Kitabı oku: «More about Mary Poppins / И снова о Мэри Поппинз», sayfa 4

Bad Tuesday

It was not very long afterwards that Michael woke up one morning with a curious feeling inside him. He knew, the moment he opened his eyes, that something was wrong but he was not quite sure what it was.

“What is today, Mary Poppins?” he enquired, pushing the bedclothes away from him.

“Tuesday,” said Mary Poppins. “Go and turn on your bath. Hurry!” she said, as he made no effort to move. He turned over and pulled the bedclothes up over his head and the curious feeling increased.

“What did I say?” said Mary Poppins in that cold, clear voice that was always a Warning.

Michael knew now what was happening to him. He knew he was going to be naughty.

“I won’t,” he said slowly, his voice muffled by the blanket.

Mary Poppins twitched the clothes from his hand and looked down upon him.

“I WON’T.”

He waited, wondering what she would do and was surprised when, without a word, she went into the bathroom and turned on the tap herself. He took his towel and went slowly in as she came out.

And for the first time in his life Michael entirely bathed himself. He knew by this that he was in disgrace, and he purposely neglected to wash behind his ears.

“Shall I let out the water?” he enquired in the rudest voice he had.

There was no reply.

“Pooh, I don’t care!” said Michael, and the hot heavy weight that was within him swelled and grew larger. “I don’t care!”

He dressed himself then, putting on his best clothes, that he knew were only for Sunday. And after that he went downstairs, kicking the banisters with his feet – a thing he knew he should not do as it waked up everybody else in the house. On the stairs he met Ellen, the housemaid, and as he passed her he knocked the hot-water jug out of her hand.

“Well, you are a clumsy,” said Ellen, as she bent down to mop up the water. “That was for your father’s shaving.”

“I meant to,” said Michael calmly.

Ellen’s red face went quite white with surprise.

“Meant to? You meant – well, then, you’re a very bad heathen* boy, and I’ll tell your Ma, so I will – ”

“Do,” said Michael, and he went on down the stairs.

Well, that was the beginning of it. Throughout the rest of the day nothing went right with him. The hot, heavy feeling inside him made him do the most awful things, and as soon as he’d done them he felt extraordinarily pleased and glad and thought out some more at once.

In the kitchen Mrs Brill, the cook, was making scones*.

“No, Master* Michael,” she said, “you can’t scrape out the basin. It’s not empty yet.”

And at that he let out his foot and kicked Mrs Brill very hard on the shin, so that she dropped the rolling-pin and screamed aloud.

“You kicked Mrs Brill? Kind Mrs Brill? I’m ashamed of you,” said his Mother a few minutes later when Mrs Brill had told her the whole story. “You must beg her pardon at once. Say you’re sorry, Michael!”

“But I’m not sorry. I’m glad. Her legs are too fat,” he said, and before they could catch him he ran away up the area steps and into the garden. There he purposely bumped into Robertson Ay, who was sound asleep on top of one of the best rock plants, and Robertson Ay was very angry.

“I’ll tell your Pa!” he said threateningly.

“And I’ll tell him you haven’t cleaned the shoes this morning,” said Michael, and was a little astonished at himself. It was his habit and Jane’s always to protect Robertson Ay, because they loved him and didn’t want to lose him.

But he was not astonished long, for he had begun to wonder what he could do next. And it was no time before he thought of something.

Through the bars of the fence he could see Miss Lark’s Andrew daintily sniffing at the Next Door lawn and choosing for himself the best blades of grass. He called softly to Andrew and gave him a biscuit out of his own pocket, and while Andrew was munching it he tied Andrew’s tail to the fence with a piece of string. Then he ran away with Miss Lark’s angry, outraged voice screaming in his ears, and his body almost bursting with the exciting weight of that heavy thing inside him.

The door of his Father’s study stood open – for Ellen had just been dusting the books. So Michael did a forbidden thing. He went in, sat down at his Father’s desk, and with his Father’s pen began to scribble on the blotter. Suddenly his elbow, knocking against the inkpot, upset it, and the chair and the desk and the quill pen and his own best clothes were covered with great spreading stains of blue ink. It looked dreadful, and fear of what would happen to him stirred within Michael. But, in spite of that, he didn’t care – he didn’t feel the least bit sorry.

