Darling Girl: A Novel of Peter Pan(99)

“Interesting theory,” Christopher says. His matter-of-factness surprises her, makes her take the last step.

“There’s something else.”

“Why am I not surprised?” he says dryly.

She ignores this. Her hands are in her lap, and she’s squeezing them together so tightly the tips must be white. “Peter said something . . . it made me think of you. Not you, exactly, but . . .” She’s stammering; she can’t find the right words. “He said that Neverland is a shadow place, like a . . . a threshold between worlds. And he said . . . he implied . . . that Captain Hook fought to stop him from bringing people in. From hurting them. And I thought . . . I mean, with your arm and what you do . . .”

“That I must be some long-dead foe of Peter’s, returned to vanquish him,” he says, deadpan. “Only, of course, better-looking.”

At her look, he shakes his head. “You think I haven’t noticed the coincidences? Or that I’m too sophisticated to consider them? I’ve lived enough to know that there’s more out there than most people think,” he says. “And I’m smart enough to keep an open mind. But who you think I am, or may have been, is a topic we can debate later. Right now we don’t have much time. Not if you want to save those kids. Where is Peter now?”

She gives Christopher the address of the cottage.

“What can you do?”

It must be her imagination, but the pool of menace around him grows, expands, until it almost reaches her. Instinctively she leans away. When she looks up, Christopher’s smile is gleaming and white and treacherous.

“I’m a man of many talents,” he says. “That’s all you need to know.”



* * *





He walks her to her car, stays until she’s inside. It’s started to rain. Puddles shimmer on the ground, reflecting light and images. Holly locks the car doors and starts the engine. Then, on impulse, she rolls down the window and calls to him.

“Please be careful.” There’s so much that could go wrong. For Jack, for Eden, for Ed, even for Christopher himself. “You have no idea what he’s capable of.”

There’s a flash of silver by his side, magnified in the water on the ground. Christopher has uncovered his hook. “Don’t worry,” he says over his shoulder as he strolls into the night. “That’s exactly what they say about me.”





Chapter Thirty-Nine



At home, Nan and Jane are still at the kitchen table, a pot of tea between them. Jane stands when Holly walks in, relief flooding across her face.

“He listened and he’ll help,” Holly says, sinking into a chair. She has no desire to share details about Christopher or anything else in front of Nan.

Jane reads her expression. “Why don’t you go into the library and rest for a bit,” she tells Nan. When the housekeeper hesitates, Jane says firmly, “We’ll join you in a moment.”

She waits until Nan has left. “I’ve told her the bare details—that he’s someone who was once in our lives and now wishes us harm. She had no idea he was tied to us at all. And no idea who he really is. Her mother had a brief relationship with him and broke it off when she became pregnant with Ed. Apparently he could be quite charming but had”—Jane hesitates—“violent tendencies.”

Holly notices Jane shares her reticence to say Peter’s name, as if it could call him here. “What do you think she’s told him about us?”

Jane shakes her head. “Nothing intentionally. She doesn’t care for him at all. But he’s been very, very sly. He told Ed I needed a new housekeeper and that Nan should apply. How on earth could he have known that?”

“He’s been watching this house the entire time,” Holly says. “Even longer than we thought.”

Jane shudders. “Do you really think Christopher can help?”

“He’s going to the cottage.”

“Is that wise?” Jane raises her eyebrows.

Holly recalls Christopher walking into the night, that flash of silver. It gives her courage.

“Maybe not for Peter,” she says.



* * *





All they can do is wait. Jane toasts crumpets, spreads them with butter and jam, brews another pot of tea. Then, having taxed her culinary abilities to their limit, she sets a tray and carries it into the library, insisting that Holly come and speak with Nan.

“It’s not Nan’s fault,” she says. “Anyone can see she’s worried sick as well. She’s had sole responsibility for that boy for years—she’d never knowingly endanger him. Or Jack. Besides, you both need to eat.”

“I didn’t know,” Nan says as soon as Holly enters the library. Her face is so tight and pale that Holly immediately dismisses her suspicions. “I swear, I didn’t realize he was somebody who wanted to hurt you. But I don’t understand why he’d want the boys. He can barely stand to have Ed around most of the time.”

There’s nothing Holly can say about Peter’s intentions that will be reassuring, nothing that will take away the fact that Ed’s life is in danger. Instead she stretches out a hand and places it atop Nan’s. “It’s not your fault. Peter is very adept at using those around him to get what he wants. But I have a . . . a friend. He’s very good at finding people. He’s looking for them now. If anyone can help, he can.”