The Mystery in the Wind (for Mary Poppins)

[Sally Lockhart]

Sally Lockhart, with a hand clutching one of her newspaper clipping books to her chest and the other hurriedly turning a key in the office door, was running over the day’s events in her mind. The appointment with Mrs. Walsh still carried a slight sting. Although she had finished berating herself over her inattention of the movements of the Anglo-Baltic shipping company, the fact she had failed one of her clients was an unsettling blow. Sally was determined to do all she could to get dear Mrs. Walsh’s money back. But first she would have to figure out how Axel Bellman, the richest man in Europe, and the sinking of the Ingrid Linde were connected. That was why she had chosen to bring her clipping book home with her. It contained information about the recent collapsing and mergers of the North Atlantic shipping companies. Surely she would find some clue as to Bellman’s involvement in the vast collection of articles.

A chilly evening breeze was blowing as she made her way onto the busy London street with her dog Chaka trotting along beside her. She drew her coat tighter around her and cast a quick glance over her shoulder at her office. ’Sally Lockhart, Financial Consultant’. Her heart still flickered with pride when she remembered all she had overcome to reach this point. The business was doing well, excepting this minor hiccup, and she was glad to be able to apply her not-so-normal knowledge to the improvement of quite a few clients.

There was only one thing that kept her from total contentment. If only Fred would stop being so stubborn and speak to her, she might be able to chat this Anglo-Baltic situation over with him. They had fought again about her refusal to accept his marriage proposal. His persistence was wearing her patience thin. Yes, she cared for him and a truer soul she knew not, but she just could not settle with a man who was wasting his time and talent chasing idle dreams, like amateur detecting. He was a photographer, not a sleuth or a boxer. She found herself growing more and more frustrated as she thought of this facetious man. Chaka gave a yelp and she realized that she was pulling his lead a bit too tightly due to her annoyance.

”Sorry boy. It’s all Fred’s fault really. I think you should take it up with him the next time you see him.”

She turned to smile at him, but frowned instead as he had stopped walking and was staring worriedly into the darkening night ahead. He gave a short whine, as the wind picked up. She called him to come, but he remained still.

”What is the matter, boy? We’ve no time for dawdling. It is getting dark and we need to be getting home.”

Suddenly, her hat was yanked from her head by a steady gust of wind. Dropping her clippings, she tried desperately to grasp it, but her hands met nothing but air. In her hurry she had also let go of Chaka’s lead. Before she had the chance to retrieve it, another gust of wind met her with force. It seemed to bring with it a dark fog, for Sally found herself unable to see the cobbled stones beneath her feet. The darkness was oppressive and she began to panic. She tried to call for Chaka but she could not hear her own voice above the gale that was now blowing. Her foot caught on something, causing her to lose her footing and fall to the pavement below. She wrapped her arms around her head and closed her eyes to shield them from the wind.

It seemed a lifetime before the violent noise died down almost as suddenly as it had arrived. Startled, Sally opened her eyes. She was overcome by the midday sun and gasped as she used her hands to block out the confusing light. After a moment to adjust to the change, she cautiously looked around her. The landscape she now saw was drastically different to the one she had just been walking down. Stores she had seen everyday had new shop fronts. She instinctively turned towards her office and felt her breath catch in her throat.

’Mrs. Cory’s Gingerbread Shop’ read a bold and colourful sign. Sally stared in horror. She staggered to her feet and turned for that familiar figure of her canine companion. He was nowhere to be seen.

”Chaka?” she whispered.

[Mary Poppins]

It was a Gingerbread Day, Mary Poppins had decided as she had calmly stepped from the pavement onto Pickering Street. Her latest charge, Charles Davenport the Third, Charlie to almost everyone who knew him, was ill and had finally fallen asleep. Mrs Davenport was resolved to sit with him while he slept and had released the Governess for the day. While Mary was grateful that his mother had shown such instincts for the boy, she would rather have stayed behind to watch his progress, his fever was still quite high. No. It was for the good that Mrs Davenport have this opportunity to care for her son. It would be good for them both. Instead, Mary would come baring gingerbread when the boy was well enough to eat it.

As she headed down Pickering Street in her grey skirt and jacket ensemble, hat neatly in place, she felt that familiar twinge deep within her gut that usually signified that something unusual was about to happen. She searched through herself for a moment, but could not put her finger on the change. She most certainly had not manufactured it herself. That anyone could think so was insulting. Her instincts about these things were impeccable. After all, she had been in practice for many years. More years than were betrayed by her soft and youthful appearance… She ignored the inkling for the moment; she knew that the truth would present itself with time. So, raising her head into her characteristic walk, she headed briskly towards the main street.

