CHAPTER 7
'Lonestar where are you out tonight? This feeling I'm trying to fight. Its Dark and I think that I would give Anything for you to shine down on Me...How far are you I just don't Know. The distance, I'm willing to Go...just give me some kind of sign.'
-Norah Jones-
Wendy froze dumbfounded, her eyes fixated on the boy who had bunched himself in a corner at the foot of her bed. He was hugging the fore post of the bed tightly for all his worth, desperately trying to shake the realistic illusion unfolding before his eyes. The girl blinked rapidly her voice finally remembering how to manipulate sound waves.
"What?! But Peter I don't understand! Whatever do you mean?!"
Peter suddenly lunged forwards, grabbing Wendy's shoulders roughly, so rough she let out an uncontrollable squeal of discomfort mingled with the taste of shock and rigid fear all at once. His eyes bored deep with in hers, making her insides feel like liquid jelly.
"It...I, I can't remember the way! I lost my navigation through the stars!"
"But, wha, how...how is that possible Peter?!"
"I DON'T KNOW!!" he screamed strenuously, releasing her with a shove.
He covered his face in his hands before rubbing it vigorously.
"I don't know..." he repeated again, this time in a solace whisper.
Wendy's eyes fell upon the lad, remorse chastising a loud cord of her heart. this certainly hadn't been quite the send off she expected. She had thought that this would be the last time he would ever grace her window seal, illuminating the room aglow with the mystical mystifying alchemy he possessed. The last time her lacy eyelet curtains would ever rustle to the cadence of his strangely lilting chant, that the moon would ever call his name or laugh with him and she would hear...she had thought that this would have been the very last time she laid eyes on the essence of impetuousness, the embodiment of youth, that cocky, unruly haired boy named Peter Pan. Yet, as much as he was ever present in form, his spirit, the ardor of his youthful flame that burned so hot, was no where to be found. Only this shell.
Wendy slowly reached forwards her arms wrapping around his bare shoulders compassionately, and her chin came to rest in the crock of his neck.
"Second star to the right Peter, then straight on till morning."
A howl of frustration bellowed out of his chest and he abruptly stood, tugging roughly at the unkempt tuffs of hair.
"I know how to get there!" he insisted tenaciously. "I know which star it is! I know, I just ...when I get in the sky, I can't remember, I mean I know but, I can't decipher the one out of the many. I get confused, the direction unclear."
"Peter, are you saying when you fly you lose your mental map?"
The boy turned, facing Wendy, his eyes sparking in trepidation.
"I've never lost my way before, I've always had a good sense of direction and I don't get lost, I don't understand it!"
Peter's eyes suddenly widened a flicker of hope dashing across the array of blue and green. He floated over to where the girl had stationed herself upon her bed, grabbing her hands urgently.
"Wendy you!"
The girl rose a befuddled brow as Peter began pulling her towards the window and the open night air.
"Me what Peter?"
"You can help me out! You're the only one who can! I have a plan. You can fly with me over London and point out the correct star to me when were in the air!"
"Peter you know I'd love to help in anyway possible however, I am not capable of flying with out pixie dust as you are, you must remember this."
"That's not a problem! Tink, she can..."
Wendy's eyes widened in aghast.
"Tinkerbell is here with you? I haven't seen her all the time that you..."
Peter suddenly sank to the floor shaking his head.
"No...she's not here. I forgot. When I left never land, I just left, I didn't tell anyone where I was going, not even Tink. I was too immersed in my own thoughts and what Hook..." he stopped himself, turning to stare out the window absently.
Wendy in turn, immediately noticed The lad shifting uncomfortably, he always did when he was trying to hide something, at any other time, she would have hid an inner smile at how well she knew this about him even though he thought she never noticed, however, this was neither the time nor place for that. So, instead, she perused his train of thought.
"What about Hook Peter? What aren't you telling me?" "Its nothing." He insisted, refusing to meet her eye.
Wendy took hold of Peter's chin, firmly the crest of his jaw towards her face.
"Look, if I am to help you get home, then I will need ever single possible clue, every shred of evidence to find out what is going on. I can not afford to negate any possibility. Now, if you please, what about Captain Hook?"
Peter's eyes fell upon her pensively, their innocent glow gone from them.
"You were right. I didn't just come back because the reason I originally stated to you. There's a little more to it then that. Before I left, I had words with Hook. I was bored and nothing out of the ordinary was taking place so, I decided to do something different. While I was conversing with him, the subject of 'mothers' came up and you were brought to attention. Hook, told me, he could not believe so much time had elapsed. He spoke of six years..."
Wendy's mouth fell slightly as she suddenly remembered the conversation they had shared several days prior. After a second, Peter continued.
"I couldn't believe him, I could not even fathom it. It only seemed like a few months had passed. He informed me that you, had grown-up by now. I had...I had to find out for myself so, I left, dashing back to London as quickly as I could. I was so very sure that I was right and that you hadn't aged more then a day since the last time that I had seen you. But then,..."he paused once again, looking away from the girl. "But then, you actually saw me." "Yes." He whispered, his hand raking through his hair. "At first, I thought you were pretending, that some how you had created a masterful illusion but, as our talk grew deeper, I came to realize I was dreadfully wrong. I finally was forced to admit to myself, six years had really come and gone and you...you had really grown-up."
Wendy's eyes danced across Peter's with a solace aura. A thin crystal bead fell to her lap from a cerulean pool, that screamed at the stars with a hidden acrimonious fire. She reached forwards once again, embracing the lad to her bosom.
"Oh Peter I am so sorry. But I promise, we will find a way to get to the bottom of all of this and get you home. I promise."
***
Peter's eyes opened to the brilliance of sunlight streaming into the room. For a moment, he became disoriented, not quite aware and familiar with his surroundings.
A ticking clock was placed on a far wall, a gas lamp, a bookshelf with several works of different authors upon them, one he could see read, Charles Dickinson. Across from the bookcase sat a dresser with a locked box of mahogany dwelling on its surface, a gilder mirror and two gilder combs joining it. A hat rack beside it and a writer's desk just a little ways beyond that. Peter rose an inquisitive brow before the previous events came flooding back to his mind.
'Wendy.'
He sat up aright, only to find himself bound and tangled in amongst a chain of linens. Despite that fact, Peter struggled to scoot himself from the bed anyhow. His eyes suddenly widened and he yelped as he suddenly found the fringe of the mattress, dropping him brusquely to the hard wood floor below. He grunted through his teeth, opening his eyes after a moment. The room appeared to offer no sign of life, all that except for a brow ball of fur lying neatly upon the orient rug near by. Peter recognized this to be the dog that had alerted the Darlings of the children's disappearance so many years ago...Nana. She now rose her head, peering at her charge curiously. Her tail wagged in friendliness as she trotted beside the downed boy, tugging at the restricting blankets with her teeth and in a matter of moments, she had freed him.
Peter couldn't help but smile, as she reached over licking his face lightly. His hand absently came up, scratching behind her ears.
"Thanks Nana."
Pan stood, straightening out his cream shirt that came just below his thigh, leaving the rest of his well toned legs, bare to the slightly cooler air comparing to the warmth beneath the blankets. He strode towards the window, opening the shutters, allowing the benediction of spring to enter into the realm beyond its ledge. The sticky sweetness of the air permeated his hair, biding him good morning as well.
From behind him, a sharp click registered with in his ears and he turned to see Wendy enter into the room carrying a tray of food.
"Good morning Peter." She greeted warmly, setting the sustenance on the nightstand. "You should come eat something for we have a lot to take care of today." "Oh?" he began, before becoming highly perplexed with the contents of the silver platter in front of him.
Peter rose a brow at the miniature banquet, coming an extended distance away from the china. He extended a finger towards the yellow bubble, hiding amidst the blanket of white rubber, poking at it ignorantly as. Wendy hid an unstoppable grin beneath her palm as it jiggled repulsively, shooting Peter's head back several inches in alarm. His back bristled as his hand instinctively reached for where his dagger would normally be located along side his belt, but of course, he came up empty handed. Finally, as a last resort, his eyes fell upon Wendy quizzically.
"What is that thing?!"
Wendy couldn't help but grin even wider, and it shortly turned into a cheery giggle. Peter shot her a bemused glare.
"There called eggs. They're quite a popular breakfast foot here in England. I don't particularly care for them myself however..."
Peter just blinked at her flabbergastedly.
"Well then how do you know I'm going to like 'em if you don't?!" he retorted in agitation. He hated being the laughingstock of a joke.
The girl shrugged, pouring the lad a glass of orange juice.
"I do not know. However, it is true that people like a different verity of foods. You might really like them." She reasoned soundly.
Peter's face twisted in absolute abhorrence.
"Don't you just have a hot dog or something like that?" he inquired hopefully.
Wendy chuckled patting the boy's shoulder reassuringly.
"Just try it."
Reluctantly, Peter scooped a fork full of the runny glop. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes before shoving it into his mouth. He chewed once, then a second time...the eggs ended right back in the plate from winst they came and the lad practically dove fore the orange juice sitting near by, nearly knocking the glass from its perch, renting asunder. He shook his head vigorously.
"I do not like eggs!"
Wendy chuckled again shaking her head in amusement.
"Tis' fine Peter. Dress, and we shall go into town. I have a luncheon scheduled around midday. We can both eat then and there is also someone..."
The rest of Wendy's sentence stooped to the ground heavily as if an anvil had been attached to the words as she spoke them. Her complexion blanched and her usually placid orbs widened in utter shock and for a brief moment, she froze, nullifying the usual automatic response entailed when such situations arose. When her senses finally returned, she immediately felt her cheeks burn with a bright crimson flush as she quickly spun her back to Peter, trying desperately to cleave the image of the boy's nakedness from her mind.
