"Wendy, do you prefer still or sparkling water?"
"Where exactly do you live in Islington, Wendy? I hope it's not in those horrid flats south of the train station."
"Where does your family name originate from? I don't think I've ever known a Darling before."
"This chicken could use a touch more pepper. Don't you think so Wendy?"
"Wendy, what's your stance on immigration?"
Wendy answered the constant barrage of questions as politely as she could, but she was beginning to doubt that her diplomacy would last much longer. The entire weekend at the Pollards had felt like an inquisition, their queries ranging from petty and simple matters to inappropriate interrogations about her family history and her opinions on political and ethical issues. She felt as if she were back at Mrs. Nancy's with a dozen inquiring little boys. Except these questions required thought and decorum. It was exhausting.
When they got to Manchester on Friday morning, Ethan's parents had taken them all around the city, seeing the best sights and dropping in at the most expensive stores. Then they had gone on to the Pollard's massive house where they had explored every room, ogled every piece of furniture, and met every servant. Wendy was overwhelmed at the size and scale and grandeur of it all. It was impressive and beautiful to be sure, but it didn't seem necessary.
Now they were having a formal dinner for their last night in Manchester. Mrs. Pollard had emphasized several times that it would be a formal dinner, in every sense, but Wendy had only packed her jeans and shirts and she refused to let the Pollards buy her a fancy dress, so she ended up borrowing one of Mrs. Pollards gowns, which was a bit stiff and had very itchy sleeves. Wendy felt very uncomfortable wearing such an extravagant dress and kept worrying that she'd spill her food on it. She glanced over at Ethan, who looked very handsome and at ease in his dark blue suit.
"So, how do you like Manchester, Wendy?" Mr. Pollard asked, his head wobbling in a cheerful way.
Wendy swallowed her bite of chicken. "I love it. I have been here before, but I've never seen it quite like this."
Mr. Pollard smiled proudly. "Yes, it's always nice to have a more cultured view of the city, isn't it?"
"Yes," Mrs. Pollard cut in, smoothing back her bright blonde hair, "I wonder how anyone can get a comprehensive idea of Manchester when they only see it for its industry." She wrinkled her nose on the last word, as if it carried a bad smell.
"Well dear, not everyone has the money to experience it quite like we do," Mr. Pollard said with a wink at his wife, then turned back to Wendy. "Have you traveled much?"
"No, not much. I went up to Edinburgh once, and I've been to Norway."
"Oh, Norway!" Mrs. Pollard exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. "How was it?"
"It was... um... life changing."
"Oh, I would love to go to Norway. It seems to be the only country in Europe we haven't visited."
When Wendy didn't respond, she turned her attention to Ethan. "How is everything at the law firm, darling?"
Wendy exhaled as Ethan launched into an exuberant account of his work activities, glad to have a break from the incessant stream of questions. She couldn't help but think of Peter at this moment, and how all the time she had spent with him had been exciting without being stressful. She smiled as she recalled the comparative ease and anticipation she felt even as they were flying over London, and she realized how much she missed him.
"Did you forget to pack your hairstyling tools, Wendy?"
Mrs. Pollard's question brought her out of her thoughts. "Hm?"
"I was just wondering if you left your hairstyling tools at home. I can't imagine you meant for your hair to look that way."
Wendy lifted her hand up to the customary tangled pile of hair on top of her head, but then let her hand drop to her lap and straightened in her chair.
"No, actually. This is usually how I style my hair. I've decided there are far more important things to do with my time.
"What could possibly be more important than grooming yourself?" Mrs. Pollard asked, her tone icy.
"Oh, just the essential things. Cooking meals, cleaning my flat, going to work. Things I'm sure you rarely do."
Mrs. Pollard looked as if she wanted to strangle Wendy, but Mr. Pollard burst into loud laughter.
"I like this girl!" He exclaimed. "You're spot on, Wendy! My wife has never worked a day in her life!"
Mrs. Pollard attempted a thin smile and Ethan chuckled uneasily, seeming not to know which of his parents he wanted to side with.
"Where is your employment, Wendy?" Mr. Pollard asked, wiping a tear from his eye.
"I work at a children's home for boys."
"Ah, that is noble work. But I can't imagine it pays very well."
