(Josie
Sayz: Here is the newest instalment to The Jane Chronicles. This story comes immediately
after ‘Wendy on the Bus’. As usual, I do not own JM Barrie’s characters, or
those included in ‘Disney’ adaptations or ‘Syfy’s Neverland miniseries.)
Fingers raced over the pastel green typewriter-style computer keyboard. The red head’s eyes flickered down to the keys then up at tablet perched in the slot where paper would, traditionally, sit and back down again, as she worked on her creative writing. With her noise cancelling headphones over her head, all of the background noises around her dimmed to a distant fuzz. Lost in her story world of card tricks and stage illusions, the red head flinched at a nearby thumping sound that carried through her headphones. Taking her headphones off, she looked towards the door, that was once her bedroom door, and called out, “Yes?” The door opened and her mother’s head peered around it.
“Jane, Peter’s outside, asking to speak to you,” her mother said, with a furrowed brow.
“Peter?” Jane replied, repeating the name, as creases lined her forehead. “I don’t know a Peter.” Her mother gave her a blank stare. “What?” Jane exclaimed, with a shrug, “I don’t know a-” Jane froze. Her shoulder blades stiffened, and her eyes widened. “No,” she said, as she shook her head. “It’s not possible. Fox told me Peter got married and-”
“He’s at the door.”
A curious frown furrowed itself on Jane’s forehead, as she scurried down the stairs, her black, office skirt billowing out behind her. Reaching the front door, Jane turned to the mirror. She took a quick glance at her appearance, relieved that she was wearing her smart tight-fitting, grey, knit jumper, with the neckline that exaggerated her petite chest, paired with her floaty, black knee-length skirt, with a cute bow at her waist. Poking her purple rectangular glasses up her nose, she curled her long red hair behind her left ear, which draped down to her bottom. A strand of hair caught around her silver and peridot engagement ring, and she smirked to herself, thinking of the one who made her happy. Despite their current distance, for the week, he was always on her mind and continued to make her smile.
With a smirk, Jane rolled her eyes, and placed her hand on the door handle. A tightness tugged at her chest. She scrunched her eyes tight, gripping the door handle and inhaled a long, slow, deep breath, as she searched for the courage to open the door. ‘I can do this,’ she told herself, as she felt her insides begin to churn around in a circumbendibus. ‘Peter wouldn’t go out of his way to shout at me. We haven’t spoken in almost five years. Come on… you can do this.’ Loosening her shoulders, Jane took in a deep breath, pressed her shoulders back (as Peter always reminded her to do, and all of these years later, his voice remained in her head, reminding her to look after her posture) and opened the front door.
Confusion lined Jane’s brow, as she looked up at the man stood at her mother’s front door. A tall man, of over six foot in height, stood in the porch, as the rain lashed down outside. His eyes, within his thick, dark framed glasses widened, as he looked at her. Taking a hesitant step back, Jane’s eyes examined the man up and down. He may have been Peter’s height, and had those same brown eyes, with the little green flecks in them, but she did not recognise the man stood before her. As opposed to the slim built man, with dark curly hair and plain black and grey clothes that she was so familiar with, this man before her wore a royal blue zip up fleece, with a red, vertical stripe down the centre, which drew attention to the weight sat around his waistline. His hair was parted at his right, combed over and held down with grease. His cheeks were podgy, causing the man’s face to appear large and round, with a greying beard. Before she could speak, Jane’s eyes lowered to the yellow-gold wedding band on the man’s right hand, causing the lines on her brow to deepen. ‘Your wedding ring usually goes on your left hand,’ she thought.
“Jane!” beamed the man stood before her, having hesitated and allowed his eyes to dance over her body, as she had examined him. Jane’s eyebrows slanted together, as she recognised his voice. “Jane,” he said with a big grin, before forcing a swallow. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Peter?” murmured Jane, not wanting to believe that the man before her was the man that she once knew. “Peter Pan, is that really you?”
“Yes, it’s me,” Peter replied, with a chuckle. “I haven’t changed that much, surely?” Jane gave him a weak smile, as she ran a hand across the back of her neck.
“Peter, what are you doing here? How did you even know I was going to be here?” she asked, with a frown and slowly shook her head, in a sense of disbelief. ‘Out of all the weeks, the entire time that we have been apart, how did he know that this week I was going to be at Mum’s?’
“Lucky guess?” he shrugged, allowing a smile to stretch across his face, as his brow rose. Jane’s expression softened, as she smiled along with him. As their eyes met, Jane’s smile drained from her face, as she thought back to her encounter, with Wendy, on the bus the other day.
“Wendy told you, didn’t she?” Jane muttered, with a sigh and rolled her eyes. “That’s why you’re here,” she snapped. Her expression snarled, and she tilted her head to her right, folding her arms, in a huff, at her chest. “Wendy sent you.”
“Wendy?” repeated Peter, scrunching his nose, as though he had a sour taste in his mouth. “Why would I have spoken to Wendy?” he frowned. “I’m here to speak to you.”
