Chapter Two

From his mid-air seated position on what Wendy had decided to call an "invisible mushroom" Peter tried to explain himself more fully.
“As I said: for me it seems like a day or three, a week at the most since we were last together: but I feel that I have suddenly aged, as if most of the years I 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 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: about Tinkerbell. 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 star 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.