CHAPTER TWO

The End of an Endless Summer.

'Up, up, up, up, up!' James called as he strode along the hall in front of the boy's room. He tapped his cane sharply on the wall, and, once meeting the door of the room, hit it doubly hard and was slightly scared he may have split the wood.

His calling was met by no sound at all. Instead, all he heard were a few whispers and fragmented sentences from inside the room.

'Boys!' James called once more. 'Up! You need to go to school!'

Those words hit James like a cricket ball in the shins. They were leaving him in the house with Emma duMaurier. He would have no excuse for having writer's block. Before he could lay blame to the boys taking up most of his mind and energy, but now that they were at school all he could do was sit and wait for inspiration. The summer was over and now Charles Frohman would definitely be looking for another play, but the reality was that he did not have another play for him. Perhaps he should just go back to playing cricket with Arthur, then again from what he had heard their team had not been performing overly well in this season.

Finally one of the boys opened the door and James smiled at him. 'We don't want to get ready, Uncle Jim.' It was Jack. His hair was messed from sleeping and his pyjamas were crumpled.

'Well, sorry to give you this news, but the reality is that you need to go to school.' James replied coolly, tapping his cane on his right foot.

Jack sighed and turned around to the other boys, obviously telling them that they did indeed have to learn today. His words were met by a collective groan from all in the room. James ignored it and walked down the stairs, tapping his cane on the banister.

'I expect you all down in five minutes!' He called up at them once his foot met the carpet as he stepped off the last step of the staircase.

James whistled and Porthos came galloping toward him, his gait clumsy and somewhat roguish. The dog fixed him with a stare that told James how badly he wished to go for a walk.

'Not today, my friend.' James apologetically stroked the Newfoundland's head. 'I need to get the boys off to school.'

Porthos whined, but James ignored it. He knew the canine would get over it in a matter of minutes and he would be back bounding through the house as he had done only moments ago. Suddenly, as if to wreck a reasonably good morning, a familiar voice appeared in his ears.

'What do you think your doing?' Emma duMaurier asked, appearing next to James with an accusatory glance.

'Standing.' James replied blandly. He tapped his cane on his foot once more, it was a habit of his now - something he did when he was either bored, irate just extremely impatient. At this moment, impatience was the feeling that washed over him.

'I mean, what are you doing letting that dog inside? I told you to keep it in the yard!' Emma fixed another glance at James, obviously with the object of intimidating him, but sadly it did not work.

Once again, that word - dog. The woman he had met in the park only a week ago had used the same word. James could not recall her name and wondered if she would mind if he just called her 'woman.' If Porthos could speak for himself James imagined he would be nowhere near hesitant to give that woman a piece of his mind.

Emma gave up on James and walked away and out the door, presumably off to gossip about him to her friends. James was surprised that she actually had friends considering her snobbish disposition.

'Boys! Down here! Now!' But just as James called for the boys, he found they were already behind him, dressed and ready for their first day of school.

'Ah, there you are. Good.' James told Porthos to stay and grasped his hat off the rack and put it on, leading the boys out the door and into the cool air.

'Uncle Jim, why do we have to go to school?' Michael asked timidly from beside James.

The Scotsman stopped and bent down placing his hands on his knees. 'The summer is over…I can't well leave you at home alone, besides, I have things to oversee.'

That was a lie and James knew it. He had nothing to oversee and nothing to do. He was thankful that Michael did not inquire further and the group continued to walk to the school.

Finally they turned a corner and the school was in sight. It was an old redbrick building with wrought iron gates out the front. James was not surprised that the boys did not wish to go to school, the building looked dark and foreboding. Out the front of the school, boys played chasings and various other games on the green grass. It looked happy enough, but the happiness seemed to irritate James somewhat. As far as James could tell it was an all-boy's school. James had never quite agreed to segregated education, but it was Sylvia's choice as to where the boys attended and that was the way it would stay.

James bent down on his haunches and surveyed the boys one last time. 'I want you all to try and enjoy yourselves today. If you really desperately wish to come home and you have a good reason, tell one of the sisters and they will contact me…' James saw a slight smile creep upon Michael's lips. James turned to the young boy and laughed. 'But only if you have a good reason.'

James stood back up. 'Now, go on. George,' James said, directing his words to the eldest boy. 'Walk them home, I will not be able to. I have some things to take care of.'