Upon hearing Peter’s reply, Jane’s expression softened. She relaxed her shoulder blades, not realising that she had been tensing them. Jane’s insides fluttered and her cheeks tingled, as she felt the heat rise to her cheeks. “Okay…” Jane replied, swallowing at the lump in her throat, certain that her cheeks had turned a rosy hue. She pinched her lips in and shot her eyes down, to look at her feet.
“It’s just been a while,” said Peter, with a shrug. Forcing a swallow, he gripped a hand to the back of his neck and gave Jane a weak smile. “How have you been?”
“I’m fine,” Jane shrugged. A slight twinge pulled at Jane’s heart, as she flickered a glance down at Peter’s ring on his ring-finger, but his not-ring hand. “It seems like you’re doing great.” As a fluttering began in her stomach, Jane looked up at Peter. Their eyes met, and Jane felt a blush rush back to her cheeks.
“Yeah,” Peter grinned, with another shrug, as he scratched the back of his head.
Jane’s eyes widened and her heart gave a thud, as she noticed Peter’s grin falter a little. Despite his cheerful appearance, Jane could not help but feel a pang of sadness coming from Peter. She knew that he was lying, not in what he said, but deep down, he was lying to himself. The way his brows slanted together for a millisecond, when he answered her. The way he shrugged, prodding the right corner of his mouth into his cheek, instead of his left. He may look like a different man, but Peter’s mannerisms remained the same. Jane averted her eyes to the floor, feeling a deep sadness knot in the pit of her stomach, unhappy for Peter’s apparent sadness. “Peter, why are you here?” asked Jane, with more confusion to her tone than she had wished she had.
“Sorry?” Peter muttered.
“I haven’t seen you in years,” Jane reminded him. “You told me to leave you alone forever, but refused to tell me why, or what I had done wrong.”
“Yeah… about that-” Forcing a swallow, Peter’s brows slanted together and his posture sank.
“So, what are you doing here?” she asked him again, sadness and a sense of hurt creeping into her voice. “Why are you standing in the porch to my mum’s house, asking to speak to me?”
“I just thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing,” Peter replied, with a simple shrug. The lines on Jane’s brow returned.
“You wanted to see how I was doing?” repeated Jane, slowly. Her lips parted and her throat began to tighten, as her brows slanted together.
“Yeah,” he replied, with another shrug.
“Peter,” Jane sighed, her shoulders deflating, as her arms flopped at her sides. Gazing up at him, Jane tilted her head to one side. “You can’t just show up, out of the blue, almost five years later and expect that we can continue where we left off.”
“I can’t?” Peter replied, with a frown. Jane’s eyes widened, with disbelief. “Right, I can’t,” he rephrased, with a firm nod. “So, erm, would you like to go for a coffee?”
“I don’t drink coffee, Peter,” muttered Jane, in a small voice, lowering her sight to his shoes.
“Of course, I remember that,” Peter smirked, with a slight chuckle to his voice. “A hot drink then? What d’you say?”
“Right now?” Jane frowned.
“There’s no time like the present,” Peter replied, with a grin. Jane flickered her eyes from Peter’s to the storm outside, and back again. “Oh yeah,” he muttered, running a hand across the back of his neck, as his brow shot up. “I could drive us. I’m parked right there,” he said, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the hedge, outlining Jane’s mum’s house. Protruding out from edge of the privet, a silver Mystery Machine-sized van was parked on the curb right outside of Jane’s mum’s house. The lines on Jane’s brow returned, expecting to see Peter’s white steed. “I drive a van now,” he informed her, with a hint of excitement to his voice.
“Sorry Peter, I’m busy,” Jane sighed. She shook her head and folded her arms to her chest. “I’m in the middle of working on something, and I’m only at my mum’s because Severn Trent are doing water works at mine and James’, so we have no running water.”
“Oh,” Peter replied, surprise clear in the tone of his voice and his risen eyebrows.
“I think you’ll really like James,” Jane told Peter, as her expression softened to a gentle smile. Peter averted his eyes to the storm outside and slid his hands into his pockets. “Soon,” Jane blurted out, in a very quiet voice. Peter turned to face her, with a slight flush to his cheeks. “Maybe we could meet up soon…” Jane said, as she hunched her shoulders and gave Peter a pleading smile. “At the Babbling Brook café, over the weekend?”
“Yeah,” replied Peter in an instant, with wide eyes. “Yes, I’d like that,” he added in a calmer tone.
“Me too,” Jane smiled, gazing into Peter’s deep brown eyes, with little green flecks. Peter locked eyes with Jane and a blushing smile stretched across his face. As Jane pinched her lips in, Peter smirked and gave a faint chuckle.
“I guess I should get going,” Peter said, with a weak smile and a shrug. Jane nodded, with a soft smile. “So… Babbling Brook, Saturday, around two-ish?” he asked, with that twinkle in his eye that Jane knew well.
“Yeah,” replied Jane, with a nod and loving smile. “I’ll see you on Saturday. Take care, Peter.”
“You too,” Peter grinned, giving Jane a firm nod, before jogging from the porch door to his car. Lingering in the doorway, Jane waited until Peter got into his van and pulled away. With blushing cheeks, she waved him off, before returning inside.
- Josie -
