Chapter 11
All was silent when Peter awoke. He was still sat slumped against the bedroom door where he had cried himself to sleep, half terrified Mr Darling would come bursting through the locked door at any moment, such had been the mad rage in his eyes.
But all was quiet now. And still. Peter strained to hear the slightest betrayal that someone was still in the house, waiting for him. When he was finally quite certain that this was not the case, he took a deep breath to steady himself, and slowly stood up. His legs protested as he uncurled, the muscles aching from being in one position for too long, but he ignored this; he was too focused on the possibility of an ambush.
Nevertheless, Peter gripped the doorknob with what he was ashamed to see was a trembling hand. Taking another deep breath, he cautiously turned it and inched the door open.
Mr Barrie hurried through the crowded street, making his way as best he could towards the children's hospital, all the while chastising himself for being so careless. He had been busy supervising his new stage play, and had neglected his pledge to keep an eye on the Darling children and their unfavourable Uncle. Now it was too late: He had only just heard young John had been hospitalised, and immediately set off to see him. By good fortune Great Ormond St. was only a short walk away, but the bustle of the public frustrated him, and he felt this desperate journey would never end.
Soon enough, though, Barrie was in sight of the hospital and through the door before he knew what was what. He had to pause there a moment, in the middle of the foyer, to collect his thoughts and composure before approaching the efficient-looking nurse manning the reception desk.
"Good afternoon," he greeted her, removing his hat as she fixed him with a steely glare.
Peter stayed close to the wall, creeping his way along the corridor and peering round the corner cautiously. He looked down to the foot of the stairs to see John was no longer there, just a slight spattering of blood where he had cut his head in the fall. Peter didn't know whether to be relieved or worried. Had John died? Making his way to the bottom of the stairs, he was careful to avoid the stain, and approached the front door. After a few hefty tugs, Peter conceded that it was locked, so he quickly turned and ran towards the kitchen and the rear entrance of the house. This was locked as well. Panic began to fill Peter as he realised he was trapped. The only other chance was the Drawing Room window. Rushing to it, he began struggling with the latch, trying desperately to heave up the sash.
"Peter?"
Peter spun at the sound of his name to behold Oliver Hunt seated at the far side of the room, glass of brandy in hand, a newspaper open on his lap. "What on earth is the matter?"
"George. Mary." Mr Barrie almost ran to where his two dear friends were stood, looking over the bed of their injured child. "How is he?"
"The doctors say..." Mary's voice faltered into a sob.
"The doctors say he'll be right as rain in a day or two." interjected her husband. "But he needs to rest."
"Thank God! Tell me... How did it happen?" A shadow seemed to fill both the Darling's faces as the silence held.
"It was that... boy." George explained finally, through gritted teeth.
"Now, George... I'm sure he didn't mean to." But Mary did not seem as sure as she said.
The dark silence once again fell, and all three grown-ups stood watching the sleeping John for a while, until something occurred to Mr Barrie; "Where are the other children now?"
"Oh, Lisa is looking after them in one of the waiting rooms. We've told them about John. They're all fine."
"That's good. If you don't mind, I'll just go and see them. And I'd like to talk to Peter... get the story from the horse's mouth, so to speak..."
"Huh!" exclaimed George. "You don't think I'd let that brat anywhere near my children now, do you?! He's dangerous! The first chance I get, he'll be out of the house!"
"You mean... He isn't here?"
"No, James." answered Mary. "He's at home. Oliver is watching him."
"I want to get out. Let me out! Why are the doors locked?" Peter could not help feeling worried; he hated being confined.
"Now, where are you planning on going?" Hunt did not move from his place on the sofa, nor his gaze on the boy before him.
"I want to go home!"
"Oh? And where's that? Oh, yes... a magical island in the sky. I've seen that play too, Peter."
"What play? What are you talking about? Just, please... unlock the door!"
"I can't, Peter. I've been left strict instructions by your parents."
"But they're not my parents! Please! Let me out!" Peter was growing more and more frantic, pacing the floor like a caged animal.
"Peter, I think you need to calm down. Come on..." Hunt patted the empty space on the seat beside him. "Come sit with me and I'll try to take your mind off it." Peter stopped pacing and looked at the man. Oliver held the boy's gaze intently, not breaking eye contact for a second. That same slight shiver of apprehension went up Peter's spine, but again it was fleeting. Peter did not fear Oliver Hunt. In fact he almost liked him. But still... he did not quite trust him.
"Let me out."
"Peter... I can't. Now, come here."
"No! Let me out!"
"No! Come here!" Hunt finally rose from his chair and moved towards Peter.
At last the cab pulled up outside number 14. Mr Barrie almost threw the fare at the driver and rushed to the door. Using the key Mr Darling had given him, he unlocked it and burst into the house. Coming to a standstill in the doorway to the drawing room, he saw Peter and Hunt embraced in a warm hug, the boy sobbing quietly. Hunt shot him a glare but did not release the child. Peter, sensing a presence, turned his head and saw Mr Barrie standing there, looking dumbstruck. Peter broke the hug then, and considered a moment.
"The door's unlocked." It was a statement to himself rather than a question. Indeed, in his haste, Mr Barrie had left the front door open wide. Suddenly understanding his meaning, Hunt reached out to grab the boy's arm, but it was too late. In a flash he had pushed past Mr Barrie, run from the room, shot through the front door and was out in the street.
"You fool!" Hunt shouted at Barrie as he gave chase.
