Fic: Practically perfect in every way but one (or more), 1/2 [Devil Wears Prada]
Wow. I so totally fail. This is what happens when you distracted by awesome video games that just came out. God, it's like college all over again.
Written (and failed to be completed) for
somniesperus' V-day fic challenge.
Fic: Practically perfect in every way but one (or more), Part 1 of 2
Fandom: Devil Wears Prada/Mary Poppins
Pairings: None
Rating: Gen
Description: 26. Crossover time! What happens when the Runway regulars meet something truly beyond their experience? etc.
When Miranda gets home, she finds her children and a strangely-dressed woman staring at each other in a battle of wills in the living room. Miranda heads to the kitchen, pours herself a glass of wine, doubles back to pick up the Book in the foyer, and goes back to the living room. Its occupants have not budged an inch, and appear to be at a stalemate.
"Are you their homeroom teacher or guidance counselor?" Miranda asks. She is greeted with silence. No one turns to look at her. "Disgruntled parent of a classmate? New piano teacher? Random stranger in the street who wants to sue for emotional damages?"
After a long pause, Cassidy says, looking quite lost, "She came out of the fire place."
"What tosh!" the strange woman exclaims, finally breaking her silence. "You haven't even a chimney. I must say, Ms Priestly, while your children aren't the most difficult I've met in my time, I daresay they're among them. And I've met no small number of them, believe you me."
"How did you get in here?" Caroline demands. "Tell us!"
"How does any normal human being enter a house?" replies the woman. "Through the front door, of course."
"You're lying!" Cassidy wails. "You appeared out of nowhere!"
"Zzzt!" The woman makes a zipping motion across her mouth, and both girls abruptly go quiet. "Good children do not speak unless spoken to. Now." She tilts her head in Miranda's direction. "Let's get down to business. I shall require complimentary food and boarding, and every second Tuesday off. With regards to wages, I'll be willing to take the standard childcare rate; normally I'd ask for a more, but business isn't what it used to be. As for length of employment, I'll stay until the wind changes."
Miranda finally takes a good look at the woman. She's wearing a navy-blue, narrow-brimmed hat, with a flower tucked into the sash, and a long coat of the same colour reaching down to mid-calf, just a little shorter than her bright red skirt that looks like it belongs in a decades-old clothing catalogue. In her left hand is an old-fashioned, wood-hilt umbrella; in her right, the most hideous handbag Miranda has seen in years.
"Who are you, then? Mary Poppins?" Miranda says snidely.
"Why, yes, I am," comes the matter-of-fact response. "How did you know?"
There is a pause.
"I'm calling the police," Miranda says.
"Oh, I don't think you want to do that." As a rule, Miranda answers to no one, but something cold and steely in the woman's voice stops her short. "You are in the market for a new nanny, are you not?"
"That well may be, but I haven't even told Emily to put out an advertisement yet." Miranda's eyes narrow. "I see. You're her doing, aren't you? She's the one who let you in?"
"That's what it looks like," says the woman.
Well, that explains the accent, at least, Miranda thinks, not noticing her children frantically shaking their heads and waving their arms behind her. "Thought she'd impress me by taking matters into her own hands, no doubt," she mutters, pinching her brow to ease the chronic headache that's been plaguing her for days. That's what happens when you're surrounded by pure incompetence.
"Not the sharpest tack in the drawer, but she gets the job done," the woman agrees. "What with all the commotion in your life lately, it seemed prudent to get your childcare situation resolved ... with minimal fuss."
"Minimal fuss," Miranda sighs. It's something that would certainly be a luxury. She looks over the woman carefully. "What's your name again?"
"Mary Poppins," says the woman. "I thought I told you."
Definitely a nutter, thinks Miranda, but certainly no stranger than the time Nigel went around insisting everyone call him Britney. At least she's dedicated enough to dress the part. "No, really. What's your real name?"
"I simply do not understand why you refuse to believe me." The woman pulls a battered-looking passport out of her pocket and hands it to Miranda.
"I can't believe it's really your name," Miranda says incredulously. "Did you get it changed to this?"
"Heavens, no! It's the name I was born with."
"Oh, I'm sorry. You poor thing," Miranda says with pity, handing back the passport. She would have killed her parents if they'd played a joke like that on her.
"Oh, not to worry. I've always been quite fond of it."
Miranda looks at the woman again. "Well, I suppose you'll do," she decides. "Talk to Emily for the girls' schedule and to get all your paperwork sorted out."
"Done and done."
"Well then," says Miranda. It's great when everything is settled without her needing to take care of every little detail. "You can take the spare room upstairs next to the girls' room."
"Perfect," says the woman -- or Mary Poppins, as she insists on calling herself. "The girls can show me the way." The girls glare mutely at her. She looks meaningfully at them, then repeats the zipping motion she made earlier, in the opposite direction. Both girls collapse to the ground, panting and heaving.
"How did you do that?" rasps Cassidy, massaging her throat.
"Do what?" says Mary Poppins, patting her hair.
"Mom, she's evil," Caroline explodes, "not to mention a liar. Emily didn't let her in. I'm telling you, she came out of nowhere."
"She's a witch! She's got to be!"
"Girls, that's enough." Miranda massages her temples, thinking of all the parenting books she's read in her lifetime and how completely unhelpful they've been. She can run the best magazine in the world, but she can't rein in her children. "I know how much you hate having a nanny, but I really need all the help I can get to take care of you two," she says patiently, "especially with your fath-- Stephen gone."
"Mom!" Caroline stamps her foot and crosses her arms. "Would you just listen to us for once?"
"I'm too tired to deal with this right now," Miranda says wearily. "Go upstairs."
Caroline and Cassidy know when their mother means business, so they trudge defeatedly up the stairs with Mary Poppins on their heels.
"We're onto you," Caroline hisses at Mary Poppins once inside the spare bedroom. "Just because you've fooled our mother doesn't mean you've fooled us."
"How rude," says Mary Poppins. "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it; if that's all you have to say, I might just have to --" and she mimes a zipping motion.
Cassidy covers her mouth with her hands, while Caroline rolls her eyes. "I'm not scared of you," she says disdainfully. "What are you going to do? Make us clean our rooms?"
"I like your enthusiasm," Mary Poppins smiles, "but all in good time." She sets her bag on the table and proceeds to remove from it a hat stand, a coat rack, a shoe rack, a full-length mirror, some flower pots, a juggling set, a medicine cabinet, a yoga mat, three long coats, and ten pairs of identical shoes. The girls stare in a mixture of horror and awe, not believing their eyes.
