If you wanted to find Victoria Street, all you had to do was ask the policeman at the crossroads. He would have given you a funny glance, but then he would shrug and give you these exact directions:

"First to your left, fourth to your right, sharp left again, and you're there. Good day."

And, sure enough, if you had followed his directions completely, you would have been there- Victoria Street.

If you had looked for Number Thirteen- which, if you were smart, you wouldn't be- you would very soon find it because, of all the brightly painted, small houses on the street, Number Thirteen was the drabbest and largest house of all. But most telling of anything, you would see the Respectable Mr. Poppins storming out of the house, whilst his Lovely wife, Mrs. Poppins, was watching on the steps with her children, Young Albert and Little Mary, behind her.

"No, no, Gregory, don't leave!" said the Lovely Mrs. Poppins.

"I'm sorry..."

"But Hattie, if I had known before that you were a…" the Respectable Mr. Poppins trailed off. By now all of neighborhood was out watching the family drama.

"Gregory, I'll stop! I won't teach the children! You don't have to leave!"

"How can I trust you, Hattie?" he asked. "We've been together for ten years, and today I just learned that you were-"

"Say it, Gregory."
He paused, shocked at the demand.

"A witch. That's what you are Hattie. That's what our children will be!"

"No, no," she pleaded. "We don't have to teach them magic! They can be non- magical mortal humans!"

"Hattie… No more… No more of it, no more lies!"

"What have I done to you before this? What!"

"You never told the truth, you never gave me the facts. Umbrellas flying through the room, shoes walking on their own, I saw all of it! But I never knew!

"I'm leaving, Hattie," and Gregory ran away down the dark streets.

"No, no!" screamed Hattie. She ran after him, but Gregory just sped up. Hattie was sprinting, her tied bun was unraveling in front of her face, but she tripped over her skirt and fell hard onto the sidewalk. By the time she got up, Gregory was out of sight. For a second, she just sat there, dumbstruck. Then tears began to poor out from her eyes.

"Oh, god, he's gone… He's gone forever! And I'm stuck here… Oh god!" she wailed.

Young Albert tried to push the crying Little Mary away from the traumatic sight. But Little Mary grabbed her umbrella and nudged past her older brother. She walked down the steps, jumping off the last one, and began hovering off the sidewalk, only one foot off the sidewalk, to embrace her mother, who was sprawling on the sidewalk, fists pounding on the pavement.

"Mary!" yelled Albert.

But it was too late. All of the neighborhood had seen it. Mary had flown to her mother on a tiny children's pink umbrella. And from that moment on, no one in that family was Little, or Young, or Respectable, or Lovely. They were just the Poppins, the Witches of Victoria Street, and everyone knew it.