Mrs Cory’s Shop had moved since she had last frequented it. The, rather eccentric if Mary allowed herself to admit it, owner had decided that of all the people who needed gingerbread, those frequenting the Financial District would most be in need of it. She had made a comment to Mary about the ‘dull, grey, dreariness of banking life’. Mary could not have agreed more and thought that the dash of colour was a welcome addition to the district.

It was about mid-day when she arrived on the street that she had written down on a small piece of paper when told that the shop was moving, and she searched eagerly for the telltale signs of Mrs Cory. While it was never polite for a lady to sniff, Mary took in a deep breath and could almost taste the tantalizing smell that drifted up the street. She had found her. She quickened her pace and could hear the black heels of her shoes clicking on the cobbled stones with a rhythmic tapping. A smile slid unknowingly onto her face as the anticipation of seeing her old friend grew.

Then, she spotted something altogether unusual... She loved it when she was right.

In the middle of the street, scrunched up like a discarded piece of paper, was a young woman who shielded her eyes against the bright mid-day sun. Mary frowned, wondering what on earth was wrong with the girl. It certainly would not do to have someone unwell so haphazardly frequenting London’s streets. Just then, the girl seemed to relax a little and finally opened her eyes, stumbling to her feet. She seemed lost. She turned quickly to look towards a shop, which Mary happily noted was Mrs Cory’s Shop. The girl did not seem quite so impressed herself, but turned back to the street.

”Chaka?” she whispered.

Mary frowned. Muttering to no one in particular was an alarming trait, but muttering about Zulu kings in a busy London street was completely odd. Perhaps she was unwell. Mary’s governess instinct could not be contained, she immediately stepped closer to the girl. As she did, she noticed how unusually pretty she was. She had deep brown eyes and a lovely head of honey-blonde hair. Her face was etched with worry. Mary knew that she needed help, anyone could see that.

“I beg your pardon,” Mary asked, touching the girl’s arm reassuringly, ”but are you all right?”

[Sally Lockhart]

This was not right. This was not Pickering Street. This was not half past five in the afternoon. This was all wrong. Sally Lockhart stood fixed to the pavement, her body rigid with a panicked disbelief and her breaths short and irregular. The strange world around her was hazy behind involuntary tears. Her mind felt completely empty and void of comprehension yet frantic and overflowing with information at the same time. She could see herself standing frozen and dazed on the busy street yet she may as well have been blind because she could not make sense of what she saw.

The sound of shoes clicking on the cobbled street drew her out of her immobile state.

“Come on Sally. Pull yourself together,” she muttered to herself as she fiercely wiped her tears away.

She suddenly realised how much her ankle ached from her fall and took a deep breath to try and calm her rapid heartbeat, but instead found herself feeling light headed and nauseous as she was met with the sweet smell of sugar and frosting. Normally this smell would have been tantalising, but today it was sickening and only confused her already dazed senses even more. The gingerbread sign seemed to be mocking her, the bright colours moving and swirling across the wooden board in a garish dance.

”No. Stop it,” she told her shaking body. ”There is no use being in a state. There must be an explanation. Think. What happened just before you opened your eyes to this...”.

The wind. That fierce, deafening wind. And the fog. Sally shuddered as she thought of the oppressive darkness that had encompassed her. The most startling factor was its sudden arrival and departure. Yet, before she had time to speculate a logical reason for this mysterious wind, she heard a voice behind her.

“I beg your pardon, but are you all right?”

Sally felt a hand touch her arm and turned to see a strangely dressed woman standing before her. The strangeness was not due to her outfit being dirty and dishevelled or overly flamboyant like a circus performer. In fact, her outfit was immaculate, each inch of material flawlessly pressed and in place. Even her hat was sat perfectly on her dark brown hair. But it was the cut of her grey skirt and jacket that was remarkably unusual. Sally thought she must be an actress, though what she was doing walking around in the financial district, and in costume mind you, was highly puzzling.