"There's no way all that stuff could have come out of that tiny bag," croaks Cassidy. "It's magic."
"Don't be stupid," says Caroline, bravely approaching the bag and poking it. "It's a interdimensional space pocket."
"It's got to be a trick!"
"Are you from the future? Can you time travel?"
"Oh, shit, she's even got a tape measure," Caroline says, as Mary Poppins retrieves the item from her bag. "Now she's going to insult us with it."
"It's never wise to jump to conclusions," lectures Mary Poppins, "and watch that mouth of yours, or I'll wash it out with soap. Now let's see how you measure up." She pulls it from the floor to Caroline's height, and reads from the tape measure. "Mean-spirited, takes happiness in the misfortune of others."
"You bet," agrees Caroline. "Let me see." A quick look at the tape measure confirms that those exact words are inscribed upon the tape measure corresponding to Caroline's height.
"Now you," Mary Poppins says to Cassidy. "Insecure and unimaginative," it reads.
"Hey, that's mean," Cassidy complains.
Caroline has a goofy grin on her face. ""We measure at the same height, but the words on your tape measure changed, right in front of my eyes." She claps her hands in delight. "I don't care who you are. You're awesome."
"I prefer the words practically perfect," Mary Poppins sniffs. "Now, someone said something about cleaning their rooms."
"Oh, come on," Caroline grins. "You can just snap your fingers and take care of it for us."
There's is a dangerous glint in Mary Poppins' eyes. "So you've got me all figured out, haven't you?"
"Pretty much," says Caroline. "I saw the movie."
"What movie?" says Mary Poppins severely. "I'll not do your dirty work for you. Spit spot! And don't think I don't have my eye on you."
"I can't believe she actually said that," Caroline whispers as they scuttle down the corridor and into Cassidy's room. "Well, now what?"
"I don't know," Cassidy shrugs. "I don't really feel like tidying up."
"Why don't you try -- you know." Caroline clicks her fingers. Nothing happens.
Cassidy giggles and shakes her head. "You didn't really think it would work, did you? Come on, let's play some Mario Kart. Get your DS."
Caroline runs across the hall to retrieve it, and is nearly smacked in the face by a book flying into her bookcase the moment she enters her room. Her eyes widen as her teddy bear is marches across the room and onto her bed, a pile of clothes lifts into the air, spins around, and is folded by invisible hands, and piles of paper ruffle through the air and stack themselves neatly on her desk.
"Cass. CASS!" Caroline's face splits into a grin. "You HAVE to see this."
"Good children do NOT RAISE THEIR VOICES," Mary Poppins bellows down the hall.
~~~~~
Miranda's been too preoccupied to notice when and how it occured, but all of a sudden there is a marked difference in her children. It's not just the brighter colour in their cheeks, the new spring in their step; nor is it their newfound enthusiasm for being outdoors, every free moment, instead of staying cooped up in their rooms. There's a certain new attitude, a joie-de-vivre that never used to exist in her children, and she's not sure why.
"How was your day, girls?" she asks one day.
"Oh, it was fantastic. We had so much fun." Cassidy looks like she's about to burst from excitement. "Guess where Mary Poppins took us." She pauses dramatically.
"Well, don't keep me in suspense."
"To the park," Cassidy announces.
"The park? Central Park?" Miranda scratches her cheek with her pen. "What's so exciting about Central Park?"
"Oh, you know," Caroline says airily. "Things."
"What kind of things?" Miranda probes.
"Well, there's the pond, and the statues, and the fountains, and the birds," Caroline says. "It's all so -- warm, and vibrant, and energetic, and cheerful, it's all so --"
"So alive," Cassidy fills in. Both girls share a furtive glance, and burst into giggles.
"Those are the last words I'd use to describe Central Park," Miranda comments.
"If only you could see it the way we did," Caroline says cryptically, and does not explain further.
"Okay, then," Miranda says, feeling like a lost, out-of-touch mother who fails to understand the secret language that her children use.
"Did you know birds hate it everytime someone uses the term bird-brained?" Cassidy says. "They think it's so specist."
"Specist?"
"You know, like being racist, only being racist towards certain species."
"I ... see," Miranda says carefully. It must be Special Interest Week or Minorities Month at school again.
"And their stories," Cassidy continues.
"Stories? Whose stories?"
"Stories of everyone in the park," Cassidy says patiently. "You know. Everything has a story. How it was born, what it's been through, how it ended up the way it is."
"I'm not sure I understand."
Caroline and Cassidy exchange glances. Then, to Miranda's utter surprise, Caroline reaches out and pats her hand with a consoling expression on her face. "That's okay. Not everyone does."
Then there are the things she overhears when the girls think she's not listening.
".... feel so sorry for them, living underground, with all those subway trains keeping them up all the time..."
"... need to fix that hole in my pants from when it got caught on the Empire State building needle..."
"... I want to go tap-dancing with the window cleaners up Chrysler next time -- the Trump Tower was fun, but it's so short..."
"... Libby beating back that sea monster was SO COOL --"
"Who's Libby?" Miranda interrupts them one day. "New friend of yours?"
Her daughters look at her with an expression mixed with amusement and guilt. "You could say that," Caroline says finally. "Why are you asking?"
"I've heard you talking a lot about her recently, and I was curious, that's all," Miranda says nonchalantly. Inside, she's worried. Her child developmental expert friends say that such wild flights of fancy may be the result of loneliness caused by parental negligence.
"She sounds like an amazing person, being able to shoot fire balls from her hands and laser beams from her eyes and spikes from her forehead," Miranda continues. "Not to mention swim all the way from Manhattan to the East Hamptons carrying you on her back. "
Her daughters laugh nervously. "Oh, we're just being silly," Caroline says.
"Playing around," Cassidy adds. And they laugh nervously again.
"You're a little old be playing make-believe, aren't you?" Miranda says disapprovingly. The girls haven't talked nonsense like this since they were small children.
"We're just having fun," Caroline says.
"Who's idea of fun is this? Libby's?" Miranda sniffs. "I don't want you playing with her anymore. Is that clear?"
"But she gets so lonely," Caroline protests. "She doesn't have that many friends that -- want to spend time with her."
"It's her own fault if she's so unpopular," Miranda declares.
"She's popular! Tons of people like her," Caroline says. "Well -- tons of people know her, at least, but I'm sure they like her too. It's just that -- she doesn't -- well --"
"Not everyone is able to talk to her," Cassidy says quickly. "She's not -- well, she doesn't really speak the same language as everyone else. Sort of."
"That's one way to put it," Caroline agrees.
