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For Children
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| Peter Pan II - The Sequel | |
| By Bagheera | ||||||||||||||||||
| 05 October 2006 | ||||||||||||||||||
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This is an extract, Chapter One of a c. 20K (as-yet-unfinished) story which I began in Sept 2004 in response to an advertised competition. I laid it aside in disgust when I discovered that the challenge was NOT in fact open to "All-Comers" but only to a "select few" Names, ie. established authors who were already successful writers. I noticed in the "Grauniad" today (Oct 5 2006) that the book has now been published. I STILL believe my story is as good as anyone elses!! Peter Pan II : the Sequel “It was a wild and stormy night ……. ” “Aw, Wendy! You always start off like that: it’s boooorr – rrring!” “Alright, John: how about “It was a braw bricht moonlicht nicht, the noo …” “Look out of the window, though: it’s true enough tonight, at least!” Indeed, the moon shone as brawly and brightly as it was possible to imagine: the few clouds in the sky were gossamer fine, and whipped from view almost as soon as they appeared. The tops of the trees at the end of the garden swayed but slightly; there was little or no wind at ground level to bestir them in the same way as the clouds in the upper atmosphere, but it was bitterly cold. Rime frost was starting to etch itself in the corners of the windows. As they gazed in silence out of the window, John and Wendy could just about hear the programme of pre-Christmas music Mr. & Mrs. Darling were listening to on the radio. Suddenly, with no apparent cause but with perfect timing, brother and sister turned as one and began the same sentence, each to the other: “Do you remember when ………….. !” Children of a certain age, of course, have always played both real and imaginary ‘remember’ games, but the events which had provoked this sudden, simultaneous outburst from John and Wendy had been very real for them and for others. Both felt unaccountably embarrassed by the coincidence of their choral speaking, and there followed a brief “after you – no, I insist, you should go first … ” pantomime, like two elderly and over-polite gentlemen wishing each for the honour of holding a door open for the other to precede him. John opened his right hand flat to Wendy: Wendy mirrored the action with her left hand. Both nodded, equally deeply and exactly in time with each other. Both mouthed a silent: “You first” –the simple message would have been easy for anyone to lip-read, even if they had not been copying the identical mouth movements themselves. The synchronisation was eerily perfect. At last, and again with split-second perfect timing, both turned their heads to stare once more at the window. “You’re a fine pair, you are!” came a familiar voice. “Peter!” screamed Wendy, who recovered more quickly than John from the playful, teasing control which she instinctively knew was Peter’s doing, “how dare you …!” Peter Pan sat, or rather leaned at his ease, in the window bay, reclining on one elbow and with his legs crossed at the knee. His free foot swung lazily in mid-air. He appeared to take her question literally, though. “Dare? You ask me, Peter Pan, how I … dare anything?” A shiver of almost invisible wings brought him instantly to his feet: his hand dropped to his belt, fingertips touching the small knife he favoured. Wendy was shocked into immobility: this was not the Peter Pan she remembered. In silent appeal, she turned to John. “Peter? What’s wrong?” John demanded. “Are we no longer your friends?” Peter seemed confused. Glancing down, as if he was suddenly aware of where his hand had strayed, he snatched it away from the knife as if the hilt were red hot. All at once Peter crumpled. The cocky, self-assured little imp John and Wendy remembered from their earlier adventures now seemed to deflate, almost like a slowly leaking carnival balloon trundling across the field after the fair has moved on. Now he sat, suddenly (and, as far as it is possible for a sprite, heavily, gracelessly) on the sill. “My friends, my friends ….. how can I explain, or even begin to apologise for my hastiness? Of course we’re friends – we promised each other that, we swore it would last forever: didn’t we?” John and Wendy could only nod: they were still taken aback at this somehow darker side of Peter which they could not square off with their memories of earlier times spent together. Peter glanced over their shoulders at something which had caught his attention: John and Wendy turned to see what it might be. At some point during the meeting, younger brother Michael had evidently woken up and padded – unheard and unnoticed – into the bedroom, clutching by the hand a teddy almost as big as himself which sat uncomfortably on the floor half-behind him. “Now you are all together” said Peter, “there is much I cannot explain in the time we have ……… ” “Time?” interrupted John. “I thought time meant nothing to you, Peter! Wasn’t it you who said Time meant nothing to you, because you had decided never to grow up?” “Look at me!” Peter shouted, stamping his foot. “Look at me! Can’t you see? The Magic isn’t working any more! I’m … bigger! Older! If you look, surely you can see? And have you seen yourselves? Wendy, John: How much time has passed in your … lives, since we last met?” “About a twelve month” said John. Peter stiffened, as if in total disbelief. “For me it seems like a day or three, a week at the most: but I feel in myself as if I have suddenly aged, as if most of the years I have refused to accept for so long have suddenly been laid upon me. I may have gained some knowledge and wisdom along with the years, but it is not the sort of knowledge or wisdom I would have wished for! Given the choice, I would much rather be my own self again. And look at yourselves! Wendy, you have almost become a young woman ….. ” “Peter, I’m not yet thirteen … ” “And John, you are taller by several inches – even Michael has grown quickly” Peter continued. Wendy was – for the first time she could remember – hurt to think that Peter seemed to brush off her involuntary cry as insignificant, unimportant: indeed, she felt that he had either not listened to her, or (worse still) had chosen to ignore her protest. Michael broke what could have become an extremely tense, awkward moment. With the natural charm of all uninhibited five-year-olds he charged across the room, yodelling an earsplitting : “Pe’er!!!!”