"Oh...Dear...me" she coughed, her hands rising to her mouth.
A hand suddenly contacted her shoulder and her eyes widened like two shining sapphire's sparkling under the ode of some cool crisp stream. She inhaled sharply, not daring to release it nor, turn to her right or left.
"Wendy, are you alright?" Peter's voice inquired in a flummoxed tone from behind.
A taunt, nervous giggle filled his ears as she quickly shirked his hand as she ensued to walk away towards the door, her hands flailing wildly behind her. Wendy could feel the blood rise a little further in her cheeks and she was sure that it was clearly visible now. She giggled again, more at her own embarrassment then at the awkward situation presently at hand.
"I-I'm fine Peter...just, just tell me when you are finished dressing." She instructed.
Peter rose a brow at her, his head cocking a little to the left. But it only left him enthralled for a few seconds before her reactions wore out their newness and he shrugged it off as if nothing seemed even slightly a miss.
Instead, he turned towards the rocking chair, where the other nuisances had been laid to rest in a neatly folded stack. He quickly grabbed them pulling them on with quite the distaste. He glared at every stitch, to let each one in turn know just how much he loathed them and their restriction before they were even allowed to touch his bare skin. He reserved a special glare for both the stockings and the boots, letting the venomous disdain drip from every corner of his anima. It was a look that would have made even the brave cower in a corner and recoil in fear.
A few moments later, Wendy felt a tap placed once again upon her shoulder. She heaved a great breath before turning to face the lad, begging deeply that some how he was now shrouded in...something...anything. She sighed in relief as she saw his attire and moved forwards to straighten the white collar, dog-eared under his gray tweed jacket flap. She couldn't help but smile at the unruly tuffs of liquids sun peeping out from under his gray hat. So much Peter Pan in every way, even though he was stuck here in London for the moment, nothing could ever take that away from him. She giggled bitterly to herself, smiling in spite of her own stupidity.
'Stop it Wendy.' She mused to herself. 'Just stop.'
"That is much better Peter. Now come, we must depart, I want to stop somewhere before we head to lunch."
Again Peter rose a brow however, before he could peruse that thought, another a rose to take its place.
"Wendy, what of your mother?"
The girl suddenly froze, a gasp echoing into the atmosphere.
"Mother! She thinks you have left! I-I did not realize that you would be venturing back to us at all!" she cried, remembering her small chat with the older woman the previous night concerning Peter's early disembark back towards the Canterbury country side.
Wendy stared out her window for what seemed like hours, watching the clouds swirl in a graceful sweep around the silver crescent as it twinkled its magic upon the sleepy rooftops of the London streets. She could hear it laughing gaily with childish vigor as the stars intertwined amongst eachother, playing tag with the mysterious lady of the sky as she enveloped the tree tops with her breezy arms, all in unison, in a perfect harmony.
She sighed, averting her eyes only to find that they were unexpectedly moist with a sheen of lament. Wendy shook her head, chucking bitterly at her own heart that now betrayed her, as it screamed vile and livid things at her. She challenged its misery by reaching her hands forwards, pulling the shutters of the window to their close for what she thought, at the time, to be the very last. This however was no match for her heart's clamor and it just screamed louder causing the girl to reach up, covering her ears as if it would shut out the agonizing voice from with in the depth of her shattered anima.
"Please," she whimpered, begging for her heart to just let her adult side conquer and let it go.
A warm trail of liquid flowed over the bridge of her nose as the child within her screamed yet again telling her she was doing exactly what she hated to see that her brother had done to himself.
It dryly reminded her of the words her own mouth had uttered to the boy with no fear in the world except one. Growing up could be what you make it, it could be so much more then world saw through the glass prism that they themselves were locked in. For there was a world beyond all reason, unexplored by most and relatively uncharted just beyond the prism gates. It was a place where you could fly free, experiencing the joys and pleasures of both worlds. It was the loophole that most missed and few ever had the courage to find, the go between, where reality and fantasy mixed every single day. It might as well have been the story that had leapt from the page as it were and yet, all was real and true just like the sun warming your face when the coming of dawn crept over the horizon.
A zephyr rose from the west, blowing its breath across the barren tree tops, and towards a rooftop window not far away. Seconds later, it had opened the shutters, before bending down upon its knees to kiss Wendy's lips with a powerful passion and her eyes fell to the stars once again. A small understanding smile brandished her lips softly and she rose to her feet. She retreated out of her room and into the hall. She glanced at the window as the door slowly closed behind her and a melancholic word fell from the heavens to her lips.
"Always."
Mrs. Darling sat in the drawing room, a fire crackling at her feet as she read a very interesting detective novel that had been written by one of her husband's esteemed associates, who, ironically himself, had been a former inspector to Scotland Yard. She could remember hearing him discuss his theories of deduction long before the book had come into print or even before it was ever thought of for that matter. Yes, even long before Author Doyle had become a 'Sir' in the queen's court.
She smiled fondly, glancing out the window of her town house, her slender index finger keeping her place in amongst the many pages of Hounds of the Baskervile. Her kiss gleamed brilliantly in the light of the moon, and it smiled back at the glowing globe for the moon was one of the few rare who actually possessed the Kiss, for there were only three that had come along, one of whom you could least expect. A bohemian boy with no sense of propriety to say the least and yet, it was he who had received it the easiest in which he had then, spirited it away to distant star, where he had placed it upon his mantle for safe keeping and there it had stayed ever since.
A sudden noise elated from the doorway and she glanced over to where her daughter now stood, smiling at the older woman. The girl wore dark circles under her eyes her cheeks appeared ashen as a birch's bark.
"Why Wendy, are you alright dear?" The girl nodded in reassurance but her mother did not appeared satisfied.
"I am fine. I am just a trifle fatigue."
Mrs. Darling looked at Wendy skeptically but nodded regardless.
"Alright dear. Do try and get some rest. Oh and Wendy, will you return these that dear boy, he seemed to have left them resting upon the parlor chair over their." She mused, handing the girl a set of well used pan pipes that were woven with green vines. From their ends swung brilliantly colored feathers, just as the ones that had hung from the pouch on the opposite side of his belt.
Wendy's fingers grazed over their wooden surface and she impulsively lifted them towards her lips, blowing into their hollowness with gentle breath. The light, mystical sound of a pixie wind drifted from their ends and she immediately ceased. Her eyes met glow of the fire and she quickly found comfort within its burning flames.
"This is what I have come to speak to you of. You see, while you and father were away this afternoon, Peter's parents came to call and he left with them for the Canterbury countryside this evening."
"Oh." Mrs. Darling whispered deflatedly, her eyes becoming down cast. "I did not even receive the opportunity to say good-bye. I was rather fond of the boy, he reminds me of something that I don't remember well. But whenever he is near, my fingertips can almost grasp it." Her eyes too mingled in amongst the fire. "Such a strange youth, strange and wonderful at the same time. I am going to miss him."
Wendy's eyes sauntered closed.
"So am I. So am I." ***
"Peter, If she finds out you're here, I'm going to have a lot of explaining to do." Wendy told him pointedly.
Peter just gazed at her astonished.
"I am not sure I understand why. It sounds like she'd be absolutely thrilled." He stated, the air of arrogance sweeping around his being and his head rose a little, his hands finding their way upon his hips and in no way did he look near as broken as he had last night. In fact, if Wendy had not have been a first hand witness to the events of the previous night, she would have never known.
The girl rolled her eyes shaking her head.
"She would Peter but that is not the point. The point is simply this, I also told her that you and your "family" would be heading to America to care for your aunt's best friend who is in dire need of company right now."
Peter's jaw fell agape, his brows furrowing.
"Why on earth did you cook that up?!" "Because Peter, she doesn't know who you really are!" she snapped. "Well why can't you just tell her the truth?" he asked, ignoring the somberness in Wendy's tone.
Now Wendy was known for her patience, as she was quite the gentle soul however, there were those small ways, so insignificant that if you didn't look closely enough, you'd miss them. None the less, they were there and to those rare few who found these buttons, it was these that saw another side to the woman. For, when they were pushed to a certain extent, her patience began running out like the sands of an hour glass and you had better pray that the sands didn't relinquish to render an empty glass before the squall calmed. Peter had, unfortunately, found himself on the very thresh hold of this fine line and the sands of Wendy's patience, were almost depleted.
"You of all people are asking me this question?! Peter, Do you not remember how it ended?!" she practically spat.
Peter's eyes set a wave of genuine remorse her way, which Wendy rendered tad bit odd and off the wall for Pan, it though, none the less, made her heat flip flop and a pang of guilt impaled the muscle like a dagger. She sighed, impetuously pulling him into her embrace, her breath blowing out in the tangled curls at the base of his neck and her eyes shut soundly.
"I'm sorry Peter. I shouldn't have scolded. I am not angry with you by any means." She pulled back far enough to glance into his eyes with out having to release him. "If I am irate at anything, it is my own self." She mused, stroking the soft, tangible curls unconsciously.
"Wendy...I'm sorry."
*** Hours found them taking a leisurely stroll through the freshly greened paths of Kensington Gardens. They meandered along the fine gravel walk ways, enjoying the peace that spring's sweet breath was blowing upon the earth. They took note of all the little patches of violets spreading abroad in all directions across the open fields. They watched the robins and humming birds flit about, singing a joyous melody for the beginning of life, as if to beckon it saying: 'Come hither.'