Huh. An immigrant who refuses to learn English, then. "Well, why don't you bring her around some time? I'd love to meet her." And make that she's not a strange outsider freak who will fall through society's cracks, Miranda thinks.
"Don't think that's possible," Caroline says quickly. "It's hard for her to get out much."
"She lives kind of far," Cassidy adds.
"Oh? Where does she live?"
Caroline and Cassidy shift on their feet. "Somewhere on the Hudson," Caroline says finally. "Not exactly sure what the address is."
"Well, if you insist on spending time with her, I'm going to have to know more about her," Miranda says. "I'll call the school tomorrow and tell them to give me her address."
"Oh, she doesn't go to Dalton."
"She doesn't?" It hasn't even occured to Miranda that this Libby isn't a fellow student of her daughters'. "So where does she go?"
"She ... doesn't go to school."
"So how did you even meet her?" Miranda exclaims.
There is a long, long pause, during which Miranda starts to feel very, very anxious. And then: "Mary Poppins introduced us."
Oh, good Lord.
"Girls, could you go upstairs and tell your nanny to come down here? I want to speak with her," Miranda says. "Right now."
A few minutes later, Mary Poppins is standing expectantly before her.
"I notice you've been taking the girls out a lot lately," Miranda begins.
"Oh, yes. The fresh air does them a world of good."
"What kind of things do you do with them? Where do you take them?"
"Oh, here and there," Mary Poppins says cheerfully. "Educational outings around the city. It's quite tragic not to be familiar with the history of the very city you were born and raised in."
"These outings better not be getting in the way of their other commitments."
"Not at all! I make sure they get to all their piano lessons, and their violin, ballet, horse-riding, calligraphy, tennis, ballroom-dancing and etiquette lessons on time," Mary Poppins says. "Though you must agree with me that well-roundedness in an individual is extremely important, do you not?"
"Of course," says Miranda.
"Good, I'm glad that's settled, then! Will there be anything else?"
Miranda's not entirely sure what's been settled, but she says, "I want you to stop introducing my children to people of questionable reputation."
"Questionable reputation!" Mary Poppins says in indignation. "I would never associate myself with people of questionable reputation!"
"Well then, would you be so kind as to tell me who Libby is?"
"Libby?" Mary Poppins says thoughtfully. "Oh, yes. That's what she calls herself. A good friend of mine, that Libby. Staunch fighter for freedom and liberty. Used to work in the meet-and-greet business, but that was a long time ago. Nothing questionable about her."
Sounds like a loony humans rights activist, Miranda thinks, and besides, anyone associated with someone who calls herself Mary Poppins must be questionable in some shape or form. "Well, I want her to stop filling my children's heads with nonsense. And another thing. Have you been taking my children on the subway?"
"Not at all, Ms Priestly, I'm well aware of your aversion to public transportation."
"Then why are they always talking about travelling around the city underground in the stomach of a giant blind worm?"
Mary Poppins looks astounded. "I have absolutely no idea!"
"They never used to get so carried away. Not until you came. In fact," Miranda narrows her eyes, "I hope you're not the reason for all this foolishness."
"Oh, most certainly not," Mary Poppins exclaims. "I would never dream of encouraging such frivolities, and I shall see to it they never bring up such things again. Giant worms travelling underground! What will they think of next?"
Miranda sighs wearily and leans back into her chair.
"I'll be honest." She takes her glasses off and tosses them in front of her. "I'm worried about them, what with the divorce and all the press lately -- it's no environment for children to be growing up in."
Mary Poppins softens her expression. "No, it's not."
"I feel so helpless, being alone, and it's like -- but why am I telling you all this?" Miranda snorts derisively at herself. "I hate to admit it, but in any other time, I might have called you down here to dismiss you. Unfortunately, I can't really do with losing another good employee right now."
"I should certainly hope not," Mary Poppins sniffs. "Good help is hard to find."
"It is indeed," Miranda says softly, and lapses into silence.
"There's nothing wrong with feeling helpless a little now and then," Mary Poppins says, her expression softening. "And it's perfectly understandable that you feel that way."
"Is it?" Miranda sounds like she has something stuck in her throat.
"You've lost someone so important to you, someone you always relied on." Miranda nods slowly and imperceptibly. "Someone you trusted more than anything in the world, someone you thought would always be there for you --"
"Yes," Miranda whispers without thinking, her eyes falling shut.
"I can tell, from the look on your face," Mary Poppins says quietly, "that you must miss him very much."
Miranda's eyes fly open. "Him?"
"Your husband, of course."
"My husband," Miranda repeats. "Right. Yes."
"You're tired," Mary Poppins observes. "I'll let you rest now. Good night, Ms Priestly."
"Good night," says Miranda, staring into space.
~~~~~
"Are we going to go out again today?" Cassidy says eagerly.
"Hush." Mary Poppins' voice intones throughout the semi-darkened room. "Close your eyes. Stretch your lower back. Feel the way your breathing changes your body." Cassidy promptly obeys, and Mary Poppins adds, "maybe if we have time after yoga."
"You know, Mom does yoga, too, once a week on the Upper West Side," Caroline says, her stomach hitting against the ceiling. She bounces off and drifts into a bookcase. "Maybe we should invite her to join us here."
"Mom probably doesn't do the same kind of yoga we do," Cassidy points out, arching backwards, touching her feet to her head as she floats around the bedroom.
"Maybe this kind of yoga would be good for Mom," Caroline muses from a corner of the ceiling. "She's been so grumpy lately -- maybe it would lighten her up." Cassidy still thinks it's magic, but Caroline believes there has to be some kind of scientific explanation for everything Mary Poppins can do, because she read somewhere once that any really advanced form of technology is indistinguishable from magic. For instance, it has to be some kind of anti-gravitational force field, localised to Cassidy's bedroom, that's keeping them up in the air. She wonders, not for the first time, if Mary Poppins isn't really an alien or time-traveller in disguise.
"Weightless yoga is not for everyone," Mary Poppins declares, suspended perfectly still in the exact middle of the room with her eyes closed. "Your mother is a very busy woman. Now empty your mind and concentrate on your breathing."
Caroline closes her eyes, but she can't concentrate, now that the idea is her head. After a few moments of futilely trying to empty her mind, her eyes snap open. "You know, she hasn't been the same since Paris. That's when everything went wrong, of course. Everything all at once. Stephen left, that stupid chairman tried to make her lose her job, and on top of all that, she had to fire that assistant of hers, too."
"Andrea wasn't fired," Cassidy ventures, opening her eyes a crack.