“That child must be ill,” said Mrs Banks, when she was told by Ellen – who suddenly returned and discovered him – of the latest adventure. “Michael, you shall have some syrup of figs.”

“I’m not ill. I’m weller than you,*” said Michael rudely.

“Then you’re simply naughty,” said his Mother. “And you shall be punished.”

And, sure enough, five minutes later, Michael found himself standing in his stained clothes in a corner of the nursery, facing the wall.

Jane tried to speak to him when Mary Poppins was not looking, but he would not answer, and put out his tongue at her. When John and Barbara crawled along the floor and each took hold of one of his shoes and gurgled, he just pushed them roughly away. And all the time he was enjoying his badness, hugging it to him as though it were a friend, and not caring a bit.

* * *

“I hate being good,” he said aloud to himself, as he trailed after Mary Poppins and Jane and the perambulator on the afternoon walk to the Park.

“Don’t dawdle,” said Mary Poppins, looking back at him.

But he went on dawdling and dragging the sides of his shoes along the pavement in order to scratch the leather.

Suddenly Mary Poppins turned and faced him, one hand on the handle of the perambulator.

“You,” she began, “got out of bed the wrong side this morning.”

“I didn’t,” said Michael. “There is no wrong side to my bed.”

“Every bed has a right and a wrong side,” said Mary Poppins, primly.

“Not mine – it’s next the wall.”

“That makes no difference. It’s still a side,” scoffed Mary Poppins.

“Well, is the wrong side the left side or is the wrong side the right side? Because I got out on the right side, so how can it be wrong?”

“Both sides were the wrong side, this morning, Mr Smarty*!”

“But it has only one, and if I got out the right side – ” he argued.

“One word more from you – ” began Mary Poppins, and she said it in such a peculiarly threatening voice that even Michael felt a little nervous. “One more word and I’ll – ”

She did not say what she would do, but he quickened his pace.

“Pull yourself together, Michael,” said Jane in a whisper.

“You shut up,” he said, but so low that Mary Poppins could not hear.

“Now, Sir,*” said Mary Poppins. “Off you go* – in front of me, please. I’m not going to have you stravaiging* behind any longer. You’ll oblige me by going on ahead.” She pushed him in front of her. “And,” she continued, “there’s a shiny thing sparkling on the path just along there. I’ll thank you to go and pick it up and bring it to me. Somebody’s dropped their tiara, perhaps.”

Against his will, but because he didn’t dare not to, Michael looked in the direction in which she was pointing. Yes – there was something shining on the path. From that distance it looked very interesting and its sparkling rays of light seemed to beckon him. He walked on, swaggering a little, going as slowly as he dared and pretending that he didn’t really want to see what it was.

He reached the spot and, stooping, picked up the shining thing. It was a small round sort of box with a glass top and on the glass an arrow marked. Inside, a round disc that seemed to be covered with letters swung gently as he moved the box.

Jane ran up and looked at it over his shoulder.

“What is it, Michael?” she asked.

“I won’t tell you,” said Michael, though he didn’t know himself.

“Mary Poppins, what is it?” demanded Jane, as the perambulator drew up beside them. Mary Poppins took the little box from Michael’s hand.

“It’s mine,” he said jealously.

“No, mine,” said Mary Poppins. “I saw it first.”

“But I picked it up.” He tried to snatch it from her hand, but she gave him such a look that his hand fell to his side.

She tilted the round thing backwards and forwards, and in the sunlight the disc and its letters went careering madly inside the box.

“What’s it for?” asked Jane.

“To go round the world with,” said Mary Poppins.

“Pooh!” said Michael. “You go round the world in a ship, or an aeroplane. I know that. The box thing wouldn’t take you round the world.”

“Oh, indeed – wouldn’t it?” said Mary Poppins, with a curious I-know-better-than-you expression on her face. “You just watch!”

And holding the compass in her hand she turned towards the entrance of the Park and said the word “North!”

The letters slid round the arrow, dancing giddily. Suddenly the atmosphere seemed to grow bitterly cold, and the wind became so icy that Jane and Michael shut their eyes against it. When they opened them the Park had entirely disappeared – not a tree nor a green-painted seat nor an asphalt footpath was in sight. Instead, they were surrounded by great boulders of blue ice and beneath their feet snow lay thickly frosted upon the ground.