"Oh Peter, isn't it all just divine?" Wendy exclaimed towards her companion, the blue in her eyes deepening with joy and excitement as every piece of the spring picture began to unravel before her coming together to create an amazing mural of life.
The serpentine flowed soundly, rumbling with that magical melody that only it could produce. Ducks and geese played at one end, kicking up beads of water with their webbed feet, splashing one another in their never ending game. The trees swayed gently to and fro in the subtle breeze that spun through out the air. It continued to loom in Wendy's curls tousling them in spirals before pulling Peter's hat from his head playfully, dropping it into his hands. It stared him straight in the eyes, leaning forwards stoutly, meeting his lips in full kiss before departing from them.
Children gallivanted together through out the gardens, prancing about as if this was their very first experience with the outside world. They would chase eachother, running in circles around the statue of Prince Albert, then circle back to the well beaten stone path leading to a main trail that headed towards Kensington Palace. Spread across the vast open meadow, couples and families shared meals and spoke gaily amongst themselves.
A trio of fashionable ladies dressed in the all the latest designs, swaggered avidly with purpose, discussing a certain couple of "simpletons" that were passing near the monument. Their noses were stuck high in the air, only hidden under their overly formal parasols. Wendy frowned as their edacity struck a deep cord in her heart and she felt the blood in her veins began to boil.
She quickly recognized them to be Mrs. Tinsley, the wife of one of the wealthiest men in town and the daughter of nobleman. Despite her age, she was more of a spoiled child then anything else, eager to get her way which had been the exact opposite Wendy had done and from that moment forwards, then woman had positively despised her.
The second was Mrs. Tinsley's own niece. Miss. Darla Sinclair A plain woman, mixed in the wrong crowd. She not at all very attractive yet, she had a beautiful heart buried deeply within her and Wendy had seen it on several occasions. She knew that Darla was desperately trying to fit in somewhere however, she was with a basket of bad apples and Wendy knew that if the girl didn't find a way to discover her own self for who she was, the bad apples would rub off on her in a very negative way.
Finally, there was Ms. Veronica Fairchild, the selfish, spoiled, bratty daughter of a general. She was beautiful beyond belief, with her fair skin and velvety hair. She had crisp blue eyes, as blue as the sky yet, their twinkle was harsh and degrading. She had been in and out of two marriages, both of which had only lasted a few months. She had scowered her husband's inheritance before taking her leave from them.
Wendy had met the girl long ago, not long after her return from Neverland. Wendy was an excellent horse back rider, for it gave her the sense of exhilaration and freedom that flying had, and when she had been younger, she had taken many joyous rides every single day. It was then when Veronica had approached her , seeking her advice on exactly that topic. She had never been a strong rider and envied Wendy's ability. Wendy, due to her friendly nature and seeing someone in need, did not realize that the girl had an ulterior motive. For in Veronica's heart, there was room for nothing else but envy. Envy for this tanned, robust girl who seemed that she could care less about all that was material. All she needed, was a piece of earth to play upon, to make things grow, to have an adventure. It seemed all she needed to make her happy. But how was this to be? After all, was it not suppose to be that Wendy, was suppose to want to be Veronica, with her possessions and wealth, not vise versa. Veronica had never understood this concept and could not fathom it so, her envy grew to jealousy, her jealously, to anger and her anger eventually to her hating Wendy for everything Wendy was and everything Veronica could never be. Veronica wanted nothing more then to see Wendy just as miserable as she for a change....just once.
Wendy had tried to show her how to ride to the best of her know how. Telling her that you did not have to ride with precision. Just let you, and your house become one. Respect him, and you can fly. However, Veronica's stubborn pride had shrouded her heart in a densely black fog and when had she decided to beat the animal for its lack of obedience to her harsh commands, the creature had responded, getting irate and Veronica would have been killed if Wendy had not intervened. After that, the two never spoke again but it was just as well, for Wendy could afford to do with out the malicious bitterness residing on the woman's blacken heart.
Wendy now glared at them sharply, watching them quickly avert their eyes and yet still hear them whisper.
"That's that darling girl." Mrs. Tinsley whispered.
"I heard that she was marrying the heir to the wade fortune." Miss Sinclair stated.
"To be sure? What on earth could a gentleman like himself seen in some wretched creature like her?! Her and her fantiful stories." Veronica Fairchild added, shooting a look of absolute disgust in Wendy and Peter's direction, looking upon the girl as if she were no more then a cock roach.
"I don't know, I heard that Mr. James Barrie has been taking a keen interest in her work." Darla Defended.
"No?"
"Oh positively despicable!" Veronica grumbled. She regarded it as just one more thing to add to her list of hatred.. "What is so bloody fascinating about Wendy Darling anyway?!"
Peter raised a brow, glancing over at Wendy curiously.
"Who were they?"
Wendy sighed, looking away in agitation.
"No one of importance." She muttered heavily under her breath as she grabbed hold of Peter's arm, leading him away from the small posy, slowly strolling along Lancaster Walk.
Peter just shrugged, following the girl to a near by park bench stationed near the round pond. His eyes darted along the field, watching the different scenes form into view. A middle aged man stood with his two children, a boy and a girl, grinning from ear to ear as the his sons kite soared over the tree tops, higher then any of the others, dancing amongst the wind freely. Next to them, a girl ran with her dog, holding a stick in one hand, her hat upon her head in the other. She laughed heartily as her dog tackled her to the ground, licking her face with his pink tongue. Nudging her with his wet nose.
Near the pond, upon a spread baby blue blanket, a woman in a long white and red dress sat, her brimmed hat resting by her side, allowing her pinned mocha hair to gleam in the midday sun. She was laughing along with a mahogany headed boy who looked no more then ten years of age. He had a tin whistle in his hand and was blissfully playing a euphonious tune. Peter's eyes became glued and he could not remove them from the strangely familiar scene playing out before him. His mouth became patulous and his eyes grew wide, glowing with an intense sensation of déjà vu`.
**
Intensely green eyes feel upon a boy with endless copper curls sitting opposite on the beige blanket spread across the grass. The softness of their green was profound and they laughed along with the smile that was spread across the fair skin, meeting the width of rosy cheeks.
A light music tickled the child's ears teasingly and he found himself laughing lightly along with the twinkle of his companion's eyes. The child concentrated upon each note played as they cast the fog of their spell over the duo, as if it were a portal that lead them beyond the paved streets of London, across the lades of time, and into a world away from reality, a world all their own. Everything seemed to cease existing in that moment. The trees seemed to come alive, dancing to the melody being played across the pipes, glowing with a golden essence that seemed to radiate forever, warming everything in its path. All fell silent, so it seemed, just to listen...to listen.
It was over far too quickly and everything resumed its previous pace as the alchemy slowly faded, leaving only a light trace, found within the very soul of the pipe's player, behind. Clapping filled his ears and he looked up smiling almost timidly at the young woman in front of him.
"Bravo Peter, Bravo."
**
"Peter!" Wendy's voice called urgently, her words finally breaking past the vortex that the lad seemed to be caught up in at that moment.
Why he looked as if he had seen an apparition. He blinked rapidly, before finally turning towards the girl.
"Peter are you all right, I've never seen you so entranced before."
Perspiration crystallized into glass beads before trailing down the boy's brow. Peter's eyes flew back to the blanket and to the child and its mother. They were still laughing together and the boy still played his tin whistle.
"That was wonderful Charlie!"
Peter blinked again shaking his head as if to clear the fog residing in the rafters of his mind. Sometimes, it was a good thing to tidy up.
"I am fine." He assured quickly, flashing her a grin, though he didn't look as confident as he tried to portray.
Wendy could tell by the way Peter shifted uncomfortably all was not fine and dandy. Something had happened and yet, Peter was more stubborn and pigheaded then a mule at times and she knew that there was no sense in trying to goad the answers from him, for he would not budge until he was ready in his own due time. So, Wendy sighed, letting it drop for the time being. At that moment, Big Ben chimed twelve times, indicating the afternoon had arrived in London precisely on time.
"Come Peter, I have a luncheon scheduled at Mr. Barrie's house at twelve thirty this afternoon. We best make haste towards Bayswater."
**
In the fellow streets, a high wind blew from the north, rattling the glass panes of number 14. And though so frigid out side, the air inside the house found itself warming by the fireplace and the gas lamps scattered throughout the rooms of the interior.
Liza had been chasing nana around the entire morning for her weekly bath however, the dog, though old, was still well versed in cunning and had been evading the woman. Liza had become little more then mildly frustrated and began swearing in her native tongue, all the nastiest little curses imaginable. Nana merely watched curiously from her hiding place between the great wall and the hearth of the fireplace, in the small space conveniently inconspicuous to the human eye.
Mrs. Darling, who knew well where Nana was concealed, flashed her a smile as she sauntered past, keeping the Newfoundland's secret. She smiled sweetly, which was much her nature, up at her Swedish maid and placed a reassuring hand upon her shoulder.
"Oh Liza, do not fret about Nana. Go ahead and start supper, we are receiving a guest tonight."
Liza glanced up at her mistress, curiosity painted across her face creating a very vivid picture.
"Who is that ma'am?"
Anyother maid would have bowed their head low, not daring to question their master's orders however, Liza was no ordinary maid. She was quite the spirited soul, filled with the zest for life and all things in it. A little too boisterous for some and no doubt would have been cast upon the street by a stricter owner. As it was, Mrs. Darling had saved the girl from her husband's wrath on several separate occasions and for this very reason it was that the girl and her mistress shared a unique relationship and friendship.
"Sidney Wade."
"Seven places ma'am?"
Mrs. Darling moved to accept the offer yet, stop shortly of speaking. She sighed sullenly, shaking her head.