"Yeah, she was," Caroline insists. "Mom told me so, when I asked her why the spelling and grammar on our homework started to suck so bad again."
"She left, but she wasn't fired." Cassidy is stubborn on this point. "Emily said that --"
"Girls, please," Mary Poppins sighs, "this is not the time. You are disrupting the --"
"Who cares what Emily said?" Caroline says hotly. "You think anyone would dare to just up and leave Mom like that without her permission?"
"Stephen did," Cassidy points out.
"Yeah, but that's completely -- ARGH, this is so not the point." Caroline unravels her body and turns to Mary Poppins, ignoring the steely expression on her face. "Can't you help?" she begs. "If my mother could see only see some of the amazing things you show us, she'd feel so much better about everything, don't you think?"
"What are you talking about? I'm not showing you anything you can't already see for yourself."
"Fine, be that way," Caroline grumbles. Mary Poppins has a rather annoying habit of being strangely secretive about everything, to the point where she'll deny that there's anything out of the ordinary about herself or the things she can do. It's most infuriating. "But you must do _something_ for her."
"Must I, now," says Mary Poppins coldly.
"That's your job, isn't it? You pop in, snap your fingers, and make everything right again for everyone." Mary Poppins has gone still, but Caroline doesn't notice. "That's why you're here, isn't it? To fix us -- fix my mother. To make us a happy family again. I mean, what else are you here to --"
"Too many distractions," Mary Poppins interrupts. "Let's continue this another time." The lights come back on, and with a thump, Caroline finds herself in a tangled heap on the floor. Cassidy is dangling upside-down over the edge of her bed. They both watch as Mary Poppins rises daintily from the floor and doesn't look back.
"Are you angry at me?" Caroline says, a little uneasily, as she pushes herself to her feet. An angry Mary Poppins is a thought too scary to fathom.
Mary Poppins stops at the door. "How could I be? Practically perfect people are never angry." The girls catch a glimpse of her face, and they freeze in place. "Now pick yourself up and come to my room; we're going to conjugate some French verbs. Spit spot."
"Damnit, now look what you've done," grumbles Cassidy when Mary Poppins has disappeared down the hallway.
"I'm sure everything'll be normal by tomorrow," protests Caroline, not convincing either of them, especially when over the next three days Mary Poppins takes them nowhere that Roy couldn't take them.
"I still don't think this is my fault," Caroline insists after Mary Poppins has made them come straight home and practice verb conjugation for the fourth day in a row after all their lessons, but for once, Cassidy is having none of it.
"You need to go apologise."
"What for?" Caroline grouses. "I don't even know what I did wrong. I just wanted to find a way to help Mom."
Cassidy sighs. "I know, but -- that's not anyone else's business, you know? Just because Mary Poppins can do all these things -- all of which she denies being able to do, by the way -- doesn't mean she can do everything, nor does it mean she should." While Caroline thinks about that, Cassidy grabs her by the shirt and begins to tug her towards Mary Poppins' room. "Now come on -- just say you're sorry and tell her we wanna go somewhere because I am going to go crazy if I have to conjugate another French verb. I don't even _take_ French, for crying out loud."
Mary Poppins is doing some kind of arts and crafts project in her room, and she looks up expectantly when they come in. "Yes? Do you need something?"
Caroline looks at the paper and superglue and wood strewn over the table. "That, ah, looks really interesting. What are you working on?"
Cassidy kicks her in the shin.
"What I mean to say is, uh, about the other day -- I said some things that I shouldn't have, and, um. You can forget I ever said anything."
"I most assuredly do not know what you're talking about," Mary Poppins says grandly.
"Good! Good," Caroline says, relieved.
"Then can you start taking us places again tomorrow?" Cassidy interrupts. "Please?"
"Sure, but," Mary Poppins looks surprised. "Where could you possibly want to go?"
"Anywhere," Caroline says quickly. "Anywhere you can think of."
"Hm." Mary Poppins considers. "How about -- no, too cold -- or we could -- no, that's too dangerous. There's the place over on -- but that's for 18 and above, unfortunately... hm... no, certainly not that place ..."
The girls' faces fall with every word. "Come on, there's got to be somewhere," Cassidy implores. "We don't have to do something new. Why don't we go back to--"
"People have to be ready for us, you know," Mary Poppins says sternly. "We can't simply intrude on people's property wherever we please. How would you like it if someone wandered into your house at any time of day and demanded your attention?"
"Please, think of something," Cassidy says miserably, while glaring at Caroline and mouthing 'this is all your fault.'
"We could always go there," Mary Poppins says suddenly.
"Where?" says Caroline.
"Yes!" Cassidy says excitedly. "Let's go there!"
"I haven't even told you where it is yet," Mary Poppins says, looking mildly amused. "Are you sure?"
"Doesn't matter," Cassidy says impatiently. "We'll go." Next to her, Caroline nods.
Mary Poppins looks thoughtful, then stands up, as if having come to a decision. "Well, if you insist," she says briskly. "I suppose it's time. We'll have to ask your mother's permission, of course. Come along." The girls nod vigorously, and follow her out of the room.
They find Miranda in the living room. "Ms Priestly, if I may have a word with you," Mary Poppins says. "It turns out the girls are most interested in visiting your workplace and taking a tour of the Runway offices at some point. Tomorrow would be perfect, since the girls don't have any curricular activities after school."
There are suddenly three pairs of horrified eyes staring at Mary Poppins.
"What?" the girls shout.
"I should think not," Miranda says. "Are you seriously suggesting that --"
"Both of them were so very enthusiastic when I suggested it to them just now," Mary Poppins says cheerfully. "Weren't you, girls?"
Caroline opens her mouth to object.
"They were?" Miranda says in surprise.
Caroline thinks she hears the slightest whiff of pleasure in her mother's voice and changes her mind about what she was going to say. "Yeah, we were." She ignores Cassidy's pinch on her arm. "It's okay with you, right?"
"Well, it's not really the best time." Miranda fusses with papers in front of her. "Though I suppose it won't be too much trouble if you stay out of my way," she says grudgingly.
"We really don't have to go if it's too much trouble," Cassidy says quickly.
"Oh, nonsense," Mary Poppins says. "Your mother won't mind at all."
"... You're coming to keep an eye on them, right?"
"If you insist."
Mother and daughters eye each other. "I suppose you can come by tomorrow after school," Miranda says finally. "I'll have Roy pick you up
"This is going to be SUCH a drag," Cassidy mutters before they go to bed that night.
"Oh, don't be so sure about that," Caroline says vaguely. "Mary Poppins'll find a way to make things interesting. And you saw how happy Mom was."