“Oh, oh!” cried Jane, shivering with cold and surprise, and she rushed to cover the Twins with their perambulator rug. “What has happened to us?”

Mary Poppins looked at Michael significantly. She had no time to reply, however, for at that moment, out of a hole in one of the boulders, an Eskimo man emerged, his round, brown face surrounded by a bonnet of white fur, and a long white fur coat over his shoulders.

“Welcome to the North Pole, Mary Poppins and Friends!” said the Eskimo, with a broad smile of welcome. Then he came forward and rubbed his nose against each of their noses in turn, as a sign of greeting. Presently a lady Eskimo came out of the hole carrying a baby Eskimo wrapped up in a sealskin shawl.

“Why, Mary, this is a treat!” she said, and she, too, rubbed noses all round. “You must be cold,” she said then, looking with surprise at their thin dresses. “Let me get you some fur coats. We’ve just been skinning a couple of Polar Bears. And you’d like some hot whale-blubber* soup, wouldn’t you, my dears?”

“I’m afraid we can’t stay,” Mary Poppins rejoined quickly. “We’re going round the world, and only looked in for a moment, thank you all the same. Another time, perhaps.”

And, making a little movement of her hand, she spun the compass and said “South!”

It seemed to Jane and Michael then as if the whole world, like the compass, were spinning round and that they were in the middle of the spin, as one is when the conductor, as a special treat, takes you inside the works of a Merry-go-Round.

As the world swung round them they felt themselves getting warmer and warmer, and when it slowed down again and became steady they found themselves standing beside a grove of palm-trees. The sun spread a cloak of warmth around them, and the sand was golden beneath their feet.

Under the palm-trees sat a man and a woman as black and shiny and plump as ripe plums, and wearing very few clothes. But to make up for this they wore a great many beads. Some hung round their foreheads below great crowns of feathers; others were looped about their ears; there were one or two in their noses. They had necklaces of coloured beads and belts of plaited beads round their waists. And on the knee of the dark lady sat a tiny plum-black baby with nothing on at all! It smiled at the children as its Mother spoke.

“We’ve been anticipating your visit, Mary Poppins,” she said, smiling. “Goodness, those are very pale children! Where did you find them? On the moon?” She laughed at them, loud happy laughter, as she got to her feet and began to lead the way to a little hut made of palm-leaves. “Come in, come in and share our dinner. You’re all as welcome as sunlight.”

Jane and Michael were about to follow, but Mary Poppins held them back.

“We’ve no time to stay, unfortunately. Just dropped in as we were passing, you know. We’ve got to get round the world,” she explained. And the black people flung up their hands in surprise.

“That’s some distance,* Mary Poppins,” said the man, his dark eyes looking doubtful as he rubbed his cheek with the end of the big club he was carrying.

“Round the world! That’s all the way from here to there! You’ll wear out your shoes,” his wife cried. She laughed again as if this, and everything else in the world, were one huge happy joke. And while she was laughing Mary Poppins moved the compass and cried in a loud, firm voice, “East!”

The world went spinning again and presently – it seemed to the astonished children only a few seconds – the palm-trees were no longer there, and when the spinning movement ceased they found themselves in a street lined with curiously shaped and very small houses. These appeared to be made of paper and the curved roofs were hung with little bells that rang gently in the breeze. Over the houses almond and plum trees spread branches weighted down with bright blossom, and along the little street people in strange flowery garments were quietly walking. It was a most pleasant and peaceful scene.

“I believe we’re in China,” whispered Jane to Michael. “Yes, I’m sure we are!” she went on, as they watched the door of one of the little paper houses opening and an old man stepping through it. He was curiously dressed, in a stiff brocade kimono of gold, and silken trousers gathered in with a golden ring at the ankles. His shoes turned up at the toes, very stylishly; from his head there hung a long grey pigtail that reached nearly to his knees, and from his lips drooped as far as his waist a very long moustache.

The old gentleman, seeing the little group formed by Mary Poppins and the children, bowed so low that his head touched the ground. Jane and Michael were surprised to see Mary Poppins bowing in the same way, till the daisies in her hat were brushing the earth.

