A/N: I'm back! I know, I know, it's been a really long time and I'm so sorry for the wait! I can only hope you'll forgive me and to help you along that path of forgiveness, let me encourage you by saying that Part Three is a whopper! (Over thirty pages on my computer!) Again, I have to thank everyone who has reviewed and added this story to their favourites, it makes my month to get news like that :)
I hope you guys enjoy this next part. There will be four parts to Neverland in total, which means only one part left! *sniff* I do have to warn you guys now that Tinker Bell may not be what you're expecting. I've never liked her that much in any adaption, so this version is very much my own imagining of the character. So, without too much further ado, please read, review and enjoy! :)
( Abbl2 Thank you so much! You're feedback is what forces me to keep writing! (Hint hint!) There quite possibly is some Mary Poppins in Part Two, although it was not knowingly included. What did you pick up on? xx)
( AlexandraKeating Aw, thank you lovely! Hook will really come into his own more in Part Four then anywhere else, but I hope you enjoy him in this Part :) Also, you are very intuitive! That was totally a full blown Labyrinth reference, as I cannot write any story and not tip my head to what is my greatest inspiration. Well spotted! xx)
PART THREE:
Learning To Fly
Nibs paced back and fourth between the beds expectantly. Peter had been gone well over an hour now. Slightly, while trying to distract himself, had carved a small flute from some spare prop wood and was trying to make it sound nice, although most of the notes he hit made the rest of the Lost Boys shudder. Twins, Curly and Tootles were seated cross-legged around a deck of cards, betting whatever props they'd found around the room against each other.
"I'm worried", Nibs said finally. "What if he's got himself caught by this bird's parents? He could be in the clink right now!"
"Don't say that, Nibs", Twins begged. "I'm scared enough as it is".
"I'm not", Slightly mumbled. "Peter's never got himself caught doing anything. He'll be fine".
"How do you know?" Nibs shook his head. "We should never have let him go through with this. What was Jimmy thinking, agreeing to it?"
"That's what I'd like to know".
Nibs turned to Slightly with a raised eyebrow. "Come again?"
"Well, think about it: What does Jimmy have to gain by hoarding a runaway girl? He's got nothing to hope for, except a one way ticket to goal if he's found out. Why did he agree to Peter taking her here?"
"Excuse me?"
As one, all five heads turned to the top of the stairs, where a girl stood. She looked between them one by one and waved awkwardly with one hand. Her other hand held a battered suitcase.
"Can one of you help me?" she asked.
It was just as Peter had rehearsed it with them. The boys all stumbled upright, lining up on the bottom stair and those who wore hats removed them out of politeness.
"Ahem!" Nibs coughed into his fist and straightened his shoulders out before speaking. "We are honoured to meet you, Wendy Lady-"
"I thought she was a Wendy Bird?" Curly hissed.
Slightly clapped him on the back of the head. "No you idiot! She's a bird, as in female!"
"We hear you are a great storyteller", Nibs continued, hoping the girl hadn't heard the muffled conversation. "We have made up a room for you, and hope you will find it very comfortable. Thank you for agreeing to join us here", then, with a signal to the others, the boys all dropped into low bows and waited.
There was a spluttering noise. It was quickly covered, but then came again. Louder and more insistent. Nibs risked sneaking a glance upwards and found the girl had her hand over her mouth and was rocking backwards and forwards on her step. She was laughing!
"Oh! Oh! I'm- ha ha!" she doubled over, laughing in earnest now. "I- oh! Ha ha ha!"
Twins straightened abruptly, his cheeks red. "What's so funny? We're just trying to be polite, like Peter told us to be!"
The girl wiped her eyes and grinned at the boys. She had very pointy white teeth and they seemed to get sharper the wider her smile got.
"I'm sorry!" she giggled. "I'm afraid I don't know who Peter is! You must have mistaken me for someone else".
She had barely finished before the Lost Boys erupted into anarchy.
"You said it was the Wendy Bird!"
"I thought she was the one?"
"Where's Peter with the Wendy Lady then?"
"Where is Peter?"
A loud whistle broke through their speeches and they looked angrily back to the girl on the stairs.
"Maybe if you help me, I can help you?" she suggested. "Tell me about Peter and the girl you thought I was".
"Oh look!" Wendy cried.
Soft flakes of snow were beginning to fall from the sky. They dissolved on the wet ground and were trod on by the quick feet of the four children.
"Hush!" Peter begged. "Remember, no one can see us now. We have to get to the theatre without being spotted by anyone!"
Wendy nodded understandably and hurried closer to Peter's side. John and Michael had been lively as anything when they left the house, but now they were getting tired and dragging their booted feet. Michael's eyes had even started drooping.
"There it is!" Wendy shouted, then lowered her voice at Peter's disparaging look. "John, Michael, look! Neverland!"
The two boys picked up their heads and their step, eager to see their new home. Peter led them around the back, to the stage door. It was usually locked at this time of night, but after rapping three times, pausing and rapping again, the door was opened by a tall figure in a grey coat and shabby bowler hat.
"Come on!" he hissed. "Inside! Quickly!"
Peter ushered the Darling children in and shut the door on the outside world. He couldn't help feeling terribly pleased with himself, having taken Wendy and her brothers the whole way here by himself and not having let anything go wrong. He grinned at Jimmy, who was eyeing the children warily.
"Why've you got your coat and hat on?" Peter asked.
Jimmy glanced at him. "I was out. I'm not long back".
"But you were supposed to be here to open the door for us!"
"Wasn't I?" Jimmy gestured to the Darling's, who were listening as Wendy told them what lay behind each of the closed doors in the corridor. "Who are the two runts you brought as well?"
"Wendy's brothers".
Jimmy's head snapped back to Peter and he glowered at the boy. "I thought it was just the girl?"
"It was supposed to be".
"Peter?" Wendy was smiling back at him, curiously. Seeing Jimmy, she curtsied prettily and held out her hand. "How do you do? I'm Wendy Moira Angela Darling".
Jimmy and Peter exchanged a glance. They were both thinking the same thing: Wendy would have to lose her formalities if is she was going to survive in the theatre.
"Jas Hook", Jimmy recited, shaking her hand.
"Peter? Is that you?" Twins head was poking through the door of the stage.
"I thought you guys were going to wait down in the basement?" Peter called.
"Well… there was a change of plans…"
Another head poked out, and and after a brief look, the head was followed by the long, slender body of a girl, somewhat older then the gathered children. It took the group a few moments to each work out what was most staggering about her. Peter thought it was her hair, which was raven black and shorter then his, sticking out around her head like the hair of a pixie. Wendy thought it was her clothes, as she was wearing trousers and a long shirt, belted tightly around her thin waist. Not at all an outfit befitting a woman. Jimmy thought it was how the bones in her face stuck out at angles, making her pale skin look taught and sharp. Her red lips and dark eyes a striking contrast.
All together, she had the appearance of a storybook character that had come to life before their eyes. All they could do was stare.
"Let me guess", the girl said, touching a finger to her pointy chin. "You must be Peter Pan".
Peter's face clouded, as he tried to work out how this woman could know him.
"And you must be the Wendy Bird".
Wendy wasn't sure what was more shocking. That the girl knew her, or had referred to her as a bird.
"And you", the girl locked her eyes on Jimmy, who was frowning darkly at her. "Are Captain Jimmy Hook. Am I right?"
"As you seem to know all of us, perhaps you could tell us who you are?" Jimmy retorted.
The girl laughed, the sound bubbly and warm, not at all what those gathered had expected.
"Of course, how rude of me. I'm here by order of Mr Barrie. He's hired me to play Rosalind in the upcoming performance of As You Like It", she stepped back and swept a graceful bow, dipping her head almost to the floor. "I am Tinker bell".
John and Michael, who had all but been forgotten, snorted and covered their mouths to stop their chuckles. The girl gave them a look, but perhaps she was used to people laughing at her name.
"Everyone tends to call me Tink, for short".
"Well, Mr Barrie is not here this evening. But I'm sure if you come back tomorrow, you can find him then-"
Tinker bell cut right through Jimmy, waving her hand dismissively. "Oh, I know he's not here. The Lost Boys told me so. But my room at the inn isn't ready yet, so I thought I'd just have a look around the theatre, see what it's like".
"There is no one available to show you", Jimmy said, obviously dismissing her.
"I don't need anyone. I always look after myself, thanks", and with that, she turned on her heel and went back out to the stage.
"Peter?" the Lost Boys had slipped into the corridor while Tinker bell had been talking and Curly now tugged on Peter's sleeve for attention. "Is that her?" he whispered, pointing at Wendy. His forehead creased as he looked at her. "She's the one that was here before".
It took Wendy a moment to notice the Lost Boys. She straightened herself up to her full height and folded her hands neatly in front of her. This caused the boys to dust themselves down and readjust each others jackets. Peter stepped in between Wendy and his men, grinning excitedly.
"Lads, this is Wendy. Our new houseguest".
The Lost Boys let out a loud cheer and threw their hats in the air, making Wendy laugh.
"What about us?" John demanded, finding his voice at last.
As every head in the corridor turned to him, (even Tink's, although no one had yet noticed her peeking around the corner), John blushed and stammered.
"Well, I- I mean- we… you know, we- we're here too".
Peter shrugged and jerked his thumb towards them.
"They're Wendy's brothers", he said.
The Lost Boys cheered again and surrounded them. They wanted to know what stories Wendy knew and when she'd be telling them. They shook John vigorously by the hand and tried on his spectacles. Michael asked curiously if any of them had ever flown anywhere.
Jimmy, forgotten in the excitement of the moment, slipped past them and followed the retreating figure of Tinker bell onto the stage. A battered suitcase had been left to one side of the open curtains, a traveling cloak thrown over it. The girl stepped onto the stage with an amazing grace, kicking off her shoes to reveal bare feet, without even stockings to prevent the cold.
"I dance too, you know", she said, speaking to Jimmy over her shoulder. "I trained for years at the Dvorovenko school in the Ukraine. I tried to get into a Russian school when I left for Moscow, but sadly they said I wasn't good enough", she twirled a pirouette, her balance held perfectly in place. "Apparently I lacked enough motivation".
"You've travelled a lot then", Jimmy commented. He was stood to one side, watching her intently.
