Darling Girl: A Novel of Peter Pan(91)

Peter waves a lazy arm around the yard, encompassing the cottage and the school. “Now I have all this,” he says, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “And as you may remember, I’ve always had a way with the boys—I’ve always been able to lead them astray. Now I get paid for the privilege to do so.”

Peter’s smile over the top of his teacup is predatory, but Holly refuses to react. “If you’re not happy here, why not go back?”

His grin twists, becomes a snarl. “Like this?” He gestures to himself, taking in the wrinkles on his face, his tea-stained teeth, the age spots on his hands. “You really don’t know, do you? Good old Wendy never shared the whole story, and that Barrie fellow? He was an ugly blighter. Stupid too. Followed precious Wendy all about, writing down her words like they were pearls and then changing them to suit himself. I listened outside the window more than once. Fairies and dancing lights and happily-ever-afters.” He spits on the ground.

“No. If I went back now like this, they’d eat me alive.”

Holy god, there’s more like him? Perhaps Neverland wouldn’t be a safe haven for Eden after all. But before Holly can follow up, he’s speaking again.

“Barrie got a few things right. Made me the hero, which I am. The beautiful sodding hero, understand? Me. Not who she said. I hated her for that. Who put him in charge, gave him the right to decide the rules? Which games were fun and which ones went too far? We was mates, we was, till he set himself up so high and mighty. I found her. I brought her there, even when that self-righteous ass fought to stop me. I gave her a taste of magic and she loved it, until her idiot brother got his head smashed in.”

Holly nods, afraid to interrupt him, though she doesn’t understand half of what he’s saying.

Peter’s grin is back, and it’s not pretty. “Barrie got the name right too. Came up with it all by himself, so maybe he wasn’t as dumb as he looked.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it. He listens to Wendy’s tales and names it Neverland. Not Wonderland, like that other twit. Or Fairyland or Magicland or anything else. Neverland. The place in-between. The place of shadows and shades. Where people slip in and out.”

He suddenly leans in close and Holly braces herself. “I saw him at the end,” he says confidingly. “He’d always wanted to meet me, told anyone he could. Told the Darlings and the blooming flowers and the statues in the park. The night he died, I swooped in. Figured I’d give the old bugger his wish.

“He was in his bed, staring at the shadows, until suddenly I was one of them. I told him who I was. I told him some of the things he’d gotten wrong.

“?‘I don’t believe it,’ he said, his voice all quavery. ‘She said you were beautiful. She said Neverland was magic. I made you the hero because you brought her there. You fought to keep the door open. Even later, I stood by you when she sang the praises of that dirty old pirate. But now, well, look at you.’?” Peter sighs, rubs his neck. “He hurt my feelings, he did. But he apologized before he died,” he says, his voice chilling. “Besides, like I told him, you can’t be a hero with a big blooming hook.”

Holly freezes. She starts to speak, swallows, starts again. But Peter doesn’t notice. He’s already moved on.

“And as for going back. Even if I wanted to, I’m not sure I can. There are ways out, you see, plenty of them. Or at least enough. Neverland’s a crafty old girl. If she likes you, if she thinks you deserve it, she’ll slide you out a back door when things get grim.” His face turns dark. “She doesn’t like me. Not anymore. So I’ve got to be on my toes when I’m there. No second chances for old Peter. But I’ve been around long enough to have learned all her secrets. And when it comes to getting in, there’s only one way. It turns out, there’s something to those ‘happy thoughts’ after all,” he says, making quote marks with his fingers. “Too bad for me, it’s been a long time since my thoughts have been light enough to carry me home.”

He doesn’t say it regretfully.

“Even Tinker Bell can’t always manage it. Her wings have become sodding useless. Shriveled up. She’s tattooed herself with the last of the pixie dust instead. The original, of course. The mother source. I’ve been using a bit myself in my refreshments for the boys. But it’s losing power.”

There’s so much information Holly struggles to take it all in. But one detail jumps out at her, as she remembers the swoop of starlings in the atrium—Tink’s found a way to boost her power, and she hasn’t shared it with Peter. Interesting, Holly thinks, but she keeps it to herself. “I can’t help you with the happy thoughts, but I’ve been working on—”

“Yes, your little potions and lotions,” he interrupts, grinning at her surprise. “I’ve been following you. Keeping an eye, at least. Paid a few visits to Cornwall, but couldn’t get too close. Windows always shut. Nurses always hovering about. That one”—he jerks a thumb toward the cottage and Tink—“persuaded me to give it up as a bad business. ‘Nothing to see, move it along. Boring place, Peter, all cows and sheep.’?” He looks at her speculatively. “But you’ve got something new, maybe? And whatever it is, you think it can un-age me well enough that if I can figure out how to get there, I can go back.”