Why You’ll Love This Book by Cameron Mackintosh
Mary Poppins delights in letting us know that she “never explains anything” and yet the Banks family fall under her spell and other families all over the world are put back together again by the world’s most famous nanny.
I fell in love with Mary Poppins and Julie Andrews in 1964, just after I left school, when I went to see Walt Disney’s magical film. On reading the credits, I realised the film was based on books by P.L. Travers which I then read avidly, discovering that there were many more stories and characters than those in the film. Her forthright, quirkily funny dialogue stayed with me, brought to life in my head by Julie’s brilliant, no-nonsense delivery in the film. In the late 1970’s I tried, like many other producers, to see if I could get the stage rights to Mary Poppins – but to no avail. Over the years, I often used to think of Mary but it wasn’t until 1993 when I was introduced to her creator, the formidable Pamela Travers, that I found that she wouldn’t explain anything to me either. By then Pamela was a frail, but extremely sharp, 93 year old lady, living in her Chelsea house, in a street looking remarkably like Cherry Tree Lane, eyeing me up and down, asking me lots of questions as she batted away my own. I felt like Michael and Jane Banks, waiting to be told “you’ll do”.
After several meetings, Pamela decided that I really was interested in turning her books into a stage musical, rather than just putting the film on stage – something she had refused to allow for decades, wanting a new and different score. Once Pamela decided I could be trusted with her great creation – though she never admitted creating (a word she hated) Mary, or any of the other characters, saying that “Mary just arrived” – I was in turn able to persuade her that a stage musical could only be made by combining her stories with the key songs from the film. Realising that I was probably her best chance to achieve her long cherished dream of a stage musical, she agreed and I finally felt a musical Mary might fly after all.
Mary Poppins is, and always will be, unique; stern, dependable, businesslike, magical and yet eternally loveable. When Jane and Michael call out “we will never forget you Mary Poppins” you know that though she has flown away, the gift she has brought will remain for always and that Mary is genuinely happy that her charges are now: “practically perfect and I hope it remains so”. Though Pamela would never say where Mary came from, she did in fact give an answer to the children when they asked Mary, “where is your home?” and Mary replies, “My home is wherever I am”.
From the time Pamela entrusted me with the stage rights to her books it took me several years to persuade Disney that a new musical could be created out of both the books and the films key Sherman Brothers songs and during that time I tried to piece together an outline for a dramatic structure that would make theatre audiences want to come back for a second half. The answer of course lay with Pamela herself. In the books Mary Poppins leaves the family twice and comes back only until she’s no longer required. This gave me the clue where the interval should be and enabled me to start putting the songs from the film into new dramatic situations and decide which new songs would be needed. I remember writing much of this treatment on the quayside by the Sydney Opera House, not far from the Old Grand Opera House where Pamela had herself danced and sung in her theatrical days. When I showed what I’d done to Tom Schumacher, who had just become the new head of Disney’s Theatrical production company in 2001, he presented me with armfuls of documents from the Disney vaults written by Pamela herself and said, “It was amazing that I had focused on many of the characters and episodes from the books that Travers wanted included in the Mary Poppins film sequel that was never made”. Whenever I was stuck for an idea, I would think, “What would Pamela do or say”. By separating the film and stage rights, Pamela somehow managed from beyond the grave to get Disney and I to work together and, with the enormous contribution of a lot of talented people, especially Tom, the stage musical she always wanted has now been created and has been miraculously embraced by Disney, fans of her books, her friends, family, trustees, as well as new audiences around the world. I like to think that Pamela would also say “it’ll do” as I have no doubt that if she disapproved she would have somehow sent me her notes!
Cameron Mackintosh
Cameron Mackintosh has been producing shows for more than 40 years during which time he has put on hundreds of productions around the world including Cats, Les Misérables, The Phantom of the Opera – the three longest running musicals of all time – and Miss Saigon. His other productions include the stage musicals Mary Poppins with Disney, Little Shop of Horrors, Side by Side by Sondheim, Follies, Martin Guerre, The Witches of Eastwick and acclaimed international revivals of My Fair Lady, Oliver! and Oklahoma!. Cameron owns seven theatres in London’s West End – the Prince of Wales, Gielgud, Queen’s, Wyndham’s, Noël Coward, Novello and Prince Edward, nearly all of which have undergone spectacular refurbishment. In 1995 his company received The Queen’s Award for Export Achievement and he was knighted in the 1996 New Year’s Honours for his services to British theatre. He is President of the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama and in 1990 he endowed the Chair of Contemporary Theatre for a visiting professor at St Catherine’s College, Oxford, where he is also an Honorary Fellow and Member of the Court of Benefactors. In 2006 he received the national Enjoy England Award for Excellence for his Outstanding Contribution to Tourism.