"Ukraine, Russia, Ireland, Spain, Paris", she sighed on the last one and smiled wistfully. "You should see Paris at this time of year. Then to Scotland, where I got involved in theatre work. Finally, down here to London", she span three pirouettes, this time finishing to face Jimmy. "With you".
"And you're just here for the run of As You Like It?"
"Who knows? Maybe I'll stick around", she smiled, revealing those sharp teeth of hers, then she turned and bounded off the stage.
Hook stayed where he was, watching her flit away through the rows of empty chairs.
Peter darted up the ladder into the costume cupboard. He was finding it quite hard to contain his excitement. As it was, he could barely manage to stand still. Smee's cupboard wasn't so much of a cupboard as an attic filled to the brim with material. Satins, velvets, cottons, paste jewels, canvas sheets, netting, rope, ready to use knitting wool and sewing threads, it all belonged here, under Smee's watchful eye.
"We've made up a bed for you here", Peter said, pointing to the 'mender's couch'. A little chaise lounge, that had originally been placed there with the idea that whoever was making something for a show could relax on it. As it was, no one did any mending or stitching up in the cupboard, so the couch had become little more then a place to toss scraps and fabrics. Peter had ordered the Lost Boys in his absence to adorn the seat in velvet and find a blanket to go over it, so it would be comfortable for Wendy.
Wendy herself, was busy trying to hoist herself up the ladder in her nightgown and coat. She scrambled to her feet and took in the attic, unsure wether to be amazed by the quantity of things or appalled by the messiness of it.
"Smee keeps everything in order", Peter told her. "But he doesn't live in the theatre, so he'll never know you're staying here".
Wendy looked back to her brothers who, in their tired state, were finding it even more of a strain to climb the ladder then her. "What about John and Michael?" she asked.
Peter was getting sick of hearing her say that. "We can find them a bed with us, down in the basement".
Wendy nodded to her brothers, who had just managed to climb fully into the attic. "Off you go then. Down to the basement".
They groaned and mumbled angry retorts, but were too tired to really refuse. As their heads disappeared back down, Wendy turned to Peter and gave him her brightest smile.
"I feel like I'm dreaming", she admitted. "What happens tomorrow?"
"It's the opening of Romeo and Juliet, so no doubt there'll be mayhem backstage. But don't worry, I'll look out for you".
Wendy didn't say anything, only continued to smile in that pretty way of hers. Peter shifted uncomfortably and finally coughed loud enough to ruin the silence between them.
"Well… goodnight", he said, and hopped past her to get down the ladder.
Wendy dropped her rucksack beside her handmade bed, putting the lantern Peter had left down beside it. The couch was springy and the velvet throw over it was inviting. Curling up, Wendy sighed out a long breath, loving the way the sound resonated around her. She had really done it. She had really run away. Just like the girl in Circus Night. Only she hadn't run away with a travelling circus.
She'd run away with Peter Pan.
The early morning sun woke Wendy the next morning, shining through the circular window behind the couch. The glass had been painted in different colours, bathing Wendy in a rainbow of light. She smiled to herself, she had never awoken to a morning like this back home.
The trapdoor burst open suddenly and Peter dived into the room, yanking Wendy out of her comfortable bed.
"Hurry!" he cried. "Smee's come early to work on some costumes for tonight! He can't find you here!"
So saying, he pushed her down behind a large roll of red felt and ducked down beside her. They were just in time, as Smee bumbled into the attic only seconds later. He was humming tunelessly, pottering about to collect different fabrics and boxes of sequins. Wendy had been thrown into a rather uncomfortable position and as she tried to adjust herself, she pressed her hand into a stray pin that had been long ago forgotten on the floor.
Her scream was muffled by Peter's hand, urgently clamping down over her mouth. Smee whirled on the spot, his small eyes behind his glasses roving from side to side across the room.
"Who's there?" he demanded.
Was it just Peter's imagination, or was Smee's chin beginning to tremble?
"Well? Who's there? Who screamed?" he stepped back nervously and eyed the trapdoor behind him. "I ain't afraid of you!" he warned. "I'm just…" he dropped to his knees and started hoisting himself down the ladder as fast as he could. "Gonna go get Starkey!"
Peter waited until all sound of Smee's footfalls had faded, then he released Wendy and the two of them roared with laughter. They agreed it was better to leave now, so that they would not be caught when he returned with Gentleman Starkey.
"I shall need to get dressed first", said Wendy, indicating the nightgown she still wore.
Thankfully she hadn't brought any of her poofy gowns with her. (They would never have fitted into her bag, anyway). She had instead, packed a white blouse and long brown skirt, as they were the most plain clothes she owned. However, once she'd plaited her curls back from her face and stood before Peter, (who had been standing in the corner with his hands over his eyes while she changed), she still managed to look like the daughter of a Top, and not some penny-wanting stage runner. There was nothing Peter could do about it now though, so he refrained from commenting. Just.
Backstage had turned into anarchy. Jimmy still wasn't pleased with the fight scenes and had commandeered the stage, forcing the actors to duel across it until he was satisfied. Maggie, who was playing Juliet, was busy shouting down everyone she came into contact with, somehow convinced they were responsible for her not being able to remember all of her lines. When Smee finally returned, an irked Starkey at his side, he hooked anyone who wasn't busy into helping him sew the final touches onto costumes.
It was into this midst of chaos that Peter led Wendy. They stood side-by-side in the doorway to the main dressing room, listening to the varying shrieks of command and dismay.
"I can't go on with this!" the apothecary yelled, shaking his crumpled hat which had a broken feather dangly sadly from it, at anyone who would listen.
"I can fix that for you", Wendy said amiably.
She took the hat from him and pulled the feather away, depositing it into the first bin she passed. With exceeding patience, she excused her way through the fretful people and managed to barter a needle and thread from someone. Collecting a fresh golden feather from amongst a pile of costume trinkets, she seated herself outside the corridor, where there was evidently more space and began at once to mend the broken apothecary's hat, until it was just perfect.
A stage hand glanced down at her curiously before sticking his head inside the dressing room. "We've got a problem lads", he announced. "It's the balcony, the ladder won't secure to the railing. We need some help attaching it".
It was a job for the Lost Boys, and everyone knew it. Which was why it attracted so much attention when Wendy stood herself before the stage hand and announced that she would help. She handed the mended hat back to her actor with a brief smile and a 'there you are, sir', before following the gaping stage hand, Slightly and Nibs onto the stage.
The set was incredibly large, and the balcony looked so real with garlands of fake ivy creeping around it's bars. The stage hand grasped the prop ladder and shook it, revealing how unsteady it was.
"They'll have an accident if they try to climb that", he nudged Slightly and held out a length of rope. "Off you go then boy, see how well you can secure it".
Wendy lifted the rope from his outstretched hand before he could move and in another instant was darting up the ladder.
"I think that's secure", she called down. "Wait while I climb onto the balcony, then you check for certain".
She pulled herself onto Juliet's balcony and stood back, allowing the stage hand to shake the ladder. It stayed put.
"Good job", the stage hand said reluctantly. He turned around to face the actors who still duelled across the stage behind them and whistled loudly. "Hey! You guys need to clear off! We got to get the sets in place for tonight!"
Jimmy pushed his hair back from his eyes. He was standing, with his arms folded, in the orchestra pit, while he watched his pupils battle.
"We're not finished", he called out, not removing his eyes from the duelists.
"We've got to get set up", the stage hand said.
"Later", Jimmy hissed. "Mercutio, slow your final parry down. You need to give Tybalt an opening to try and stab you".
"The set takes ages to set up. When do you suggest we do it, Captain? When the audience are taking their seats or during the first Act?"
Jimmy's lips curled as he finally turned to look at the frustrated stage hand. "Which is worse: pathetic sets or pathetic acting?"
A sunny chuckle echoed behind him and Hook turned to see Tinker bell, her arms folded along the rim of the orchestra pit.
"Wow, I'm expecting this to come to blows at any moment", she giggled. Raising her voice, she called to the stage hand: "Why don't you start setting the back drops now and have the prop men standing by to finish it off once Hook is finished teaching?"
The stage hand threw up his hands in frustration, but seeing that he evidently wasn't going to win this battle he shrugged in defeat and turned Nibs and Slightly around, marching them back to the dressing rooms. Quite forgetting that he had left Wendy perched on Juliet's balcony.
Tink grinned sweetly at Hook, who was watching her with raised eyebrows.
"Looks like I did you a favour", she said.
"An unneeded favour".
"But a favour none the less", Tink's smile grew wider, revealing her sharply pointed, white teeth.
"And a favour must always be returned?" Hook asked, resting his back against orchestra pit she leaned on.
"I thought you could take some time out of you busy schedule to show me around the town? Maybe tonight, after the show?"
For a moment, Hook failed to react. Then a slow, sly smile stretched across his face, making him look uncannily like a wolf, having spotted its next prey.
"Very well", he said. "After the show".
Tink pushed back from the orchestra pit. "I look forward to it".
Wendy watched their exchange from her position on Juliet's balcony. She couldn't hear their words above the clanging of swords, but their expressions were easy enough to see. The look that had passed between the two was one Wendy couldn't put a name to, but it made her cheeks flush and burn. She dropped her gaze to her hands, which she'd neatly folded on her lap and began twisting the fabric of her skirt.
"Hey!"
Peter's voice broke through her contemplation and she leaned across the balcony to get a better look at him. He grinned at her from below.
"Maggie needs an extension sewn into her dress. I thought you could do it, seeing how well you stitched up that apothecary's hat".
Dropping to her knees, Wendy slid herself out onto the ladder and climbed down to Peter's side, jumping the last few rungs. Peter's eyebrows shot up and she smiled innocently in reply, making him grin more.
Several hours later, Wendy flopped onto the little chaise lounge that served as her bed. She had never felt so tired in her life and the show hadn't even started yet! Her fingers ached from all the things she'd been ordered to sew. No one seemed to think her presence in the theatre strange. Once Peter had announced her as an extra pair of hands, it seemed everyone had taken advantage of the help and tossed whatever jobs they could find in her direction. And there had been plenty of them!
She had hardly seen Peter or the Lost Boys. They dashed about all over the place: running errands inside and outside the theatre; climbing the stage riggings to help hang the scenery; dashing between dressings rooms and making endless trips from the basement to the costume cupboard and back again.