Yet these slightly scandalous ideas of the woman’s identity were dashed as soon as Sally noticed the woman’s expression. Although, this did not solve the puzzle but only added to it. There was a sense of superiority and no-nonsense about the way she held her chin and gazed so steady at Sally. Yet her eyes shone with a fierce compassion and her mouth was turned up an encouraging smile. Sally was both alarmed and drawn to this strange woman. She was frightened by her proud strength and yet wanted to collapse into her arms and cry like a small child.

Sally realised she was staring at the woman’s face and swiftly diverted her eyes to the cobbled pavement. A quick debate went on inside Sally’s head. Could she trust this woman or not? She feared the woman would think her ridiculous is she told her about the wind and the fact that this was not the evening street she had been walking down just minutes before. Yet, although the woman appeared arrogant, she was not unkind and Sally was warmed by the twinkle in her eyes. Besides, Sally had no idea where she was and she desperate to clear up this mystery and go home. Gathering herself, she smoothed her skirt and lifted her eyes to meet the woman’s gaze.

”I seem to be lost. You see, just a few minutes ago I left my office on Pickering Street at half past five in the afternoon and was walking towards Essex Road with Chaka, my dog, when I was met by a ferocious wind. A dark fog came with it, blinding me and causing me to tumble to the pavement. I closed my eyes hoping that when I opened them the wind and fog would have subsided. They swiftly did, yet when I opened my eyes I was met by the midday sun and found myself here. And I have no idea where here is.”

Sally paused to catch her breath. She could hear her voice quivering as the panic begin to consume her again. She quickly wiped away an escaping tear and continued.

”So, if you could be so kind as to point be back to Pickering Street I would be most appreciative.”

[Mary Poppins]

For a moment, Mary was unsure if she was going to receive an answer from the young woman. Her enquiry after her health seemed only to elicit more confusion in her dark eyes. They stared at Mary, taking in her outfit and the nanny, with a slightly offended air that covered her panic that something about her outfit was amiss, looked down at herself to see what had prompted such a look from the stranger. Everything was in perfect order. Well, of course it was.

Mary looked back up to notice that the blonde was now paying unusual attention to her face. She pulled back involuntarily with surprise. She was now highly concerned that there was something wrong with the girl. A respectable girl staring at people in this manner? Really. This concern, however, was not long-lived as the woman seemed to remember herself and looked away. Mary still waited for an answer.

On seeing the expression, which always suggested significant internal debat, Mary was about to remind the girl that she had merely asked about her wellbeing. It was hardly the Spanish Inquisition. She was poised to explain that conversation was best kept cordial with regular responses and a lack of suspicion. Before she spoke, however, the young woman returned her gaze and seemed decided to speak. Mary tilted her head slightly to listen and her eyebrows raised in the fashion that so often graced her face when awaiting explanation.

”I seem to be lost. You see, just a few minutes ago I left my office on Pickering Street at half past five in the afternoon and was walking towards Essex Road with Chaka, my dog, when I was met by a ferocious wind. A dark fog came with it, blinding me and causing me to tumble to the pavement. I closed my eyes hoping that when I opened them the wind and fog would have subsided. They swiftly did, yet when I opened my eyes I was met by the midday sun and found myself here. And I have no idea where here is.”

Mary's eyes grew gradually wider as the effusion from this girl's mouth gushed out like rum punch at a Christmas party. Her panic was clear and, had she been anyone else on earth, Mary might have dismissed her immediately as a totally insane. The words that were slipping out, however, were more than familiar to the woman who so long had always slightly dreaded the sudden arrival of a strong wind... What was more, the attributes of the occurrence described seemed not unlike those she had experienced only a week before when she had bumped into the enigmatic Mr Holmes in 1999. The change of scenery was not so unusual as this poor girl seemed inclined to panic over.

"Hmmm," Mary began, her eyes narrowing slightly as she contemplated her answer. It was clear this young woman had no idea what had just happened. Her next query confirmed this.

”So, if you could be so kind as to point be back to Pickering Street I would be most appreciative.”

"I most certainly will, Miss?" Mary started, never willing to begin a conversation until the proper introductions had been made, "it all depends, of course, on what you are looking for."

She was about to go on, conscious that whatever she said next would be an explanation. Mary Poppins never explained anything. "Forgive the odd enquiry, but may I ask the date?"