"What would you like your career to be?" Mrs. Pollard interjected. "Unless, of course, you plan on tending abnormal boys for the rest of your life."
"They're not abnormal," Wendy said more forcefully than she had intended.
"Well, there's a reason they're in a home, isn't there? They're unwanted. If they were wanted, they wouldn't be there."
Wendy found she couldn't find the words to respond. Her mind was so full of all the boys at Mrs. Nancy's and how much she cared for them and wanted to defend them.
"Wendy wants to be an architect," Ethan said quickly. "You should see her designs. They're really quite good."
Wendy nodded, not sure if she was grateful or annoyed that Ethan had answered for her.
"An architect?" Mr. Pollard sat back thoughtfully. "I have a good friend that owns an architectural firm in London. If you'd like, I'll give him your information."
"That would be wonderful, thank you," Wendy replied, a little caught off guard by his generosity right after his wife's malice.
"Well, it's always good to know someone in the industry," he said with a laugh. "I don't think they would have taken Ethan on at the law firm if my cousin hadn't put in a good word for him."
For the first time since she had known him, Ethan looked unsure of himself. "I don't know, maybe I would have gotten in on merit alone."
Mr. Pollard laughed. "Sure son, whatever you say."
An uncomfortable silence followed. Wendy cleared her throat. "Well, it's getting late. Shall I help with the dishes?"
Mr. Pollard smiled at her. "Don't be silly, Wendy. We have servants for that."
*****
The drive back to London was unusually silent. At first Wendy just enjoyed the silence and thought about Neverland, but eventually, seeing Ethan so distraught made her nervous.
"Ethan, I apologize if I offended your mother. I think I was just mentally drained."
Ethan smiled. "No, Wendy, you were perfect. My mother does not have a filter and you held up under her scrutiny exceptionally well. And I like your hair, by the way. It was one of the things that first attracted me to you." He smiled at her again and then lapsed back into silence.
Wendy was about to attempt small talk when Ethan suddenly spoke again.
"It just seems that no matter what I do, I'll never be good enough for my father."
Wendy nodded. She had noticed that things were a bit strained between Ethan and Mr. Pollard. "He must have worked very hard to have been able to earn all that money," Wendy said softly.
At this, Ethan laughed bitterly. "Hardly. He inherited his money. Most of what he does is safe investing and managing his estate."
Wendy frowned. "So then, couldn't you...?"
"Take my inheritance and do virtually nothing? Yes, I could. But I decided I wanted to actually work for a living."
Wendy shifted in her seat. "Well, maybe he resents you a little for that," she offered. "For having the courage to go out and do something he never could."
Ethan considered this for a moment and brightened, which Wendy thought was an odd reaction. "Maybe you're right, Wendy. Maybe you're right."
He spent a few more minutes reflecting, and soon he launched back into his customary chatter. Wendy sat back in her seat and half heartedly listened to Ethan. She generally enjoyed his stories, but tonight she found them a tad annoying.
*****
Wendy walked briskly down the street to make it to Mrs. Nancy's in time. She was running late because she had spent some time cleaning the kitchen before she left. Her mother must have had a really busy weekend to have left dirty dishes in the sink. Wendy wished she could see her, she wanted to talk to her about a few things that were on her mind, but because her mother worked nights at the hospital she wouldn't see her until Friday. Maybe she would call her during one of her breaks tonight.
Wendy let herself in to the house. The first thing she did was to seek out all the boys and give them a hug or listen to their stories or tell them how wonderful they all were. She was hoping to make sure they felt wanted. Then she went to find Mrs. Nancy, who was doing laundry.
"Oh! Wendy! You're back already? Well, yes, I suppose it is Monday again. How was your trip?"
Wendy chewed on her lip. "It was... enlightening."
"How lovely! It's been wonderful here. The boys have been so well behaved, especially little Trevor. Actually, I don't think he's dismantled anything for over a week!"
Wendy frowned. While that did make for less chaos overall, she didn't like the sound of it. Something was different about Trevor lately, and it worried her.
"Anyway," Mrs. Nancy continued, "I wanted to reward the boys for being so good these past few days. Would you mind running to that bakery a few blocks away and picking up some pastries?"
"Not at all."
Wendy checked on all the boys one more time, put her coat back on and walked out the door.