John and Michael had even been put to work, although neither of them seemed particularly happy about it at first. They had both stumbled blearily into the biggest dressing room, where Wendy was in the process of sticking pins in Maggie's costume, whilst the actress twitched and jumped about, reciting her lines to herself. Curly and Twins were working in the corridor outside, busy trying to untangle several lengths of rope that they'd found amongst the props in the basement and which were needed to replace the fraying ones on the stage. They were making a bit of a pigs ear of it, wrapping the ropes about themselves to try and prevent them tangling again and when they spotted John and Michael watching they pounced on them.
"Here", Curly called. "Give us a hand with this, eh?"
Michael obediently set to work with them, but John was less enthused. Surely such a thing was the job of the prop boy or a stage hand, not the son of Mr George Darling! So while Michael got down on his hands and knees and began picking at a particularly large knot of rope, John stood by, cleaning his glasses on his shirt tail, which he then tucked meticulously back into his trousers. It was thus that Starkey found him.
"Hey", the Gentlemen yelled. "What are you doing, standing around lollygagging? Can't you see we have enough work to do around this place?"
John's mouth dropped open, having never been spoken to by anyone in such an impolite manner. Wendy, still crouching on the floor inside the dressing room with a needle and thread in her hands, panicked. If John said something irate to Starkey it would surely give them away and they'd be tossed out on their ear. But before she could stand up to intervene, Starkey had already cut through whatever retort John was planning to give.
"The other Lost Boys scratched the paint off one of the backdrops while carrying it up. Go make yourself useful, help Smee paint it up. And look sharp!" so saying he grabbed John's shoulders, twirled him around and gave him a benign kick towards the stage.
Wendy watched her brother right himself, carefully adjust his glasses, smooth down his shirt - and walk obediently through to the stage. She found him several hours later, happily in conversation with Smee whilst he showed him the ropes that would control the different backdrops. He barely noticed Wendy until she called out to him. As for Michael, Curly seemed to find the idea of a Lost Boy who younger then him wonderful. Michael stuck to him like a shadow and Curly very happily completed the rest of his jobs with his new friend.
Rolling onto her side, Wendy realised she wasn't just tired anymore, she was also hungry. Thinking back, she tried to remember when she'd last eaten. Nibs had dished out some hunks of bread earlier on, while dashing through the building, but when was the last time she'd had a proper meal that filled her stomach? What about John and Michael? If she hadn't eaten anything, they probably hadn't either. They must be starving!
Picking herself off the chair that was now also her bed, Wendy dived through the trap door and hurried through the flurry of actors, most half in and half out of costumes, who were all traipsing through the corridors. Most of them were rehearsing lines, either by themselves or in groups. Wendy pushed through them, aiming for the basement where she knew she would find the Lost Boys. Smee had kindly informed her that this was one of the few times of day when the presence of the Lost Boys was not only not needed in the theatre, but also not wanted. When actors were trying to prepare themselves, the last thing they wanted was scruffy stage hands running about, disturbing their calm. The Lost Boys would go back to work as stage runners just before the curtain rose, but until then, they were usually ushered to go back to their lair in the basement.
Wendy had almost reached the stairs, when a man stepped backwards out of the dressing room in front of her. She squealed as she bumped against the man's black tailcoat and he turned around with a quick apology.
"Oh, do forgive me! I'm terribly-" his speech stopped when his eyes clapped on Wendy.
The man was tall and thin and his dark eyes peered out of their little round glasses at Wendy, as though she was a particularly fascinating insect that he'd never seen before.
"Forgive me, my dear", he continued after a moment. "I did not see you there".
"My fault, sir", Wendy said politely, even though it wasn't. "Excuse me, sir".
Ducking around him, Wendy walked on to the basement stairs, but when she glanced behind her she found the man was staring after her, that same curious frown creasing his brow.
Forcing herself to continue, she was soon drawn down the stairs by the delicious smell of cooking. Slightly and Tootles were hunched over a small chimney breast in the corner of the basement and she guessed it be where the smell was wafting from. She spotted Twins and Curly sitting across from each other on a pair of iron beds, playing some kind of card game with John and Michael. Peter was laying back on his own bed, his legs dangling off one side and his hands tucked behind his head. Nibs perched cross legged on his pillow and Tinker bell's skinny figure sat daintily on his other side. The pixie haired female was the first one to see Wendy arrive and she winked conspiratorially at the younger girl, as though it was their secret greeting.
"Wendy!" Peter called joyfully when he saw her. "I was just about to send someone to get you! We're making supper".
Tootles grinned toothily at her from the chimney in the corner. Evidently the head cook of the gang.
"Take a seat", Peter said.
He gestured to a heap of fabrics and cloths that had been arranged into a little nest beside his bed. Wendy guessed it had been made up for her brother to sleep in and gracefully lowered herself into it.
"We're just waiting for - aha!"
Wendy looked up in time to see Tiger Lily descending the stairs. She glanced briefly at Wendy, her look filled with nothing that was friendly, before moving around Peter's bed to sit beside Tink. Quite close beside Peter, Wendy couldn't help noticing.
"Congratulations", Tink said, once Tiger Lily had sat down. "I heard Mr Barrie cast you in As You Like It".
Tiger Lily smiled genuinely at her. "Yes. I shall be playing Celia to your Rosalind".
"Food's ready!" Slightly pipped up suddenly.
There was a mad scramble as everyone jumped to attention and dashed for a seat in the centre of the room, sitting on the floor if they couldn't fit on the end of a bed. Tootles dumped himself down by Tiger Lily's legs and ran his tongue over his lips in a way that made Wendy giggle.
Slightly carried a large plate into the centre of the circle and it had barely left his hands before every finger in the vicinity was reaching forward to snatch what was on it. Wendy was astonished by their ill-mannered 'snatch and grab' techniques. Even Tinker bell and Tiger Lily had tackled their way between the boys to get to the food. Only when everyone had managed to grab a fistful of something did Wendy actually see what it was they were eating.
A string of sausages had been cooked, (and pulled apart within seconds, thanks to the hungry lot), and a small chunk of bread was all that was left of the little loaf that had been placed with the meat. Wendy took the chunk and the last sausage that had been left for her and held them gingerly on her lap. She had never eaten such a stodgy meal before, and never whilst sitting on the floor without cutlery or even a plate! John and Michael didn't seem to have a problem with it though, following their new friends in heartily tucking in.
Wendy observed the group stoically. Most of the boys talked while eating, (Michael and Curly whispered incessantly to each other between mouthfuls), and Tinker bell argued amicably with Nibs and Slightly. Tiger Lily had managed to seat herself next to Peter, and Wendy watched as the girl leaned closer to whisper something in his ear. Peter's lips widened into a smile and Tiger Lily was so close a dark strand of her hair brushed his cheek.
Feeling her cheeks burn, Wendy lifted herself quickly off the nest bed and without a seconds thought, she stormed away up the stairs. The chatter that had filled the room quickly died down to silence as one by one, everyone noticed Wendy's retreating figure. Tinker bell's sharp eyes darted to Peter and she watched as he blinked and then frowned, baffled by the girl's hurried exit. Tootles shuffled himself around on the floor and finally interrupted the silence by asking:
"Gee, was my cooking really that bad?"
Hook watched from the last wing as the Montagues and the Capulets filled Mr Barrie's stage, the disgusted looks they threw to each other causing the audience to laugh and make appreciative noises.
"'By my head, here come the Capulets'", Benvolio cried.
"'By my heel, I care not'", responded Mercutio.
Hook had a deft habit of fitting himself neatly amongst the shadows, so he was not surprised when Wendy entered backstage that she did not see him. She wandered almost dreamily to the middle wing and then stood, with her hands clasped, her mouth open as she watched the actors on stage. Mercutio had drawn his sword and Tybalt was soon to lift his own.
Hook soon found himself watching Wendy more then he watched the stage. Her face was a mask of rapt attention, her body flinching with every sword swipe and her eyes widening with every traded insult. When Tybalt stabbed Mercutio she visibly jumped and her hand flew to mouth in shock. Hook smiled at her innocence.
"'A plague on both your houses!'" Mercutio cried, clutching his wound and falling to the stage, with Romeo holding him.
Wendy stood, poised in the wing, until Mercutio and Benvolio fled the stage and would have crashed straight into her had she not moved. She back peddled quickly and took up her new position, watching, like Hook, from the shadows. She stayed there for several minutes before Peter poked his head around the backstage door and waved for her attention.
"Wendy!" he hissed.
He hadn't noticed Hook either, yet Hook watched with interest as Wendy first frowned at Peter and then, after a lengthy sigh, followed him out the door.
"Drama", came a whispery voice.
Hook turned sharply and found Tink grinning at him.
"It's everywhere", she chuckled.
That she had managed to slip backstage without Hook seeing was an impressive feat. It showed him that she was almost as good at doing things unnoticed as he was.
"'Romeo, away, be gone!'" Benvolio yelled. "'The citizens are up and Tybalt slain".
In the darkness of backstage, Tinker bell's eyes seemed to gleam and glitter like the cold stars of night. Hook smiled faintly, running one hand along her pale cheek. And along with Romeo, Tink whispered the words that would doom her:
"'Oh, I am fortune's fool!'"
"Come on! Hurry!" Peter hissed.
They didn't have long before one of the stage hands grabbed them to help change backdrops for act four and Peter wanted to give Wendy a treat. Leading her up the ladder and onto the walkway, the pair tiptoed out until they were over the middle of the stage. Maggie, dressed as Juliet and Alphonso, (a guest actor who had come specifically to play Romeo), were standing on Juliet's balcony. They were high enough that if Peter was to lie on the walkway and reach down, he might just have been able to snatch Alphonso rather naff looking wig from his head.
But rather then cause a scene, (however much the audience may have laughed at it), Peter instead leaned over the railing with Wendy and together they watched the scene below unfold.
"'Wilt thou be gone?'" Juliet asked desperately. "'It is not yet near day. It was the nightingale and not the lark that pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear! Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree. Believe me, love, it was the nightingale!'"
"'It was the lark'", Romeo responded, his voice despondent. "'The herald of the morn. No nightingale'".
Peter felt his eyes wander unwillingly towards Wendy, who was watching the scene as though her life depended on it. He still wasn't sure what it was that had made her storm off earlier. When he'd finally managed to catch up with her at the side of the stage she'd remained huffy and indifferent and refused to tell him what the matter was. Jimmy had called him away to help prompt while he nipped to the privy and while watching the actors Peter had come up with marvellous idea of taking Wendy for another trip along the walkway. If anything restored Wendy's smile surely it would be that.