[Sally Lockhart]

It took all of Sally’s resolve to keep eye contact with the woman after she has finished retelling the events that had resulted in her being lost. She watched as the woman’s eyes narrowed slightly. She was not used to feeling so small. Sally was not used to feeling so small. Even when, earlier that day, Mrs. Walsh had confronted her about the loss of her investments Sally had not felt this helpless. For she had known she could handle the situation because she knew her way around the financial world. Yet now she had no idea of her bearings and, what was worse, or felt worse, was that a strange woman was about to think her a very unwell girl for telling such an extraordinary tale.

Suddenly an image of another unusual confrontation with another strange woman flashed across Sally’s mind, although this image was much darker, in light as well as circumstance. It was that terrible night six years ago when she had met Mrs. Holland on London Bridge where the truth of her father’s identity and death had been revealed. Sally remembered how frightened she had felt as her known world had been shattered.

Yet she also remembered the strength and courage that had driven her on and helped her overcome the evils of Mrs. Holland and the Chinese war lord, Ah Ling. She had surmounted great obstacles in situations far worse than the one she presently found herself in. What harm could getting lost and one unusual woman’s ridicule really do compared to all she had experienced in the last six years?

With a renewed courage, Sally readied herself to meet whatever comment the woman would make about her story.

"I most certainly will, Miss? It all depends, of course, on what you are looking for."

Sally was about to give the woman her name when the woman asked a rather out of place question.

"Forgive the odd enquiry, but may I ask the date?"

More than slightly puzzled, Sally replied, “It is the 7th of September 1878. May I ask why you wish to know, Miss...?”

[Mary Poppins]

As Mary looked on, the girl seemed to regain her composure. It was a most extraordinary sight to behold. Her face grew pensive and then resolved as she seemed to summon some great strength from a memory that flashed across her brown eyes. She looked up at Mary, ready to receive her opinion with new poise and control. It was a display unlike Mary had ever seen. Such inner resolve was a trait Mary valued highly and she began to re-evaluate her constructed resolution that the girl was ill. It would be hard to form any real opinion on her right away.

She enquired after her name, but got no answer as she quickly realised what was happening from the girl’s story. She had to be sure though and swiftly asked for the date.

“It is the 7th of September 1878. May I ask why you wish to know, Miss...?”

"Poppins," Mary commented decidedly, her concerns confirmed. "Mary Poppins." It was exceedingly interesting that she too had travelled on the wind. Mary had never met another able to do so, especially not without some kind of aid. Atticus would be very unhappy to know that he might be expendable. Mary herself felt a little pang at the thought. She hid it well.

"I'm afraid you've come rather a long way from home," Mary began somewhat enigmatically. She stopped, thinking for a minute. What could be done to help her? She looked towards the Gingerbread Shop.

This young woman was about to hear something extremely unsettling. Although she had shown herself able to gather her wits, Mary was not yet sure it would be enough to ground her in what was to come. It vexed the nanny no end. She hated to be the cause of extreme discomfort when it served no greater purpose but communicating the awful truth. The girl had experienced some trauma already and might be in shock. The further blow of what must be said might send her round the twist.

Mary pulled her pocket watch from behind her left lapel.

”Yes, time for tea,” she instructed crisply, “follow me if you would.”

She began to walk towards the shop with the expectation that the young woman would follow. She would ensure that just the right amount of sugar would mask the taste of this bewildering medicine. A spoonful might not be sufficient to keep the shock at bay, under the circumstances. A helping of Mrs Cory’s Gingerbread, however, cured all ills like no other substance on earth. Mary could attest to this truth, herself. As she trudged along the street, she realized that she still had not received the proper introduction.

She rounded quickly on the girl, her head tilting simultaneously, in one fluid movement. Her eyes were dark with real concern, her frown displaying her discomfort with the current arrangement.

”I am sorry, but it really is most improper to continue without my knowing your name. If I am to help you, we must be quite clear on that point.”

[Sally Lockhart]

"Poppins. Mary Poppins," the woman answered with what Sally sensed to be the same self-assuredness and confidence she had perceived when they had first met. Poppins was certainly not a name Sally had heard before but it did seem to suit this woman well. It spoke of constant movement and activity, but also preciseness and determination. And the Mary. Well, that was a level-headed, good-and-honest name.

”Maybe this woman can help me,” Sally thought tentatively.

Yet just as Sally was allowing this hope to surface, Mary Poppins made a statement that brought a cloud over her optimism.

"I'm afraid you've come rather a long way from home."

