite lines from the movie was in fact "When dukes and mahardjas..." and I felt the song had so much potential and revealed so much. I read entirely too far into that, thankfully most of it didn't get included in the chapter ;).

Speaking of reading entirely too far into things, I swear I really did use the movie to come up with this chapter and the one that follows it (and all of them...) For everyone who speaks of the final chapter, I have to say it may not be for awhile yet. I am expecting next chapter to be the halfway point of the story. It will, however, be the last glimpse into the "past" as far as past families go. Since I feel guilty for not including it in this chapter, I will say that for all of the readers who are behind the pairing that is Mary and Bert, you will receive a small token of my esteem and affection in Chapter 8. From there, things will go downhill. I do hope this chapter won't killed the story for anyone, but I understand if it does. As a final comment, I'll mention this chapter is in the "past" again.

But anyway, I'd like to thank you all very much again! I appreciate all of the encouragement so very much! I only hope that you continue to enjoy!

-Margo


Long before, on a bitter night somewhere on the Atlantic, Mary Poppins had looked into the eyes of Bert and felt something she hadn't for a very long time: love. For quite awhile afterwards, the recollection of this would always bring comfort to her. That is, of course, until enough time passed where such a statement seemed preposterous. Bert was traipsing the globe, happy somewhere else, and Mary had her hands full with so many children, never leaving much time for idleness to spend on thinking. When such opportunities did arise, they were filled with the thought that no one could love her, she was perhaps just that undesireable. It hardly mattered, anyway. The two lived in different worlds. And it seemed Mary's only got all the more complicated with each passing day.
"Oh, Uncle Albert! This is a fine sort of 'hello!'" Mary Poppins sighed upon stepping into the man's very familiar dining room and setting her belongings down. It was not often that the nanny received a chance in between families to visit with him - at least not for very long - and that present moment was no different. She was only able to arrive that evening, for as unfortunate as it was, to attend to some serious business. Mary knew her Uncle Albert would be the only one able to help her - he was so very good at these things - but the man she discovered upon entering the house was certainly not in a frame of mind to attend to anything of such consequence. This was most evident by the fact that redfaced Uncle Albert was howling like a jackal, which would be bad enough was he not also hovering blithely over the furniture, coming dangerously close to knocking into his high shelves of bric-a-brac and the antlers of the game he kept mounted on the walls. Should it have been anyone other than his cognizant niece spectating the event, Uncle Albert would appear to be a very strange character indeed. But Mary knew the nature of the beast quite well and realized the outburst could be attributed to one thing alone: the printing of his latest article in the Times, a copy of which was clenched violently in Uncle Albert's flailing hand.

He gazed down on Mary, but the cackling did not subside in the least. "Mary! You're - you're - here! How wonderful!"

Mary Poppins' heart burned with anxiety. She had no time for such nonsense with such an urgent quandary pressing down firmly upon her brow. How she hated to bicker with the kindly old man, but Mary found her cheeks growing evermore crimson with irritation as she exclaimed, "I simply can't imagine anything in that paper being humorous enough to cause all of this! It's rather uncomely, really."

"You'll just - have to forgive me, Mary! Hasn't something so simple or silly ever gotten - stuck - in you're head - and you - you just couldn't get it out? And then it just seems - all the more funny the longer it's - in your head - and - !" Even the woman's chiding could not stifle his chuckling, which promptly broke into another roar.

Mary crossed her arms in disgust. "Certainly not, I should say! I don't understand why, when people decide to plant ideas in their heads, they're always so - so crude!"

Uncle Albert was quick to combat. "But it's - it's not crude! It's funny! Let me try - and tell it to you--" It took several interrupted attempts before he finally managed to read from the battered page, "A very bedraggled gentleman recently stopped by to visit me. He asked, 'Uncle Albert, I'm in a horrible way. Working such long hours, I can't seem to ever get a rest. How can I catch up on my sleep?' I thought for a moment before the only logical solution came to mind. 'Well,' I offered, 'you might try chasing it around the bed.'" Once again, the elderly gentleman exploded in a frenzy, doubling over before flipping in midair.

She simply could not find the humor in it however, and pointedly asked, "Uncle Albert, how long have you been up there?"

The man saw no sense in lying and so - still laughing - freely admitted, "I'd say - around - maybe over - two days now. I just can't help it!" He coughed dryly before starting anew.

"Yes you can! I really do need your help, Uncle Albert, and if you would be so kind, it's a rather pressing matter!"

"Of course, my dear," Uncle Albert assured, "I'll be right down - really! Just - just give me a minute!"

Mary Poppins had given him a minute, an hour, and eventually the entire evening. Now bedecked in her dressing gown, she sat and fingered at its lace while she continued to beg for the man to descend. The young lady eventually conceded to the fact that it would not be anytime soon before the humor escaped Uncle Albert's mind, and so began seeking help with her still-floating mentor. She hurried to her carpet bag in the drawing room and produced several worn, cream-colored papers before seating herself again.

