Come What May

Chapter 7

November 12th 1910 – a cold Saturday for England, but the neighbouring autumn months rolled over seamlessly – like the roll of a gentle wave; it was yet another Saturday and the weather had been kind to Mary and Bert as they walked hand-in-hand through the golden streets of their home. The sun reflected delicately off of shop windows and merchants shouted gleefully as they sold their wares.

"Come buy my violets! -" a young cockney woman called, "—they're the finest flowers in all of England!"

Her wagon was bulky and carried a huge array of purple flowers – each one carrying an overpowering aroma that swirled through London's crisp streets and perfumed the November air. Bert carried his trusty bag of chalk and it rattled charmingly as he walked – a smile was painted across his face. Mary and Bert had found themselves growing a lot closer over the past week and everything seemed so positive between them – as if all of London was infected with Mary's cheery disposition. They also felt a stronger physical bond between them – but that certainly was not the basis of their relationship – just an added 'bonus'. Mary had felt nausea rise within her when she had woken up, but as she made her way to Cherry Tree Lane she felt the pain practically vanish.

"Tell me, Mary, what do you think you'll be doin' on this fine day?" Bert asked with his usual charm.

"I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to, the near future is far to open to possibility…" she smiled up at him, "…perhaps I'll take Jane and Michael to the park?" she said with a cheeky suggestive tone.

"Oh yeah? What makes you think you'll find yerself in the park?" inquired Bert – playing along.

"Well, it's such a lovely day, it would be a crime to spend in locked away indoors"

"Uh-huh, are you sure it's not because yer favourite chimney sweep is going to be doin' some of his fantastic drawings there this morning?"

"I didn't know that Tommy knew how to draw?!" she joked.

"Oi!" was Bert's reply – which caused Mary to go into a small fit of giggles.

Bert looked at her with fond eyes and took in the beauty of the smile she wore when she laughed – the sound itself was song like and drifted through the air like a tender melody.

"You're a cold woman, Mary Poppins" he joked again.

"Yes, you must be so awfully plagued by me"

"Oh, how I must be! It's not an easy life, you know? Spendin' my time with the ice queen of the East wind" he smiled at her devilishly.

"So tell me, Mr Alfred, since you claim to be such a talented artist, what fascinating pictures can I expect to see upon my arrival at the park?" she returned his humorous smile.

"Who knows? -" he said mysteriously, "—I 'ave, of course, 'ad many wonderful adventures of the years…perhaps I'll draw a couple of them?"

"Oh, adventures? I'm intrigued as to what makes them so very special?"

"Nothin' too spectacular…" he joked, "…just the presence of a very special lady…" he hinted with a blush. It was sickeningly sweet.

"Oh, is that so?"

"And what makes this lady friend of yours so special?"