As Romeo began to descend form the balcony, Juliet leaned over in a desperate attempt to not lose him from sight. Maggie had become passionate with the Bard's most famous heroine. She gripped the balcony rail so tightly, that from their position above, Wendy could see how her knuckles had turned white. She spewed out a torrent of phrases, demanding that Romeo send word of himself to her every hour until they could meet again.
Wendy could feel her throat constricting with emotion at how Juliet must be feeling. Beside her, Peter snorted.
"Can you imagine having to do that?" he whispered. "Having to let someone know where you were and what you were doing every hour of the day? You'd go mad!"
Wendy sniffed, returning her attention to the doomed lovers below. "She's distraught. She's probably not thinking clearly".
Peter chuckled. "Makes you feel glad your not a grown up, eh? All they ever seem to do is moan and worry".
Wendy didn't reply. She admitted freely that the idea of growing up was not something she wanted to face. (After all, wasn't that why she had run away to Neverland?) But something about Romeo and Juliet's interaction had struck a chord with Wendy. It made her curious and yet frustrated that she could not properly put her finger on what it was about their relationship that so fascinated her.
"'Dry sorrow drinks our blood'", Romeo called from the stage. "'Adieu! Adieu!'"
"You should see the sword fight from up here", Peter whispered to Wendy. "Jimmy's trained them all so well".
"Will you teach me how to sword fight? Properly, I mean?"
"Of course. I said I would, didn't I?"
"You also promised you would teach me how to fly", she said, nudging him with her elbow.
"One thing at a time", he teased, nudging her back.
It was a regularity of Mr Barrie's to congratulate the cast and crew after the opening of a new play at his theatre. He would descend from his private box and work his way through the maze of corridors that made up backstage until he could reach his thespians and stage hands, who, by that time, would have flooded the stage, giving out their own messages of appreciation and good wishes to each other.
He had managed to squeeze his way through the crowds, after agreeing time after time the it had indeed been a terrific opening night and was turning to leave, when he walked backwards into Peter's approaching figure and almost toppled over the young waif.
"Woah!" Mr Barrie laughed, as he righted himself. "That's the second time I've stepped backwards into somebody today, and it was-"
He stopped short when he caught sight of Wendy, who stood with Peter alongside the gathered group of Lost Boys and her brothers.
"It was you", he finished. His eyes trailed the length of her, from her brown skirt and white blouse, (which was now covered in tatty bits of thread and hairs) to the golden red curls which had gradually begun to escape from the braid she'd tied them in that morning. His forehead puckered. "I have a good knowledge of everyone who works in this theatre, my dear. But I must admit, my mind runs blank when I look at you".
Peter swallowed, not having prepared to have this conversation with Barrie quite so soon.
"Mr Barrie", he began. "This is Wendy a friend of mine", he moved as close to the playwright as he dared and whispered: "She's been thrown out on the streets by her father. I brought her here in the hope of shelter. She's already worked a great deal today and is willing to do anything in exchange of a roof over her head", he pointed to John and Michael, who were straining to hear to what Peter was saying about them. "Her brothers", he added. "Have no mother to care for them. They look to Wendy for that, but how can she promise them anything when she has nothing herself?"
Peter thought it a stage worthy performance, but he could see Wendy biting her lip in anticipation of Mr Barrie throwing them all out. Mr Barrie did frown, but when he spoke his voice wasn't angry. If anything, he sounded regretful.
"This is a theatre, Peter", he said. "Not an orphanage or workhouse".
He turned to face Wendy and Peter saw her face pale in fear.
"I cannot afford to pay you, my dear", he admitted sadly.
Wendy nodded grimly and dropped her gaze to the floor. Peter's breathing had become ragged as he realised what this could mean.
"But I would never leave anyone to face those cold streets of London alone. Especially ones as young as you", Mr Barrie turned to include John and Michael in this speech. "If you all agree to lend your hands around the theatre, you shall find a solid roof over your heads".
Wendy's head shot up so fast she almost became a blur. Her eyes were wet with moisture, but the smile that lit her face removed any trace of tears.
"Welcome to the theatre", Mr Barrie said amicably.
Michael let out a loud whooping yell and the Lost Boys joined in. Mr Barrie nodded at each of them in turn, winked at Peter, then made his way back to the exit door.
"Yay!" Curly cried, as he jumped up and down with Michael.
"Wahoo!" Tootles chortled, clapping John on the back.
"The Wendy Bird stays!" Nibs laughed and everyone joined in with his cheer.
The play was a wonderful success. Each night, the cast were forced to bow time and time again before the audience were satisfied to let the curtain fall down. The cast and crew were in such high spirits after the last performance a few weeks later that it was agreed a celebration would take place once the audience were safely out of the building. Smee and Starkey left to get some tankards of rum from their local brewery, while the actors changed out of their costumes and make up.
Someone ran through the orchestra pit with the message of the upcoming party and one or two of the less dignified musicians, (or as Slightly called them: the ones who weren't snooty-stuck-up-slimes), agreed to attend and bring their instruments.
Once the stage had been swept and cleaned for the show the next evening, everyone retreated into the depths of backstage to start the party. The musicians set themselves up in the corner of the practice studio and Starkey and Smee rolled the tankards alongside them, dishing out the drinks to everyone who entered. Mr Barrie even showed his face, wanting to congratulate everyone for the fabulous performance. Starkey whispered to Smee that he suspected Barrie might have stuck around, had it not been for the presence of Alphonso, his guest actor.
Evidently considering himself too high and mighty to join the likes of the crew for drinks, Alphonso had turned up his nose at the invitation and Mr Barrie had quickly suggested taking him and Maggie out for a drink at one of the more cultured bars of London. At least Maggie had enough decorum to shout a loud cheer of good wishes to the cast and crew she left behind.
Wendy stood with her brothers and the Lost Boys, (several of whom were trying to figure out how they could sneak a drink of rum without Smee or Starkey clattering them about the ears), when Smee asked the orchestra members to play something from his homeland. Obligingly, they started up an old Irish jig. With more then a bit of rum having been drunk, it wasn't long before a fit of wild dancing ensued. Starkey swung Constance Clegg, who was playing Juliet's mother, into the middle of the floor and began a mad river dance with her. Smee ended up perched on top of his tankard, swinging his legs and wiping his eyes at the memories of dancing to such tunes when 'he was but a boy, growing up in Dublin'.
Peter grabbed Wendy's hand and pulled her into the throng of dancers, spinning her around wildly. Nibs, Slightly and Tiger Lily came up with their own complicated 'stamp and clap' dance which they performed several times to anyone who would watch. Tinker bell could often be seen flitting about the room. She danced with many people, but always seemed to disappear the next time you looked for her. She had just slipped away from the grip of Mr Pipes, the orchestra's conductor and her eyes fell on the still form of Jas Hook, leaning in the doorway.
Slipping deftly through the dancing crowd, Tink made her way up to him and he regarded her inexpressively. Grabbing his hand, she tugged on it, trying to pull him into the dance, but Hook remained coldly still and sober. Seeing that she wasn't going to persuade him to join the merriment of the room, the girl instead laid her hand over his chest and gently pushed him back into the corridor, following quickly after him.
Wendy laughed breathlessly and pushed her sweaty curls back from her face. They had completely fallen out of their braid and the ribbon she'd tied her hair with was now lost, trodden under someone's foot. Peter grinned at her, breathing hard from the dance. Grabbing her hand, he jerked his head towards the door and they slipped outside, their breathing louder now they were in the corridor.
"Where are we going?" Wendy asked finally.
"I dunno, anywhere", Peter shrugged, then said: "Let's go to the stage. I'll race you!"
They both charged away down the corridor, laughing madly. Peter reached the stage door first, but Wendy almost knocked him over with the force of her run.
"Come on", Peter said. "The sets haven't been packed away yet. They won't get around to it until tomorrow. We can put on our own play. Romeo and Juliet? Pah! How about… Romeo: the masked swordsman!"
"And Juliet: the magical sorceress!"
Still grinning, Peter pulled open the door and walked out into the wings. It wasn't until they'd reach the side of the stage that they realised they were not the first to come there. Backing up several paces, the pair looked curiously out to where Jimmy was sitting on the grey costume chest that served as a prop table for shows and also Juliet's coffin in the current play. His head was thrown back and he was smirking temptingly at the woman before him. Tink stood in the middle of the stage, her arms falling in a graceful arc around her slender form.
"You're a beautiful dancer", Hook told her softly.
"I once got told I dance less like a ballerina and more like one with the blood of the Fairy Folk", she smiled to herself, twirling a little pirouette on the spot. "I was never quite sure what they meant by it".
Hook lifted himself off the chest and approached her with carefully timed steps. "You said you couldn't make it as a dancer because you lacked motivation. Isn't that right?"
Tink stood still. Her back to Hook, but her head inclined to him.
"I can't help but wonder", his hands traced a path down her arms, stopping when he reach her waist. Turning her gently towards him, Hook gazed down at her seductively. "What ever could have distracted you?"
Tink's impish face widened into a smile of her own and she pushed herself up on her toes until she could touch his mouth with her own. Hook's hands spanned her back, the back of her head and her own arms snaked around his neck.
Hidden in the darkness of the wings, Peter's face crumpled into a mask of disgust. It wasn't so much the kiss itself that bothered him, but the fact that it was Jimmy and Tink kissing. Jimmy, the man who never looked twice at any woman. The one who Peter looked to as a mentor. Jimmy, his teammate. To see Jimmy in such an intimate act was as vile to Peter as overseeing a bird peck apart a cricket.
And Tinker bell? She'd been more of a friend to the Lost Boys then a friend to Jimmy. Sure, she was older then them by several years. A grown up in age, but certainly not in spirit. She was plucky and just as full of mischief as Peter. Yet there she stood, wrapped in the arms of the man Peter trusted most in all the world. He wasn't yet sure who he felt more betrayed by.
As for Wendy, she felt as though she had yet to learn much about either of the people on the stage. Hook had remained quite aloof when around her, but Tinker bell had been much more open. The plucky young woman had asked Wendy to recite lines with her for the fast approaching As You Like It performance and Wendy had spent many hours over the past few weeks alternating between Celia, Orlando and Phebe, while traipsing up and down the stage with Tinker bell. It had been fun. Tink was a fun person to be around, even if Wendy did always feel a little shy around the other woman's glowing personality.
