Finding Neverland
Jack Are you coming, Peter?
James Porthos!
Sylvia It’ll work this time.
James Porthos. Give us your bell, that’s good. Here. Michael?
Michael Yeah?
James Now, would you like to give it a go?
Michael Yes please.
Jack Oh, he can’t run fast enough.
James ‘Course he can.
Sylvia Let him try, Jack.
James George, you hold the kite.
Sylvia George, come on boys lets go back up to the top. Michael. Come on, Peter. Right, George, hold it up. Darling, you’ve got to run now, ready? Ready? Run. Run, Michael.
Jack Run. Oh, I told you this wasn’t going to work.
Peter I don’t think he’s fast enough.
James It’s not going to work if no-one believes in him.
Sylvia Now give him a chance.
James Michael, go back to your starting position.
Sylvia Come on, darling, we’ll try again.
James George, you take the kite.
George If it’ll help.
James Now, this time, I don’t want a flea’s breath of doubt. We must get that kite in the air.
Sylvia Right, look I think I feel a bit more breeze.
James Ready, Michael? Go on, go on.
Jack You can do it, Michael.
Sylvia You’ve got to run, Michael, run, run.
James That’s it!
Boys Yeah.
Jack You did it. Keep running.
Peter What are you writing about now?
James Oh, just making notes. I’m never really certain what they’re about till I’ve read over later.
Peter Something about the kite?
James Now why do you ask that?
Peter I don’t know. If I were a writer, I think I could tell a whole story about flying the kite today.
James Perhaps you should then, that’s a fantastic idea. Why not give it a try?
Jack I hope you haven’t been talking about anything too serious with this one.
Peter No, talking a bit of silliness really.
Michael Can we have him for supper?
Sylvia Have him to stay for supper, Michael, we’re not cannibals. You are welcome, you know.
Mrs Du Maurier Sylvia, Mr Barrie, where have you been?
Sylvia Erm, flying a kite, mother, and having a wonderful time. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were coming this evening.
Mrs Du Maurier No? Well apparently you forgot then. I’ve brought some supper along for us all.
Sylvia You didn’t need to do that.
Mrs Du Maurier Well, there’s no food in the house, is there? Really, you don’t need to wait till the cupboard is bare!
Sylvia Please, Mother. Come on, darling.
Mrs Du Maurier Wipe feet. There’s been enough tracking round here. George, I thought you said you were going to help your mother take care of the house? Coat, Michael, please. Yes. And. Coat hanger. Very good.
Michael Will we see you tomorrow?
Mrs Du Maurier No, you’re going to be helping round the house tomorrow.
Sylvia Mother, there is absolutely no need for this.
Mrs Du Maurier You can’t do everything yourself. Look at you, you’re horribly flush. Wearing yourself out.
Sylvia Thank you for a lovely day, James. Excuse me, mother.
Mrs Du Maurier So, from tomorrow we’re going to have some discipline around here. And not one of you will escape.
Sarah Good evening, Mr Barrie.
James Good evening, Sarah.
Emma Good evening, Mr Barrie.
James Evening, Emma.
Mary You missed supper.
James Perhaps I’ll have something later, I’ve a bit of writing I want to do.
Mary Are you sure? It was a lovely meal. Duck. Sarah let Emma cook this evening.
James Is that right? Listen, what would you think of loaning Emma out to the Davies for the occasional evening? They don’t actually have a cook.
Mary I take it Mrs Davies enjoyed the meal she had here?
James I imagine she could use an extra hand now and again, that’s all.
Mary Huh? That’s very charitable of you. Perhaps we can send over some of the silver as well. And, what about linen? I wouldn’t be surprised if some of hers was looking a bit shabby.
James Please Mary, stop.
Mary Maybe she can send over some of the things we’ve run short on. . . My husband for example. We rarely see him in this house.
James That hasn’t seemed to bother you for some time now. Lords and ladies, King Michael, the benevolent. Protector of the Realm.
Peter That sceptre’s made of wood.
James Yes, well, we dream on a budget here, don’t we?
Peter No, I mean, everyone thinks it’s made of gold, but it’s just an old hunk of wood.
James The means to an end, Peter. What we’ve done is taken an old hunk of wood, and transformed it for all the world to see, into the most magnificent gold. Here you go.
Peter What’s this?
James All great writers, begin with a good leather binding, and a respectable title. Open it.
Peter The Boy Castaways, being a record of the terrible adventures of the brothers Davies, faithfully set forth by Peter Llewellyn Davies.
James Kipling would swallow is own ear for a title like that.
Michael Stab him George, you can do it.
Peter I still have no idea what to write.
James Write about anything. Write about your family. Write about the talking whale.
Peter What whale?
James The one that’s trapped in your imagination and desperate to get out. Come sit down. I have actually begun writing about the adventures of the Davies brothers myself.
Peter A play?
James A play indeed. Yes. And I would be extremely honoured if you would allow me the use of your name for one of the characters.
Peter I don’t know what to say.
James Say yes. Good man.
Peter I won’t go to bed. I won’t. I won’t.
Sylvia You should have been in bed half an hour ago young man. I’m afraid I’ve grown hopelessly lax in my discipline.
James Nonsense, young boys should never be sent to bed, they always wake up a day older. And then before you know it, they’re grown.
Sylvia Their father would have been horrified, ‘course he would never have allowed a dog in the house either. He’d’ve tied him up in the yard. Right, last one in bed’s a hairy toad. You mean a lot to my boys, you know. Especially Peter.
James It seems to me that Peter is trying to grow up too fast. I imagine he thinks that grown-ups don’t hurt as deeply as children do when they. . . when they lose someone. I lost my elder brother David when I was just Peter’s age. And it nearly destroyed my mother.
Sylvia James, I’m so sorry. Your poor mother. I can’t imagine losing a child.
James Aye. She didn’t get out of bed for months, she wouldn’t eat. I tried everything to make her happy, but. . . she only wanted David. So, one day, I dressed myself in David’s clothing, and went to her.
Sylvia You must have frightened her to death.
