So this one got away from me.
A New Babysitter
Mary stared at the modest brown-roofed house and did her best not to feel nervous. This was her first time being a sitter—her first job, actually.
"At least their garden looks nice," she said to herself. And it did; the stone wall surrounded a pleasant square of mainly green foliage, but dotted here and there with cheerful yellows or pretty pinks. She straightened her shoulders and smoothed her white gloves. She made sure she did not appear nervous before briskly walking through the gate, the garden, and knocking on the door.
It was opened mere seconds later by a pleasant-faced woman, with laugh lines around her eyes and hair beginning to turn grey. "You're in excellent time, do come in," the woman said, stepping back. She shut the door behind Mary and proceeded to take the umbrella and scarf, remarking as she did so, "Oh, what nice gloves! They're so rare these days."
"I had them before the war," Mary explained, taking them off with attentive gentleness. "Once I realised I could not get another pair, I've been very careful of them. I don't feel properly dressed without them."
"You'll get along well with Susan—that's the oldest girl. There's four of them, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy. And we don't really need a sitter for them," she explained, her voice muffled by the closet she'd leaned into as she hung up Mary's things. "They're terribly well-behaved, and shouldn't be any trouble. But John doesn't feel quite safe leaving them yet—"
"What am I being blamed for now?" came a deep voice down the hall, and a man with dark hair appeared. Mary noted he walked with one arm swinging and the other held still. A war wound most likely, she noted to herself, he would have been drafted if he hadn't volunteered. And he walked with the upright stance of a soldier.
"I said the children shouldn't be any trouble," the woman explained as she stepped back into the hall. Mary nodded, but only politely. Many parents thought their children well behaved, and were entirely mistaken, she had heard from older babysitters.
John put an arm around the woman's shoulders."They are quite mature, I grant you, Helen. But I've seen enough of the terrible side of human nature that I'd rather not leave them to their own devices. Call it a father's need for reassurance, and leave it at that." He smiled at Mary, then turned to his wife. "Shall we go?"
"Just let me grab my coat—" but John's long arm grabbed it first, and he put it on his wife, one arm at a time (since he could only use one of his own), with considerate care. Helen checked her hair in the hall mirror, glanced down the hall, and then back at Mary. "If you have any questions feel free to ask the children. They know most of what happens. And the girls will get dinner. They're quite good cooks."
"Is there anything else you need?" John inquired.
Mary shook her head, and politely held the door as her employers went out. Then she turned, shook out her skirts, and went to find the children.
She found all four of them in the drawing room, and paused for a moment in the doorway.
Perhaps her employers had been right. For all four children were seated, the girls side-by-side on the sofa, the taller boy in a chair drawn up by the fire, and the younger boy in an armchair next to the couch. Though both the younger children were learning forward with earnest expressions on their faces, there were no angry words nor disrespectful mannerisms. The younger girl was speaking.
"...since stars are possibly other planets, in this world at least, why couldn't there be life on them? If Narnian life exists, surely life on other planets-"
"But think about it. Even Narnian life existed in a place with air, water, forests—all of that. There's no guarantee those exist on other planets."
"There's no proof that they don't," put in the older boy.
"The probability of other planets being the same—"
"Is not something we have enough information to argue about. And I think we should cease, for we have a guest," said the oldest girl, standing. The other three followed her gaze and stood as well.
Mary stepped through the door. "My name is Mary. Your mother said you girls would handle the cooking for tonight?" she asked, and both girls nodded.
"We learned a good deal about cooking while we were in the country, during the Blitz," the older one said. "Are you hungry? We could begin it now; it will not take long to prepare."
"I believe that would be a good idea. Promptness is always appreciated in life, I've found." Mary followed the two of them to the kitchen. To her surprise, the boys came as well, handing things to their sisters, getting dishes out without being asked—working together in a way Mary had seldom seen.
"I heard your discussion as I entered," she said, chopping onions to add to the stew the oldest was mixing together on the stove. "You do not believe there is life on other planets?" she asked the boy currently stacking five glasses in his hands to carry to the table.
"Someone had to argue that position, or the discussion would not have lasted very long." He smiled at his siblings. "Susan is too soft-spoken, Peter will rarely say something he's not absolutely sure of, and Lucy believes in it too earnestly to argue against it."
"What makes you so sure of such a thing?" Mary asked the fair-haired girl putting bread in a basket.
"We've seen all kinds of impossible things," she said softly, eyes on her fingers, and yet looking very far away. "It makes it far easier to believe the universe is filled with more of the same."
"It is a universe of logic, and yet filled with the most unusual things. Just make sure never to lose your common sense as you discover such things."
The four paused and looked at her, eyes assessing.
"You're not quite normal yourself, are you?" the youngest asked, eyes filling with hope.
"I am a nanny—or a sitter, for the moment. And that is normal enough. Sit down, it's time for dinner."
Mary had made all sorts of plans when she first took the job—to take the children to a park, to meet some of her old friends, and she was very sure she would do that with children in the future, but, in this, her first job, she was beginning to wonder if there weren't already adventures to hear about. And so, throughout the dinner, and the night afterwards, she led the conversation to some of the impossible things the children had done. Starting, of course, with the things they had learned, for education was quite important.
They had a surprising amount of wisdom in their young heads, and grew more and more at ease with Mary as the night went on, and she showed no incredulity or condescension as their stories continued.
Mary herself quite enjoyed the stories—and made a mental note to herself to go find that Professor. He sounded like good company. That could be quite rare these days.
But she quite enjoyed the children. So much so, that all five were still in the drawing room, talking about how life could exist below ground but not in the air (that the children had seen), when their parents got home.
Helen bustled about preparing the children for bed while John escorted Mary to the door., handing her the money for the evening. She nodded, put on her scarf, umbrella, and white gloves, and made her way down the walk, pausing as he called after her, "The children seemed to fit in quite well with you; if we wanted to find you again, who should we ask for?"
She turned and smiled at him. "Mary Poppins," she told him. "But I'm afraid I'm only here till the wind changes."
The wind changed that very night, and the Pevensies never met her again.
The Professor, however, was another story.
*According to Google, Mary Poppins was an adult by 1910, and LWW takes place in 1940, but shhhh! I'm ignoring those dates. Plus, there's a popular theory that she's a Time Lord (she has technology that is bigger on the inside, she wears bow ties and sometimes a crazy scarf, she and Matt Smith both meet an animal and tell their companions the animal is named Susan and that choice should be respected, and she's eccentric enough), so it's quite possible for her to be a teen in 1940 and an adult in 1910.
So at what point did people guess that the babysitter was Mary Poppins?
And this could have been a LOT longer, but it's bedtime, and that's not the point of Short Snippets.