"No, only six."
A perplexed look filled the girl's eyes.
"But what of the boy Ma'am?"
"The boy has since taken his leave from us..."she whispered.
There was a momentary pause before Liza acknowledged Mrs. Darling.
"Six ma'am?"
"Yes Liza, if you please."
At this, the young maid retreated into the dinning room and towards the china cabinets for dishes.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Darling decided to retreat up to the threshold of distant memories, and she climbed the stairs, in route towards the nursery door. As she closed her eyes, she could almost hear the joyous clamor of her children ringing through out the walls of the house, echoing up to the rafters and then to the outside world. The knob was turned and she entered into the chamber.
Her long skirts floated around her ankles like a spontaneous field of soft clouds. The shone brilliantly into the woman's face and the birds greeted her with a happy little twitter. Yet, she was beguiled by the three boxes resting sealed upon her heart. They were labeled each with its own separate name; those names belonging to her three children, 'Wendy' 'John' and 'Michael'. Inside each box, was the childish mind of each one, long since locked away from the adult world that they had now entered into. The only one that appeared to even have slight traces of being accessed in the last few years was Michael. However, Mrs. Darling now opened each in turn, wiping away the layers of dust collected over a period of time and for the first time she glanced upon the contents of there interior.
Her eyes now fell upon a vision, the pirate jacket that John would wear as he, Michael and Wendy would act out the stories that Wendy would each tell them. It along with the cutlass was hung up, let to catch dust from the many moons that had passed since it had been attired. A brown, wooden box sat beside it, a toy chest, well worn from the passing of time. She bent, lifting the lid to find Michael's Indian attire and headdress. She smiled softly, shaking her head in reminisce. Why it had only seemed like just yesterday that they returned from what ever land that they had disappeared to six years ago.
Mrs. Darling reached under the toy chest, to a simple box, colored from age as her fingers opened it, she found the folds of all preciousness at her fingertips and her heart began to race a little faster. There was a top hat, an umbrella and a small pair of rounded spectacles. Beside that were two white, negligees wrapped carefully with shreds of pink ribbons. Under those, was a small teddy bear which appeared to have seen more then its share of atrocities. Each carefully mended with needle and thread. There were a few Indian feathers and a tangle of vines wrapping each. Mrs. Darling moved to pick up the tomahawk and when she did so, a single sheet of, delicate paper drifted outwardly, one that had been folded in such a precarious manner. She slowly unfolded it with shaky fingers, curious to see what awaited her on the other side however, nothing could have prepared her for the sight she was about to see.
Michael had been blessed with the gift of art and because of this, Mrs. Darling could plainly make out the boy standing on the hull of a galleon, sailing the mist and fog of London at the high top towers of the parliament and Big Ben. He wore a tangled mass of vines and leaves. His mouth smirked in an odd yet mischievous sense and his eyes glowed with passion for things undiscovered by anyone else. The woman gazed at in aghast. That boy...that boy was, but it couldn't be. The likeness was imperlitive and as her thumb ran across the bottom of the page towards the title of the drawing, her heart began to pound steady for a number of reasons and it wasn't just because this boy was the very same who spirited her children away, or even that it was her visitor so much but,...her brows furrowed indignantly...because Wendy Moyra Angela Darling had lied to her.
**
Bayswater street was not far from the gardens and Hyde Park. Merely a block away, a hop skip and a jump really. Bayswater was also a street over from Dunbar, the only thing being the barrier of the two streets was a simple building that you could see directly over the top of.
Presently, Wendy glanced down at the piece of paper residing with in her fingertips, squinting at it carefully. Finally, she peered up at the building in front of her where the number 100 boldly stood against the brass outline surrounding it. She peered over at her chum nodding as she pointed a finger towards the slushy walk.
"This is it Peter." She said, lifting the latch to the gate guarding the entrance to the porch just beyond.
The lad's eyes drifted upward towards the structure of the building while glancing at the white washed statues of the lions, their beady eyes courageously fixed upon the path leading towards the house, keeping close watch upon him and anything else that decided to venture into their territory or their master's.
"Who lives here again?" he asked, blinking as a sudden mist sprinkled his nose from the sky above.
The sky had noticeably darkened, and the air became filled with the scent of a shower to come. Thunder clapped in the distance, indicating to both youths that it would be the best of ideas to get inside, questions could wait. Without hesitation, Wendy climbed the stairs to number 100, grabbing the brass knocker in the midst of her palm before banging it steadily against the hard oak door. Seconds later, the door was opened and an older man greeted the duo at the door. At seeing a familiar face, his eyes lit up, twinkling with a brilliant blue aura that obscured all darkness making the girl instantly forget all her worries about growing up and Peter's little problem for that instant.
"Wendy!" he cried, reaching forwards to embrace the girl, which did take her slightly by surprise and yet, she felt no discomfort. Instead, she returned the greeting eagerly.
"Its nice to see you again Mr. Barrie." She turned to Peter, motioning a hand towards the lad who appeared to be staring off in to space, his attention captured by something else at the moment. "I would like you to meet a friend of mine visiting from a far off place. Peter?"
The boy suddenly snapped to the present, gazing up at the man standing before him and his heart suddenly faltered a step, as though he lost control of his own freeness. His eyes melted into the man's piercing aquatic orbs soundly, becoming instantly intermingled amongst the pools in the liquid sapphire.
"Mr. Barrie, may I introduce Peter."
The man's eyes became just as fixed, green waves mingling with aqua tides. Swirling together in endless wonderment about the other.
"Peter?" "Yes."
After a moment of precarious silence that Wendy wasn't quite sure she understood, Mr. Barrie stoked his graying beard thoughtfully before smiling warmly, standing aside to allow the visitors to pass into the realm of his walls.
"It is wonderful to meet you Peter. Do you by chance have a last night with which I might call you?" "Pan." Came the simple, careless answer which, of course, caused Mr. Barrie to blink several times.
The man's eyes inquisitively fell upon the girl sitting on a Victorian chair near the bay window.
"Peter Pan?"
She smiled lightly quickly thinking of a way to explain.
"This might come of a shock to you sir, what I am about to say for, many might consider it impossible..." Wendy started, as she began to explain to him just how real her stories really were.
Peter had seemed to have lost his interest in what was going on around him, he becoming far more interested in his surroundings and the intricate trinkets. They had passed beyond the great hall and had entered what appeared to be a drawing room. A large, mahogany, grand piano sat stationed in one corner of the great room, just beyond the brick fire place and the easy chair with the Victorian lamp off to its left. The floor was plush under their feet, furnished with a richly colored cranberry ornate rug. Bits and pieces of furniture were scattered throughout the rest of the room, some covered, some not. All were immaculate, not a speck of dust could be seen anywhere on any of the items. That is all but the piano and it twas the piano that captured Peter's attention most of all.
Sitting upon its marbled surface, were several instrumental items, including a tambourine, a French horn, a chime, a tin whistle and a set of wooden panpipes. All were lined in a row and all a sheen of dust covered their surface.
Mr. Barrie smiled fondly at the boy's obvious interest and took the point to elaborate on a subject of which had had not discussed for many years.
"My wife was well versed in the art of music and literature . She was played a verity of instruments including all of which you see there and then some that are not there but not laid to rest in my attic. She collected them and I remember that she would come home with something new every month or so. Her eyes would always grow so big, lighting up a million watts with excitement." He chuckled lightly. "She could have lit all of London with her spirit. So untamable, so unbreakable, it was magnificent. It was she who initiated the family ritual. Every night, we would gather around the grand piano 6:30pm sharp, after all dishes had been put away We would sing, dance, play and carry on. It was almost like a never ending carnival."
Wendy noticed that Peter was paying keen attention to the story at hand and she couldn't blame him, it was an enticing story.
"What happened to your wife?" Wendy asked against her better judgment.
After the look that instantly spread across the older man's face, she could have kicked herself. She felt like melting into the floor and never coming out. The man, her editor, was on the verge of tears. James Barrie reached over to the table beside piano, pouring himself a brandy.
"Juliana? She passed away several years ago."
Peter cocked his head to the side, glancing at the man curiously.
"So, you are Peter Pan? Amazing, truly amazing." He cast his eyes over at Wendy. "Its no wonder your stories were so vivid, they had actually taken place. "So, Mr. Pan, what brings you to London, England."
Peter glanced up from the piano again, his eyes coming to rest upon the older man's again.
"A mistake."
Wendy intervened elaborating a bit on her companion's vague statement.
"Peter has run into a bit of a snag. He came for an abbreviated visit however, somehow, he can't remember his way back to his world again."
James sat on the chair beside the piano, chewing on his moustache thoughtfully.
"Exactly which star leads to Neverland?"
Wendy sighed shaking her head.
"I think the best that any of us could say surmise is second to the right and straight on till morning, but it's a vague description that could be used to describe almost any star." She mused.
"Hmm...true."
At that moment, a maid appeared in the hallway, allotting her explicit apologies for interrupting the conversation. Mr. Barrie shook his head.
"Oh not at all Lotty."
"Beggin' your pardon sir but, Lunch is ready."
"Oh very good." He glanced over at his guests. "Shall we discuss this more over lunch?"
**
Wendy and Peter strolled down the chilly street, trying desperately to shield themselves from the nippy wind and the tyrannical rain that was now beating against the cobblestone. They quickly opened the gate to #14, slipping inside the comfort of the front door as soon as possible, only to be greeted by a cross pair of eyes and a worn piece of paper. Wendy's eyes caught the paper in their view, before rolling into a close as her head sunk dejectedly.
"Miss Darling, would you care to explain?"
