Chapter 9
Mr Barrie had taken note of the gradual change of atmosphere at the Darling household. Where once the house had been filled with laughter and warmth, an eerie chill had descended, bringing the stifling sense of melancholy with it.
Although James would have liked to think it was due to the presence of Oliver Hunt, he knew the problem truly lay with Peter.
It was not the child's fault - he knew that also - but the rocky relationship between Peter and George had caused the family to rupture. Communication had broken down, and it had gotten to the point where all involved, especially the grownups, would only exchange the briefest of small-talk.
Peter barley spoke at all. There were, however, those scarce times when he was able to play with the other children, when they could fleetingly forget their troubles.
Barrie was most concerned to see Peter and Hunt's friendship strengthening. Hunt was the only adult Peter would talk to on a regular basis; he was the only one Peter would willingly go near! Even James had found himself being treated coldly by the boy. It was worrying.
"Hello, James." Mary looked tired, her pretty eyes marred with dark circles. Mr Barrie greeted her kindly, entering the house at her invitation. It was quiet, but James was pleased to see all the children sitting calmly together on the floor of the living room.
"Good evening, children." He gave them his broadest smile, hoping to cheer them into their usual, happy selves.
"Good evening." most of them replied in chorus, contentedly enough. Peter did not respond, but he looked up as Oliver re-entered with a fresh glass of whiskey.
Hunt nodded to James before taking a seat on the sofa. He was quickly joined by Peter, who had abandoned the other children and his colouring in favour of snuggling into Oliver's side. This seemed a little too affectionate to James, and he could not help but notice Wendy and John's jealous stares.
Peter came out of the bathroom and started to make his way down the corridor towards sleep. It was quiet; most of the other children were already in bed, and the grownups never bothered trying to hurry him up anymore. In many ways he liked this, but it also made him feel that little more unwanted.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and suddenly Uncle Oliver was there, grinning down at him. Peter returned the smile.
"Hello, my boy. Off to bed so soon?"
"There's nothing better to do..." Peter shrugged. Hunt moved in closer. Peter frowned.
"You could always visit me later... if you get bored or can't sleep. We could have a little sleep-over... just the two of us." Peter felt wary, but a smile cracked over his face and he nodded. Hunt was the only one who was truly on his side.
Curly awoke at the sound of the bedroom door opening. Silhouetted by the lamps still burning in the corridor, he could make out the shape of Peter slipping from the room.
Peter crept silently through the house, but for once he wasn't heading for the Nursery. He came to a halt outside the grand walnut door of the guest-bedroom but moved no more. He thought of knocking, but something in him was fearful. So instead he just stood.