Sally was baffled by this comment. She could not understand how she could have “come rather a long way from home”, as Mary Poppins so enigmatically put it. She felt as though her normally incisive and firm grasp of the world, and its outworkings, was being turned on its head. Yes she had faced strange and baffling events before but there had always been a reasonable explanation for them. Even the nightmarish visions she had seen in Madame Chang’s den could be pinned down to the hallucinating affects of opium. But the wind and the drastic change in place and time of day left her mind reeling. She was upside-down and desperately in need of a solid and familiar ground to stand upon.

Sally was about to ask her what she meant by her statement when Mary pulled her pocket watch from behind her left lapel.

”Yes, time for tea,” Mary instructed crisply, “follow me if you would.”

Sally watch as Mary began to walk towards the gingerbread shop and she knew this woman was expecting her to follow. The briskness with which she walked convinced Sally that this was a woman who was used to being obeyed, and quickly. Whilst it felt slightly demeaning to be spoken to in such a manner and went against Sally’s usual push for independence and self-sufficiency, she knew she needed help, though it hurt her pride to admit it, especially to this assertive woman. She also knew that she was well and truly caught up in something now and there was no use pushing against the forceful current that was dragging her along. And it did seem that that this Mary Poppins intended to share more than just a cup of tea with her.

With the hope that she would soon have a better idea of where she was and how she got here, Sally took a breath, tucked a strand of blonde hair back behind her ear and followed after the woman. Suddenly Mary turned back to her, her head tilted and her expression displaying concern and discomfort.

”I am sorry, but it really is most improper to continue without my knowing your name. If I am to help you, we must be quite clear on that point.”

Although Sally felt somewhat affronted by Mary Poppins’ comment, for it sounded as though Mary was suggesting that Sally was inept with social conventions, she walked briskly up to where Mary was standing, extended her gloved hand and replied with all civility,

”Lockhart, Sally Lockhart of S. Lockhart Financial Consultant. Perhaps you have heard of my business situated in Pickering Street.”

[Mary Poppins]

”Lockhart, Sally Lockhart of S. Lockhart Financial Consultant. Perhaps you have heard of my business situated in Pickering Street.”

This was Pickering Street, but Mary had never heard of the business. Of course, that was not surprising considering what had happened. She allowed herself to smile, “A pleasure, Miss Lockhart,” and left it at that, spinning around and making her way towards Mrs Cory’s Shop. She would attend to the matter of the disappearing business in little time, along with the rest of her unfortunate explanation.

As she entered the establishment, there was an instant explosion of colour and frangrances so inviting that Mary could not help the intensely satisfied smile that glided across her face. There was a table in the centre of the room piled high with baked goods of every kind. Most notably, an impressive gingerbread house with matching gingerbread figures on its entirely too-green, front garden. Mary took a moment to inhale and, rising up momentarily on her toes muttered quietly with eyes closed, “Hmmm, gingerbread.”

Without waiting to see if Miss Lockhart had followed, she approached the counter where a large woman with an extremely kindly face was addressing a small boy in a blue and white short set. He beamed back up at her as she handed him a large lollipop from the stand to her right. He seemed incredibly grateful and, while Mary never approved of overindulgence, a little sugar never hurt anybody. At seeing her, Mrs Cory’s face lit up in Caribbean excitement.

“Mary Poppins!” she cried out and immediately came from behind the counter and enveloped Mary in an all too familiar hug. Mary’s smile covered her entire face. She was one for propriety, but one could not help the overly affectionate. Besides, Mrs Cory was not born and raised in Mother England. And who could deny a truly, heart-warming hug when it was offered? “It’s so good to see you, dear!”

As Mary was released, she seemed to smile a little more broadly, albeit a little shyly as she adjusted her hair even though it had not really been ruffled. “It has been some time,” she admitted.

”Too long!” Mrs Cory scolded, giving Mary a knowing look, “and who is this?”. Mary’s smile took a back step as she realized she had totally neglected her guest. She spun round towards Sally, pushing her forward as if presenting a charge.

“This is Sally Lockhart,” Mary explained, ”we’ve just met and I thought she could use a little tea.”

”Well, I‘m sure that can be arranged. How’dya do, Miss Lockhart?”

((A bit short, but there wasn’t much more to say! ))

[Sally Lockhart]

Sally’s introduction was met with a smile.

“A pleasure, Miss Lockhart,” Mary replied. With that she spun around and continued on her way to the gingerbread shop. Sally did her best to keep up, her ankle aching with every step.