'Lonestar where are you out tonight? This feeling I'm trying to fight. Its Dark and I think that I would give Anything for you to shine down on Me...How far are you I just don't Know. The distance, I'm willing to Go...just give me some kind of sign.'
-Norah Jones-
Wendy froze dumbfounded, her eyes fixated on the boy who had bunched himself in a corner at the foot of her bed. He was hugging the fore post of the bed tightly for all his worth, desperately trying to shake the realistic illusion unfolding before his eyes. The girl blinked rapidly her voice finally remembering how to manipulate sound waves.
"What?! But Peter I don't understand! Whatever do you mean?!"
Peter suddenly lunged forwards, grabbing Wendy's shoulders roughly, so rough she let out an uncontrollable squeal of discomfort mingled with the taste of shock and rigid fear all at once. His eyes bored deep with in hers, making her insides feel like liquid jelly.
"It...I, I can't remember the way! I lost my navigation through the stars!"
"But, wha, how...how is that possible Peter?!"
"I DON'T KNOW!!" he screamed strenuously, releasing her with a shove.
He covered his face in his hands before rubbing it vigorously.
"I don't know..." he repeated again, this time in a solace whisper.
Wendy's eyes fell upon the lad, remorse chastising a loud cord of her heart. this certainly hadn't been quite the send off she expected. She had thought that this would be the last time he would ever grace her window seal, illuminating the room aglow with the mystical mystifying alchemy he possessed. The last time her lacy eyelet curtains would ever rustle to the cadence of his strangely lilting chant, that the moon would ever call his name or laugh with him and she would hear...she had thought that this would have been the very last time she laid eyes on the essence of impetuousness, the embodiment of youth, that cocky, unruly haired boy named Peter Pan. Yet, as much as he was ever present in form, his spirit, the ardor of his youthful flame that burned so hot, was no where to be found. Only this shell.
Wendy slowly reached forwards her arms wrapping around his bare shoulders compassionately, and her chin came to rest in the crock of his neck.
"Second star to the right Peter, then straight on till morning."
A howl of frustration bellowed out of his chest and he abruptly stood, tugging roughly at the unkempt tuffs of hair.
"I know how to get there!" he insisted tenaciously. "I know which star it is! I know, I just ...when I get in the sky, I can't remember, I mean I know but, I can't decipher the one out of the many. I get confused, the direction unclear."
"Peter, are you saying when you fly you lose your mental map?"
The boy turned, facing Wendy, his eyes sparking in trepidation.
"I've never lost my way before, I've always had a good sense of direction and I don't get lost, I don't understand it!"
Peter's eyes suddenly widened a flicker of hope dashing across the array of blue and green. He floated over to where the girl had stationed herself upon her bed, grabbing her hands urgently.
"Wendy you!"
The girl rose a befuddled brow as Peter began pulling her towards the window and the open night air.
"Me what Peter?"
"You can help me out! You're the only one who can! I have a plan. You can fly with me over London and point out the correct star to me when were in the air!"
"Peter you know I'd love to help in anyway possible however, I am not capable of flying with out pixie dust as you are, you must remember this."
"That's not a problem! Tink, she can..."
Wendy's eyes widened in aghast.
"Tinkerbell is here with you? I haven't seen her all the time that you..."
Peter suddenly sank to the floor shaking his head.
"No...she's not here. I forgot. When I left never land, I just left, I didn't tell anyone where I was going, not even Tink. I was too immersed in my own thoughts and what Hook..." he stopped himself, turning to stare out the window absently.
Wendy in turn, immediately noticed The lad shifting uncomfortably, he always did when he was trying to hide something, at any other time, she would have hid an inner smile at how well she knew this about him even though he thought she never noticed, however, this was neither the time nor place for that. So, instead, she perused his train of thought.
"What about Hook Peter? What aren't you telling me?" "Its nothing." He insisted, refusing to meet her eye.
Wendy took hold of Peter's chin, firmly the crest of his jaw towards her face.
"Look, if I am to help you get home, then I will need ever single possible clue, every shred of evidence to find out what is going on. I can not afford to negate any possibility. Now, if you please, what about Captain Hook?"
Peter's eyes fell upon her pensively, their innocent glow gone from them.
"You were right. I didn't just come back because the reason I originally stated to you. There's a little more to it then that. Before I left, I had words with Hook. I was bored and nothing out of the ordinary was taking place so, I decided to do something different. While I was conversing with him, the subject of 'mothers' came up and you were brought to attention. Hook, told me, he could not believe so much time had elapsed. He spoke of six years..."
Wendy's mouth fell slightly as she suddenly remembered the conversation they had shared several days prior. After a second, Peter continued.
"I couldn't believe him, I could not even fathom it. It only seemed like a few months had passed. He informed me that you, had grown-up by now. I had...I had to find out for myself so, I left, dashing back to London as quickly as I could. I was so very sure that I was right and that you hadn't aged more then a day since the last time that I had seen you. But then,..."he paused once again, looking away from the girl. "But then, you actually saw me." "Yes." He whispered, his hand raking through his hair. "At first, I thought you were pretending, that some how you had created a masterful illusion but, as our talk grew deeper, I came to realize I was dreadfully wrong. I finally was forced to admit to myself, six years had really come and gone and you...you had really grown-up."
Wendy's eyes danced across Peter's with a solace aura. A thin crystal bead fell to her lap from a cerulean pool, that screamed at the stars with a hidden acrimonious fire. She reached forwards once again, embracing the lad to her bosom.
"Oh Peter I am so sorry. But I promise, we will find a way to get to the bottom of all of this and get you home. I promise."
***
Peter's eyes opened to the brilliance of sunlight streaming into the room. For a moment, he became disoriented, not quite aware and familiar with his surroundings.
A ticking clock was placed on a far wall, a gas lamp, a bookshelf with several works of different authors upon them, one he could see read, Charles Dickinson. Across from the bookcase sat a dresser with a locked box of mahogany dwelling on its surface, a gilder mirror and two gilder combs joining it. A hat rack beside it and a writer's desk just a little ways beyond that. Peter rose an inquisitive brow before the previous events came flooding back to his mind.
'Wendy.'
He sat up aright, only to find himself bound and tangled in amongst a chain of linens. Despite that fact, Peter struggled to scoot himself from the bed anyhow. His eyes suddenly widened and he yelped as he suddenly found the fringe of the mattress, dropping him brusquely to the hard wood floor below. He grunted through his teeth, opening his eyes after a moment. The room appeared to offer no sign of life, all that except for a brow ball of fur lying neatly upon the orient rug near by. Peter recognized this to be the dog that had alerted the Darlings of the children's disappearance so many years ago...Nana. She now rose her head, peering at her charge curiously. Her tail wagged in friendliness as she trotted beside the downed boy, tugging at the restricting blankets with her teeth and in a matter of moments, she had freed him.
Peter couldn't help but smile, as she reached over licking his face lightly. His hand absently came up, scratching behind her ears.
"Thanks Nana."
Pan stood, straightening out his cream shirt that came just below his thigh, leaving the rest of his well toned legs, bare to the slightly cooler air comparing to the warmth beneath the blankets. He strode towards the window, opening the shutters, allowing the benediction of spring to enter into the realm beyond its ledge. The sticky sweetness of the air permeated his hair, biding him good morning as well.
From behind him, a sharp click registered with in his ears and he turned to see Wendy enter into the room carrying a tray of food.
"Good morning Peter." She greeted warmly, setting the sustenance on the nightstand. "You should come eat something for we have a lot to take care of today." "Oh?" he began, before becoming highly perplexed with the contents of the silver platter in front of him.
Peter rose a brow at the miniature banquet, coming an extended distance away from the china. He extended a finger towards the yellow bubble, hiding amidst the blanket of white rubber, poking at it ignorantly as. Wendy hid an unstoppable grin beneath her palm as it jiggled repulsively, shooting Peter's head back several inches in alarm. His back bristled as his hand instinctively reached for where his dagger would normally be located along side his belt, but of course, he came up empty handed. Finally, as a last resort, his eyes fell upon Wendy quizzically.
"What is that thing?!"
Wendy couldn't help but grin even wider, and it shortly turned into a cheery giggle. Peter shot her a bemused glare.
"There called eggs. They're quite a popular breakfast foot here in England. I don't particularly care for them myself however..."
Peter just blinked at her flabbergastedly.
"Well then how do you know I'm going to like 'em if you don't?!" he retorted in agitation. He hated being the laughingstock of a joke.
The girl shrugged, pouring the lad a glass of orange juice.
"I do not know. However, it is true that people like a different verity of foods. You might really like them." She reasoned soundly.
Peter's face twisted in absolute abhorrence.
"Don't you just have a hot dog or something like that?" he inquired hopefully.
Wendy chuckled patting the boy's shoulder reassuringly.
"Just try it."
Reluctantly, Peter scooped a fork full of the runny glop. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes before shoving it into his mouth. He chewed once, then a second time...the eggs ended right back in the plate from winst they came and the lad practically dove fore the orange juice sitting near by, nearly knocking the glass from its perch, renting asunder. He shook his head vigorously.
"I do not like eggs!"
Wendy chuckled again shaking her head in amusement.
"Tis' fine Peter. Dress, and we shall go into town. I have a luncheon scheduled around midday. We can both eat then and there is also someone..."
The rest of Wendy's sentence stooped to the ground heavily as if an anvil had been attached to the words as she spoke them. Her complexion blanched and her usually placid orbs widened in utter shock and for a brief moment, she froze, nullifying the usual automatic response entailed when such situations arose. When her senses finally returned, she immediately felt her cheeks burn with a bright crimson flush as she quickly spun her back to Peter, trying desperately to cleave the image of the boy's nakedness from her mind.