If Peter's emotion stemmed from the people and not the kiss, Wendy was the exact opposite. She had never seen anyone kiss the way Hook kissed Tink. Mr and Mrs Darling kissed each other every morning before George left for work, but their lips would only peck dryly at the others cheek. Hook kissed Tink like he wanted to ravish her.
Wendy felt her entire body flame at intruding on such an intimate kiss and she tugged on Peter's hand, silently urging him to come away. It took a few seconds for Peter to respond though. He was so lividly furious that when Wendy finally did manage to drag him away he didn't notice where they were going or what they were doing until they reach the stairs that led to the basement.
Suddenly, he shrugged himself free of her and tore his hands through his hair, balling his fists into great tufts of it.
"Peter?"
Wendy reached out to him, but he turned away, banging his fists against the wall. Hard.
"Stop, Peter!" Wendy begged.
"I can't believe he would do that. That they would do that! Jimmy and- and Tink!"
His voice broke and Wendy realised how close he was to crying.
"It's alright, Peter", she ensured softly. "It'll be okay. You don't have to cry".
"I wasn't crying!" Peter insisted firmly. "I don't care about him anymore! Or her!"
He pounded his fists against the wall in a fury and collapsed to his knees, blinking furiously to stop his eyes growing wet. Wendy watched him in agony. Peter was always so strong, it was hateful to see him reduced to this. She knelt carefully beside him but didn't touch him. She knew if she was to lay so much as a comforting hand on his shoulder he would only shrug her away. So instead, she stayed by his side, not touching him, but simply being there for him.
Peter sniffed heavily for a long time before going quiet. Far away, on the other side of the building, the sounds of merriment and music could be faintly heard. The party would no doubt continue for another few hours, before people grew tired enough to creep away to bed.
In the silence of the empty corridor, Wendy watched the rage leave Peter's face until he was calm and still. He straightened himself up and leaned back against the wall, drawing his knees close to his chest. Wendy waited for him to say something and when he didn't, she plucked up the courage to ask him a question she'd been pondering for a while.
"Peter, what happened to your mother?"
His lips thinned, but otherwise his face retained the same blank expression.
"I don't know", he muttered.
"You don't remember her?"
"I remember being taken away from her. I was put in the orphanage and I kept thinking she would come. I was there ages before I managed to escape, and I went straight back to our house, thinking I could creep in the window she had promised to leave open for me. But it was closed. More then that, it was locked and in my bed there was another boy".
Wendy's face betrayed all the sadness Peter refused to show.
"What about your father?" she persisted and he shrugged. "So you came straight here?"
"No, for a while the orphanage kept finding me and bringing me back. It was years before I was finally able to hide from them".
"Who did you live with?"
Images of Bill Jukes and the Beldam who had lived with him in that old ram shambled warehouse for so long flashed into Peter's mind.
"There was no one", he insisted strongly. "Neverland is my home. It's all there is for me", he drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped him arms around them.
Shielding himself from the world.
"And it's all I want", he maintained. "To always be a boy and to have fun".
Wendy had the strange feeling that this last remark was directed less at her, and more to convince himself.
The cold had begun to seep into the theatre. Christmas was fast approaching and with it came heavy blankets of snow, brought down in a mixture of gentle snowflakes and angry blizzards.
Wendy stood on a ladder in the foyer of Mr Barrie's theatre. The doors were locked and she, John, Michael, Curly and Tootles were helping Smee decorate the place with hanging tinsel, crêpe paper chains and little dangly ornaments that sparkled under the gas lights. Smee whistled Christmas tunes as they went, not seeming to mind when he went off key or repeated certain sections six times because he couldn't remember what came next.
"It's a shame Mr Barrie doesn't think to get in a Christmas tree", Wendy thought aloud. "It would be so lovely to decorate!"
"We had a Christmas tree in the orphanage", Curly said. "But we weren't allowed to go near it. It was really spindly and would scratch you if you got too close".
"When was that?" Wendy asked curiously, looking down at the the mop of red ringlets that made up Curly's head. From her position high up on the ladder, Curly could have been another of her siblings. He looked more like her then either of her brothers. His hair was almost the same shade as Wendy's and both John and Michael had grown the straight dark hair of their father.
Curly wrinkled his nose as he thought about it. "Years ago. I was really small".
"Hate to break the news to you like this, lad, but you're still really small!" Smee said, ruffling the boy's curls as he passed on his way to the back of the theatre.
"I'm getting bigger!" Curly cried, straightening himself up to until he was practically on tip toe.
"We always had a beautiful tree in our house", Wendy said, afraid Curly might take further offence if she let the conversation continue the way it was going. Smee had gone to fetch something from backstage, so she felt safe enough talking about her family with the gathered children. "Mother and father let us do almost all of the decorating. But it would always be the two of them that put the angel on top of the tree. Do you remember, John? They would place it neatly on top, then look at each other and giggle. As though they were children!"
John was frowning at the paper chain he held. Finally, he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't remember", he said.
"You must do! They did it every year! Oh, and remember the Christmas puddings Liza would make for us? And the year she decided that rather then make one big one, she made each of us our own separate little pudding and decorated them with funny things? Mine had a dress and yours had a sword and Michael had his teddy? Don't you remember?"
John thought. "I remember pudding. It was very tasty if I remember right. I wish we could have pudding like that now!"
Wendy was beginning to grow desperate. "Or the Christmas when we decided we wouldn't go to sleep and the three of us camped out on the nursery floor? We managed to hide some snacks from Liza's stock in the kitchen and we stayed awake for hours telling stories and playing games? And when Mother and Father came in the next morning they found us all lying in a heap because the tent had collapsed and we'd fallen asleep clutching our toy swords? Remember?"
John had stopped listening at this point and was stretching himself up onto the balls of his feet in an attempt to hang a series of streamers around the doorway into the theatre. Wendy swallowed and felt a lump growing in her throat. Spotting Michael playing with one of the ornaments in the corner, she called him over under the pretence of wanting to hang his bauble up. She waited until he reached out to give it to her and then closed her hand around his and looked him straight in the eye.
"Michael", she asked seriously. "Who is your mother?"
He looked blankly at her for a minute, then his face softened into a little smile.
"You, I suppose", he said, his face alighting even more as he heard his own words. "Yes, you are my mother, Wendy!"
"John!" Wendy cried, not caring that her voice had risen considerably. "John!" she cried, until he looked over at her. "Who is your father?"
"My father?" he repeated, as though she was silly for even asking. "I don't have a father. I'm a Lost Boy".
"But you do have a father!"
He tilted his head and Wendy was relieved to see he was actually thinking about it.
"Well… I suppose Peter is the closest thing we have to a father really, seeing as he's our leader".
"You think Peter is your father?"
"I suppose so. Yes".
"But what about our real mother and father? Can't you remember them?"
"Wendy?" Tootles pulled on her skirt and she looked down at his cautious face. "Will you be my mother too?"
"And mine!" Curly yelled, not wanting to be left out.
"You're our mother, Wendy", Michael said happily. "And Peter is our father. There, it's settled!"
"Looks like you've got your hands full".
Wendy almost toppled off the ladder, Tinker bell's voice shocked her so much. Since the night she had seen her and Hook together, Wendy hadn't spent much time with Tink. She had spent a lot of time with Peter and Peter was all but refusing to spend time with either of them. Her skinny figure stepped through the doors from the auditorium and she looked around at all the decorations they'd hung so far.
"You've done a great job! You and your children!"
She winked and Wendy bit her lip. She wasn't sure how much the woman had heard, but she didn't think she'd been there long enough to hear Wendy say anything about her family. Her real family, that is.
"Not long now until Christmas", Tink said, holding the ladder steady while Wendy climbed down. "Got any idea what to get your little ones?"
Wendy knew Tink was only teasing her, since she'd heard what Michael said about Wendy being a mother to all the Lost Boys, but it made her realise something. If the Lost Boys didn't have parents, or any proper guardians, they probably didn't have anyone to get them presents at Christmas.
Pulling Tink confidentially to one side of the room, Wendy asked softly: "Does anyone ever get them anything for Christmas, do you think?"
Tink raised one slender eyebrow. "Of course no one gets them anything. These kids barely know where their next meal is coming from. Surely you've been here long enough to realise that, Wendy. You've been here as long as I have".
Wendy thought of all the Christmas mornings she'd spent with her parents. Waking up to a little pile of presents without considering how lucky she was to have them. She thought of Liza's funny little baked treats that she gave Wendy and her brothers, for no other reason then because she could. She remembered all the birthday presents, holiday gifts and little trinkets her parents had given their children throughout the year. All the things she had taken for granted.
"I can't let them wake up on Christmas with nothing!" Wendy said fearfully. "Perhaps I could make them something? There's stacks of fabric up in my loft".
Wendy, over the time she'd been living at the theatre, had begun more and more to think of the costume cupboard as her 'loft'. It was the place the Lost Boys came most nights after a performance, (or sometimes in the evenings when they weren't needed before a show), to hear her tell them stories. She would sit on her bed and recite, and they would sit on the floor around her, with Peter being the only one permitted to perch with her at the end of her chaise lounge.
"If I could find some wool, maybe I could knit them all something", she said to herself.
Tink patted her shoulder. "You've got a mother's heart, Wendy. What about your husband?"
Wendy frowned and Tink laughed brightly.
"Peter", she explained.
Wendy hadn't even thought of Peter. "I could make him something too, I guess. But how I would love to give him something really special. Something terribly precious, that really means something!"
Tink's eyes glowed and Wendy should have taken it as an omen to walk away. Instead, she stayed where she was and listened, rapt, as Tinker bell told her she had a wonderful idea of just what to give the boy. Then she hooked one arm around Wendy's shoulders and drew the girl close, so she could better whisper in her ear.
"That should do it", Starkey called up from the stage.
Peter fastened the last rope onto the walkway, securing the final backdrop to stay up in the flies, out of sight of the audience. He tugged on the rope, checking it wouldn't come crashing down on anyone's head. When he was satisfied it wouldn't come undone, he swung his leg over the walkway and grabbed a loose rope that had been swung over a high bar in the ceiling. The rope had been connected to a piece of scenery that was meant to 'float', with the other end of it was held down by a heavy sandbag that lay, crumpled on the stage.
