The late afternoon sun poked through the stone lattice of the verandah, creating bouquets of light on the wooden table. Shelagh traced one of the irregular flowers and sighed. She lifted her teacup to her lips and hastily put in back in distaste.
“You practically begged Patrick to take the children out so you could have an afternoon’s peace, and all you’ve done is moan about how lonely you are,” she muttered to herself.
It was true, she had made all sorts of hints to her husband that he should have an afternoon with the children all to himself. She had even prided herself on how subtle she was. At least, she thought she was subtle. As Tim fled to a cricket match with his chums, he drawled, “Nice one, Mum. Mentioning how Sergeant Noakes takes the children to the zoo every Saturday instead of watching the games all afternoon was inspired psychological manipulation.”
“Hush, now,” she warned, as he escaped up the lavender-scented path, “or I’ll say something about how helpful Reggie is to Mr. and Mrs. Buckle!”
She turned back to the children running about the kitchen. “Alright then, girls, spit spot!”
“Spit spot,” Angela and May giggled back to her. Mary Poppins was their current favorite bedtime read, and the silly phrase, as well as a gallery of chalk drawings on the patio and drive, were a testament to its appeal for the little girls.
Patrick bounded down the last of the stairs, Teddy aloft in his arms. “Well, then, ladies, shall we take this little man out for the afternoon?”
More giggles followed. “Teddy’s not a man, Daddy,” Angela chortled. “He’s a boy!”
“He’s a boy!” parrotted May, and she tugged lightly on Teddy’s little shoe.
Shelagh shook her head in mock annoyance. “Well, this little man-boy is going to run Daddy off his feet if we don’t get him into his pushchair. Girls, be sure to be Daddy’s helpers this afternoon!”
***
Four hours later, Shelagh was tired of the quiet. She missed the laughter and noise of three little ones, and even the cacophony blaring on Tim’s record player. Her solitary childhood had passed so seamlessly into the silence of the religious life that she never expected that her own peace would require the commotion of a happy family. Without them about, she felt lonely.
Her teacup rattled in its saucer as she crossed to the kitchen sink. Another glance at the clock brought the little crease between her brows. “Where on earth could they be? Teddy will be a bear without his nap!” Even the family joke, unconsciously spoken, did not make her smile.
The front door swung open,and the silence was gone. Angela and May ran in ahead of their father, laughing so that their words were a confused jumble. Patrick came in behind them, a cheery Teddy eager to be released to run around the house after the little girls.
Shelagh couldn’t help smiling, her eyes catching it all. “I missed you! What have you been up to?”
Angela bounced on her toes. “Mummy, Mummy, we’ve been to the cinema! We had choc ices and Daddy let us each have a lolly and oh, Mummy!! You’ll never guess what we saw!”
As Angela’s words tumbled out of her, Shelagh felt a sting of tears. Always so quiet, Angela had become much less shy in the months since May had joined their family, and Shelagh worried, not for the first time, that if May did leave them, after all, it would be Angela that felt the parting the keenest. She twirled a pigtail in her fingers.
“I can hardly imagine, Angel girl,” she responded, her throat tight.
“Mummy, we went to see–” the little girl paused for effect, and then turned to let May finish.
“Mary Poppins!” May squealed.
Shelagh looked up at her husband, shocked. “Mary Poppins! But it’s not set to run ‘til Christmas!”
Patrick scooped Teddy up just before the tot pulled the model ship down from the corner cabinet. “We were walking past the Hippodrome, on our way to the park, and the manager was outside offering tickets for a special showing. It’s set to release in America next week, and Disney wanted to get promotional stills of English children enjoying the film. You don’t mind, do you?” he asked, concern furrowing his brow.
Shelagh thought of the nights reading the story aloud to the girls, and for a moment felt a pang of jealousy. She had been looking forward to seeing the movie with the family at Christmas.
“Mamma,” Teddy stretched out, and Shelagh took him in her arms and buried her face in his curls, using the moment to master her feelings.
“Teddy slept through nearly the whole picture,” Patrick told her. “It couldn’t have worked out better.”
Shelagh swallowed the lump in her throat. It was good for Patrick to build special memories for the children on his own. There’s be plenty of films and family days ahead. She was completely certain, however, that she wasn’t likely to send them off again for quite some time.
“Mary Poppins was just like you, Mummy!” Angela announced.
“How so?” Shelagh was already beginning to feel better.
“She was pretty…”. May interjected.
“And clever, and she sang all the time!”
“I love Mary Poppins!” May crowed.
“Oh dear, I’m afraid I might have some competition! Well, then, what was everyone’s favourite song?” she asked.
Patrick’s eyes lit up with mischief. “We were hoping you’d ask that! The music was wonderful, Shelagh, you’ll want the record, but there was one song we all loved the most.” He winked at the girls. “We practiced it all the way home. Ready?”
Two pigtailed heads bobbed in the air in response. “We changed some of the words, but I don’t think you’ll mind,” Patrick teased.
“Oh!! It’s a (come on, then girls!)…”
The girls joined his chorus, skipping words to laugh, but Patrick forged on.
“Oh, it’s a Jolly Holiday with Mummy!
Mummy makes your heart so light!
When the la la lala lala la la (I can’t remember all of it, he whispered)
Lala la la la la la
Oh, when Mummy takes your hand, you feel so grand,”. Patrick lifted her fingers to his lips, the rested them against his heart.
“Your heart starts beating like a big brass band!
Oh it’s a jolly holiday with Mummy,
No wonder that it’s Mummy that we love!!”
Tim walked in a moment later to peaks of laughter. “What did I miss?”
***
In the evening, as they stood watching the littles settle to sleep after hours of singing their new favorite song, Patrick slid an arm about Shelagh’s waist and pulled her close. She tucked her head under his chin and warned, “There’s an excellent chance they’ll be wanting a tea party on the ceiling tomorrow, dearest.”
He pressed a kiss to her shining hair, then tugged her around into his arms. “We’ll all go again at Christmas, Shelagh, as a family.” He frowned as a shadow passed over her face. “No matter where she is, Shelagh, May will always be part of our family.”
Shelagh sighed and pressed her palm to his cheek. She stroked the roughened skin there and smiled tenderly. Ever a quick study, she sang softly, “No wonder that it’s Patrick that I love!”
Happy Birthday to FourteenTeaups, a good friend who is mildly obsessed with Mary Poppins, but wildly obsessed with Call the Midwife.
My Little Yellowbird 