"Oh...Dear...me" she coughed, her hands rising to her mouth.
A hand suddenly contacted her shoulder and her eyes widened like two shining sapphire's sparkling under the ode of some cool crisp stream. She inhaled sharply, not daring to release it nor, turn to her right or left.
"Wendy, are you alright?" Peter's voice inquired in a flummoxed tone from behind.
A taunt, nervous giggle filled his ears as she quickly shirked his hand as she ensued to walk away towards the door, her hands flailing wildly behind her. Wendy could feel the blood rise a little further in her cheeks and she was sure that it was clearly visible now. She giggled again, more at her own embarrassment then at the awkward situation presently at hand.
"I-I'm fine Peter...just, just tell me when you are finished dressing." She instructed.
Peter rose a brow at her, his head cocking a little to the left. But it only left him enthralled for a few seconds before her reactions wore out their newness and he shrugged it off as if nothing seemed even slightly a miss.
Instead, he turned towards the rocking chair, where the other nuisances had been laid to rest in a neatly folded stack. He quickly grabbed them pulling them on with quite the distaste. He glared at every stitch, to let each one in turn know just how much he loathed them and their restriction before they were even allowed to touch his bare skin. He reserved a special glare for both the stockings and the boots, letting the venomous disdain drip from every corner of his anima. It was a look that would have made even the brave cower in a corner and recoil in fear.
A few moments later, Wendy felt a tap placed once again upon her shoulder. She heaved a great breath before turning to face the lad, begging deeply that some how he was now shrouded in...something...anything. She sighed in relief as she saw his attire and moved forwards to straighten the white collar, dog-eared under his gray tweed jacket flap. She couldn't help but smile at the unruly tuffs of liquids sun peeping out from under his gray hat. So much Peter Pan in every way, even though he was stuck here in London for the moment, nothing could ever take that away from him. She giggled bitterly to herself, smiling in spite of her own stupidity.
'Stop it Wendy.' She mused to herself. 'Just stop.'
"That is much better Peter. Now come, we must depart, I want to stop somewhere before we head to lunch."
Again Peter rose a brow however, before he could peruse that thought, another a rose to take its place.
"Wendy, what of your mother?"
The girl suddenly froze, a gasp echoing into the atmosphere.
"Mother! She thinks you have left! I-I did not realize that you would be venturing back to us at all!" she cried, remembering her small chat with the older woman the previous night concerning Peter's early disembark back towards the Canterbury country side.
Wendy stared out her window for what seemed like hours, watching the clouds swirl in a graceful sweep around the silver crescent as it twinkled its magic upon the sleepy rooftops of the London streets. She could hear it laughing gaily with childish vigor as the stars intertwined amongst eachother, playing tag with the mysterious lady of the sky as she enveloped the tree tops with her breezy arms, all in unison, in a perfect harmony.
She sighed, averting her eyes only to find that they were unexpectedly moist with a sheen of lament. Wendy shook her head, chucking bitterly at her own heart that now betrayed her, as it screamed vile and livid things at her. She challenged its misery by reaching her hands forwards, pulling the shutters of the window to their close for what she thought, at the time, to be the very last. This however was no match for her heart's clamor and it just screamed louder causing the girl to reach up, covering her ears as if it would shut out the agonizing voice from with in the depth of her shattered anima.
"Please," she whimpered, begging for her heart to just let her adult side conquer and let it go.
A warm trail of liquid flowed over the bridge of her nose as the child within her screamed yet again telling her she was doing exactly what she hated to see that her brother had done to himself.
It dryly reminded her of the words her own mouth had uttered to the boy with no fear in the world except one. Growing up could be what you make it, it could be so much more then world saw through the glass prism that they themselves were locked in. For there was a world beyond all reason, unexplored by most and relatively uncharted just beyond the prism gates. It was a place where you could fly free, experiencing the joys and pleasures of both worlds. It was the loophole that most missed and few ever had the courage to find, the go between, where reality and fantasy mixed every single day. It might as well have been the story that had leapt from the page as it were and yet, all was real and true just like the sun warming your face when the coming of dawn crept over the horizon.
A zephyr rose from the west, blowing its breath across the barren tree tops, and towards a rooftop window not far away. Seconds later, it had opened the shutters, before bending down upon its knees to kiss Wendy's lips with a powerful passion and her eyes fell to the stars once again. A small understanding smile brandished her lips softly and she rose to her feet. She retreated out of her room and into the hall. She glanced at the window as the door slowly closed behind her and a melancholic word fell from the heavens to her lips.
"Always."
Mrs. Darling sat in the drawing room, a fire crackling at her feet as she read a very interesting detective novel that had been written by one of her husband's esteemed associates, who, ironically himself, had been a former inspector to Scotland Yard. She could remember hearing him discuss his theories of deduction long before the book had come into print or even before it was ever thought of for that matter. Yes, even long before Author Doyle had become a 'Sir' in the queen's court.
She smiled fondly, glancing out the window of her town house, her slender index finger keeping her place in amongst the many pages of Hounds of the Baskervile. Her kiss gleamed brilliantly in the light of the moon, and it smiled back at the glowing globe for the moon was one of the few rare who actually possessed the Kiss, for there were only three that had come along, one of whom you could least expect. A bohemian boy with no sense of propriety to say the least and yet, it was he who had received it the easiest in which he had then, spirited it away to distant star, where he had placed it upon his mantle for safe keeping and there it had stayed ever since.
A sudden noise elated from the doorway and she glanced over to where her daughter now stood, smiling at the older woman. The girl wore dark circles under her eyes her cheeks appeared ashen as a birch's bark.
"Why Wendy, are you alright dear?" The girl nodded in reassurance but her mother did not appeared satisfied.
"I am fine. I am just a trifle fatigue."
Mrs. Darling looked at Wendy skeptically but nodded regardless.
"Alright dear. Do try and get some rest. Oh and Wendy, will you return these that dear boy, he seemed to have left them resting upon the parlor chair over their." She mused, handing the girl a set of well used pan pipes that were woven with green vines. From their ends swung brilliantly colored feathers, just as the ones that had hung from the pouch on the opposite side of his belt.
Wendy's fingers grazed over their wooden surface and she impulsively lifted them towards her lips, blowing into their hollowness with gentle breath. The light, mystical sound of a pixie wind drifted from their ends and she immediately ceased. Her eyes met glow of the fire and she quickly found comfort within its burning flames.
"This is what I have come to speak to you of. You see, while you and father were away this afternoon, Peter's parents came to call and he left with them for the Canterbury countryside this evening."
"Oh." Mrs. Darling whispered deflatedly, her eyes becoming down cast. "I did not even receive the opportunity to say good-bye. I was rather fond of the boy, he reminds me of something that I don't remember well. But whenever he is near, my fingertips can almost grasp it." Her eyes too mingled in amongst the fire. "Such a strange youth, strange and wonderful at the same time. I am going to miss him."
Wendy's eyes sauntered closed.
"So am I. So am I." ***
"Peter, If she finds out you're here, I'm going to have a lot of explaining to do." Wendy told him pointedly.
Peter just gazed at her astonished.
"I am not sure I understand why. It sounds like she'd be absolutely thrilled." He stated, the air of arrogance sweeping around his being and his head rose a little, his hands finding their way upon his hips and in no way did he look near as broken as he had last night. In fact, if Wendy had not have been a first hand witness to the events of the previous night, she would have never known.
The girl rolled her eyes shaking her head.
"She would Peter but that is not the point. The point is simply this, I also told her that you and your "family" would be heading to America to care for your aunt's best friend who is in dire need of company right now."
Peter's jaw fell agape, his brows furrowing.
"Why on earth did you cook that up?!" "Because Peter, she doesn't know who you really are!" she snapped. "Well why can't you just tell her the truth?" he asked, ignoring the somberness in Wendy's tone.
Now Wendy was known for her patience, as she was quite the gentle soul however, there were those small ways, so insignificant that if you didn't look closely enough, you'd miss them. None the less, they were there and to those rare few who found these buttons, it was these that saw another side to the woman. For, when they were pushed to a certain extent, her patience began running out like the sands of an hour glass and you had better pray that the sands didn't relinquish to render an empty glass before the squall calmed. Peter had, unfortunately, found himself on the very thresh hold of this fine line and the sands of Wendy's patience, were almost depleted.
"You of all people are asking me this question?! Peter, Do you not remember how it ended?!" she practically spat.
Peter's eyes set a wave of genuine remorse her way, which Wendy rendered tad bit odd and off the wall for Pan, it though, none the less, made her heat flip flop and a pang of guilt impaled the muscle like a dagger. She sighed, impetuously pulling him into her embrace, her breath blowing out in the tangled curls at the base of his neck and her eyes shut soundly.
"I'm sorry Peter. I shouldn't have scolded. I am not angry with you by any means." She pulled back far enough to glance into his eyes with out having to release him. "If I am irate at anything, it is my own self." She mused, stroking the soft, tangible curls unconsciously.
"Wendy...I'm sorry."
*** Hours found them taking a leisurely stroll through the freshly greened paths of Kensington Gardens. They meandered along the fine gravel walk ways, enjoying the peace that spring's sweet breath was blowing upon the earth. They took note of all the little patches of violets spreading abroad in all directions across the open fields. They watched the robins and humming birds flit about, singing a joyous melody for the beginning of life, as if to beckon it saying: 'Come hither.'