She followed Mary into the store and was met by a wave of sight and smell unlike any she had experienced before. Her eyes leapt over bright displays of colourful confectionary, widening as they took in a large gingerbread shop with rather extravagant detailing. Sally then caught a glimpse of Mary’s face and was bemused by the fact that whilst she found the shop’s dazzling interior to be quite overwhelming, to her guide it was immensely pleasing.

“This woman really is puzzling,” Sally marvelled to herself. Mary did not seem like one who would be fond of gingerbread and sweets. Sally turned her back to Mary and idly ran her fingers along a yellow shelf and its jars of boiled lollies. She was wondering just what it was that Miss Mary Poppins did with her time when she heard an accent that was at once strange yet oddly familiar, greeting her guide.

“Mary Poppins!”

Sally turned around to see a large Negro woman envelop Mary in a friendly embrace.

“It’s good to see you, dear!”

As she heard woman speak again, Sally found herself transported back to the dimly lit sitting room of her youth where a fire burnt contently in the grill. She was ten and in her nightgown, kneeling on the Persian carpet her father had brought back from one of his journeys to the Orient with his shipping company. He had just returned from one such voyage, but this time to the West Indies and had brought her a collection of unusually large shells, with which she now played. Her father, who was sitting in his armchair, told her that if she held a shell up to her ear she could hear the sea. She did just that, gasping in excitement as she listened to the sound of the ocean captured in the shell. Her father gently laughed as he watched her face light up. He then began to tell her of the sights he had seen and the people he met. He painted vivid pictures of this strange land and Sally could have sworn she saw the palm trees and reefs appear in the flames of the fire as they cast shadows on the wall. She was delighted by the way he imitated the rhythmic accent of the natives. It was the same accent she heard now, in the gingerbread shop. A dull ache touched her heart as she remembered her father’s death.
Suddenly her attention was brought back to the present as she felt Mary Poppins pushing her towards the colourful shop owner, who she gathered must be Mrs. Cory. She realized that the woman must have asked who she was as Mary was now introducing her.

“This is Sally Lockhart. We just met and I thought she could use a little tea.”

Sally looked up to find a broad smile on Mrs. Cory’s dark face. Her eyes were sparkling with amusement as they looked Sally over. Sally blushed underneath this woman’s open stare, but soon found herself smiling back as Mrs. Cory’s delight was contagious.

“Well, I’m sure that can be arranged. How’d ya do, Miss Lockhart?”

“Well enough, thank you Mrs. Cory. May I say what a fine establishment you have here. I myself run a small business and it gladdens me to find another woman doing the same despite the pressures thrown at us from this male dominated society we find ourselves in. May I ask what year you set up shop?”

(What Sally desperately wanted to ask was how a Negro woman, let alone a woman, could come to running a store that looked finely established and well visited. She was aware of the racial prejudices in London against the black immigrants. But she thought that was a far too personal question to ask at a first meeting.)

Sally noticed Mrs. Cory raise her eyebrows quizzically at Mary before she answered.

“Well, dear, I’ve been running this shop since me dear husband passed in the winter of 1903.

1903? Sally felt her chest tighten and a cold chill crawl up the back of her neck. Surely she had heard Mrs. Cory wrong. How could she have opened her shop in 1903 when it was only 1878? She gasped as she suddenly remembered Mary’s strange question about what year it was. And the wind… It couldn’t be. Her mind was reeling but she dared not entertain the thought that was now forcefully clawing its way to the front of her mind.

“No. No... it can not... no...” mumbled Sally as she began to wring her hands that were now clammy.

“Are you alright, miss?” Mrs Cory asked, concern filling her eyes. She reached out to touch Sally’s shoulder but Sally shook her off.
[
b]“No! Don’t touch me!”[/b] She felt her head spinning, the bright colours once again moving and swirling in their garish dance just as they had done on the shop sign when Sally first saw it. She wanted to get out of this place, away from the sickening sweet smell and the possibility that the wind had done more than knock her over. Her breaths were short and sharp as she rushed for the door, knocking the gingerbread house to the floor. Sally spun around as the house shattered on the tiles, a strangled cry escaping her throat. She looked up at Mrs Cory, her eyes wild with fear.

“I’m sorry. I did not mean...” Sally stammered before she felt her knees give way. She felt a strange peace sweep over her as she stumbled to the floor before everything went dark.

