Peter was in a panic, one of his drawings was gone. He didn't want anyone to know about the fairies because they'd be there disturbing them and even frightening them away. He looked everywhere in his room,tearing it apart. Clothes, books, papers and toys strewn everywhere.
He ran downstairs and went up to Susan, yanking one of her pigtails angrily. Susan shrieked and stood up eyes flashing with rage. "What'd you do that for!"
"Where's my drawing give it back!"
"I never touched any of your stupid drawings, you probably threw it out. " Susan told him.
"I never did, it was laying on my desk, and now it's gone." Peter retorted.
"Well, I didn't steal it, besides it probably wasn't important anyway." Susan said picking up her book and ignoring him.
Peter ran into the den, "Mummy! did you throw a drawing out the other day? It was on my desk."
Helen shook her head, "No, darling I didn't, but maybe when Madelyne comes you might ask her if she threw it out with the rubbish."
Madelyne was the young woman that came twice a week to clean the house and watch Edmund and Lucy while their mother went grocery shopping and did other errands.
Peter was sitting on the front steps when Madelyne came up the walk. Madelyne was a cheery girl of nineteen with light brown hair, green eyes and a cokney accent.
"Ello, Ducky, were you waiting for me, then?" she asked cheerily
"Yesterday, when you were cleaning, did you pick up a drawing and throw it in the rubbish?" Peter asked.
"I did." Madelyne nodded. "It was in your room wasn't it?"
Peter nodded, "Yes! did you throw it away?"
"Mmm, I don't remember, let me think. I do recall it was sort of crumbled up a bit...but no ..wait. Ah now I remember, hang on." She pulled something out of her apron pocket. It was a half folded piece of paper. "Was this what you were looking for?"
Peter took it from her. "You didn't look at it did you?" he asked fearfully
"No, but might I have a bit of look?" Madelyne asked.
Peter shook his head, clutching the drawings, "They're sort of private." he said and ran down to the edge of the garden. Someone was in the garden, a ragged looking man with unkempt hair and patched clothes.
"Hey!" Peter ran down the embankment,"What are you doing here! Who are you?"
The man turned around and ran in the other direction.
Peter sighed and ran down to the fairy grove. The fairies weren't there, perhaps they were too scared to come out.
"It's all right, there's no one here but me, you can come out now!" he called. No answering flurry of wings or tinkling laughter of fairies,"Please, do come out, it's quite safe."
No fairies came and Peter turned to leave.
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Later that evening as soon as dinner was over and everyone was occupied with other activities, Peter slipped out the door and down to the garden, he had a piece of cake from dessert in his pocket. He hoped the fairies would come out at least for a bit.
"Come out, please. You needn't be frightened, I've brought you some cake." Peter called, taking care not to step in the fairy ring. He waited, the sun was starting to set and he was getting chilled, but he had to know whether the fairies were all right or not.
Ten minutes passed and still no fairies came. Peter left the cake there and headed back home, disappointed. He managed to make it into the house without anyone knowing he had left. He didn't feel like seeing anyone or even talking to them.
He crept up to his room, put his pajamas on and crawled into bed drawing the covers up.
His door opened and came in, "Are you ill?" she asked checking to see if he had a fever.
"No." he said, his voice muffled.
"Well, it's only eight, usually you beg me to let you stay up longer, are you quite sure you're not ill?" Mrs. Pevensie asked
"I'm fine, Mummy, just a bit tired." He said. "Please can you go now?"
Mrs. Pevensie hesitated "Are you quite sure you don't feel ill?"
"Yes, positive." Peter insisted. He heard her leave and as soon as her footsteps faded away he sat up pulling out the fairy book from under his pillow.
The fairies were angry about something, that he was certain of, but he didn't know what.
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"Is this where the fairies come?" a very familiar voice said, with no trace of teasing, Peter looked up to see his Grandfather standing on the embankment.
He jumped up, "Grandfather!" he cried, running toward him."What are you doing here?"
"I came for a visit and to see my favourite grandchild. Now tell me about these fairies. Has the youngest been behaving herself or has she been naughty?" Grandfather asked, lowering himself to the grass.
"She isn't naughty on purpose, she's just mischievous, that's all." Peter said "She knows she must behave though, or I won't leave her a large piece of cake."
"Ah, I see, does she behave herself?" he asked.
"Not all the time." Peter admitted."The others don't believe me, Mummy and Dad say I'm getting too big to pretend things like fairies and Susan says I'm a baby." "Pshaw!" Grandfather shook his head,"let me tell you a secret, sometimes grownups refuse to see what's in front of them."
"Susan's not a grown up, she's younger than me and she thinks I'm pretending about the fairies." Peter pointed out.
"Well, Susan was born a grown up." Grandfather replied. He held out his hand. "Shall we go have our tea then?"
As they headed up towards home, Grandfather reached into his pocket, pulled out a golden pocket watch and handed it to Peter. "I want you to have this."
"For real?" Peter asked, he'd always admired the watch and couldn't believe his Grandfather was really giving it to him.
"Yes." He said. "It belongs with you."
A few days later their grandfather fell ill and was confined to bed, the outcome didn't look good either.
"Mummy," Susan said one day her voice tight,"Grandfather will get better, won't he?"
Mrs. Pevensie didn't answer for a while then forced a smile on her face, "I'm sure he will." she said, "It's time for bed."
"Will he get better?" Peter asked as tucked him in.
"Of course." she said, straightening his covers and turning off his lamp, she kissed him and slipped out closing the door.
Hours later, Peter was woken up by movement in the house something was wrong, he sat up a bad feeling in his stomach. He pushed his covers aside and pulled open the door peering out into the hall, the lights were on, even though it was very late. Closing the door he ran to the window and pushed aside the curtain, down there was the doctors car.
Peter went to the door and yanked it open, running down the hall, he burst into the guest room where the doctor and his parents were. He looked at his mother in alarm, she was crying, that only meant one thing.
"He's dead isn't he?" he cried. "You promised he'd get better! you promised!"
"Peter." Mr. Pevensie said. "Your grandfather was really sick."
"No, he wasn't, he was fine, he was!" Peter shook his head tears streaming down his face.
"Peter." Mrs. Pevensie reached for him, but he side-stepped her . "No!" he ran out of the room and down the hall and out the door. Down to the garden it had started to storm, he slid down the embankment until he came to a stop near the fairy's ring about a few inches away from it, he lay there not feeling the rain as it soaked him.
"There!" Mrs. Pevensie pointed, Mr. Pevensie carefully made his way down the slippery embankment and scooped Peter up covering him with his raincoat.
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"He has a pretty bad fever maybe influenza too." said coming out of Peter's room.
"I don't know if he'll pull through it's up to him really,but just keep him comfortable."
nodded, "Thank you."
