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The vase hit the ground before anybody could grab it. It shattered with a painful crash, sending shards of priceless porcelain all across the lavish room. Mixed in with that porcelain, however, were small, glimmering stars. Gingerbread stars.
Looking down at the carnage, Mrs. Brill cried. "Oh God, the heirloom!!" She sank to her knees, frantically trying to piece the shards back together.
"Oh, Mrs. Brill, come to the kitchen, you'd better sit down," Winifred answered quickly, ushering Mrs. Brill away from the mess. She could sense that something was wrong, and didn't want her (or her maid) to be caught up in it.
Despite the chaos and the mess, George just sat there, appalled. Not because of losing the vase, he really had no use for it anymore besides memories, but for finding something that hadn't truly left his mind for for the past 40 or so years. The shining gingerbread stars, still as bright as the day he got them. Reaching down to pick one up, he couldn't help but feel something, something different.
---
George Banks was 5, running through the park, hiding from his nanny. He had messed up, said something out of line, something about the stars, and now he was certain to get the nastiest brimstone and treacle. Or worse.
Scurrying behind a tree, he held his breath. People walked by, smiling, or offering a little "Good afternoon, George," oblivious to his situation. There was one person who stood out, though, and he couldn't take his eyes off her. A lady, with bright pink hair, and the kindest smile he'd ever seen. She looked so much brighter than everyone in the park, like an angel. She crooked a finger towards him, and he couldn't help but obey.
"Come, she won't find you here," the lady said, placing a hand on George's back, ushering him to a quieter part of the park. All of a sudden, everything changed. The grass was replaced by a brilliant marble, the open air was overtaken by walls of wood. It was as if the park never existed at all.
"Where am I??" George couldn't help but ask as he marveled at the homely scenery.
"Why, you're in my shop, of course, George," the lady answered, her honeyed smile back on her face.
"But, where did it come from??" He cocked his head to the side in confusion. This whole thing was rather odd, and he wouldn't be surprised if he was dreaming.
She only chuckled, snapping her fingers. At once, two girls appeared. "Annie, Fannie, my dears, can you get little Georgie something to eat??"
"Yes, mother," they replied, walking off in perfect synchronization. Now George really thought he was dreaming.
"How do you know my name??" He frowned, as the air began to smell of freshly baked gingerbread. George's stomach grumbled, and he realized he had skipped his lunch in a haste to get away from the Holy Terror.
"You like to ask a lot of questions, don't you??" The lady was now by her counter, pulling out a tray. "If you must know, I've heard quite a lot about you, George. You seem to like to run away from your nanny."
That didn't answer George's question, but he decided against arguing with her. He didn't want her to lash out like Miss Andrew did when she got cross.
"I know your mother," she continued. "Margaret Banks. She used to come here, too. Silly girl, she was, it's a miracle she even made it home at night," George didn't know anything big about his mother, besides the fact that she was always away for work. He didn't really miss her, as he never really knew her, but hearing things like this about her, it makes him wonder if she ever got the chance to be a little kid too.
Just then, the two girls, Annie and Fannie, returned to the main room. The pink-haired lady looked up from the tray. "Oh, Annie, Fannie, perfect!! It smells delicious,"
They smiled, and placed what looked to be a platter of biscuits down. George wanted to grab them, but knew they probably weren't meant for him. He wasn't allowed any sweets, especially not on his nanny's watch.
"Georgie, dear, don't be shy, Annie and Fannie won't bite," the girls, Annie and Fannie, gave their best smiles to George. "Take some, it's good, I promise,"
Hesitantly, George reached a small hand out. He stood up tall, but his hand merely lingered over the plate. He didn't want to go back and have the Holy Terror figure out what he had done, or what he had taken this time.
"Oh, dear, she won't know," the lady said, as if she was reading his mind. "I won't let her. Miss Andrew will be none the wiser," George flinched at the mention of his nanny, the one who had tormented him for the past two years.
"I don't, I don't think she'd be too pleased to know I'm taking sweets from a stranger," George replied, looking down at the ground.
"Miss Andrew is no stranger to me, I can assure you," the lady leaned in to whisper in his ear. "She scares me, too. But, she can't hurt you here. Not when I'm here to protect you."
George looked up at the lady, eyes glassy and tear-filled. He thought he was alone. He thought it was normal. He thought he just had to grit his teeth and bear the pain. He didn't think anybody would ever try to protect him, or even *want* to protect him. He wiped his eyes, and sniffled.
"If you don't want any gingerbread, that's not a problem. I know you're scared she'll catch you, and hurt you again. If you want, though, maybe you can take some for the trip home??" The lady smiled, and George felt at ease again. This mysterious woman, despite hi not knowing a single thing about her, made him feel safe. He knew, for the first time, that someone was there to protect him.
George looked back over at the platter of gingerbread biscuits, and gingerly picked three of the still-warm treats. Three shining stars.
"Ah, fantastic!!" She clasped her hands together, a gleeful laugh escaping her mouth. George couldn't help but laugh, too. Her face suddenly dropped slightly, and the boy instinctively backed away, awaiting a slap. "I'm afraid our time is up for today, Georgie."
The lady ushered him towards one of the walls, which was starting to dissappear. She looked back at him, a loving smile etched on her face. "I'm Mrs. Corry. If you ever need me for anything, whether it be for more gingerbread or a hug or a helping hand, I will be here for you. Good luck, Georgie."
Before George could say anything else, or even thank her, the shop disappeared, replaced by another dull, grey day in the park. *He must have imagined all of that*, he reasoned, *it's not like there'd be a disappearing shop in the middle of the park*.
A eastern wind blew, the chills gracing the boy. He put his hands in his pockets, shivering. Feeling around, he grasped a strangely warm object. Pulling it out, he was met with a small, bright star of gingerbread.
He smiled joyfully. So it wasn't a daydream after all!! The shop, the girls, Annie and Fannie, Mrs. Corry, the warmth of being cared for, it all was real. George returned the star to his pocket, a warm glow filling the rest of him. Maybe he would be okay after all.
---
"You alright, Guv'nor??" George looked up, meeting the eyes of a dirtied chimney sweep. "You're lookin' a bit off,"
"Ah, I'm alright," George responded, blinking. He grasped the star still in his hand, making sure it was still real.
The chimney sweep looked down as well, cocking an eyebrow at the small cookie in the sovereign's hand. "They're quite bright,"
George smiled, a rarity nowadays. "They're gingerbread stars. I used to get them from a lady, Mrs. Corry." He left out the parts about her hiding him from Miss Andrew when she was particularly angry, and how she'd wrap him in a big hug whenever she sensed he had a bad day, and how she was more of a mother than his own ever was.
George stopped suddenly. "It's odd, I'm never this sentimental," He steered his thoughts away from Mrs. Corry and her care, not wanting to risk getting emotional in front of a stranger
"It's good to look back sometimes," the sweep answered, clasping a hand on the other man's shoulder. "No 'arm in it,"
George wasn't so sure this was true.