“Where are your manners?*” hissed Mary Poppins, looking up at them from that unusual position. And she said it so fiercely that they thought they had better bow, too, and the Twins bent their foreheads against the edge of their perambulator.

The old man, rising ceremoniously, began to speak.

“Honourable Mary* of the House of Poppins,” he said. “Deign to shed upon my unworthy abode the light of your virtuous countenance. And, I beseech you, lead thither to its graceless hearth these other honourable travellers.” He made another bow and waved his hand towards his house.

Jane and Michael had never heard such strange and beautiful language and were very astonished. But much more so when Mary Poppins herself answered the invitation with equal ceremony.

“Gracious Sir,” she began, “it is with deep regret that we, the humblest of your acquaintances, must refuse your expansive and more-than-royal invitation. The lamb does not leave the ewe, nor the young bird its nest, more unwillingly than we depart from your shining presence. But, noble and ten-times-splendid Sir, we are in the act of encompassing the world and our visit to your honourable city can, alas, be but momentary. Permit us, there-fore, to remove our unworthy persons from you without further ceremony.”

The Mandarin, for such indeed he was, bent his head and was preparing another elaborate bow, when Mary Poppins very quickly moved the compass again.

“West!” she said firmly.

Round went the world till Jane and Michael were quite dizzy. And when it grew still again they found themselves hurrying with Mary Poppins through great pine woods towards a clearing where several tents were pitched round a huge fire. In and out of the firelight flickered dark figures crowned with feathers and wearing loose tunics and trousers of fringed doe-skin. One of the largest of these figures broke away from the rest and came hurrying towards Mary Poppins and the children.

“Morning-Star-Mary,*” he said. “Greeting!” And he bent over her and touched his forehead with hers. Then he turned to the four children and did the same to them.

“My wigwam awaits you,” he said in a grave, friendly voice. “We are just frying a reindeer for supper.”

“Chief Sun-at-Noonday*,” said Mary Poppins, “we have only dropped in – indeed, we have come, as it were, to say good-bye. We have been round the world and this is our last port of call*.”

“Ha?* Is that so?” said the Chief, looking very interested. “I have often thought of doing that myself. But surely you can spend a little time with us, if only so long as to let this young person” (he nodded at Michael) “try his strength against my great-great-great-grandson, Fleet-as-the-Wind*!” The Chief clapped his hands.

“Hi – ho – hee!” he called loudly, and from the tents a little Indian boy ran towards them. He came swiftly up to Michael and when he reached him he flicked him lightly on the shoulder.

“Touched you last!*” he said and ran like a hare.

That was too much for Michael. With a bound he was after him, with Jane on the heels of both. The three of them went dodging among the trees, circling one huge pine again and again as Fleet-as-the-Wind led them on, always laughing and always out of reach. Jane dropped behind, beaten, but Michael was angry now and set his teeth and fled screaming after Fleet-as-the-Wind, determined not to be outrun by an Indian boy.

“I’ll get you!” he cried, straining to run still faster.

“What are you doing?” enquired Mary Poppins, snappily.

Michael looked back at her and stopped suddenly in his tracks. Then he turned again to the chase, but to his surprise there was no sign of Fleet-as-the-Wind. Nor of the Chief, nor the tents, nor the fire. There was not even a pine-tree to be seen. Nothing but a garden seat, and Jane and the Twins and Mary Poppins standing in the middle of the Park.

“Running round and round that garden seat as if you’d gone mad! One’d think you’d been naughty enough for one day. Come along!” said Mary Poppins.

Michael pushed out his mouth sulkily.

“All round the world and back again in a minute – what a wonderful box!” Jane was saying happily.

“Give me my compass!” demanded Michael rudely.

“My compass, thank you,” said Mary Poppins, and she put it away in her pocket.

Michael looked at her as if he would like to kill her, and, indeed, what he felt was very like what he looked. But he just shrugged his shoulders and stalked off in front of them all and would not say a word to anybody.

“I could beat* that boy any day,” he assured himself as he went through the gate of Number Seventeen and up the stairs…

* * *

The burning weight still hung heavily within him. After the adventure with the compass it seemed to grow worse, and towards the evening he grew naughtier and naughtier. He pinched the Twins when Mary Poppins was not looking, and when they cried he said in a falsely kind voice:

“Why, darlings, what is the matter?”