"I guess," Cassidy grumbles. "I hope you're right."
And then, of course, all hell breaks loose.
Written (and failed to be completed) for
somniesperus' V-day fic challenge.
Fic: Practically perfect in every way but one (or more), Part 1 of 2
Fandom: Devil Wears Prada/Mary Poppins
Pairings: None
Rating: Gen
Description: 26. Crossover time! What happens when the Runway regulars meet something truly beyond their experience? etc.
When Miranda gets home, she finds her children and a strangely-dressed woman staring at each other in a battle of wills in the living room. Miranda heads to the kitchen, pours herself a glass of wine, doubles back to pick up the Book in the foyer, and goes back to the living room. Its occupants have not budged an inch, and appear to be at a stalemate.
"Are you their homeroom teacher or guidance counselor?" Miranda asks. She is greeted with silence. No one turns to look at her. "Disgruntled parent of a classmate? New piano teacher? Random stranger in the street who wants to sue for emotional damages?"
After a long pause, Cassidy says, looking quite lost, "She came out of the fire place."
"What tosh!" the strange woman exclaims, finally breaking her silence. "You haven't even a chimney. I must say, Ms Priestly, while your children aren't the most difficult I've met in my time, I daresay they're among them. And I've met no small number of them, believe you me."
"How did you get in here?" Caroline demands. "Tell us!"
"How does any normal human being enter a house?" replies the woman. "Through the front door, of course."
"You're lying!" Cassidy wails. "You appeared out of nowhere!"
"Zzzt!" The woman makes a zipping motion across her mouth, and both girls abruptly go quiet. "Good children do not speak unless spoken to. Now." She tilts her head in Miranda's direction. "Let's get down to business. I shall require complimentary food and boarding, and every second Tuesday off. With regards to wages, I'll be willing to take the standard childcare rate; normally I'd ask for a more, but business isn't what it used to be. As for length of employment, I'll stay until the wind changes."
Miranda finally takes a good look at the woman. She's wearing a navy-blue, narrow-brimmed hat, with a flower tucked into the sash, and a long coat of the same colour reaching down to mid-calf, just a little shorter than her bright red skirt that looks like it belongs in a decades-old clothing catalogue. In her left hand is an old-fashioned, wood-hilt umbrella; in her right, the most hideous handbag Miranda has seen in years.
"Who are you, then? Mary Poppins?" Miranda says snidely.
"Why, yes, I am," comes the matter-of-fact response. "How did you know?"
There is a pause.
"I'm calling the police," Miranda says.
"Oh, I don't think you want to do that." As a rule, Miranda answers to no one, but something cold and steely in the woman's voice stops her short. "You are in the market for a new nanny, are you not?"
"That well may be, but I haven't even told Emily to put out an advertisement yet." Miranda's eyes narrow. "I see. You're her doing, aren't you? She's the one who let you in?"
"That's what it looks like," says the woman.
Well, that explains the accent, at least, Miranda thinks, not noticing her children frantically shaking their heads and waving their arms behind her. "Thought she'd impress me by taking matters into her own hands, no doubt," she mutters, pinching her brow to ease the chronic headache that's been plaguing her for days. That's what happens when you're surrounded by pure incompetence.
"Not the sharpest tack in the drawer, but she gets the job done," the woman agrees. "What with all the commotion in your life lately, it seemed prudent to get your childcare situation resolved ... with minimal fuss."
"Minimal fuss," Miranda sighs. It's something that would certainly be a luxury. She looks over the woman carefully. "What's your name again?"
"Mary Poppins," says the woman. "I thought I told you."
Definitely a nutter, thinks Miranda, but certainly no stranger than the time Nigel went around insisting everyone call him Britney. At least she's dedicated enough to dress the part. "No, really. What's your real name?"
"I simply do not understand why you refuse to believe me." The woman pulls a battered-looking passport out of her pocket and hands it to Miranda.
"I can't believe it's really your name," Miranda says incredulously. "Did you get it changed to this?"
"Heavens, no! It's the name I was born with."
"Oh, I'm sorry. You poor thing," Miranda says with pity, handing back the passport. She would have killed her parents if they'd played a joke like that on her.
"Oh, not to worry. I've always been quite fond of it."
Miranda looks at the woman again. "Well, I suppose you'll do," she decides. "Talk to Emily for the girls' schedule and to get all your paperwork sorted out."
"Done and done."
"Well then," says Miranda. It's great when everything is settled without her needing to take care of every little detail. "You can take the spare room upstairs next to the girls' room."
"Perfect," says the woman -- or Mary Poppins, as she insists on calling herself. "The girls can show me the way." The girls glare mutely at her. She looks meaningfully at them, then repeats the zipping motion she made earlier, in the opposite direction. Both girls collapse to the ground, panting and heaving.
"How did you do that?" rasps Cassidy, massaging her throat.
"Do what?" says Mary Poppins, patting her hair.
"Mom, she's evil," Caroline explodes, "not to mention a liar. Emily didn't let her in. I'm telling you, she came out of nowhere."
"She's a witch! She's got to be!"
"Girls, that's enough." Miranda massages her temples, thinking of all the parenting books she's read in her lifetime and how completely unhelpful they've been. She can run the best magazine in the world, but she can't rein in her children. "I know how much you hate having a nanny, but I really need all the help I can get to take care of you two," she says patiently, "especially with your fath-- Stephen gone."
"Mom!" Caroline stamps her foot and crosses her arms. "Would you just listen to us for once?"
"I'm too tired to deal with this right now," Miranda says wearily. "Go upstairs."
Caroline and Cassidy know when their mother means business, so they trudge defeatedly up the stairs with Mary Poppins on their heels.
"We're onto you," Caroline hisses at Mary Poppins once inside the spare bedroom. "Just because you've fooled our mother doesn't mean you've fooled us."
"How rude," says Mary Poppins. "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it; if that's all you have to say, I might just have to --" and she mimes a zipping motion.
Cassidy covers her mouth with her hands, while Caroline rolls her eyes. "I'm not scared of you," she says disdainfully. "What are you going to do? Make us clean our rooms?"
"I like your enthusiasm," Mary Poppins smiles, "but all in good time." She sets her bag on the table and proceeds to remove from it a hat stand, a coat rack, a shoe rack, a full-length mirror, some flower pots, a juggling set, a medicine cabinet, a yoga mat, three long coats, and ten pairs of identical shoes. The girls stare in a mixture of horror and awe, not believing their eyes.
"There's no way all that stuff could have come out of that tiny bag," croaks Cassidy. "It's magic."