[Mary Poppins]

“Well enough, thank you Mrs. Cory. May I say what a fine establishment you have here. I myself run a small business and it gladdens me to find another woman doing the same despite the pressures thrown at us from this male dominated society we find ourselves in. May I ask what year you set up shop?”


Mary paled at the question, knowing that the answer would be rather a more shocking presentation of the truth. She took in a breath, as if to say something, when Mrs Cory beat her to the punch. Mary immediately looked to Sally to register her response. One could always tell a type of person from the manner in which they received odd news. Miss Lockhart did remarkably well, for a short time. Mary thought her logical mind might take over for a second and convince her of some alternate explanation. It was not so and Mary respected her acceptance of the unusual occurrence. Whatever her reaction, Miss Lockhart had an open mind. Mary found it most refreshing in a girl her age. The moment was not to last, however, as the truth proved a little too much on this obviously bad day.

“No. No... it can not... no...” mumbled Sally as she began to wring her hands that were now clammy.

Miss Lockhart began to mumble unintelligibly. Mary hated a mumbler, but under the circumstances found it quite understandable. What could she say to ease Miss Lockhart’s transition into knowledge of such an unusual truth? Mrs Cory expressed her concern and the young girl’s loud response made Mary’s eyes widen in her own reserved way of showing alarm. Really, to yell at someone who had been so kind was hardly necessary. Certainly, it was difficult, but Mrs Cory was not to blame. Time travel did bring out the worst in some people.

”Now! That is really no way…” Mary had no time to finish her scolding as Miss Lockhart broke away from her and made for the door. Mary closed her mouth, mid-sentence, reeling, appalled and offended at having been left to speak to thin air! No one walked away from Mary Poppins. Her grip tightened around Atticus as she turned to follow the woman. She was met by the sound of shattering gingerbread as Mrs Cory’s gingerbread house plummeted to the ground. Mary gasped and stared in regret at the mess on the floor. She looked up to see Miss Lockhart utter a heartfelt apology.

“I’m sorry. I did not mean...”

It did not present itself further as the young girl slipped quietly to the floor as if overcome by some silencing power. All irritation and lecturing desire left Mary’s mind at once. All she saw was the need of this young woman, totally alone in a world that was not her own. That deep sense of responsibility that dwelled within her drove Mary immediately forward. She rested Atticus against the wall and bent over Miss Lockhart to inspect the damage. A fainting spell; not surprising considering the shock. Mrs Cory walked tentatively up behind the nanny.

”Is she all right, dear?” Mary straightened up.

”I’m afraid she’s had a bit of a strange day,” was all that Mary said, giving the shop-owner a knowing look. Mrs Cory raised her eyebrows and nodded her head. She retreated to the back room and Mary knew that, the moment Miss Lockhart came round, there would gingerbread aplenty to take off the unpleasant edge of change. Mary looked casually around the store to be sure she was not noticed and pulled a small phial out of her coat pocket. It was a bright purple colour today. (It was prone to changing colour with the changing atmosphere of the room. Purple usually meant intrigue.) Pulling a small cork from the top, Mary ran the phial under Sally Lockhart’s nose like a smelling salt and waited. This remedy never failed to enervate one.

Looking around, once more, she clicked her fingers and the gingerbread house rapidly retook its place on the table, with an added chimney sweep in the street outside the front garden. Mary could not bare to see something so beautiful destroyed.

[Sally Lockhart]

An intriguing purple haze slinked across the dark of Sally’s mind. It flexed its wispy fingers, pushing at her eyelids. Reluctantly they began to flutter open. Her eyes struggled to make sense of the scene around her, seeing nothing but dark shadows against a wall of bright light. She brought a heavy hand to her forehead and, as she did, a large shadow shifted in front of her. The movement was followed by the sound of a sharp click and then the smell of fresh gingerbread. This brought Sally out of the fuzzy warmth of her semi-conscious state. She suddenly remembered where she was and, realising how improper it was for her person to be sprawled across the tiled floor of Mrs. Cory’s shop, rapidly pushed herself up to a seated position. It was then that she recalled the reason for her unexpected meeting with the floor and the cold chill that was becoming unwelcomely familiar, disrupted her calm once again.

