Chapter 6: Chapter 6: Lost Boys Found

Lost Boys Found:

(1913 A.D., London, England)

Morning sunlight parades through the partly cloudy winter sky. It sparkles on the frozen surface of the Thames. Mr. Darling sits on a nearby riverside bench, lost in thought. He stares out over a gathering of skaters frolicking on the ice, one hand in his coat pocket fingering the corner of the note he found in his mailbox. It read simply: ‘Meet me for lunch at your favourite bench when you are ready. -Vincent.’

For three days, Mr. Darling avoids the place. Instead, he takes his lunch at his desk, stewing in sour thoughts. Now, sitting on the bench waiting for Vincent, he is afraid the bench will never again be the respite it had been the past few years. He glances at his lunch, anxiety twists his stomach again. He resolves to go hungry… An act of penance for his actions in the nursery. A gust of wind hits his neck. He tugs his collar up against the chill as a hand, colder than the wind, touches his shoulder.

“Mr. Darling! I am delighted you decided to accept my invitation. I know this must be very confusing,” says Vincent jovially as he takes a seat on the bench next to Mr. Darling. Vincent leans back against the opposite armrest, crossing his legs and draping one arm across the back of the bench. Mr. Darling frowns and hugs his coat tighter.

“Listen, I don’t appreciate a stranger butting into my family’s affairs. Now tell me who you are and what you want,” Mr. Darling responds, summoning every gram of indignation at his disposal.

“Very well. Let’s see... Where to begin?” replies Vincent, casting his gaze to the heavens for a moment. “I work for a... non-profit called The Pact of Adam,” starts Vincent, picking his words carefully.

“We provide several kinds of services and, during our routine business, we caught wind of your situation and so we started a preliminary investigation of the matter. In fact, we have already discovered the true identities of those boys you have staying with you. It would appear the Lost Boys were not always so lost after all,” continues Vincent as he pulls a set of files out of his briefcase.

“Really? Are you sure?” responds Mr. Darling.

“Yes. Look, we will not force you, but would you like to at least see what we have already learned?” asks Vincent.

“Yes, I suppose I should,” answers Mr. Darling with a sigh.

“First on our list is this child. Do you know him?” asks Vincent, revealing a picture of a young boy sitting on his mother’s lap.

“Well yes, actually. He is the one they call Slightly,” answers Mr. Darling with a tone of subtle surprise.

Vincent just stares at Mr. Darling as he gets lost momentarily in the image. There is something about Mr. Darling that is truly fascinating to Vincent, though he cannot place his finger on it.

“So he was not always so dirty and wild-looking,” muses Mr. Darling, taken aback at how clean and well-groomed Slightly looked in the picture.

A smile momentarily makes its way across his lips, a smile that he quickly discards.

“Indeed, the boy you call Slightly, once known as Jared Willard of 251B Baker Street, went missing twenty years ago. He was the second son of the well-to-do Mr. and Mrs. Willard. The case was originally handled by one Detective Holmes and his partner, Dr. Watson, but even they could not provide a logical explanation for Jared’s highly mysterious disappearance,” explains Vincent.

“This can’t be right… it can’t be…. went missing over twenty years ago, that’s just not possible. He doesn’t look a day older than this photograph. It’s just impossible,” counters Mr. Darling in shocked bewilderment.

“Impossible, like your children vanishing without a trace out of a second-story window in the middle of the night?” counters Vincent.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Mr. Darling straightens himself and pushes his glasses back up onto his nose.

“Look, I am sorry, but what you are asking me to believe is simply preposterous,” sighs Mr. Darling.

“I understand that this goes against conventional wisdom, but allow me to plead my case. Once I’m finished, if you still believe me to be a charlatan, we will part ways as gentlemen, fair?”

“Very well, continue,” replies Mr. Darling, exhaling surrender. Vincent opens another file and produces a photo of a young boy standing in front of a wall with paisley wallpaper. He is wearing coveralls with a stained shirt underneath. Vincent hands the photo to Mr. Darling.

“Well... well, this looks like Tootles,” responds Mr. Darling, stroking his chin.

