‘Those ladies: are you sure they wanted to eat us?’
‘A few may be vegetarians,’ said Ravello quickly, then drew Slightly aside to shake him by the hand. (That is to say, Slightly found his palm filled with crinkled wool.) ‘It is entirely thanks to you that we escaped! Such skill, such artistry! A maestro in the making! I suppose that is what you wish to be, is it? When you are grown-up? A musician?’
Slightly’s ears were still pink from all the praise. ‘Me?’ he said, searching for enough of Ravello’s face to see if he was teasing. But the pale brown eyes fastened on his were earnest and intense, while the sleeve unravelled and unravelled. Whole hanks of wool filled Slightly’s hands.
And all at once he saw a picture in his head, like reflections in a Hall of Mirrors: himself a grown man, a thousand tunes tucked away inside his head like the doves in a magician’s top hat; playing the clarinet with never a single wrong note; a host of faces smiling with pleasure as, with pursed lips and closed eyes, he blew music out into the world like so many soap bubbles.
‘Oh yes!’ said Slightly. ‘I would love to be one of those when I grow up!’
‘Then who can prevent it?’ said the Ravelling Man, and his eyes flashed with pure delight before he turned away.
He never slept. Wendy (who tucked in everybody else at night and listened to their dreams each morning) could not help but notice: the Ravelling Man never slept at all, but sat up all night, darning his tattered garment. He was so adept with needle and wool and he could do it one-handed. Meanwhile, his eyes scanned the darkness and his head tilted this way and that as he listened for … for what? Danger? He must be guarding them from danger, but Wendy preferred not to ask what kind.
The Explorers saw any number of wonders in the days that followed. They saw hills that rose and fell, breathingly. They saw rivers that flowed uphill, flowers that opened their trumpets and sang, trees that snatched birds out of the sky and ate them, pebbles that floated like corks. John trod on a mirage and sank up to his waist, whereas Tootles managed to cross a river using only the fish for stepping-stones. Once, it even rained conkers—and not one tree in sight.
‘What happened to summer?’ asked Slightly, half remembering sunnier times.
But Pan only shrugged as if he had not noticed. ‘I suppose it got lost,’ he said.
To pass the time, they discussed what they would find when, finally, they reached Neverpeak and the treasure chest hidden there. The Twins suggested gold doubloons and pieces of eight and nine. But in Neverland, rainbows stand with both feet on the ground, so, when the weather is right, you can easily go to the end of some rainbow and dig up a pot of gold, if that’s what takes your fancy. Consequently, there is nothing very marvellous about gold coins (unless they are chocolate inside).
Tootles thought there would be crowns and tiaras, diamond necklaces and golden pocket watches. ‘That’s the sort of thing Hook would steal from the poor helpless princesses and sultanas who fell into his merciless hands!’ she said.
Fireflyer thought sherbet lemons. Puppy was hoping for mutton chops. Wendy thought bolts of Indian silk, handcoloured picture books, and Fabergé eggs from Russia.
‘Fabergees don’t lay eggs,’ said Peter with a snort of contempt, though he did not say what treasure he expected to find in the chest. Ravello, running the comb slowly through Peter’s hair, curling the glossy locks around a pencil, said nothing at all.
‘What would you wish for, Mr Ravello?’ asked Wendy.
The comb came to a halt. The brows knit in a way that suggested a fearful headache raging behind the valet’s eyes. ‘I cannot wish, miss,’ Ravello said. ‘No more than I can dream. To do either, a man needs sleep. And I do not sleep, you see.’
‘It all depends what Hook prized most in all the world,’ said Slightly who had been riding
‘A few may be vegetarians,’ said Ravello quickly, then drew Slightly aside to shake him by the hand. (That is to say, Slightly found his palm filled with crinkled wool.) ‘It is entirely thanks to you that we escaped! Such skill, such artistry! A maestro in the making! I suppose that is what you wish to be, is it? When you are grown-up? A musician?’
Slightly’s ears were still pink from all the praise. ‘Me?’ he said, searching for enough of Ravello’s face to see if he was teasing. But the pale brown eyes fastened on his were earnest and intense, while the sleeve unravelled and unravelled. Whole hanks of wool filled Slightly’s hands.
And all at once he saw a picture in his head, like reflections in a Hall of Mirrors: himself a grown man, a thousand tunes tucked away inside his head like the doves in a magician’s top hat; playing the clarinet with never a single wrong note; a host of faces smiling with pleasure as, with pursed lips and closed eyes, he blew music out into the world like so many soap bubbles.
‘Oh yes!’ said Slightly. ‘I would love to be one of those when I grow up!’
‘Then who can prevent it?’ said the Ravelling Man, and his eyes flashed with pure delight before he turned away.
He never slept. Wendy (who tucked in everybody else at night and listened to their dreams each morning) could not help but notice: the Ravelling Man never slept at all, but sat up all night, darning his tattered garment. He was so adept with needle and wool and he could do it one-handed. Meanwhile, his eyes scanned the darkness and his head tilted this way and that as he listened for … for what? Danger? He must be guarding them from danger, but Wendy preferred not to ask what kind.
The Explorers saw any number of wonders in the days that followed. They saw hills that rose and fell, breathingly. They saw rivers that flowed uphill, flowers that opened their trumpets and sang, trees that snatched birds out of the sky and ate them, pebbles that floated like corks. John trod on a mirage and sank up to his waist, whereas Tootles managed to cross a river using only the fish for stepping-stones. Once, it even rained conkers—and not one tree in sight.
‘What happened to summer?’ asked Slightly, half remembering sunnier times.
But Pan only shrugged as if he had not noticed. ‘I suppose it got lost,’ he said.
To pass the time, they discussed what they would find when, finally, they reached Neverpeak and the treasure chest hidden there. The Twins suggested gold doubloons and pieces of eight and nine. But in Neverland, rainbows stand with both feet on the ground, so, when the weather is right, you can easily go to the end of some rainbow and dig up a pot of gold, if that’s what takes your fancy. Consequently, there is nothing very marvellous about gold coins (unless they are chocolate inside).
Tootles thought there would be crowns and tiaras, diamond necklaces and golden pocket watches. ‘That’s the sort of thing Hook would steal from the poor helpless princesses and sultanas who fell into his merciless hands!’ she said.
Fireflyer thought sherbet lemons. Puppy was hoping for mutton chops. Wendy thought bolts of Indian silk, handcoloured picture books, and Fabergé eggs from Russia.
‘Fabergees don’t lay eggs,’ said Peter with a snort of contempt, though he did not say what treasure he expected to find in the chest. Ravello, running the comb slowly through Peter’s hair, curling the glossy locks around a pencil, said nothing at all.
‘What would you wish for, Mr Ravello?’ asked Wendy.
The comb came to a halt. The brows knit in a way that suggested a fearful headache raging behind the valet’s eyes. ‘I cannot wish, miss,’ Ravello said. ‘No more than I can dream. To do either, a man needs sleep. And I do not sleep, you see.’
‘It all depends what Hook prized most in all the world,’ said Slightly who had been riding
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