"Don't be stupid," says Caroline, bravely approaching the bag and poking it. "It's a interdimensional space pocket."
"It's got to be a trick!"
"Are you from the future? Can you time travel?"
"Oh, shit, she's even got a tape measure," Caroline says, as Mary Poppins retrieves the item from her bag. "Now she's going to insult us with it."
"It's never wise to jump to conclusions," lectures Mary Poppins, "and watch that mouth of yours, or I'll wash it out with soap. Now let's see how you measure up." She pulls it from the floor to Caroline's height, and reads from the tape measure. "Mean-spirited, takes happiness in the misfortune of others."
"You bet," agrees Caroline. "Let me see." A quick look at the tape measure confirms that those exact words are inscribed upon the tape measure corresponding to Caroline's height.
"Now you," Mary Poppins says to Cassidy. "Insecure and unimaginative," it reads.
"Hey, that's mean," Cassidy complains.
Caroline has a goofy grin on her face. ""We measure at the same height, but the words on your tape measure changed, right in front of my eyes." She claps her hands in delight. "I don't care who you are. You're awesome."
"I prefer the words practically perfect," Mary Poppins sniffs. "Now, someone said something about cleaning their rooms."
"Oh, come on," Caroline grins. "You can just snap your fingers and take care of it for us."
There's is a dangerous glint in Mary Poppins' eyes. "So you've got me all figured out, haven't you?"
"Pretty much," says Caroline. "I saw the movie."
"What movie?" says Mary Poppins severely. "I'll not do your dirty work for you. Spit spot! And don't think I don't have my eye on you."
"I can't believe she actually said that," Caroline whispers as they scuttle down the corridor and into Cassidy's room. "Well, now what?"
"I don't know," Cassidy shrugs. "I don't really feel like tidying up."
"Why don't you try -- you know." Caroline clicks her fingers. Nothing happens.
Cassidy giggles and shakes her head. "You didn't really think it would work, did you? Come on, let's play some Mario Kart. Get your DS."
Caroline runs across the hall to retrieve it, and is nearly smacked in the face by a book flying into her bookcase the moment she enters her room. Her eyes widen as her teddy bear is marches across the room and onto her bed, a pile of clothes lifts into the air, spins around, and is folded by invisible hands, and piles of paper ruffle through the air and stack themselves neatly on her desk.
"Cass. CASS!" Caroline's face splits into a grin. "You HAVE to see this."
"Good children do NOT RAISE THEIR VOICES," Mary Poppins bellows down the hall.
~~~~~
Miranda's been too preoccupied to notice when and how it occured, but all of a sudden there is a marked difference in her children. It's not just the brighter colour in their cheeks, the new spring in their step; nor is it their newfound enthusiasm for being outdoors, every free moment, instead of staying cooped up in their rooms. There's a certain new attitude, a joie-de-vivre that never used to exist in her children, and she's not sure why.
"How was your day, girls?" she asks one day.
"Oh, it was fantastic. We had so much fun." Cassidy looks like she's about to burst from excitement. "Guess where Mary Poppins took us." She pauses dramatically.
"Well, don't keep me in suspense."
"To the park," Cassidy announces.
"The park? Central Park?" Miranda scratches her cheek with her pen. "What's so exciting about Central Park?"
"Oh, you know," Caroline says airily. "Things."
"What kind of things?" Miranda probes.
"Well, there's the pond, and the statues, and the fountains, and the birds," Caroline says. "It's all so -- warm, and vibrant, and energetic, and cheerful, it's all so --"
"So alive," Cassidy fills in. Both girls share a furtive glance, and burst into giggles.
"Those are the last words I'd use to describe Central Park," Miranda comments.
"If only you could see it the way we did," Caroline says cryptically, and does not explain further.
"Okay, then," Miranda says, feeling like a lost, out-of-touch mother who fails to understand the secret language that her children use.
"Did you know birds hate it everytime someone uses the term bird-brained?" Cassidy says. "They think it's so specist."
"Specist?"
"You know, like being racist, only being racist towards certain species."
"I ... see," Miranda says carefully. It must be Special Interest Week or Minorities Month at school again.
"And their stories," Cassidy continues.
"Stories? Whose stories?"
"Stories of everyone in the park," Cassidy says patiently. "You know. Everything has a story. How it was born, what it's been through, how it ended up the way it is."
"I'm not sure I understand."
Caroline and Cassidy exchange glances. Then, to Miranda's utter surprise, Caroline reaches out and pats her hand with a consoling expression on her face. "That's okay. Not everyone does."
Then there are the things she overhears when the girls think she's not listening.
".... feel so sorry for them, living underground, with all those subway trains keeping them up all the time..."
"... need to fix that hole in my pants from when it got caught on the Empire State building needle..."
"... I want to go tap-dancing with the window cleaners up Chrysler next time -- the Trump Tower was fun, but it's so short..."
"... Libby beating back that sea monster was SO COOL --"
"Who's Libby?" Miranda interrupts them one day. "New friend of yours?"
Her daughters look at her with an expression mixed with amusement and guilt. "You could say that," Caroline says finally. "Why are you asking?"
"I've heard you talking a lot about her recently, and I was curious, that's all," Miranda says nonchalantly. Inside, she's worried. Her child developmental expert friends say that such wild flights of fancy may be the result of loneliness caused by parental negligence.
"She sounds like an amazing person, being able to shoot fire balls from her hands and laser beams from her eyes and spikes from her forehead," Miranda continues. "Not to mention swim all the way from Manhattan to the East Hamptons carrying you on her back. "
Her daughters laugh nervously. "Oh, we're just being silly," Caroline says.
"Playing around," Cassidy adds. And they laugh nervously again.
"You're a little old be playing make-believe, aren't you?" Miranda says disapprovingly. The girls haven't talked nonsense like this since they were small children.
"We're just having fun," Caroline says.
"Who's idea of fun is this? Libby's?" Miranda sniffs. "I don't want you playing with her anymore. Is that clear?"
"But she gets so lonely," Caroline protests. "She doesn't have that many friends that -- want to spend time with her."
"It's her own fault if she's so unpopular," Miranda declares.
"She's popular! Tons of people like her," Caroline says. "Well -- tons of people know her, at least, but I'm sure they like her too. It's just that -- she doesn't -- well --"
"Not everyone is able to talk to her," Cassidy says quickly. "She's not -- well, she doesn't really speak the same language as everyone else. Sort of."
"That's one way to put it," Caroline agrees.
Huh. An immigrant who refuses to learn English, then. "Well, why don't you bring her around some time? I'd love to meet her." And make that she's not a strange outsider freak who will fall through society's cracks, Miranda thinks.