"Over the past few weeks, I've gotten several of these, Uncle Albert," Mary explained, craning her head upwards and raising the beaten sheets before her face. It appeared as though they had been ripped up once before being assembled again. They all contained a few lines of the same handwriting, scrolled in black ink, and though the context varied slightly, they all seemed to carry the same idea before ending abruptly.

He continued to chuckle and snort as he drew closer to the lighted chandelier to better observe his niece. "Surely you've gotten those before."

"Well, yes," she admitted, "I've received various sorts of - documents - I suppose, but never addressed directly to me! These clearly state 'Dear Mary Poppins.' And then they go on to the effects of - well, this one for instance." Mary gripped one of the letters and read. "'It's been several years since we parted ways, but I must admit I need the assistance of a nanny of such-' and then it simply ends! It's obviously one of the parents I've been employed by in the past, and it sounds urgent enough, but none are completed, and never signed! You can read between the lines much better than I can, Uncle Albert, and surely if you'd just come down you could-"

Suddenly - though just barely over Unle Albert's continual shrieks of amusement, Mary managed to detect the ringing of the doorbell. Her patience grew all the thinner.

"Really, Uncle Albert! It's got to be getting late, and now it sounds as if the complaints are going to start arriving!" The man never ceased and thus Mary rose from her seat with a huff, leaving the papers behind to retreat to her carpet bag again. Quickly, she retrieved her silk robe, wrapping it around herself before grabbing her nightcap as well, though her aburn locks remained flowing as she set it on her head. Feeling the slightest bit more presentable, she cracked the door open. A pair of cineral eyes stared back into hers, and instinctively Mary swung open the door.

Three years later, she was standing face to face with a rather out-of-breath Bert.


"Mary!" He exclaimed, a smile creasing into his face. Even though she was presented in such a state as he had never seen, Bert knew immediately that it was her. "I was hardly expectin' ta find you here! I heard a terrible commotion though on my way 'ome, an' I had to stop to see if Uncle Albert was all right."

Even he knew that quite a lot of information was absent from the story. Certainly much had happened since the last time the two had met, but Mary Poppins, being the woman he had always known, did not seem to be quick to press the matter. Instead, in a way similar to his own she responded, "Oh, well, I'd hardly consider him 'all right' but - do come in. I beg your pardon for my appearance, but perhaps you can help Uncle Albert." He readily stepped inside, and after shutting and locking the door once again, Mary led him into the dining room, where the picture hadn't changed.

"Oh, Bert! I've got to tell you this one - listen to this!" He insisted casually upon the pair's appearance, retreating to the printed words once again. "Tell me, why are the people of Ireland putting more money into banks?"

Bert thought for a moment, before he declared, "I 'on't know, Uncle Albert. Why?"

He erupted again before replying. "Because it's Dublin!" The man on the ground joined in the follies of laughter before Mary pleaded with him.

"Oh, please, Bert! Do try to calm him down, it's getting serious! This will be the third day he's up there!"

His eyes grew wide with surprise. "Third day? Doesn't 'e get tired? Or hungry?"

She shook her head, the light glimmering off her long hair. "I'm afraid not. With all of - that - stuck in his mind there's room for little else, which is going to create quite a dangerous situation if he doesn't come out of it soon! I'm only glad I was here to find him."

Something in Mary's last comment provoked Bert to ask a question he had been pondering over since the door opened. "You don't usually stay here, do you, Mary Poppins?"

"No," the nanny offered, "luckily I'm not currently stationed anywhere. I managed to sneak in between for a bit of help, but it looks as if this is turning into a holiday! And what a jolly holiday it will be!" With that, she was off on a discursion, turning her fury to its cause. "Now, really, Uncle Albert. The sooner you get down, the sooner you can figure this out"-Mary grabbed the papers on the table-"and get to the source of it."

"What seems to be the trouble, Mary Poppins?" Bert offered.

The woman, being largely ignored by her still-hysterical Uncle Albert, wearily turned in his direction. "Oh, it's this." She held up the papers and continued. "Someone appears to need my help and I just can't figure out who." Bert took a glance at them before his jaw nearly dropped.

"Is something the matter?" Mary asked, surveying the astonished look on her friend's face.

"Well," he said, floundering for words. "Those papers." He took them from her hands and surveyed them each closely before continuing. "Mary, I-I wrote these. But I never actually - I - destroyed 'em."


As if they weren't already, things began to seem very odd to Mary Poppins. After being away for years, Bert coincidentially popped in -and had sought her help weeks before but never truly pursued it.

"Destroyed?" She interrogated. "But whatever for? You apparently needed help, didn't you?"

He fumbled with the hat in his hands. "Well, not exactly me, but rather - a friend o' mine, a good friend o' mine. But I just couldn't bring myself to ask what wit' bein' away an' - an' you're a busy woman, Mary Poppins. I can't interrupt yer agenda. It just didn't feel right to ask yeh, but I s'pose yeh got the message anyway. I'm sorry."

"Do you still need help, Bert?" Mary replied, largely idisregarding his statements.

