Mary Poppins: Practically Perfect

Chapter One: Codfish and Carpet Bags

I sat bolt upright on my bed, in the right-hand corner of the room, with my back firmly pressed against the headboard. A great many questions were tumbling around inside my head: What am I doing? Should I be doing anything at all? Is there a welcoming event I am meant to know about? Is that where my roommate is now?

The answer to my last question came quite abruptly after the thought had occured in my mind when a small girl with neat short blonde hair and a full fringe bounced through the door, a hysterical grin plastered on her face. She tossed her two brown suitcases carelessly onto the unclaimed second bed before stopping in her tracks and turning to face me. She looked me up and down before seemingly deciding that I have achieved her expectations and holding out a hand saying cheerfully, with her face aglow, "Nice to meet you. I suppose you must be my roommate. I'm Belinda Dishes." She spoke rather quickly and it took me a moment to process what had actually been said.

I, too, studied my new roommate with suspision. Apart from her immaculately groomed hair, everything else seemed to be rather untidy. Her pink slipper-like shoes were muddy and scuffed and there waa a rather nasty orange satin on her brown overcoat.

All the same, I stood up and took her hand, replying to her, "Mary Poppins." Not sure of what else to say, I added. "I'm eleven. Just turned this past June."

"Oh, me too!" Belinda exclaimed. "Except my birthday was last January." She slumped down onto her bed, avoiding the crumple of clothes which had exploded from the side of a suitcase and I sat down opposite her.

Still lying down, Belinda said, "So, do you know why you were sent here?"

"My mother and father think it will fair me well to be taught key life skills," I quoted, wincing at the painful memory of that conversation, still fresh in my mind from over three months ago. "What about you?"

Belinda sat up. "My mother thinks I have atrocious table manners."

 I can't imagine why, I thought, looking again at the stain on her clothing.

"She told me I need to learn proper etiquette."

"What about your father?" I asked, taking off my own coat and hanging it over the side of the bed.

"Oh," Belinda sighed. "My father died from the flu when I was three. My mother and I live with my uncle now but he doesn't worry all that much about me."

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling rather deflated.

"It's fine," said Belinda in a suddenly brighter tone of voice. "I can barely remember it."

An awkwardly long silence followed, during which I began to unpack my bag. It was quite a pretty bag really, but I didn't see how all of my things were supposed to fit inside it.

I reached a hand in, looking for the feel of material but finding nothing. Perhaps my clothes are a little deeper, I thought, plunging my whole arm into the bag. My hand caught on something, but it wasn't any type of clothing. It was metal. I pulled it out to discover a tall, floor lamp, complete with decorative lampshade. I was astounded. This lamp was well over a metre and a half high and my little bag was at least five times smaller.

I wasn't the only person to notice. Belinda walked over to me, her mouth gaping open in awe. We both stared at the lamp I held it my hand, completely awestruck.

After a minute or two had passed, pure excitement must have drawn Belinda from her trance-like state because she announced hurridly, "Come on, what else have you got in there?"

Very soon, I had produced a great many peculiar things, including a desk chair, a full tea set and, bizarrely, an exotic potted plant.

"Wow," Belinda gasped. "That is incredible." But I was still rumaging inside the impossibly oversized carpet bag. "Finally," I said, pulling out yards of fabric. "My clothes!

Just then, there was a knock at the door and it swung open. A tall, thin woman with a tiny waist stood in the doorframe, clipboard in hand. She carried the presence of a person who was not to be troubled, with her completely upright posture and wrinkled facial features. She could easily have been mistaken for a seventy-year old, but on closer inspection I observed she was probably around fourty-five.

"This is the room of Belinda Dishes and Mary Poppins, yes?"

Belinda and I nodded, stunned and unable to speak.

"You are required to attend dinner in fifty minutes!" the woman recited. "Please ensure you are washed and dressed appropriately." She looked at us both with severely judging eyes. Then, her gaze shifted briefly to Belinda's untidy bed and she huffed, frustrated. The next event was totally unpredictable but totally wonderful in the eyes of an eleven year old.

The bony woman stepped into the room and clicked her fingers once. Immediately, all of my roommate's clothes rose into the air, flew across the the room and folded themselves neatly into the drawers at the foot of her bed. Another click sent my lamp, chair and plant to separate corners of the dormitory and my clothes to the other set of drawers.

"Now, you girl," she barked, pointing to Belinda with a long, wrinkled index finger. "Go and wash that ugly stain off of your coat. Go!"

Belinda nodded and hurried past the towering figure in the doorway to find the nearest washroom. I continued to stare at her, amazed and gawping wildly.

My eyes followed her as she began to close the door but she had more to say because she straightened again and remarked, "Close your mouth please, Mary, we are not a codfish."

And she left me alone to ponder on what had just happened.