"No, Pan!" Starkey yelled. "Not again! Don't you dare!"
Gripping the rope with both hands Peter swung his other leg off the walkway and wrapped his legs around the rope, hanging in midair like a performer of the Indian rope trick. Starkey swore loudly and Peter climbed, hand over hand, down the rope until he could leap safely onto the stage. Starkey punched him in the shoulder and let off a torrent of furious curses, which only made Peter snort with laughter.
"Mind your language, Starkey!"
Hook emerged from the wings into the lights of the stage. He wore his coat and shabby bowler hat and the gas lamps distorted his face with dark shadows, making him look quite fierce. Even as he smiled.
"And they call you a gentleman", he mocked. "Poor Peter hears enough ugly phrases while out on those London streets. He doesn't need you to shout them in his home too".
Starkey muttered something incomprehensible and left, but not before nodding apologetically to Hook. Peter shifted uncomfortably once he'd gone. He hadn't been alone with Jimmy since before he found him kissing Tink. He didn't know what to say to him.
"You've been avoiding me", Jimmy said.
It was a fact. Not a question. Peter shuffled his feet.
"Have I done something to upset you?"
Peter swallowed and stared at the rope he'd just climbed down.
"I can't apologise when I don't know what I've done", Jimmy said, taking a step closer.
"You don't have to apologise for anything", Peter mumbled. He took a deep breath. "I… saw you with Tink. Here", he gestured to the stage around them.
Jimmy's eyes drifted to follow Peter's gesture, before settling back on the boy before him.
"And you don't approve?" he asked.
"We were supposed to be partners", Peter said quietly.
"I'm not planning on marrying Tinker bell, if that's what you're worried about".
Actually, it wasn't what Peter was worried about. He knew Jimmy wasn't the type to get married. What had been niggling him and picking at him since he saw them together was the idea that they had been a team. Peter and Jimmy. Friends. Comrades. The Lost Boys may have ben Peter's crew, but Jimmy was his mentor. The stage hands and actors were Jimmy's students, but Peter was his protégée. If Jimmy fell for Tink, or any girl, it would break that.
It would break them.
Jimmy stepped closer, until he could reach out for Peter. He clasped the boy's shoulders and when Peter still refused to look at him, he knelt down, the better to meet his eye.
"I want you to listen to me, Peter", he said firmly. "You and me, we're partners. Kindred spirits. More then that, you're like… like a son, to me. I would never intentionally hurt you, Peter".
His eyes bore into Peter's and the boy swallowed, feeling ashamed that he'd held such resentment against the man.
"I won't deny, Tinker bell is a very… alluring woman. But you and I, Peter, we're far stronger then any girl. They'll come and go, but we'll stick together. Right?"
Peter nodded and Jimmy pulled him closer, hugging the boy to his chest. A little squeak of surprise broke the two apart and they both looked to see Wendy standing in the doors of the auditorium. Seeing she'd intruded, she glanced back the way she'd come and made a gesture to return, but Jimmy beat her to it.
"I'll just fetch my script", he said to Peter. "Then I can leave you two alone".
So saying he tapped Peter's shoulder and wandered into the wings to retrieve his prompt script. Wendy hurried up to the stage and met Peter as he seated himself, with his legs dangling off the edge. She was dying to know what had happened between him and Hook, but by the look on Peter's face she knew he wasn't going to talk about it.
"I realised something, Peter", she began instead. "It's almost Christmas".
"I've known that for a while", he teased.
"No! I meant, it's almost Christmas and we have nothing to give the Lost Boys as presents".
Peter frowned. "It's not like we can do anything about it. Besides, they've gone years without getting presents. So have I".
"But it seems such a shame. I thought, I could maybe make them some presents. Out of some of Smee's materials. It wouldn't really be stealing, not if I use the scraps he'd most likely plan on throwing out".
"What would you make?"
"I could make Michael and Curly twin cuddly bears. A felt cover for Slightly's flute. Maybe even a cap for Tootles, his other one has so many holes in it".
Peter nodded, a slow grin taking over his face.
"Okay. You make the presents and I'll prepare the Christmas feast".
"Feast?" Wendy repeated, thinking of the measly scraps they called meals.
"Sure! We've each been putting aside some of our pay over the last few weeks. It's not much, but it will get us something tastier then dry bread!"
Wendy smiled. "I think it's going to be a great Christmas, Peter".
She moved away, heading back to the foyer to help pack away the empty decorations boxes and maybe sweep up the strands that had fallen off the tinsel. She paused before she'd taken half a dozen steps though, and turned back to face the boy who had changed her world.
"And Peter? I have something already, a present for you".
Peter's eyes lit up with excitement. "What is it?"
"You'll just have to wait!" she cried, before making a quick dash out through the double doors.
"She is sweet, isn't she?"
Peter craned his neck back to see Jimmy standing at the edge of the wings. He watched the doors close behind Wendy and smiled.
"Pretty too".
"I don't have anything to give her", Peter admitted, chewing hip lip. "I could buy her something, but I don't have very much", a sudden thought jumped into his head and he looked back at the rope he'd used to climb down from the walkway. "Jimmy", he started. "Can you do something for me?"
Hook quirked his eyebrows and Peter grinned.
"I think I know what to give Wendy for Christmas".
Jimmy observed the boy for what seemed a long time before he chuckled to himself and shook his head.
"What?" Peter asked.
Jimmy walked out to the centre of the stage and Peter got to his feet in time for him to ruffle Peter's hair.
"Nothing", Jimmy said softly. "You'll understand when you're older".
It was all arranged. Everything had been set. The theatre had closed for Christmas Eve and wouldn't open until December 27th. Of course that didn't mean it would be empty. Smee and Starkey were keeping an eye on the place and Tinker bell, who had finished her run of As You Like It and was supposed to be leaving for Paris, had told Mr Barrie she would rather stick around and audition for his next production. Thus she offered to watch the theatre for Mr Barrie over the three days of Christmas and check in on the Lost Boys. Mr Barrie himself was going to spend Christmas with some of his literacy friends in Scotland. Jimmy was staying in London, although he told Peter there was a lot of business he had to see to over the holidays, so he'd be kept busy.
Peter organised his crew down in the basement on Christmas Eve. They all scuffled about, arguing about who would present Wendy with her Christmas present until Nibs, who was lookout, hissed that she was coming and they all jumped to attention at the bottom of the stairs.
Peter was determined to give Wendy a nice Christmas. He'd heard her questioning John and Michael about their parents and worried she might be missing her home. Neither she nor her brothers had left the theatre since their arrival, but Peter had. The magistrates had been searching for them. There had even been an article in the newspaper. THREE LITTLE DARLINGS STILL MISSING. It was a wonder the constables hadn't raided the theatre yet.
Wendy descended the stairs into the basement, expecting to find the boys playing and instead encountered them huddling together with big grins on their faces. Tucking the leather prop bag she was using to carry their presents in behind her, she waited expectantly to be told what they were up to.
"Mother", said Curly, stepping forward. "We would like to give you something".
So saying, they parted their huddle enough to show her the dress Slightly and Nibs were holding. It had been Peter's idea. Smee had done a clean up/throw out with his costumes and props and Wendy had gathered what he was getting rid of in order to sew presents for the Lost Boys. Peter had been helping her carry things and when he saw the dress, (being thrown out because it had too many moth holes in it to be patched nice enough for the stage) he had hidden it away.
The dress was red imitation velvet and gathering what other large scraps he could find, Peter had ordered the Lost boys to decorate it until it was pretty enough to give Wendy. Together they attached shawls, scarves and cast offs to it, making it look quite puff and lopsided, but they added bows and the prettiest patches the could find and the result was a dress the colour of autumn and fit for a heroine.
And Wendy loved it.
"I sewed the the long bit on the sleeve", Curly told her proudly.
"I added the bows around the waist!" Tootles claimed.
"See the fine stitching around the dark shawl there? That was me", said Slightly.
One by one, they all pointed out the bits they had stitched into the outfit and Wendy thanked each of them in turn for it. Then she reached behind her and pulled out their own presents. She had stayed up for hours each night, stitching and sewing them.
Tootles got his promised cap; a deep blue one, with a strip of red ribbon around the rim. Slightly had a green felt case to keep his flute in and Wendy had even fashioned it with a drawstring, so it wouldn't fall out! Michael and Curly were given identical looking teddy bears, one brown and one black. Twins had a pair of earmuffs, as he always complained about how his ears turned scarlet in the cold. Nibs had been fashioned an olive green wallet and John was presented with a silk neckerchief.
Each boy thrilled at his gift. None of them had been expecting to receive anything and no sooner had they been given their present when they departed to their beds, showing each other what they'd been given. Wendy held her new dress to her and twirled around, nearly knocking into Peter as he came up beside her.
"Come on", he urged. "There's something else".
Taking her hand, he pulled her up the stairs and down through the corridors towards the stage. Wendy made him stop in the main dressing room so she could change into her new dress, but even that small delay had him fidgeting.
"Hurry!" he implored, once she'd stepped back into the hallway.
"What is it?" she asked, happily swishing the skirts of her new dress.
"It's my present for you".
Taking her out into the stage, he made her stop in the middle, his face dancing with excitement.
"Close your eyes", he instructed.
He waited until she'd done so, then released her hand and slipped quickly away. Wendy was left standing alone with her eyes shut, trying to hear what was happening.
"Peter?" she called. "What's going on?"
"Keep your eyes shut!"
"I am, I am! What are you doing?"
There was the sound of scuffling and then a loud creaking.
"Okay", Peter said. "Open you eyes".
Wendy did so and was greeted by an empty stage. She peered into the darkened wings, looking for any sign of Peter, but it was far too black to see anything. A breeze stroked the back of her neck and she whipped around, certain that breeze had not been a phantom wind but caused by someone moving. However, there was neither sound nor shadow of anyone.
"Peter?"
She turned on the spot, trying to see where he could have gone to. The same creaking sound was heard and this time a dark shape flitted across the stage. Wendy jumped backwards and craned her neck up, just catching a glimpse of something as it disappeared high into the wings above her head. She waited, watching with trepidation until the shape came back, this time skimming lower and lower until it landed right next to her on the stage.
It was Peter, of course.
"You- you-" Wendy looked from Peter to the ceiling in amazement. "You flew!" she cried.