"Well, my pal still does," Bert managed with difficulty. "Yeh see, he ain't got alot, really. Most precious things in the world to 'im are his wife an' three little girls. He's only a sweep, he is, but they get by. But yeh see, his wife's mother lives alone on a little farm outside the city. She's gotten awfully sick, an' 'is wife and girls went to take care o' things there. He'd help, too, but he's gotta keep working to support 'em all, 'an I guess 'is wife is havin' a hard time tryin' to juggle her mum and the work an' the girls. I suspect it's somethin' yer not - used to doin', Mary. An' well, I figured you wouldn't be -"

"Interested." She finished for him. Bert swallowed and nodded in affirmation. "Well, really, Bert. I realize you must think I'm a terrible snob, but-"

"That's not it a'tol, Mary! It's just, I don't really know if they could afford it an' I'd hate-"

It was not Mary that interrupted him, but rather the wailing of Uncle Albert, now transformed from laughter to tears. He was sitting on the floor beside the leg of a chair. Both stopped abruptly to look at him, neither aware of just how long he had been there.

"Uncle Albert!" His niece declared. "You're back!"

"Well, of course I am!" He insisted, blubbering. "How can anyone laugh when someone is so miserable? You will go for those poor people, won't you, Mary?"

She eyed Bert for a moment before responding. "I don't believe I'm wanted any longer, Uncle Albert."

"That's not it, Mary!" Her friend piped up again.

"Then I will be going," she informed him simply, her mind decided. "I don't suppose they're expecting me?"

"No," Bert replied. "I'll be heading there tomorrow morning, though. I've been tryin' to go help when I can. You'll be joining me, then?"

"I certainly will." The agreement being reached, Bert bade his goodnights before the two saw him to the door. With their own problems resolved, Mary and Uncle Albert decided to retire for the evening, after both respectively tucked their fateful papers away.


The next morning, when Bert returned to Kirkby Lane, Mary was ready and waiting for him. Her usual suit was replaced with a simpler blouse and skirt, and carpet bag and umbrella were neatly in tow. After a few moments spent with Uncle Albert, during which many thanks were exchanged, the couple left the home, stopping just outside the door.

"I hope yeh don't mind the way we travel too much - it's just too far ta walk. And o'course, I can't fly," Bert grinned.

"Not with that attitude, you can't," Mary agreed crisply. "You've seen how easily ideas get stuck in heads. The moment you doubt yourself, the moment you lose the ability." She exhaled. "So how do you propose we get there?"

But Bert, in the interim of Mary's speech, had straddled his silver bicycle, returning his feet to the pavement and throwing out his arms to answer the question. She followed his motioning. "And I'm to sit on the handlebars?"

"Unless that's too awful for yeh." He stated honestly.

"Oh, really!" And with that, Bert took great care securing the woman's belongings to the back of the bicycle before returning to his seat again.

"May I help you?" Bert inquired.

Mary stared at the handlebars, considering the task before deciding. "Yes, you certainly may." Bert, with a leg on either side of the bicycle, took her waist gently in his hands and helped to lift her onto the handlebars, before quickly taking his seat to steady the bicycle.

"Are my hands all right there?" Mary asked, seeing that the only place available to put them was on top of Bert's as his own clenched the bars.

"Quite all right," he assured. "Are you ready now?" She nodded in response, and soon Uncle Albert's house was left far behind them.

It was Bert who spoke up moments later, when he was sure that his friend was comfortable with the situation. "I really do appreciate all of this, Mary Poppins."

"Oh, don't mention it. You've been quite a help to me, really - getting Uncle Albert down like that."

He chuckled. "Your uncle is - like you, then?"

Mary Poppins pondered for a minute before responding. "Yes, I suppose he is. In a lot of ways."

"I don't think you've quite got his sense of humor," Bert teased. "Or his accent."

"As a matter of fact," she was quick to correct. "I do have a sense of humor, I just do my best to contain it when it's not needed. And Uncle Albert is not truly American. He tried to transport himself there - as you seem to think I'm so capable of - and he disappeared for two weeks. When he finally came back, he'd had no idea what happened - and that single souvenir was all he got out of it."

Bert's chuckling echoed in the silence that would follow. Eventually, Mary resigned herself to close her eyes to the city sights whizzing by as the sun emerged to dance about them.

"It's a beautiful day." Mary Poppins declared. Bert leaned a bit closer to her face as he rounded a turn, being very careful not to hit anything.

"It certainly is," he agreed.

"A spoonful of sugar," she began to sing, "is all it takes - It changes bread and water into - Tea and cakes."

Bert grinned as his ears absorbed the soft purl of Mary's voice. "It's a lovely little song."

"It's true," she stated simply, listening to the hum of the tires beneath them. "If there's one thing I've learned over the years, that's it, and there's no need to ask for more."

The usual feeling that engulfed Bert when his dear friend made a simple yet somehow profound statement grasped him once again, leaving his body shivering. It had been so long since he felt that way, for surely no one he had met in his travels had ever had the same presence that Mary Poppins did. As the city fell gradually behind them, the two continued their punctuated conversation. Oddly and thankfully enough, Mary never did bring up Bert's travels, and he similarly did not feel a particular want to speak of them. It hardly mattered with them together again. Or, rather, as together as they ever had been.