"Oh Peter, isn't it all just divine?" Wendy exclaimed towards her companion, the blue in her eyes deepening with joy and excitement as every piece of the spring picture began to unravel before her coming together to create an amazing mural of life.
The serpentine flowed soundly, rumbling with that magical melody that only it could produce. Ducks and geese played at one end, kicking up beads of water with their webbed feet, splashing one another in their never ending game. The trees swayed gently to and fro in the subtle breeze that spun through out the air. It continued to loom in Wendy's curls tousling them in spirals before pulling Peter's hat from his head playfully, dropping it into his hands. It stared him straight in the eyes, leaning forwards stoutly, meeting his lips in full kiss before departing from them.
Children gallivanted together through out the gardens, prancing about as if this was their very first experience with the outside world. They would chase eachother, running in circles around the statue of Prince Albert, then circle back to the well beaten stone path leading to a main trail that headed towards Kensington Palace. Spread across the vast open meadow, couples and families shared meals and spoke gaily amongst themselves.
A trio of fashionable ladies dressed in the all the latest designs, swaggered avidly with purpose, discussing a certain couple of "simpletons" that were passing near the monument. Their noses were stuck high in the air, only hidden under their overly formal parasols. Wendy frowned as their edacity struck a deep cord in her heart and she felt the blood in her veins began to boil.
She quickly recognized them to be Mrs. Tinsley, the wife of one of the wealthiest men in town and the daughter of nobleman. Despite her age, she was more of a spoiled child then anything else, eager to get her way which had been the exact opposite Wendy had done and from that moment forwards, then woman had positively despised her.
The second was Mrs. Tinsley's own niece. Miss. Darla Sinclair A plain woman, mixed in the wrong crowd. She not at all very attractive yet, she had a beautiful heart buried deeply within her and Wendy had seen it on several occasions. She knew that Darla was desperately trying to fit in somewhere however, she was with a basket of bad apples and Wendy knew that if the girl didn't find a way to discover her own self for who she was, the bad apples would rub off on her in a very negative way.
Finally, there was Ms. Veronica Fairchild, the selfish, spoiled, bratty daughter of a general. She was beautiful beyond belief, with her fair skin and velvety hair. She had crisp blue eyes, as blue as the sky yet, their twinkle was harsh and degrading. She had been in and out of two marriages, both of which had only lasted a few months. She had scowered her husband's inheritance before taking her leave from them.
Wendy had met the girl long ago, not long after her return from Neverland. Wendy was an excellent horse back rider, for it gave her the sense of exhilaration and freedom that flying had, and when she had been younger, she had taken many joyous rides every single day. It was then when Veronica had approached her , seeking her advice on exactly that topic. She had never been a strong rider and envied Wendy's ability. Wendy, due to her friendly nature and seeing someone in need, did not realize that the girl had an ulterior motive. For in Veronica's heart, there was room for nothing else but envy. Envy for this tanned, robust girl who seemed that she could care less about all that was material. All she needed, was a piece of earth to play upon, to make things grow, to have an adventure. It seemed all she needed to make her happy. But how was this to be? After all, was it not suppose to be that Wendy, was suppose to want to be Veronica, with her possessions and wealth, not vise versa. Veronica had never understood this concept and could not fathom it so, her envy grew to jealousy, her jealously, to anger and her anger eventually to her hating Wendy for everything Wendy was and everything Veronica could never be. Veronica wanted nothing more then to see Wendy just as miserable as she for a change....just once.
Wendy had tried to show her how to ride to the best of her know how. Telling her that you did not have to ride with precision. Just let you, and your house become one. Respect him, and you can fly. However, Veronica's stubborn pride had shrouded her heart in a densely black fog and when had she decided to beat the animal for its lack of obedience to her harsh commands, the creature had responded, getting irate and Veronica would have been killed if Wendy had not intervened. After that, the two never spoke again but it was just as well, for Wendy could afford to do with out the malicious bitterness residing on the woman's blacken heart.
Wendy now glared at them sharply, watching them quickly avert their eyes and yet still hear them whisper.
"That's that darling girl." Mrs. Tinsley whispered.
"I heard that she was marrying the heir to the wade fortune." Miss Sinclair stated.
"To be sure? What on earth could a gentleman like himself seen in some wretched creature like her?! Her and her fantiful stories." Veronica Fairchild added, shooting a look of absolute disgust in Wendy and Peter's direction, looking upon the girl as if she were no more then a cock roach.
"I don't know, I heard that Mr. James Barrie has been taking a keen interest in her work." Darla Defended.
"No?"
"Oh positively despicable!" Veronica grumbled. She regarded it as just one more thing to add to her list of hatred.. "What is so bloody fascinating about Wendy Darling anyway?!"
Peter raised a brow, glancing over at Wendy curiously.
"Who were they?"
Wendy sighed, looking away in agitation.
"No one of importance." She muttered heavily under her breath as she grabbed hold of Peter's arm, leading him away from the small posy, slowly strolling along Lancaster Walk.
Peter just shrugged, following the girl to a near by park bench stationed near the round pond. His eyes darted along the field, watching the different scenes form into view. A middle aged man stood with his two children, a boy and a girl, grinning from ear to ear as the his sons kite soared over the tree tops, higher then any of the others, dancing amongst the wind freely. Next to them, a girl ran with her dog, holding a stick in one hand, her hat upon her head in the other. She laughed heartily as her dog tackled her to the ground, licking her face with his pink tongue. Nudging her with his wet nose.
Near the pond, upon a spread baby blue blanket, a woman in a long white and red dress sat, her brimmed hat resting by her side, allowing her pinned mocha hair to gleam in the midday sun. She was laughing along with a mahogany headed boy who looked no more then ten years of age. He had a tin whistle in his hand and was blissfully playing a euphonious tune. Peter's eyes became glued and he could not remove them from the strangely familiar scene playing out before him. His mouth became patulous and his eyes grew wide, glowing with an intense sensation of déjà vu`.
**
Intensely green eyes feel upon a boy with endless copper curls sitting opposite on the beige blanket spread across the grass. The softness of their green was profound and they laughed along with the smile that was spread across the fair skin, meeting the width of rosy cheeks.
A light music tickled the child's ears teasingly and he found himself laughing lightly along with the twinkle of his companion's eyes. The child concentrated upon each note played as they cast the fog of their spell over the duo, as if it were a portal that lead them beyond the paved streets of London, across the lades of time, and into a world away from reality, a world all their own. Everything seemed to cease existing in that moment. The trees seemed to come alive, dancing to the melody being played across the pipes, glowing with a golden essence that seemed to radiate forever, warming everything in its path. All fell silent, so it seemed, just to listen...to listen.
It was over far too quickly and everything resumed its previous pace as the alchemy slowly faded, leaving only a light trace, found within the very soul of the pipe's player, behind. Clapping filled his ears and he looked up smiling almost timidly at the young woman in front of him.
"Bravo Peter, Bravo."
**
"Peter!" Wendy's voice called urgently, her words finally breaking past the vortex that the lad seemed to be caught up in at that moment.
Why he looked as if he had seen an apparition. He blinked rapidly, before finally turning towards the girl.
"Peter are you all right, I've never seen you so entranced before."
Perspiration crystallized into glass beads before trailing down the boy's brow. Peter's eyes flew back to the blanket and to the child and its mother. They were still laughing together and the boy still played his tin whistle.
"That was wonderful Charlie!"
Peter blinked again shaking his head as if to clear the fog residing in the rafters of his mind. Sometimes, it was a good thing to tidy up.
"I am fine." He assured quickly, flashing her a grin, though he didn't look as confident as he tried to portray.
Wendy could tell by the way Peter shifted uncomfortably all was not fine and dandy. Something had happened and yet, Peter was more stubborn and pigheaded then a mule at times and she knew that there was no sense in trying to goad the answers from him, for he would not budge until he was ready in his own due time. So, Wendy sighed, letting it drop for the time being. At that moment, Big Ben chimed twelve times, indicating the afternoon had arrived in London precisely on time.
"Come Peter, I have a luncheon scheduled at Mr. Barrie's house at twelve thirty this afternoon. We best make haste towards Bayswater."
**
In the fellow streets, a high wind blew from the north, rattling the glass panes of number 14. And though so frigid out side, the air inside the house found itself warming by the fireplace and the gas lamps scattered throughout the rooms of the interior.
Liza had been chasing nana around the entire morning for her weekly bath however, the dog, though old, was still well versed in cunning and had been evading the woman. Liza had become little more then mildly frustrated and began swearing in her native tongue, all the nastiest little curses imaginable. Nana merely watched curiously from her hiding place between the great wall and the hearth of the fireplace, in the small space conveniently inconspicuous to the human eye.
Mrs. Darling, who knew well where Nana was concealed, flashed her a smile as she sauntered past, keeping the Newfoundland's secret. She smiled sweetly, which was much her nature, up at her Swedish maid and placed a reassuring hand upon her shoulder.
"Oh Liza, do not fret about Nana. Go ahead and start supper, we are receiving a guest tonight."
Liza glanced up at her mistress, curiosity painted across her face creating a very vivid picture.
"Who is that ma'am?"
Anyother maid would have bowed their head low, not daring to question their master's orders however, Liza was no ordinary maid. She was quite the spirited soul, filled with the zest for life and all things in it. A little too boisterous for some and no doubt would have been cast upon the street by a stricter owner. As it was, Mrs. Darling had saved the girl from her husband's wrath on several separate occasions and for this very reason it was that the girl and her mistress shared a unique relationship and friendship.
"Sidney Wade."
"Seven places ma'am?"
Mrs. Darling moved to accept the offer yet, stop shortly of speaking. She sighed sullenly, shaking her head.