"I promised, didn't I?"
He held out one hand to her and she stared at him. Not quite following yet.
"You're… going to teach me how to fly?"
Peter grinned and tugged twice on the rope that connected him to the rafters. He soared upwards immediately, gliding across the stage with such ease it agonised Wendy to only be able to watch.
"I'll teach you how to ride the back of the wind", Peter told her, flying just out of reach. "We'll soar upwards and mingle with the stars. Join the fairies in their nightly dance. Fly with me, Wendy".
He touched back down to the ground and Wendy eagerly accepted his hand. He led her into the darkness of the wings, where he helped her attach the spare flying rope around her waist.
"But, how do you do it?" she asked, raising herself onto the balls of her feet with no apparent change.
"Just think of something happy", Peter invented quickly. "You know how grown ups always look weighed down when something bad has happened? It's because they're thinking things that make them sad. Think of something happy and you'll be so light, you'll be lifted right into the air".
Wendy bit her lip, watching Peter while he spoke. She looked at their clasped hands and the tiniest smile graced her lips.
"I have it", she said quietly and looked him in the eye. "I know what my happy thought is".
Peter grinned and began to run out from the wings, pulling Wendy with him. They had barely reached the middle before Wendy's foot failed to meet the ground and she found her legs kicking the air. They were up, soaring over the stage! Their arms flailing and their feet dangling. Swinging into the wings Peter showed Wendy how to grab the pulley system of ropes that were taught enough to hold their weight.
Then they kicked off from the wall, letting go of the ropes and flying back out across the stage, gliding from one side to the other. Wendy was not quite so elegant in her flight as Peter. She couldn't help kicking her legs and occasionally flapping her arms in an attempt to help her journey. Peter, having been rigged to the flying system before, was much more graceful as he cut silently through the air.
As they flew, the stage lights began, slowly, to light, turning the world green and blue in turns. They caught a trail of dust motes that hung in the air around the children, making them stand out and then transform into little golden speckles, which shone in and out of sight. Wendy gasped and Peter grabbed her hands turning them in an arc above the ground. She stared at the golden dust motes in wonder and Peter smiled.
"Fairies", he improvised.
Wendy gaped at them and then at the ground far below. She was hovering at least eight feet off the ground, her hand curled nervously inside Peter's fist.
"Is this real?" she whispered to him.
His answering smile was breathtaking. "Only if you believe it is".
Smee grunted as he pulled Wendy's flying rope and Jimmy shushed him quickly. He didn't want the ignorant Irish man to spoil this for Peter. The boy deserved to have a nice, private, precious moment with Wendy. Goodness knows he wouldn't get another one after tonight.
He pulled Peter's rope taught and watched as the pair twirled happily in the middle of the stage. It looked as though Peter had forgotten him, he was so fixated on Wendy. They were floating in their own little bubble and Jimmy smiled at the irony of the situation. There was Peter, getting mad at him for having a fling with Tinker bell. Yet he was blissfully unaware of the effect this Wendy Darling was having over him.
Jimmy sighed and it was Smee's turn to shush him, though he apologised when he saw the look on Hook's face. Jimmy just hoped Peter wouldn't be too upset when Wendy left. He still needed Peter on his side. The boy had proven to be a very quick thinker, even if he was rather impulsive. And with Peter came the Lost Boys, and extra hands were always helpful. Yes, Peter was a useful tool to have on his team.
They floated, the swam, even dive bombed through the air. Wendy twirled a pirouette and Peter turned a somersault. It was exhilarating! At long last, feeling breathless with laughter, Wendy touched down to the ground and lay flat out on her back, panting with exertion. Perter landed beside her and skipped a circle around her, before crossing his legs and sitting nimbly nearby.
For several minutes while they gathered their breath back, neither of them did anything but sit and watch the dust motes that flew over head. They were glowing so exactly like fairies it was strange to think of them as anything else. Wendy found if she let her eyes droop lazily until they were almost closed, she could make out tiny limbs and wisps of hair. Catching their tiny figures in her unfocused eyes.
At length, Wendy pushed herself up on her hands and presented Peter with her brightest smile.
"Peter", she started. "I haven't given you your Christmas present yet".
"What is it?"
She crept forward boldly, until she could kneel facing him.
"I should like… to give you… a… a…" the words faltered in her throat and she found herself blurting: "A thimble".
Peter's face fell, (perhaps at the idea of such a tiny, unexceptional present), but he regained himself enough to hold out his palm for it. Wendy bit her lip awkwardly.
"It's not that kind of thimble", she admitted.
Peter's hand remained out. "What is it?"
"Close your eyes".
He did so, quicker then she had when instructed. Wendy looked at him helplessly and her eyes fell on his waiting hand. She slid her own fingers into it, feeling she had to do something, other then bat it away.
"It's like this", she whispered.
She leaned closer, until the red tendrils of her hair tickled his cheek and her lips brushed softly against his own.
Peter's reaction was immediate. He leapt backwards, an impressive feat, considering he'd been sitting with his legs crossed. His face was a mask of outrage, anger and beyond all of that, genuine hurt. Wendy babbled, trying to explain her actions without actually managing to say any viable words.
"I'm sorry!" she finally squeaked.
"No! Stay away!" he cried, as Wendy reached for him.
"Peter! Please, I didn't mean-"
Tears were sliding down her cheeks, but Peter continued to back away.
"Why did you do that?" he demanded. "Why did you have to spoil everything? I thought we were friends. I brought you here, I taught you to fight, showed you the plays. I taught you to fly! Why did you have to spoil it?"
"I didn't mean to! I thought there was more and-"
"What more? We're friends, what more is there?"
For the first time, Wendy looked beyond her tears and panic to the boy who yelled at her and the confusion she saw there.
"Peter… don't you ever think there's something else? Something we're not seeing?"
"This is it, Wendy. Why would you want anything else? This is what there is, so why spoil it?"
"But, I can't help but think… that there is more", she said slowly, afraid of his reaction. "But, that maybe you need to be grown up, to see it?"
"Why would you ever want to grow up?"
The question wasn't just aimed at Wendy, it was aimed at the world. At every child that had ever had the notion that being a adult might be more fun then being a kid. Wendy thought of her parents. Of Hook and Tink. And finally of herself and Peter.
Why indeed?
"I don't know", she admitted weakly. "Maybe things become clearer then?"
"Well, I will never grow up!" Peter declared. "No one can make me. Not even you! I thought you came here because you didn't want to grow up? If that's not it, then why don't you go back to you parents and grow up with them?"
Wendy hiccuped and froze in shock at Peter's words. Did she really have to make that decision? Peter had said in Neverland you never had to grow up, but how did you stop yourself from doing that? How did she stop her feelings for him being anything but what they were?
"Go on!" he challenged. "Go become a lady! Go grow up", he charged away from her, ripping the straps of his flying rope off as he went.
Wendy dived after him, desperate for one last attempt at saying sorry. But she only got as far as the wings when Peter called cruelly over his shoulder:
"And take you thimbles with you!"
Helpless, Wendy dissolved onto the floor of the stage and gave into her tears.
Hook opened the stage door to the two men and stood back to allow them entry. It was snowing again outside and they were both bundled up heavily in thick black coats, their hats caked in the fluffy white residue.
"You're the gentleman who sent the note?" the larger of two men asked.
Hook nodded, bolting the door behind them. "Why don't you come this way? Mr Barrie's office is open and I think you'll find it warmer in there".
"Mr Barrie lets you into his office when he's not around?" the man asked suspiciously.
"I've been in", Hook clarified. "When I've needed to fetch something and he's never minded. But under the circumstances I think his office is just the place you want to be".
He led them inside and closed the door. Then he brightened the lights and directed the two men to the chaise lounge that sat against the wall.
"You said you had information as to the whereabouts of the Darling children?" the first man asked again. He was evidently the one that did all the talking. The other man, a smaller, skinny fellow with a ginger beard, seemed content to eye up the room, his black gaze drinking in everything.
"I can tell you exactly where Wendy, John and Michael are", Hook told them. "But I forget my manners; can I offer you gentlemen some brandy?"
"Where are they?" the first man demanded, ignoring Hook's attempts at hospitality in his eagerness.
"They're here. In this very theatre".
Both the men looked at each other in shock.
"Here?" ginger-beard finally repeated.
"Yes. They've been living here for the past several weeks. Ever since he kidnapped them".
"He?" the first man persisted.
Hook smiled, a glint of cynicism in his eyes. "The reason I've brought you in here", he said, gesturing to the office around them. "I think you'll be very interested to hear about him and all of the things he's been up to".
Wendy shuffled down the basement steps with a heavy heart. She could barely bring herself to lift her head when Nibs asked if she was alright. They were all down there, still examining the presents she'd made them. Tootles scuttled forward, his new hat clasped in his hands and at the sight of it Wendy almost burst into tears again. She thought of Peter's present and how he'd rejected it and she rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes to stop them overflowing.
"I say, Wendy", John said, pushing through the ring the Lost Boys had made around her. "Whatever's the matter?"
"You're not ill, are you?" Michael asked worriedly.
"It's terrible being ill. I was ill once and I trembled so badly I had to stay in bed and couldn't move!" Curly told her passionately.
"I am not ill", Wendy mumbled through her hands.
Now, Wendy was not a girl who liked great amounts of attention. And although she would have liked terribly to curl up in a pair of strong, warm arms and let loose her sorrow, she knew she could not cry in front of the Lost Boys. Not only because they wouldn't know what to do, but because by now, even Nibs called Wendy his mother. And mothers had to be strong.
Brushing the last of the tears from her cheeks, Wendy knelt in front of Michael and held his arms tightly, making him look at her.
"Michael, I want you to think carefully. Who is your real mother?"
Sighing the way only an impatient young child can, he replied: "You are my mother, Wendy".
"No", she shook her head firmly. "You have a real mother and a real father, who both love you very much and who I'm sure miss us terribly", she looked imploringly at John. "Mother would tuck us in every night, even if it was I who always told you stories. Father would lift Michael onto his shoulders and run about the room with him after his bath and he taught you how to play chess, John. Don't you remember the hours you would both spend on a Sunday? Staring at the board while mother and I called you both boring old automatons?"
John was staring at his shoes. He blinked several times, then moved slowly, as though unsure of his movements, over to the little nest bed he shared with Michael. Digging behind it, he pulled out a tall black object, quite battered and crumpled, but still recognisable as what it once was.
