Chapter Six
With shaking hands, Jane replaces the lid, sets the old box onto the carpet and sinks to her knees beside it. The noise stops. She pauses. Is this the right thing to do? Surely looking through Mother's personal belongings is quite an intrusion of her privacy? She hears her mother's calm voice downstairs, probably smoothing out another unkind comment from Aunt Audrey or something snide from Uncle John or teasing from the twins. "I need another look," Jane whispers to herself and removes the lid once more.
Jane slowly moves the faded, green tissue paper to reveal a brown teddy bear. His bead eyes hold her gaze as she strokes his worn fur. Carefully placing the bear beside her, Jane's hand close around something hard and smooth. She pulls it out to reveal a gold, curved handle, sharp at the end as if broken off something. How curious. What on Earth is this from? Jane thinks. Moving more layers of tissue paper aside, Jane sees a once-white bonnet with a tattered blue ribbon and an old framed photograph of her grandparents and a large dog. Nana. What a kind face Mrs Darling had. Even though she was only eight years old when her grandmother passed away, Jane could still remember her sweet smile, her melodic voice and flowery scent. Jane always felt so lucky to have known her beloved grandmother. Poor Danny was only five months old when she left them, so he had no memories of her at all.
Moving the frame aside, Jane sees a stack of old photographs tied together with string. On the top is three children sat in the nursery. She stares at the first picture. It is of three children, the youngest, a boy clutching his teddy bear with his mouth open and eyes shinning in mid-laugh. The middle boy, looking more serious but with kind eyes behind wonky, round glasses waving a black umbrella with a curved handle. The girl. She is the centre of the trio with both boys gazing lovingly at their sister. She holds a wooden dagger and has a hand-made eye-patch falling off her right eye. Probably the reason for the youngest's laughter. Jane wipes a tear from her eye. Her mother and uncles. How much fun they used to have. She thinks of the portrait of the Darlings on her mother's 18th birthday hanging up downstairs. Here are the real Darling children. Before they had to grow up.
At the bottom of the box are two more packages, one large and rectangular, one tiny. Jane unwraps the large one, careful not to tear the tissue paper. Inside is a beautiful painting of an island surrounded by water. There are mermaids preening on rocks. Mermaid Lagoon, thinks Jane. Bright balls of light swirling all around an enormous tree. That must be Pixie Hollow. And over there by Skull Rock! It's the Jolly Roger. Jane stares in amazement at the Neverland of her mother's beloved stories drawn out in front of her. Who could have made this? Jane wonders. No sooner had the thought escaped her mind, Jane spots the signature in the bottom right hand corned: WMAD. Wendy Moira Angela Darling. Her mother.
Why had her mother stopped painting? This was as good as all of those famous paintings Jane and her friends had seen when they went to the National Gallery with school a couple of years ago.
Jane is wrenched from her reverie by the same jingling and vibrating sound still coming from the old shoe box. The box is now completely empty except for the tiny package. Unravelling the tissue paper once more, a small glass vial falls into her open hand. It is threaded onto a delicate chain that was definitely once silver, but is now extremely tarnished. Nestled beside it, is what looks like an acorn. How curious, thinks Jane, perplexed. This acorn must be goodness knows how old, when I compare it
to this chain, but it looks like I just picked it off the ground yesterday.
"Jane? Where have you got to young lady?" The agitated voice of Wendy, echoes up the stairs.
Without hesitating, Jane shoves the vial and acorn necklace into her cardigan pocket, throws everything into the shoe box and crams it back onto the top shelf of her mother's wardrobe. She quickly replaces Lizzy doll and her father's precious hat and pushes the doors closed once more.
"This is not over," mutters Jane, heading back downstairs to join her family in the dinning room, the necklace tucked safely away to be examined further as soon as her Uncle and his lot have left.