Mary Poppins in the Park

The children, clutching their brown leaves, dashed through the Lane Gate. And something, light as snow or feathers, fell upon Michael's shoulder. Something gentler than air brushed against Jane's cheek.

'Touched you last!' two voices cried. And they turned and beheld their shadows.

'But why did you run away?' asked Jane, gazing at the transparent face that looked so like her own.

'We're guests at the Party.' Her shadow smiled.

'What party?' Michael demanded.

'It's Hallowe'en,' his shadow told him. 'The night when every shadow is free. And this is a very special occasion. For one thing, there's a full moon — and it falls on the Birthday Eve. But come along, we mustn't be late!'

And away the two little shadows flitted, with the children solidly running behind them.

The music grew louder every second, and as they darted round the laurels they beheld a curious sight.

The whole playground was thronged with shadows, each of them laughing and greeting the others and hopping about in the moonlight. And the strange thing was that, instead of lying flat on the ground, they were all standing upright. Long shadows, short shadows, thin shadows, fat shadows, were bobbing, hobnobbing, bowing, kowtowing, and passing in and out of each other with happy cries of welcome.

In one of the swings sat a helmeted shape, playing a concertina. It smiled and waved a shadowy hand, and Jane and Michael saw at once that it belonged to the Policeman.

'Got your invitations?' he cried. 'No human beings allowed in without a special pass!'

Jane and Michael held up their leaves.

'Good!' The Policeman's shadow nodded. 'Bless you!' he added, as a shape beside him was seized with a fit of sneezing.

Could it be Ellen's shadow? Yes — and blowing a shadowy nose!

'Good evening!' murmured a passing shape. 'If any evening's good!'

Its dreary voice and long face reminded Jane of the Fishmonger. And surely the jovial shadow beside it belonged to the Family Butcher! A shadowy knife was in his hand, a striped apron about his waist, and he led along an airy figure with horns upon its head.

'Michael!' said Jane in a loud whisper. 'I think that's the Dancing Cow!'

But Michael was too absorbed to answer. He was chatting to a furry shape that was lazily trimming its whiskers.

'My other part,' it said, miaowing, 'is asleep on the mantelpiece. So, of course — this being Hallowe'en — I took the evening off!' It adjusted a shadowy wreath of flowers that was looped about its neck.

'The Cat that looked at the King!' exclaimed Jane. She put out a hand to stroke its head, but all she felt was the air.

'Well, don't let him come near me!' cried a voice. 'I've quite enough troubles as it is, without having cats to deal with.'

A plump, bird-like shape tripped past, nodding abstractedly at the children.

'Poor old Cock Robin — and his troubles!' The shadowy Cat gave a shadowy yawn. 'He's never got over that funeral and all the fuss there was.'

'Cock Robin? But he's a Nursery Rhyme. He doesn't exist!' said Jane.

'Doesn't exist? Then why am I here?' The phantom bird seemed quite annoyed. 'You can have a substance without a shadow, but you can't have a shadow without a substance — anyone knows that! And what about them — don't they exist?'

It waved a dark transparent wing at a group of airy figures — a tall boy lifting a flute to his mouth, and a bulky shape, with a crown on its head, clasping a bowl and a pipe. Beside them stood three phantom fiddlers holding their bows aloft.

A peal of laughter burst from Michael. 'That's the shadow of Old King Cole. It's exactly like the picture!'

'And Tom, the Piper's son, too!' Cock Robin glared at Jane. 'If they're shadows, they must be shadows of something—deny it if you can!'

'Balloons and balloons, my deary ducks! No arguing tonight!' A cosy little feminine shape, with balloons bobbing about her bonnet, whizzed through the air above them.

'Have the goodness, please, to be more careful. You nearly went through my hat!'

A trumpeting voice that was somehow familiar sounded amid the laughter. The children peered through the weaving crowd. Could it be? — yes, it was — Miss Andrew! Or rather, Miss Andrew's shadow. The same beaked nose, the same small eyes, the grey veil over the felt hat and the coat of rabbit fur.

'I haven't come from the South Seas to have my head knocked off!'

Shaking its fist at the Balloon Woman, Miss Andrew's shadow protested loudly. 'And who's that pulling my veil?' it cried, turning on two little dark shapes, who dashed away, screaming with terror.

Jane and Michael nudged each other. 'Ours!' they whispered, giggling.

'Make way! Move on! The Prime Minister's comin'!' A shadow in a peaked cap waved the children aside.

'Oh, it's you, is it? Well, remember the Bye-laws! Don't get in anyone's way.' The phantom face — moustache and all — was exactly like the Park Keeper's.

'I thought you'd have been too frightened to come. You said it was spooky!' Jane reminded him.

'Oh, I'm not frightened, Miss — it's 'im. My body, so to speak. A very nervous chap 'e is — afraid of 'is own shadow. Ha, ha! Excuse my little joke! Make room! Move on! Observe the rules!'

The Prime Minister's shadow floated by, bowing to right and left.

'Greeting, friends! What a wonderful night. Dear me!' He stared at Jane and Michael. 'You're very thick and lumpish!'

'Hsssst!' The shadow of the Park Keeper muttered in his ear. 'Invitation… special occasion… friends of… whisper, whisper.'

'Ah! If that's the case, you're very welcome. But do be careful where you tread. We don't like to be stepped on.'

'One of them's stepping on me, I think!' A nervous voice seemed to come from the grass.

Michael carefully shifted his feet as the shadow of the Keeper of the Zoological Gardens came crawling past on all fours.

'Any luck?' cried the crowd excitedly.

'Hundreds!' came the happy reply. 'Red Admirals. Blue Admirals. Spotted Bermudas. Pink Amazons. Chinese Yellows!'

He waved the shadow of his net. It was full of butterfly shadows.

'Well, I know one you haven't got — and that's an Admiral Boom!' A shadow in a cocked hat, with a spectral dachshund at its heels, elbowed its way through the throng. 'Very rare specimen indeed. Largest butterfly in the world! All hail, my hearties!'

'Yo, ho, ho! And a bottle of rum!' The shadows yelled in reply.

The Admiral's shadow turned to the children.

'Welcome aboard!' it said, winking. ''Catch a leaf, a message brief — only an old wives' tale — hey? Ah, here she comes! Your servant, ma'am.'

The cocked hat bowed to a broad shadow that was sailing through the see-saw. It was dressed in a shadowy swirl of skirts, and a swarm of little weightless shapes fluttered about its head.

'The Bird Woman!' whispered Jane to Michael.

'Who are you callin' an old wife? Feed the birds! Tuppence a bag!'

A cry of pleasure went up from the crowd as everyone greeted the new arrival. The children saw their own reflections running to kiss her cheeks, and as though — tonight—they were the shadows, they hurried after them.

The party was growing more and more lively. The whole Park was ringing with laughter. And above the voices, high and sweet, came the reedy note of the flute.

'Over the hills and far a way!' played Tom, the Piper's son.

And in Cherry Tree Lane the people lying in bed listened and huddled under the blankets.

'It's Hallowe'en!' each said to himself. 'Of course I don't believe in ghosts — but listen to them