"Don't think that's possible," Caroline says quickly. "It's hard for her to get out much."
"She lives kind of far," Cassidy adds.
"Oh? Where does she live?"
Caroline and Cassidy shift on their feet. "Somewhere on the Hudson," Caroline says finally. "Not exactly sure what the address is."
"Well, if you insist on spending time with her, I'm going to have to know more about her," Miranda says. "I'll call the school tomorrow and tell them to give me her address."
"Oh, she doesn't go to Dalton."
"She doesn't?" It hasn't even occured to Miranda that this Libby isn't a fellow student of her daughters'. "So where does she go?"
"She ... doesn't go to school."
"So how did you even meet her?" Miranda exclaims.
There is a long, long pause, during which Miranda starts to feel very, very anxious. And then: "Mary Poppins introduced us."
Oh, good Lord.
"Girls, could you go upstairs and tell your nanny to come down here? I want to speak with her," Miranda says. "Right now."
A few minutes later, Mary Poppins is standing expectantly before her.
"I notice you've been taking the girls out a lot lately," Miranda begins.
"Oh, yes. The fresh air does them a world of good."
"What kind of things do you do with them? Where do you take them?"
"Oh, here and there," Mary Poppins says cheerfully. "Educational outings around the city. It's quite tragic not to be familiar with the history of the very city you were born and raised in."
"These outings better not be getting in the way of their other commitments."
"Not at all! I make sure they get to all their piano lessons, and their violin, ballet, horse-riding, calligraphy, tennis, ballroom-dancing and etiquette lessons on time," Mary Poppins says. "Though you must agree with me that well-roundedness in an individual is extremely important, do you not?"
"Of course," says Miranda.
"Good, I'm glad that's settled, then! Will there be anything else?"
Miranda's not entirely sure what's been settled, but she says, "I want you to stop introducing my children to people of questionable reputation."
"Questionable reputation!" Mary Poppins says in indignation. "I would never associate myself with people of questionable reputation!"
"Well then, would you be so kind as to tell me who Libby is?"
"Libby?" Mary Poppins says thoughtfully. "Oh, yes. That's what she calls herself. A good friend of mine, that Libby. Staunch fighter for freedom and liberty. Used to work in the meet-and-greet business, but that was a long time ago. Nothing questionable about her."
Sounds like a loony humans rights activist, Miranda thinks, and besides, anyone associated with someone who calls herself Mary Poppins must be questionable in some shape or form. "Well, I want her to stop filling my children's heads with nonsense. And another thing. Have you been taking my children on the subway?"
"Not at all, Ms Priestly, I'm well aware of your aversion to public transportation."
"Then why are they always talking about travelling around the city underground in the stomach of a giant blind worm?"
Mary Poppins looks astounded. "I have absolutely no idea!"
"They never used to get so carried away. Not until you came. In fact," Miranda narrows her eyes, "I hope you're not the reason for all this foolishness."
"Oh, most certainly not," Mary Poppins exclaims. "I would never dream of encouraging such frivolities, and I shall see to it they never bring up such things again. Giant worms travelling underground! What will they think of next?"
Miranda sighs wearily and leans back into her chair.
"I'll be honest." She takes her glasses off and tosses them in front of her. "I'm worried about them, what with the divorce and all the press lately -- it's no environment for children to be growing up in."
Mary Poppins softens her expression. "No, it's not."
"I feel so helpless, being alone, and it's like -- but why am I telling you all this?" Miranda snorts derisively at herself. "I hate to admit it, but in any other time, I might have called you down here to dismiss you. Unfortunately, I can't really do with losing another good employee right now."
"I should certainly hope not," Mary Poppins sniffs. "Good help is hard to find."
"It is indeed," Miranda says softly, and lapses into silence.
"There's nothing wrong with feeling helpless a little now and then," Mary Poppins says, her expression softening. "And it's perfectly understandable that you feel that way."
"Is it?" Miranda sounds like she has something stuck in her throat.
"You've lost someone so important to you, someone you always relied on." Miranda nods slowly and imperceptibly. "Someone you trusted more than anything in the world, someone you thought would always be there for you --"
"Yes," Miranda whispers without thinking, her eyes falling shut.
"I can tell, from the look on your face," Mary Poppins says quietly, "that you must miss him very much."
Miranda's eyes fly open. "Him?"
"Your husband, of course."
"My husband," Miranda repeats. "Right. Yes."
"You're tired," Mary Poppins observes. "I'll let you rest now. Good night, Ms Priestly."
"Good night," says Miranda, staring into space.
~~~~~
"Are we going to go out again today?" Cassidy says eagerly.
"Hush." Mary Poppins' voice intones throughout the semi-darkened room. "Close your eyes. Stretch your lower back. Feel the way your breathing changes your body." Cassidy promptly obeys, and Mary Poppins adds, "maybe if we have time after yoga."
"You know, Mom does yoga, too, once a week on the Upper West Side," Caroline says, her stomach hitting against the ceiling. She bounces off and drifts into a bookcase. "Maybe we should invite her to join us here."
"Mom probably doesn't do the same kind of yoga we do," Cassidy points out, arching backwards, touching her feet to her head as she floats around the bedroom.
"Maybe this kind of yoga would be good for Mom," Caroline muses from a corner of the ceiling. "She's been so grumpy lately -- maybe it would lighten her up." Cassidy still thinks it's magic, but Caroline believes there has to be some kind of scientific explanation for everything Mary Poppins can do, because she read somewhere once that any really advanced form of technology is indistinguishable from magic. For instance, it has to be some kind of anti-gravitational force field, localised to Cassidy's bedroom, that's keeping them up in the air. She wonders, not for the first time, if Mary Poppins isn't really an alien or time-traveller in disguise.
"Weightless yoga is not for everyone," Mary Poppins declares, suspended perfectly still in the exact middle of the room with her eyes closed. "Your mother is a very busy woman. Now empty your mind and concentrate on your breathing."
Caroline closes her eyes, but she can't concentrate, now that the idea is her head. After a few moments of futilely trying to empty her mind, her eyes snap open. "You know, she hasn't been the same since Paris. That's when everything went wrong, of course. Everything all at once. Stephen left, that stupid chairman tried to make her lose her job, and on top of all that, she had to fire that assistant of hers, too."
"Andrea wasn't fired," Cassidy ventures, opening her eyes a crack.
"Yeah, she was," Caroline insists. "Mom told me so, when I asked her why the spelling and grammar on our homework started to suck so bad again."