"This was father's top hat", he said. "He gave it to me as present, to wear to church".
Wendy nodded eagerly and John stared at her in astonishment.
"You're not our mother. Not really. I'd almost forgotten…"
Twins, who had been shifting uncomfortably throughout these revelations now crouched down in front of Wendy, his eyes imploring her with their roundness.
"But, don't you want to be our mother, Wendy?"
She patted his shoulder and did her best to smile.
"I've loved being your mother", she told him, turning to include the other boys as well. "But it's not real and we have real parents".
"Will they come to the theatre, Wendy?" Michael asked, beginning to buy into this idea of real parents. "Will they come and live with us?"
Wendy shook her head. "No".
A visible sadness fell on her brothers. Their hopes had been lifted with the remembrance of their parents, but was now lost when they realised they wouldn't get to see them.
"We're going home", Wendy declared.
Her words caused uproar among the Lost Boys.
"Leave Neverland?"
"You can't go!"
"What would we do?"
"You wouldn't really leave us, would you?"
"I'm sorry!" Wendy cried. "I am sorry! But, we must go. We've already been here far too long. It was a cruel trick that we played on our parents, running away like that. We have to go".
The boys heads dropped in sadness and Curly started sobbing. Beyond them, Wendy spotted the still figure of Peter, standing motionless halfway down the stairs. He stared at her bitterly.
"You've made your decision?" he asked.
Wendy nodded, but the Lost Boys were insistent.
"Don't let her go, Peter!" Twins cried.
"Aye, tie her up!" Curly shouted.
"If she wishes to go, we will let her", Peter told them, his voice indifferent.
Never ones to disobey a command from their leader, the Lost Boys turned, as a last resort, back to Wendy. Their faces pleading. It would have been the perfect time for her to give them some words of comfort. Some parting advice that would warm them and make it easier for them to let her go. But, unable to think up a single warm or comforting word, Wendy simply held her arms out and let each of the Lost Boys come in turn for a hug.
"I'll arrange for you to be brought home", Peter said, once the hugs had all been exchanged. (He had not moved from his place on the stairs). "While you gather your things".
Wendy nodded again and he retreated, having not shown her one ounce of regret over her choice to leave him.
The feeling of merriment hung in the air around the posher estates of London. Every third house was holding a party. Grown ups were laughing and dancing in their parlours, children were giggling in their beds and excitement was being drunk like wine.
But there was one house where this excitement did not reach. Number fourteen had been silent and cold for so long, any merriment entering through the walls would have seemed like a cruel jest to its inhabitants.
George and Mary Darling sat in the nursery, the same way they had every night since their children's disappearance. George was curled on the floor, beside the fire, staring vacantly into the flames. Mary had taken her usual seat by the window and she too stared. But where her husband had begun to look and not see, Mrs Darling's eyes saw everything. She counted every star in the heaven; she noted the well-dressed figures that passed on the street; she even watched the birds nest, which had long ago been vacated, but was only now starting to crumble and fall away from the tree in the neighbours garden.
"Mary", George croaked, his voice dry from crying. "Come away from the window".
"I can't", she beseeched. "They may come back at any moment. I want to see their approach".
"You'll catch cold. We always leave the window open for them, but you'll catch a chill if you continue to sit there. Come sit by the fire".
"George, what if they come back tonight? It's Christmas Eve, surely they'll come back!"
"Then we will wait for them. But please, come sit here, where it's warm".
His entreats finally became too much and Mrs Darling removed herself from her seat at the window, crouching instead down beside her husband where they curled up with a blanket and began to doze.
It was into this heartbroken picture, that Peter stepped.
Having climbed the ivy, which was now terribly overgrown and prickly, he had listened for voices a long time before letting himself in though the open window. He froze upon seeing the Darlings curled on the floor, but regained his cockiness once he was assured they were asleep.
He was determined to find out what it was about this place that Wendy was so eager to get back to. Something wonderful enough for her to want to grow up. Something special enough to leave him behind for it.
He inspected the room thoroughly. Opening toy chests, peering in wardrobes, nosing through book after book. These things were expensive and pretty and interesting, but there was nothing there that Wendy had ever claimed to have missed or longed for. So what was it she wanted so badly to come back to?
"Wendy…"
Peter jumped a foot in the air. Mrs Darling had turned her head, but on closer examination, Peter found her eyes to still be closed. Even in her sleep, she called out for the one she loved. Feeling very bold, Peter crept close to the woman, until he was crouched right in front of her.
"You want me to bring her back", he whispered horridly. "You want me to bring her back here to you, so she can grow up. You'll turn her into a lady and she won't be the same. She won't tell stories and she won't play games. She won't be my Wendy, not if I let her come back here".
Mrs Darling shook her head in sleep and a stray tear slipped out from beneath her closed lids.
"Wendy", she repeated, more clearly.
Peter scowled. "We can't both have her, lady. I like her too".
He wondered what would happen if he was to shut the window. Let Wendy come back to a house that was closed to her, to a family that had forgotten her. She would go back with him to the theatre and they could be together forever…
But the image of Mrs Darling's tears would not leave his head, not matter how many times he looked away or told her he hated her. Because the truth was he did hate her. He hated her because she loved Wendy and that meant only one thing: that he would not close the window. That he would instead descended out of it and return to the theatre, to say good-bye to Wendy and let her leave. Without anyone ever knowing he'd been to the house, or the terrible things he'd contemplated doing.
Wendy was ready to leave when he returned. She'd found the rucksack she'd brought with her from home and had packed what little they'd brought. She was still wearing the dress the boys had made her and her coat over it. John wore his crumpled top hat like a souvenir and Michael clutched the bear Wendy had sewn him.
"When you're ready, I'll take you back", he said.
"If you don't mind, Peter, we'd rather go ourselves", Wendy looked around at the mournful faces of the Lost Boys. "We think it would be easier to say good-bye here".
Peter's lips thinned, but he simply replied: "If you wish it".
Curly sobbed like a broken water pump when he had to let Michael go. He didn't want to go back to being the youngest and loose his best friend. Peter led the siblings up the stairs and through the theatre towards the exit.
"You'll have to use the stage door around the side", he told them. "The main entrance is still locked".
"We will".
"You know your way back from here?"
"Yes, I remember it quite clearly".
They had stopped around the corner from the stage, a place Peter didn't feel he wanted to be near for a while. At least not while Wendy was still in the building. Michael, who was still sniffling a bit, ducked forward and wrapped his arms around Peter's knees and Peter patted him nicely on the shoulder. John shook his hand and Peter afterwards held his own hand out for Wendy to shake.
"You will be okay, won't you?" Wendy found herself asking.
"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"
Having no response for that, she felt there was no other course then to shake his hand. He certainly didn't seem to want a thimble.
"Well…" Peter looked at them in turn. "Goodbye".
Without a further word he turned and walked back the way they had come. It was enough to make Wendy cry again, but seeing her brothers sad, solemn faces she swallowed her tears and pushed her shoulders back.
"Right", she said, picking up her trunk. "Let's go home".
The trio marched themselves through the weaving maze of corridors and finally came in sight of the exit door. However, they were not quite within reach of it when the door in front of them burst open and a heavyset man in an overcoat jumped out. Wendy gasped as the man grabbed her arms and stared intently into her face.
"Wendy Darling?" he asked.
John and Michael were just as shocked as their sister to have this stranger speak her name. A second man, dressed similarly, but sporting a bushy ginger beard, stepped out behind his colleague.
"And John and Michael, right?"
The first man shook his head in a disappointed fashion. "Your parents are very worried about you".
Ginger-beard nodded in agreement. "But don't worry, kiddos. We're here to take you home".
On the other side of the door, Hook stood in Mr Barrie's office, listening to the officers tell the children who they were and how the entirety of London had been searching for them. Michael started crying in earnest. The idea of his mother worrying about him when he'd almost forgotten he had a mother, was too much for such a young boy to take in.
Hook waited until he heard their footsteps walking away and then the sound of the bolt being drawn back on the side door. Once he was sure they'd left, he stepped out from Barrie's office and allowed himself a smile. Smee emerged from behind him and stared at the door the guards had left by with the children.
"All going to plan then, Captain?" he said.
Hook nodded roguishly. "Indeed. Better then I'd hoped, judging by their reactions".
He leaned back against the doorframe and caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. Someone had been standing at the end of the corridor. Someone who had evidently heard what had been going on in the office. The top of Hook's lip curled up and he felt his hands itch for the familiar feel of his blade.
He knew that girl was going to be trouble.
Peter had never seen the Lost Boys looking so sullen. They all sat on their respective beds: not talking, not playing, not anything. They just sat and stared and it reminded him in a sickening way of how Mr and Mrs Darling had been. He was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, (the best place to observe them), when there was a loud crash overhead and Tinker Bell came plummeting down towards him.
"Woah! Tink, what's wrong?" Nibs asked worriedly, pulling the pixie haired girl back to her feet.
She gasped and panted, having run the length of the backstage corridors to get to the boys sooner.
"It's Hook", she heaved.
"What's happened?" Peter asked, moving closer.
"He's had them taken away", she clutched the banister of the stairs and straightened herself up, staring at the boys with a more serious look then they'd ever seen her give. "Wendy and her brothers: Hook had the police take them away!"
"What?" Peter cried.
"He's blaming Barrie. He's told them that Barrie has been integrating himself in a lot of shady deals recently and that he kidnapped the Darling children in order to get a ransom out of their parents".
"That's crazy! Jimmy would never say that about Mr Barrie! You must have heard wrong", Peter insisted.
"I heard Hook say it himself! He told them Mr Barrie had been forcing the children to work as slaves and he's got his people behind him on it. Smee, Starkey, all the people he's been training recently: they're all agreeing to Hook's claims on Barrie. He's even got them willing to back him as a gentlemen when the time comes to elect a new manager".
"What are you talking about?"
Tinker Bell grabbed Peter's shoulders, determined to make him understand.
"The theatre, Peter! If they find enough dirt going on inside it, they'll order it to be closed down. Unless they can find a 'perfectly respectable gentleman' to take Barrie's place".
"But what about Mr Barrie? Can't he do anything?"
"They think he's a kidnapper, Peter. They're going to arrest him. Peter, they're going to arrest him and shut down the theatre. Neverland will be gone!"
[End Of Part Three]