Although she could not understand how she had found herself in 1903, she was level-headed enough to settle that she was indeed 25 years in the future. The strangeness of her surroundings and companions proved that this was undeniably the case. Not being one who becomes incapacitated when they find themselves in rather alarming situations, Sally quickly set her mind on forming a plan of attack. She decided that going to the authorities was probably not the wisest idea, considering her disappointing run-ins with the Bobbies during the ordeal of her father’s murder and, the idea of being mistaken for someone mentally unstable which would result in her spending her time in the future inside a padded cell, was not at all appealing. She thought about speaking to a scientist or a magician. Yes, that might shed some light on the time travelling business. Also she realised she best have a snoop around the place Miss Poppins found her to see if she could uncover anything. She couldn’t help smiling slightly as she realised how much she sounded like Fred. He would be ever so proud!

With a quick rub of her eyes and a brushing of her blonde hair behind her ears, she readied herself to speak to the large shadow (which was actually Mary Poppins) that was before her. She would ask her for directions, thank her for her kind assistance and then be on her way. But first she must apologise for her unbecoming behaviour.

‘Miss Poppins, please do forgive me for the improper manner in which I spoke to you earlier. I was overwhelmed by the news of my time travel and forgot myself and your kindness,’ she said as she stood, dusting herself off.

Noticing that Mrs Cory was not in the shop, Sally quickly added, ‘I do hope Mrs Cory is not too upset with me for ruining her beautiful gingerbread house.’

She instinctively looked over to where she had collided with the confectionary house and felt her knees threatening to buckle once more. Instead of the shattered pieces of gingerbread she had expected to see, what she saw was a fully restored house, complete with a chimney sweep on the front lawn.

‘How did it...I don’t understand. I thought I had broken it.’ She was going to put the mysterious reforming of the house down to another bizarre element of her time travelling predicament when she suddenly remembered the loud click that had woken her from her unconscious state. She regarded Mary with a quizzical look. ‘What did you do?’ she asked, with a hint of suspicion in her voice.

[Mary Poppins]

As Miss Lockhart began to come to under the keen guidance of the mixture in Mary’s hand, she seemed in a daze. Mary watched with a practiced eye as she came to full lucidity and was satisfied when the girl pulled herself into a sitting position, clearly uncomfortable with her state on the floor. It was a testament to her character that that was the first thing on her mind in her current state. Mary felt somewhat impressed that propriety was so high on her agenda.

Then, dark realization began to settle on the young woman and Mary sincerely hoped that the shock would not be enough to send her into further decline. In fact, it had the opposite effect of taunting her into action and Mary was intrigued as her mind seemed to tick over into an independence of thought that Mary had seen before. She was about to try and deal with this alone and shut out the world for the sake of her own determination and a resolution to her own problem. Mary Poppins knew that emotion well. She had seen it somewhere before… As sudden as she had taken a turn for the worse, she seemed to gather herself by force and made her apology as if about to leave.

‘Miss Poppins, please do forgive me for the improper manner in which I spoke to you earlier. I was overwhelmed by the news of my time travel and forgot myself and your kindness,’

Mary reserved comment, finding her behavior unsettling and knowingly waiting for Miss Lockhart to realize that there was nothing that she could do about her situation without the help of others more knowledgeable than herself. ”You really need not, I understand that you have much to think over.” Mary held back judgment, knowing that the moment would come.

‘I do hope Mrs Cory is not too upset with me for ruining her beautiful gingerbread house.’

”You hardly need worry, I am certain that she is just now preparing a sugar-filled remedy to your light-headedness,” Mary’s face remained calm and expectant of the changing point as she realized that Miss Lockhart was in for a surprise when she re-examined the destruction she had brought to the shop. It came in a stuttered burst.

‘How did it...I don’t understand. I thought I had broken it.’

Mary was hardly about to explain, in fact, she had every mind to lead Miss Lockhart to believe that no such clumsiness had occurred at all. It was her way when dealing with magic. She found it usually saved her the trouble of explanation, which she made it her duty to avoid, as well as limiting the effect of such activities on those around her. Considering Miss Lockhart’s response to time travel, she was hardly likely to burden her further. Then, without provocation, Sally turned her confusion into suspicion and Mary was alarmed to realize that it was directed at her.

‘What did you do?’

Mary Poppins did not take lightly to be accused of anything. Even if she were responsible. It was most presumptuous of Miss Lockhart and certainly offensive. Her eyes widened at the question, clearly outraged at the insinuation. ”What did I do? Miss Lockhart, I resent the insinuation! I make a point of refusing being made to feel as if I have done anything. Really.” It was sharply said, as if the girl had lost her mind and Mary turned her nose up in offence.