As much as this surprised James, he did indeed find something to do with himself. He needed to negotiate the ownership of his old home with Mary. Since neither of them lived there any more, it was pointless to keep it. James recalled making a meeting with her at The Equinox, a small café just five minutes away. The Playwright turned away from the school and began to walk to the café. For some reason he was nervous about his meeting with Mary.

Finally he arrived at the café. It was a small building and the smell of good coffee and pastries spilled out into the streets. The scent was welcoming and an all too familiar memory drifted back into his mind.

'Oh sorry!' James exclaimed as he bumped into someone as he exited the café. In his hands he had been carrying a small brown paper back containing a Danish pastry, but now the bag was on the snowy street, the pastry tumbling out of it.

'No, it's fine. It was no fault of yours.' A young woman replied, her curly blonde hair placed in a tight bun atop her head, allowing for a few stray strands to frame her face,

James found her the picture of beauty. Her complexion glowed as the snow drifted down around them. Christmas was but five days away and the streets were full of people buying last minute gifts. Despite the sounds of the passers-by, James was not distracted. Instead, he kept his eyes on the woman before him.

The young woman laughed slightly as she saw James studying her. 'What is your name, anyway?' she asked, tilting her head to one side.

'J.M Barrie.' James replied, pulling his coat around him for extra warmth. 'And yours?'

'Mary Ansell.' The young woman replied. She looked down at the ground and noticed the remnants of the Scotsman's purchase. 'Oh, my! Let me replace that.'

'No, really, there is no need.' James replied, bending now to pick up the paper bag and placing the now snow-sodden pastry back in.

'No, I insist.' Mary replied. Taking James's arm she led him into the warmth of the café,

That was the day he first met Mary. He had thought everything to be perfect. They had shared Christmas together since neither of them had family nearby. His life had taken a turn for the better that day, but of course, he could not foresee the future.

Pulling James out of his reverie, a familiar voice found its way to his ears.

'James.' Mary said, appearing at his side. 'What are you doing outside? You did not have to wait for me out here.'

James did not reply. Mary's tone was polite and direct. Of course, she did not seem unkind, but James could tell that any feelings she had previously had for him were now long gone and only reserved for Gilbert Cannan.

The pair made their way into the café and James pulled out a seat for Mary and allowed for her to sit down, before he himself took a seat across from her.

'So, how have you been?' Mary asked politely, adjusting her chair nervously. James could tell that she was just as apprehensive as he was about this meeting. They had not seen eachother since opening night of Peter Pan.

'I-.' But before James could speak, a waitress approached their table asking what they would like to order.

'Nothing, thanks.' James looked at Mary. 'Would you like anything?'

'I'm fine.' Mary said to the waitress and she nodded and went on her way. Mary once again looked at James with a supportive smile. 'You were saying?'

'Oh, aye.' James replied. He had begun to drift off into a daydream. 'I'm fine. The boys are fine; I left them at school about five minutes ago. How are you?'

'I'm good.' James could hear the indifference in her voice. He knew she was happier than she had been in a while, but of course she would not say that to him out of common decency.

'And Gilbert?' James inquired.

'James, I did not come here to discuss anything but our house.' Mary replied defensively. Her affair with Gilbert had been the chosen topic of conversation in many social circles for quite a while now and James could tell she did not wish to answer the same question she had been asked many times over.

James muttered an apology and looked at her hands. He noticed that she was no longer wearing a wedding ring. James snuck a glance at his own hand and noticed that the golden band still resided on his finger. He had been too preoccupied with the boys to even think about removing it. Quickly, he placed his right hand under the table to hide the ring from Mary's view. He was not even sure if he could get it off - it seemed firmly fastened.

Mary either did not notice James' movement, or did not care to comment. James decided that the latter option was the more logical. Silence spanned between the two like a bridge neither of them were willing to cross.

'So, the house.' James said. He was talking more to himself than to Mary. He placed his other hand under the table and slowly twisted his wedding ring off. Placing the gold band in his pocket, he looked back up at Mary.

'Yes, the house.' Mary placed her hand palm down on the tabletop and looked at James. 'What are we going to do with it?'

'Do you still want it?' James asked.

'No, why would I want it?'

'I don't know, I just thought you might…' he trailed off.

'Might what?'

James bit his tongue. Mary had obviously noticed that James wanted to say something.

'What, James?'