“Yes, well, Tootles was once Shawn W. Prestin, an orphan who went missing sixteen years ago,” replies Vincent, as he pulls another photo from his files.

He hands the new photo to Mr. Darling. The picture is of a group of children standing beside a rosebush. Vincent points to one of the boys in the front of the group-shot. The boy’s smile is distinctive due to his missing front tooth.

“This is Richard G. Fisher, I assume you know him,” continues Vincent.

“Yes, but by the name of Nibs, not Richard,” chuckles Mr. Darling.

Vincent takes the photo and hands him another one to look at. It is another group photo. Vincent guides his attention to one of the boys off to the side of the group. The boy has raggedy mop hair.

“And who is this?” asks Vincent, sliding closer to Mr. Darling.

“Well, we know him as Curly, but I assume you know his proper name.”

“Indeed, his given name is Gideon Andrew Sullin. He went missing around eleven years ago from the same orphanage as Tootles and Nibs. I assume you know these twins,” continues Vincent, guiding Mr. Darling’s attention to two of the other children in the photo.

“Yes... yes I do, but names have not been forthcoming for them,” replies Mr. Darling.

“Well then, allow me to enlighten you. Their names are Samuel and Jacob Muldrow, orphans like Nibs, Tootles and Curly, except these two went missing only about six years ago,” explains Vincent as Mr. Darling shakes head, overwhelmed and confused.

Mr. Darling feels as though his mind has been thrown into a rock tumbler. He smooths back his hair with a gloved hand, lost momentarily in deep thought.

“How can this be? It doesn’t make sense, but yet it’s there. How can this be?” mutters Mr. Darling to himself, trying desperately to make sense of it all. Vincent playfully jostles Mr. Darling’s shoulders to bring some levity to his current torment.

“I won’t pretend to have every answer you may want, but I’ll tell you what we know. All these boys except Slightly were orphans who all went missing from Kensington Gardens Orphanarium. Slightly is a bit of an anomaly, as he was the only one that came from a well-to-do family and was taken from an actual family residence, except for your children, of course. And until your children returned, none of them had been seen again. You say they appear to be the same age as in these photos?” asks Vincent.

“I believe so. They are definitely not as old as they should be. But why did they come back now? My children were only gone for a couple of days,” answers Mr. Darling, lifting his head and attempting to regain his composure.

“That is something I would like to find out, with your permission, of course. Oh! I almost forgot.”

Vincent rummages through his briefcase and pulls out a very old sketch of a boy’s face. The paper is yellow with age and is held in a thick glass case. The sketch was well done but not detailed. He presents it to Mr. Darling.

“No, I don’t know him. Is he another missing orphan?” asks Mr. Darling curiously.

“Another anomaly. All we know is that he went missing, like the other boys from the area now known as Kensington Gardens. But, this boy went missing sometime around the year of 810 A.D. Most of my colleagues think I’m reaching, but can I tell you my theory?” asks Vincent. Mr. Darling nods.

“I think this boy is the first, and maybe even the cause of all these other disappearances,” Vincent puts the sketch and all the rest of the files back into his briefcase and snaps it shut.

“Right, well... this has been fascinating, don’t get me wrong, but how does knowing this help me with my daughter?” asks Mr. Darling politely.

“It helps because there is likely more to the truth than even she knows and the more we know, the more we can help her, without her telling us anything, if need be. However, if you insist on getting the truth from her directly we have better methods than hitting her,“ explains Vincent coolly.

Mr. Darling looks down at his hands, his head burdened with shame.

“Now, before we go any further, I must insist on behalf of the organisation that I represent that we make this arrangement official. Here is how this will work; you give us your oath of secrecy and allegiance and in exchange, we will not only help you get to the truth but we will also open your eyes to the world that lies behind this one. So do we have a deal?” asks Vincent, holding out his hand to Mr. Darling.

“Yes… I suppose we do,” answers Mr. Darling as he shakes Vincent’s hand.

Somewhere in a white tower in a faraway land, a chandelier grows another jewel.