But Mary Poppins was not deceived by it.

“You’ve got something coming to you!” she said significantly. But the burning thing inside him would not let him care. He just shrugged his shoulders and pulled Jane’s hair. And after that he went to the supper table and upset his bread-and-milk.

“And that,” said Mary Poppins, “is the end. Such deliberate naughtiness I never saw. In all my born days I never did, and that’s a fact. Off you go! Straight into bed with you and not another word!”

He had never seen her look so terrible.

But still he didn’t care.

He went into the Night-nursery and undressed. No, he didn’t care. He was bad, and if they didn’t look out he’d be worse. He didn’t care. He hated everybody. If they weren’t careful he would run away and join a circus. There! Off went a button. Good – there would be fewer to do up in the morning. And another! All the better. Nothing in all the world could ever make him feel sorry. He would get into bed without brushing his hair or his teeth – certainly without saying his prayers.

He was just about to get into bed and, indeed, had one foot already in it, when he noticed the compass lying on the top of the chest of drawers.

Very slowly he withdrew his foot and tiptoed across the room. He knew now what he would do. He would take the compass and spin it and go round the world. And they’d never find him again. And it would serve them right. Without making a sound he lifted a chair and put it against the chest of drawers. Then he climbed up on it and took the compass in his hand.

He moved it.

“North, South, East, West!” he said very quickly, in case anybody should come in before he got well away.

A noise behind the chair startled him and he turned round guiltily, expecting to see Mary Poppins. But instead, there were four gigantic figures bearing down towards him – the Eskimo with a spear, the Negro Lady with her husband’s huge club, the Mandarin with a great curved sword, and the Red Indian with a tomahawk. They were rushing upon him from all four quarters of the room with their weapons raised above their heads, and, instead of looking kind and friendly as they had done that afternoon, they now seemed threatening and full of revenge. They were almost on top of him, their huge, terrible, angry faces looming nearer and nearer. He felt their hot breath on his face and saw their weapons tremble in their hands.

With a cry Michael dropped the compass.

“Mary Poppins, Mary Poppins – help me, help me!” he screamed, and shut his eyes tight.

He felt something envelop him, something soft and warm. Oh, what was it? The fur coat of the Eskimo, the Mandarin’s cloak, the Red Indian’s doe-skin tunic, the black lady’s feathers? Which of them had caught him? Oh, if only he had been good – if only!

“Mary Poppins!” he wailed, as he felt himself carried through the air and set down in something still softer.

“Oh, dear Mary Poppins!”

“All right, all right. I’m not deaf, I’m thankful to say – no need to shout,” he heard her saying calmly.

He opened one eye. He could see no sign of the four gigantic figures of the compass. He opened the other eye to make sure. No – not a glint of any of them. He sat up. He looked round the room. There was nothing there.

Then he discovered that the soft thing that was round him was his own blanket, and the soft thing he was lying on was his own bed. And oh, the heavy burning thing that had been inside him all day had melted and disappeared. He felt peaceful and happy, and as if he would like to give everybody he knew a birthday present.

“What – what happened?” he said rather anxiously to Mary Poppins.

“I told you that was my compass, didn’t I? Be kind enough not to touch my things, if you please,” was all she said as she stooped and picked up the compass and put it in her pocket. Then she began to fold the clothes that he had thrown down on the floor.

“Shall I do it?” he said.

“No, thank you.”

He watched her go into the next room, and presently she returned and put something warm into his hands. It was a cup of milk.

Michael sipped it, tasting every drop several times with his tongue, making it last as long as possible so that Mary Poppins should stay beside him.

She stood there without saying a word, watching the milk slowly disappear. He could smell her crackling white apron and the faint flavour of toast that always hung about her so deliciously. But try as he would*, he could not make the milk last for ever, and presently, with a sigh of regret, he handed her the empty cup and slipped down into the bed. He had never known it be so comfortable, he thought. And he thought, too, how warm he was and how happy he felt and how lucky he was to be alive.

“Isn’t it a funny thing, Mary Poppins,” he said drowsily. “I’ve been so very naughty and I feel so very good.”

“Humph!” said Mary Poppins as she tucked him in and went away to wash up the supper things…