'I thought you might want to live there with Gilbert.' James said extremely quickly. He could tell that it took a few moments for Mary to process his words and slow them down in her mind.

'I can't believe you, James!' Mary stood up. 'I come here to talk to you about the house and you bring up something I told you not to talk about only moments earlier. What is wrong with you!'

'Mary, I didn't mean to-.' James tried to say something, but was once again cut short.

'You might want this back as well.' She said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a golden wedding ring. 'I wish I could give it back to you in more pleasant circumstances, but that is your own fault.' With that, she threw the ring at him, hitting him in the chest. The band fell onto the floor with a metallic clink.

Before he knew it, Mary was out of the café and almost all of the patrons were staring at him. He was lucky most of them did not know who he was, James prided himself on having a name and not a face. If people did know that the Playwright, J.M Barrie, had just been verbally assailed by his ex-wife he would never hear the end of it and it would just make his life even more difficult.

James bent down from his seat and picked up the ring, pocketing it. He had no use for it whatsoever. What in the world was he to do with a wedding ring that no longer held its sacred vows?

Slowly, the Playwright exited the café. He could feel everyone staring at him, but he did not care any more.

James walked back to the house. He passed the boy's school and noticed that it was presumably lunchtime as most of the boys were outside playing games. James decided to stop and watch them for a while. It may give him inspiration. James layed his eyes on a boy sitting by a tree. He seemed alone, his red hair standing out amongst the rest of the boys in the schoolyard. James remembered his childhood. He had hated school.

'What do you think you're doing?' A stocky boy approached the young James and knocked the leather-bound journal out of his hands.

'Writing.' James replied, scrambling to get his book back.

'About what?' the boy placed his foot on James' book and James winced, if he pressed any harder he would crack the book's spine.

'Anything. Everything.' James said, once again vainly trying to get his book back.

'Read some to me.' The boy ordered, taking his foot off the book and throwing it at James, causing the pages to crumple. James heard what he thought were ripping noises coming from inside the book.

'No. This is private.' James said, hugging the book to his chest. He would never read anyone his journals. They were his thoughts and his only.

'Fine.' The stocky boy went off in a huff to join his myriad of equally irritating and chubby friends.

James went back to writing in his journal. He wished he could have the day away from school. His brother David had been off school for two weeks with pneumonia. The doctor said it was serious, but would not tell James any more. All he knew was that his mother cried herself to sleep every night out of fear for her dear son. Of course, his mother's favourite had always been David. He was smart at Arithmetic and the Sciences whereas James tended to drift off into his own dream worlds, something his mother detested.

James awoke from his reverie. So many memories had been flooding back to him today. Perhaps it was the warm summer air, perhaps it was because his mind did not have the boys to occupy itself with so it contented itself with giving James flashes of his past. Whatever it was, James found the memories strange and confusing.

James heard the school bell ring and saw the students make their way back to their classrooms. He smiled slightly. None of the boys had wished to come home yet, which was always a good sign. James turned away from the school and made his way back towards the house. He knew Emma would not be there, which was somewhat of a comfort.

As he walked, James swung his cane back and forth infront and behind him.

Suddenly he heard his cane hit something, followed by a high-pitched squeal. James sighed and looked at what he had hit. It was most-likely a stray cat walking in his way.
Where the stray cat should have been, stood a woman he recognised. The woman whom Porthos had stolen the silk scarf last week. From what James could tell she had no shortage of silk scarves, as she had one tied around her neck at this very moment.

'So sorry.' James said and diverted his eyes from the woman. He did not wish to be accused by two women in one day.

'It's you.' The woman exclaimed. James suddenly remembered her name. Odette.

'Aye 'tis me.' James said tiredly. He just wanted to get home and perhaps eat something or even write something in his journal. Today had been an intriguing day and he wanted to get his thoughts down on paper.

'I am still waiting for my scarf.' Odette placed her hands on her hips and stared at James fixedly.

'And I am still waiting for a mother for the boys, but it isn't going to happen.' James retorted curtly and went on his way, not allowing for her to say anything else to him.

Why was this day so strange? First Mary throwing a piece of gold at him and now this woman wanting to take him scarf shopping. James kept on walking until he reached the house. He inserted the key in the door and opened it. He was glad to see Porthos come running towards him. Finally someone who appreciated his existence.

(A/N: There we go. What do you think of Mary's behaviour? I hope I didn't make her too mean to James…well, tell me what you think. Please review.)