Contents
Why You’ll Love This Book
Mary Poppins
Mary Poppins Comes Back
Mary Poppins Opens the Door
Mary Poppins in the Park
Mary Poppins in Cherry Tree Lane
Mary Poppins and the House Next Door
Postscript
About the Author
Copyright
About the Publishers
To my
MOTHER
1875 – 1928
Contents
Dedication
East Wind
The Day Out
Laughing Gas
Miss Lark’s Andrew
The Dancing Cow
Bad Tuesday
The Bird Woman
Mrs Corry
John and Barbara’s Story
Full Moon
Christmas Shopping
West Wind
Chapter One
EAST WIND
IF YOU WANT to find Cherry Tree Lane all you have to do is ask the Policeman at the crossroads. He will push his helmet slightly to one side, scratch his head thoughtfully, and then he will point his huge white-gloved finger and say: “First to your right, second to your left, sharp right again, and you’re there. Good morning.”
And sure enough, if you follow his directions exactly, you will be there – right in the middle of Cherry Tree Lane, where the houses run down one side and the Park runs down the other and the cherry-trees go dancing right down the middle.
If you are looking for Number Seventeen – and it is more than likely that you will be, for this book is all about that particular house – you will very soon find it. To begin with, it is the smallest house in the Lane. And besides that, it is the only one that is rather dilapidated and needs a coat of paint. But Mr Banks, who owns it, said to Mrs Banks that she could have either a nice, clean, comfortable house or four children. But not both, for he couldn’t afford it.
And after Mrs Banks had given the matter some consideration she came to the conclusion that she would rather have Jane, who was the eldest, and Michael, who came next, and John and Barbara, who were Twins and came last of all. So it was settled, and that was how the Banks family came to live at Number Seventeen, with Mrs Brill to cook for them, and Ellen to lay the tables, and Robertson Ay to cut the lawn and clea
n the knives and polish the shoes and, as Mr Banks always said, “to waste his time and my money.”
And, of course, besides these there was Katie Nanna, who doesn’t really deserve to come into the book at all because, at the time I am speaking of, she had just left Number Seventeen.
“Without a by your leave or a word of warning. And what am I to do?” said Mrs Banks.
“Advertise, my dear,” said Mr Banks, putting on his shoes. “And I wish Robertson Ay would go without a word of warning, for he has again polished one boot and left the other untouched. I shall look very lopsided.”
“That,” said Mrs Banks, “is not of the least importance. You haven’t told me what I’m to do about Katie Nanna.”
“I don’t see how you can do anything about her since she has disappeared,” replied Mr Banks. “But if it were me – I mean I – well, I should get somebody to put in the Morning Paper the news that Jane and Michael and John and Barbara Banks (to say nothing of their Mother) require the best possible Nannie at the lowest possible wage and at once. Then I should wait and watch for the Nannies to queue up outside the front gate, and I should get very cross with them for holding up the traffic and making it necessary for me to give the policeman a shilling for putting him to so much trouble. Now I must be off. Whew, it’s as cold as the North Pole. Which way is the wind blowing?”
And as he said that, Mr Banks popped his head out of the window and looked down the Lane to Admiral Boom’s house at the corner. This was the grandest house in the Lane, and the Lane was very proud of it because it was built exactly like a ship. There was a flagstaff in the garden, and on the roof was a gilt weathercock shaped like a telescope.
“Ha!” said Mr Banks, drawing in his head very quickly. “Admiral’s telescope says East Wind. I thought as much. There is frost in my bones. I shall wear two overcoats.” And he kissed his wife absentmindedly on one side of her nose and waved to the children and went away to the City.
Now, the City was a place where Mr Banks went every day – except Sundays, of course, and Bank Holidays – and while he was there he sat on a large chair in front of a large desk and made money. All day long he worked, cutting out pennies and shillings and half-crowns and threepenny-bits. And he brought them home with him in his little black bag. Sometimes he would give some to Jane and Michael for their money-boxes, and when he couldn’t spare any he would say, “The Bank is broken,” and they would know he hadn’t made much money that day.
Well, Mr Banks went off with his black bag, and Mrs Banks went into the drawing room and sat there all day long writing letters to the papers and begging them to send some Nannies to her at once as she was waiting; and upstairs in the Nursery, Jane and Michael watched at the window and wondered who would come. They were glad Katie Nanna had gone, for they had never liked her. She was old and fat and smelt of barley-water. Anything, they thought, would be better than Katie Nanna – if not much better.
When the afternoon began to die away behind the Park, Mrs Brill and Ellen came to give them their supper and to bath the Twins. And after supper Jane and Michael sat at the window watching for Mr Banks to come home, and listening to the sound of the East Wind blowing through the naked branches of the cherry trees in the Lane. The trees themselves, turning and bending in the half light, looked as though they had gone mad and were dancing their roots out of the ground.
“There he is!” said Michael, pointing suddenly to a shape that banged heavily against the gate. Jane peered through the gathering darkness.
“That’s not Daddy,” she said. “It’s somebody else.”
Then the shape, tossed and bent under the wind, lifted the latch of the gate, and they could see that it belonged to a woman, who was holding her hat on with one hand and carrying a bag in the other. As they watched, Jane and Michael saw a curious thing happen. As soon as the shape was inside the gate the wind seemed to catch her up into the air and fling her at the house. It was as though it had flung her first at the gate, waited for her to open it, and then lifted and thrown her, bag and all, at the front door. The watching children heard a terrific bang, and as she landed the whole house shook.