"No, only six."
A perplexed look filled the girl's eyes.
"But what of the boy Ma'am?"
"The boy has since taken his leave from us..."she whispered.
There was a momentary pause before Liza acknowledged Mrs. Darling.
"Six ma'am?"
"Yes Liza, if you please."
At this, the young maid retreated into the dinning room and towards the china cabinets for dishes.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Darling decided to retreat up to the threshold of distant memories, and she climbed the stairs, in route towards the nursery door. As she closed her eyes, she could almost hear the joyous clamor of her children ringing through out the walls of the house, echoing up to the rafters and then to the outside world. The knob was turned and she entered into the chamber.
Her long skirts floated around her ankles like a spontaneous field of soft clouds. The shone brilliantly into the woman's face and the birds greeted her with a happy little twitter. Yet, she was beguiled by the three boxes resting sealed upon her heart. They were labeled each with its own separate name; those names belonging to her three children, 'Wendy' 'John' and 'Michael'. Inside each box, was the childish mind of each one, long since locked away from the adult world that they had now entered into. The only one that appeared to even have slight traces of being accessed in the last few years was Michael. However, Mrs. Darling now opened each in turn, wiping away the layers of dust collected over a period of time and for the first time she glanced upon the contents of there interior.
Her eyes now fell upon a vision, the pirate jacket that John would wear as he, Michael and Wendy would act out the stories that Wendy would each tell them. It along with the cutlass was hung up, let to catch dust from the many moons that had passed since it had been attired. A brown, wooden box sat beside it, a toy chest, well worn from the passing of time. She bent, lifting the lid to find Michael's Indian attire and headdress. She smiled softly, shaking her head in reminisce. Why it had only seemed like just yesterday that they returned from what ever land that they had disappeared to six years ago.
Mrs. Darling reached under the toy chest, to a simple box, colored from age as her fingers opened it, she found the folds of all preciousness at her fingertips and her heart began to race a little faster. There was a top hat, an umbrella and a small pair of rounded spectacles. Beside that were two white, negligees wrapped carefully with shreds of pink ribbons. Under those, was a small teddy bear which appeared to have seen more then its share of atrocities. Each carefully mended with needle and thread. There were a few Indian feathers and a tangle of vines wrapping each. Mrs. Darling moved to pick up the tomahawk and when she did so, a single sheet of, delicate paper drifted outwardly, one that had been folded in such a precarious manner. She slowly unfolded it with shaky fingers, curious to see what awaited her on the other side however, nothing could have prepared her for the sight she was about to see.
Michael had been blessed with the gift of art and because of this, Mrs. Darling could plainly make out the boy standing on the hull of a galleon, sailing the mist and fog of London at the high top towers of the parliament and Big Ben. He wore a tangled mass of vines and leaves. His mouth smirked in an odd yet mischievous sense and his eyes glowed with passion for things undiscovered by anyone else. The woman gazed at in aghast. That boy...that boy was, but it couldn't be. The likeness was imperlitive and as her thumb ran across the bottom of the page towards the title of the drawing, her heart began to pound steady for a number of reasons and it wasn't just because this boy was the very same who spirited her children away, or even that it was her visitor so much but,...her brows furrowed indignantly...because Wendy Moyra Angela Darling had lied to her.
**
Bayswater street was not far from the gardens and Hyde Park. Merely a block away, a hop skip and a jump really. Bayswater was also a street over from Dunbar, the only thing being the barrier of the two streets was a simple building that you could see directly over the top of.
Presently, Wendy glanced down at the piece of paper residing with in her fingertips, squinting at it carefully. Finally, she peered up at the building in front of her where the number 100 boldly stood against the brass outline surrounding it. She peered over at her chum nodding as she pointed a finger towards the slushy walk.
"This is it Peter." She said, lifting the latch to the gate guarding the entrance to the porch just beyond.
The lad's eyes drifted upward towards the structure of the building while glancing at the white washed statues of the lions, their beady eyes courageously fixed upon the path leading towards the house, keeping close watch upon him and anything else that decided to venture into their territory or their master's.
"Who lives here again?" he asked, blinking as a sudden mist sprinkled his nose from the sky above.
The sky had noticeably darkened, and the air became filled with the scent of a shower to come. Thunder clapped in the distance, indicating to both youths that it would be the best of ideas to get inside, questions could wait. Without hesitation, Wendy climbed the stairs to number 100, grabbing the brass knocker in the midst of her palm before banging it steadily against the hard oak door. Seconds later, the door was opened and an older man greeted the duo at the door. At seeing a familiar face, his eyes lit up, twinkling with a brilliant blue aura that obscured all darkness making the girl instantly forget all her worries about growing up and Peter's little problem for that instant.
"Wendy!" he cried, reaching forwards to embrace the girl, which did take her slightly by surprise and yet, she felt no discomfort. Instead, she returned the greeting eagerly.
"Its nice to see you again Mr. Barrie." She turned to Peter, motioning a hand towards the lad who appeared to be staring off in to space, his attention captured by something else at the moment. "I would like you to meet a friend of mine visiting from a far off place. Peter?"
The boy suddenly snapped to the present, gazing up at the man standing before him and his heart suddenly faltered a step, as though he lost control of his own freeness. His eyes melted into the man's piercing aquatic orbs soundly, becoming instantly intermingled amongst the pools in the liquid sapphire.
"Mr. Barrie, may I introduce Peter."
The man's eyes became just as fixed, green waves mingling with aqua tides. Swirling together in endless wonderment about the other.
"Peter?" "Yes."
After a moment of precarious silence that Wendy wasn't quite sure she understood, Mr. Barrie stoked his graying beard thoughtfully before smiling warmly, standing aside to allow the visitors to pass into the realm of his walls.
"It is wonderful to meet you Peter. Do you by chance have a last night with which I might call you?" "Pan." Came the simple, careless answer which, of course, caused Mr. Barrie to blink several times.
The man's eyes inquisitively fell upon the girl sitting on a Victorian chair near the bay window.
"Peter Pan?"
She smiled lightly quickly thinking of a way to explain.
"This might come of a shock to you sir, what I am about to say for, many might consider it impossible..." Wendy started, as she began to explain to him just how real her stories really were.
Peter had seemed to have lost his interest in what was going on around him, he becoming far more interested in his surroundings and the intricate trinkets. They had passed beyond the great hall and had entered what appeared to be a drawing room. A large, mahogany, grand piano sat stationed in one corner of the great room, just beyond the brick fire place and the easy chair with the Victorian lamp off to its left. The floor was plush under their feet, furnished with a richly colored cranberry ornate rug. Bits and pieces of furniture were scattered throughout the rest of the room, some covered, some not. All were immaculate, not a speck of dust could be seen anywhere on any of the items. That is all but the piano and it twas the piano that captured Peter's attention most of all.
Sitting upon its marbled surface, were several instrumental items, including a tambourine, a French horn, a chime, a tin whistle and a set of wooden panpipes. All were lined in a row and all a sheen of dust covered their surface.
Mr. Barrie smiled fondly at the boy's obvious interest and took the point to elaborate on a subject of which had had not discussed for many years.
"My wife was well versed in the art of music and literature . She was played a verity of instruments including all of which you see there and then some that are not there but not laid to rest in my attic. She collected them and I remember that she would come home with something new every month or so. Her eyes would always grow so big, lighting up a million watts with excitement." He chuckled lightly. "She could have lit all of London with her spirit. So untamable, so unbreakable, it was magnificent. It was she who initiated the family ritual. Every night, we would gather around the grand piano 6:30pm sharp, after all dishes had been put away We would sing, dance, play and carry on. It was almost like a never ending carnival."
Wendy noticed that Peter was paying keen attention to the story at hand and she couldn't blame him, it was an enticing story.
"What happened to your wife?" Wendy asked against her better judgment.
After the look that instantly spread across the older man's face, she could have kicked herself. She felt like melting into the floor and never coming out. The man, her editor, was on the verge of tears. James Barrie reached over to the table beside piano, pouring himself a brandy.
"Juliana? She passed away several years ago."
Peter cocked his head to the side, glancing at the man curiously.
"So, you are Peter Pan? Amazing, truly amazing." He cast his eyes over at Wendy. "Its no wonder your stories were so vivid, they had actually taken place. "So, Mr. Pan, what brings you to London, England."
Peter glanced up from the piano again, his eyes coming to rest upon the older man's again.
"A mistake."
Wendy intervened elaborating a bit on her companion's vague statement.
"Peter has run into a bit of a snag. He came for an abbreviated visit however, somehow, he can't remember his way back to his world again."
James sat on the chair beside the piano, chewing on his moustache thoughtfully.
"Exactly which star leads to Neverland?"
Wendy sighed shaking her head.
"I think the best that any of us could say surmise is second to the right and straight on till morning, but it's a vague description that could be used to describe almost any star." She mused.
"Hmm...true."
At that moment, a maid appeared in the hallway, allotting her explicit apologies for interrupting the conversation. Mr. Barrie shook his head.
"Oh not at all Lotty."
"Beggin' your pardon sir but, Lunch is ready."
"Oh very good." He glanced over at his guests. "Shall we discuss this more over lunch?"
**
Wendy and Peter strolled down the chilly street, trying desperately to shield themselves from the nippy wind and the tyrannical rain that was now beating against the cobblestone. They quickly opened the gate to #14, slipping inside the comfort of the front door as soon as possible, only to be greeted by a cross pair of eyes and a worn piece of paper. Wendy's eyes caught the paper in their view, before rolling into a close as her head sunk dejectedly.
"Miss Darling, would you care to explain?"