. Peter reacted as swiftly as always, leaping down from the sill to catch Michael in his arms before the toddler flung himself out of the window. When he looked up again, facing John and Wendy over the top of Michael’s head, his trademark mischievous grin was back in place: it was as if there had been no more than a single night since they had reluctantly parted company with the leader of the Lost Boys. “Are we ready for another adventure?” he challenged them. For answer, John fetched his top hat and umbrella from on top of the wardrobe. “If you don’t mind, Peter” he said, “We’ll pack a bit more sensibly this time ..! ” ………………………………….. ‘Sensible packing’ isn’t necessarily a time-consuming business. Apart from sensible clothing and footwear, and John’s insistence on taking along his new compass (and a box of matches obtained by stealth, tip-toeing past the living room into the kitchen) the only thing which had to be decided was which bag to put it all in. John’s Scout rucksack seemed most sensible, as it was stored at the back of his “summer things” and would be less likely to be missed immediately when Mr. & Mrs. Darling discovered they were suddenly childless. For the same reason, the extra clothes for all three of them were chosen from their lighter summer clothes. They had never known wintry conditions on their first trip to Neverland, and Peter assured them that warm clothes would be completely unnecessary. “Peter: you haven’t mentioned Tinkerbell, yet. She is all right, isn’t she?” said Wendy, as they stood before the window, ready to leave. Privately she was having second thoughts about how their parents would react to their unannounced departure. The little fairy’s absence from the scene and from everything Peter had told them so far while they were getting ready had not escaped her attention. Peter had been flitting in mid-air, back and forth, encouraging John to pack as quickly and as quietly as possible but not offering any assistance himself. At Wendy’s question he stiffened as if he had suddenly flown into an invisible barrier: for the second time that evening he seemed to crumple like a deflated balloon, and dropped in a most undignified manner straight to the floor, burying his face in his hands. Shocked at this most unexpected reaction, Wendy and John sat either side of their friend. Realising something was not right, Michael toddled over and solemnly offered his bear for hugging. Peter fought to get himself under control. “There’s a problem with her, too” he stammered, once he had his breathing more or less under control again. “I haven’t told you even the half of it, but it’s not just … me, and starting to get … older, whether I want to or not …. Tinks is also being – changed … ” “I do b’lieve ‘n fairies …! ” Michael crowed, suddenly. This was something he understood, youngest or not. Tinkerbell had been so close to dying, last time he had seen her, and was only saved by enough children all shouting the same thing at the same time. Through his tears, a defiant gleam returned to Peter’s eyes. “Yes, Michael, that’s what’s needed!” he cried, jumping to his feet again. It was as if the despair he had been displaying had suddenly lifted from him: now, once again, he seemed full of hope and spirit. Turning back to John and Wendy he added: “We must be on our way: Neverland needs you; and none more than Tinkerbell! I must explain to you on the way: do you remember how we get there?” “You mean …. ?” “Yes, Wendy: it’s still the same – Second to the right, and straight on till morning!” And with that they all lifted, soaring into the night sky much more confidently and elegantly than they had on the first occasion they had flown from this very same window. ……………………………………… “Tinkerbell’s never been …. Completely the same since – since yopu left: how long ago did you say it’s been in your measure of time?” “Just over a year, I suppose” said John. Wendy nodded agreement, and Peter continued: “I mean: yes, she was always cranky, but girls are like that, aren’t they Wendy?” About to explode with her objections to Peter’s innocent (and sincerely meant) remark, Wendy suddenly realised how it would appear to Peter if she lost her temper at this: he had no experience of girls, other than her, really: so if she appeared “cranky”, it would only confirm for Peter what he already held to be true. Peter continued, blithely: “But worst of all: like me, she’s … changing. I hate to say it, but I think she might also be …. growing up. Wendy, can you imagine being just the age you like being for …. for as long as you can remember …. and suddenly finding it’s no longer possible? Believe me, it frightens me: and it’s having an even worse effect on Tinks!” § Wendy had a sudden, intuitive insight. “What makes you say that, Peter? Is she …. getting bigger? Growing … bigger ….?” Her hands strayed momentarily towards her own chest, where the onset of puberty was beginning to define her natural female curves more precisely. Flustered, she dropped her hands back to her lap, hoping Peter hadn’t noticed her embarrassment. She was saved from what could have been an awkward silence when John asked in his turn: “Is she … getting bossy? Bad- tempered, specially when she just wakes up?” The question sounded innocent enough, but it was asked with a significant hint of a challenge in the tone which left Wendy in no doubt that her brother had noticed changes in her behaviour recently which he placed in this category. Rather than rise to the deliberate barb, she let it go, sensing that Peter was likely to pursue an answer to this line of questioning rather than concentrating on changes of a more physical nature which she had recently become aware of in her own body. Peter crossed his legs and – in a very ‘grown-up-human’ mannerism - put a hand pensively alongside his jaw. As he was still hovering in mid-air, Wendy could almost see an invisible toadstool beneath him. “Yes” he murmured, after a few seconds’ thought “that’s just how she is, every day!” John stooped closer, and inspected Peter carefully. “I’m sure I see … lines and …. wrinkles? – which I don’t remember noticing before, Peter: unless you’ve been … I don’t know, screwing your eyes up in strong sunlight?” Peter’s pale complexion ruled out this possibility. Peter showed no hint of a suntan, or any other evidence of being outdoors for longer than normal (whatever ‘normal’ might be for fairy folk).
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Shame the competition was rigged! 
.... anyway, she apparently leads us into a discussion of whether or not a homosexual relationship develops between PP and Cap'n Hook when PP takes over the role of Pirate Captain....!! 
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