“How funny! I’ve never seen that happen before,” said Michael.
“Let’s go and see who it is!” said Jane, and taking Michael’s arm she drew him away from the window, through the Nursery and out on to the landing. From there they always had a good view of anything that happened in the front hall.
Presently they saw their Mother coming out of the drawing room with a visitor following her. Jane and Michael could see that the newcomer had shiny black hair – “Rather like a wooden Dutch doll,” whispered Jane. And that she was thin, with large feet and hands, and small, rather peering blue eyes.
“You’ll find that they are very nice children,” Mrs Banks was saying.
Michael’s elbow gave a sharp dig at Jane’s ribs.
“And that they give no trouble at all,” continued Mrs Banks uncertainly, as if she herself didn’t really believe what she was saying. They heard the visitor sniff as though she didn’t either.
“Now, about references—” Mrs Banks went on.
“Oh, I make it a rule never to give references,” said the other firmly. Mrs Banks stared.
“But I thought it was usual,” she said. “I mean – I understood people always did.”
“A very old-fashioned idea, to my mind,” Jane and Michael heard the stern voice say. “Very old-fashioned. Quite out of date, as you might say.”
Now, if there was one thing Mrs Banks did not like, it was to be thought old-fashioned. She just couldn’t bear it. So she said quickly:
“Very well, then. We won’t bother about them. I only asked, of course, in case you – er – required it. The nursery is upstairs—” And she led the way towards the staircase, talking all the time, without stopping once. And because she was doing that Mrs Banks did not notice what was happening behind her, but Jane and Michael, watching from the top landing, had an excellent view of the extraordinary thing the visitor now did.
Certainly she followed Mrs Banks upstairs, but not in the usual way. With her large bag in her hands she slid gracefully up the banisters, and arrived at the landing at the same time as Mrs Banks. Such a thing, Jane and Michael knew, had never been done before. Down, of course, for they had often done it themselves. But up – never! They gazed curiously at the strange new visitor.
“Well, that’s all settled, then.” A sigh of relief came from the children’s Mother.
“Quite. As long as I’m satisfied,” said the other, wiping her nose with a large red and white bandanna handkerchief.
“Why, children,” said Mrs Banks, noticing them suddenly, “what are you doing there? This is your new nurse, Mary Poppins. Jane, Michael, say how do you do! And these” – she waved her hand at the babies in their cots – “are the Twins.”
Mary Poppins regarded them steadily, looking from one to the other as though she were making up her mind whether she liked them or not.
“Will we do?” said Michael.
“Michael, don’t be naughty,” said his Mother.
Mary Poppins continued to regard the four children searchingly. Then, with a long, loud sniff that seemed to indicate that she had made up her mind, she said:
“I’ll take the position.”
“For all the world,” as Mrs Banks said to her husband later, “as though she were doing us a signal honour.”
“Perhaps she is,” said Mr Banks, putting his nose round the corner of the newspaper for a moment and then withdrawing it very quickly.
When their Mother had gone, Jane and Michael edged towards Mary Poppins, who stood, still as a post, with her hands folded in front of her.
“How did you come?” Jane asked. “It looked just as if the wind blew you here.”
“It did,” said Mary Poppins briefly. And she proceeded to unwind her muffler from her neck and to take off her hat, which she hung on one of the bedposts.
As it did not seem a
s though Mary Poppins was going to say any more – though she sniffed a great deal – Jane, too, remained silent. But when she bent down to undo her bag, Michael could not restrain himself.
“What a funny bag!” he said, pinching it with his fingers.
“Carpet,” said Mary Poppins, putting her key in the lock.
“To carry carpets in, you mean?”
“No. Made of.”
“Oh,” said Michael. “I see.” But he didn’t – quite.
By this time the bag was open, and Jane and Michael were more than surprised to find it was completely empty.
“Why,” said Jane, “there’s nothing in it!”
“What do you mean – nothing?” demanded Mary Poppins, drawing herself up and looking as though she had been insulted. “Nothing in it, did you say?”
And with that she took out from the empty bag a starched white apron and tied it round her waist. Next she unpacked a large cake of Sunlight Soap, a toothbrush, a packet of hairpins, a bottle of scent, a small folding armchair and a box of throat lozenges.
Jane and Michael stared.
“But I saw,” whispered Michael. “I’m sure it was empty.”
“Hush!” said Jane, as Mary Poppins took out a large bottle labelled “One Teaspoon to be Taken at Bedtime.”
A spoon was attached to the neck of the bottle, and into this Mary Poppins poured a dark crimson fluid.
“Is that your medicine?” enquired Michael, looking very interested.
“No, yours,” said Mary Poppins, holding out the spoon to him. Michael stared. He wrinkled up his nose. He began to protest.
“I don’t want it. I don’t need it. I won’t!”
But Mary Poppins’ eyes were fixed upon him, and Michael suddenly discovered that you could not look at Mary Poppins and disobey her. There was something strange and extraordinary about her – something that was frightening and at the same time most exciting. The spoon came nearer. He held his breath, shut his eyes and gulped. A delicious taste ran round his mouth. He turned his tongue in it. He swallowed, and a happy smile ran round his face.