"She left, but she wasn't fired." Cassidy is stubborn on this point. "Emily said that --"
"Girls, please," Mary Poppins sighs, "this is not the time. You are disrupting the --"
"Who cares what Emily said?" Caroline says hotly. "You think anyone would dare to just up and leave Mom like that without her permission?"
"Stephen did," Cassidy points out.
"Yeah, but that's completely -- ARGH, this is so not the point." Caroline unravels her body and turns to Mary Poppins, ignoring the steely expression on her face. "Can't you help?" she begs. "If my mother could see only see some of the amazing things you show us, she'd feel so much better about everything, don't you think?"
"What are you talking about? I'm not showing you anything you can't already see for yourself."
"Fine, be that way," Caroline grumbles. Mary Poppins has a rather annoying habit of being strangely secretive about everything, to the point where she'll deny that there's anything out of the ordinary about herself or the things she can do. It's most infuriating. "But you must do _something_ for her."
"Must I, now," says Mary Poppins coldly.
"That's your job, isn't it? You pop in, snap your fingers, and make everything right again for everyone." Mary Poppins has gone still, but Caroline doesn't notice. "That's why you're here, isn't it? To fix us -- fix my mother. To make us a happy family again. I mean, what else are you here to --"
"Too many distractions," Mary Poppins interrupts. "Let's continue this another time." The lights come back on, and with a thump, Caroline finds herself in a tangled heap on the floor. Cassidy is dangling upside-down over the edge of her bed. They both watch as Mary Poppins rises daintily from the floor and doesn't look back.
"Are you angry at me?" Caroline says, a little uneasily, as she pushes herself to her feet. An angry Mary Poppins is a thought too scary to fathom.
Mary Poppins stops at the door. "How could I be? Practically perfect people are never angry." The girls catch a glimpse of her face, and they freeze in place. "Now pick yourself up and come to my room; we're going to conjugate some French verbs. Spit spot."
"Damnit, now look what you've done," grumbles Cassidy when Mary Poppins has disappeared down the hallway.
"I'm sure everything'll be normal by tomorrow," protests Caroline, not convincing either of them, especially when over the next three days Mary Poppins takes them nowhere that Roy couldn't take them.
"I still don't think this is my fault," Caroline insists after Mary Poppins has made them come straight home and practice verb conjugation for the fourth day in a row after all their lessons, but for once, Cassidy is having none of it.
"You need to go apologise."
"What for?" Caroline grouses. "I don't even know what I did wrong. I just wanted to find a way to help Mom."
Cassidy sighs. "I know, but -- that's not anyone else's business, you know? Just because Mary Poppins can do all these things -- all of which she denies being able to do, by the way -- doesn't mean she can do everything, nor does it mean she should." While Caroline thinks about that, Cassidy grabs her by the shirt and begins to tug her towards Mary Poppins' room. "Now come on -- just say you're sorry and tell her we wanna go somewhere because I am going to go crazy if I have to conjugate another French verb. I don't even _take_ French, for crying out loud."
Mary Poppins is doing some kind of arts and crafts project in her room, and she looks up expectantly when they come in. "Yes? Do you need something?"
Caroline looks at the paper and superglue and wood strewn over the table. "That, ah, looks really interesting. What are you working on?"
Cassidy kicks her in the shin.
"What I mean to say is, uh, about the other day -- I said some things that I shouldn't have, and, um. You can forget I ever said anything."
"I most assuredly do not know what you're talking about," Mary Poppins says grandly.
"Good! Good," Caroline says, relieved.
"Then can you start taking us places again tomorrow?" Cassidy interrupts. "Please?"
"Sure, but," Mary Poppins looks surprised. "Where could you possibly want to go?"
"Anywhere," Caroline says quickly. "Anywhere you can think of."
"Hm." Mary Poppins considers. "How about -- no, too cold -- or we could -- no, that's too dangerous. There's the place over on -- but that's for 18 and above, unfortunately... hm... no, certainly not that place ..."
The girls' faces fall with every word. "Come on, there's got to be somewhere," Cassidy implores. "We don't have to do something new. Why don't we go back to--"
"People have to be ready for us, you know," Mary Poppins says sternly. "We can't simply intrude on people's property wherever we please. How would you like it if someone wandered into your house at any time of day and demanded your attention?"
"Please, think of something," Cassidy says miserably, while glaring at Caroline and mouthing 'this is all your fault.'
"We could always go there," Mary Poppins says suddenly.
"Where?" says Caroline.
"Yes!" Cassidy says excitedly. "Let's go there!"
"I haven't even told you where it is yet," Mary Poppins says, looking mildly amused. "Are you sure?"
"Doesn't matter," Cassidy says impatiently. "We'll go." Next to her, Caroline nods.
Mary Poppins looks thoughtful, then stands up, as if having come to a decision. "Well, if you insist," she says briskly. "I suppose it's time. We'll have to ask your mother's permission, of course. Come along." The girls nod vigorously, and follow her out of the room.
They find Miranda in the living room. "Ms Priestly, if I may have a word with you," Mary Poppins says. "It turns out the girls are most interested in visiting your workplace and taking a tour of the Runway offices at some point. Tomorrow would be perfect, since the girls don't have any curricular activities after school."
There are suddenly three pairs of horrified eyes staring at Mary Poppins.
"What?" the girls shout.
"I should think not," Miranda says. "Are you seriously suggesting that --"
"Both of them were so very enthusiastic when I suggested it to them just now," Mary Poppins says cheerfully. "Weren't you, girls?"
Caroline opens her mouth to object.
"They were?" Miranda says in surprise.
Caroline thinks she hears the slightest whiff of pleasure in her mother's voice and changes her mind about what she was going to say. "Yeah, we were." She ignores Cassidy's pinch on her arm. "It's okay with you, right?"
"Well, it's not really the best time." Miranda fusses with papers in front of her. "Though I suppose it won't be too much trouble if you stay out of my way," she says grudgingly.
"We really don't have to go if it's too much trouble," Cassidy says quickly.
"Oh, nonsense," Mary Poppins says. "Your mother won't mind at all."
"... You're coming to keep an eye on them, right?"
"If you insist."
Mother and daughters eye each other. "I suppose you can come by tomorrow after school," Miranda says finally. "I'll have Roy pick you up
"This is going to be SUCH a drag," Cassidy mutters before they go to bed that night.
"Oh, don't be so sure about that," Caroline says vaguely. "Mary Poppins'll find a way to make things interesting. And you saw how happy Mom was."
"I guess," Cassidy grumbles. "I hope you're right."
And then, of course, all hell breaks loose.