Susan waited eagerly upon the platform at the train station. Her family was returning home today. Mother and Father were coming back from Bristol, and Peter, Edmund, and Lucy were returning home from holiday. They had gone to celebrate Lucy's graduation, but Susan had not gone with them, of course. How could she, when Will Fox had begged her so insistently to go with him to the opening of that new play? But Lucy had understood. She always did. And she had promised to bring Susan back pictures of all of them so that she would not feel like she had missed anything.
Suddenly Susan jumped. Had someone called her name? There is was again! Someone was whispering her name very loudly in a voice she faintly remembered. She looked around, but there was no one else on the platform. How strange, she thought. Other people should be here to greet the travelers as well, shouldn't they? Maybe she had read the time wrong? She looked up at the schedule posted above the ticket office. But no, the train was supposed to arrive at three o'clock. She looked at her watch; it was well past three now. The train was almost ten minutes late. Where was everyone? And who had called her name? It sounded so familiar.
Then she heard her name called again, but this was far different than the other time. This time she recognized the voice; it was Mr. Coggins, the stationmaster. He was usually in the ticket office, but now he was running down the platform towards her, waving franticly.
"Miss Pevensie!", he called to her as he ran. "Miss Pevensie!"
Susan smiled her brightest smile and waved back. "Hello, Mr. Coggins!"
"Miss Pevensie!", he repeated as he finally came up next to her. "I have been looking everywhere for you."
"Really, Mr. Coggins?", she replied, surprised. "Why?"
"Your family," he began. Susan smiled again.
"Yes, they are coming home today," she told him. "The train is late now, and I cannot understand why..."
"There was an accident," Mr. Coggins interrupted her. She stared blankly up at the kindly old man for a long moment, wondering if she was dreaming all of this. She really had to be; it didn't make any sense at all.
"Accident?", she repeated, smiling as if she thought Mr. Coggins was telling her a joke. It always annoyed Edmund when she did that. He said she looked insincere. "What kind of an accident?"
"It's all over town now," Mr. Coggins told her. "I guess you didn't hear because you came early to wait for them. The train crashed just outside the West End." Susan felt all the blood leave her face and suddenly she was very lightheaded. Was this how people felt before they fainted? Susan had always wanted to faint; she thought it would be terribly dramatic. But now she realized unconsciousness was hardly a desirable state if one only got to it by hearing horrible, horrible news!
"Where?", she asked, though Mr. Coggins had plainly just told her where. "Is everyone alright?" Of course they were alright! What a silly question to ask! Father was with them, and nothing bad ever happened to Peter, so of course everyone was alright! But Mr. Coggins said nothing. He just looked at her very sadly.
"Your family was in the first car all by themselves," he told her. "When the engine crashed into the oncoming one the car broke free and was derailed. None of your family survived."
"No!", cried Susan. Tears sprang up in her eyes and blurred her vision. "They can't be! Peter never...And Mother! And Lucy! They can't be all gone! They can't!"
Through a very strange mist which seemed to be seeping into the station she saw the old station-master say something to her, but she couldn't hear him at all. She felt as if she were being carried away in a very strong tide, like when you have not listened to your mother and swum too far out to sea. Then a strange black mist swept over everything and she couldn't see anymore.
When Susan woke up she was lying down upon one of the benches along the wall of the station, and Mr. Coggins was hovering over her looking very concerned. She sat up quickly and immediately little white stars danced before her eyes. Susan moved her hand as if to brush them away, but found this didn't do much. "What happened?", she asked, feeling dizzy. But before Mr. Coggins could say anything, she remembered everything with a flash like a burst of lightning; her family had died in a railroad accident. She jumped up.
"A taxi, Mr. Coggins," Susan said in a no-nonsense tone of voice. "I need a taxi! And quickly!" The little old man nodded and hurried off to go and call one for her. Susan followed after him as fast as she could in her high-heeled pumps, which was not half as fast as she could have had she been wearing sensible shoes. She felt like tearing them off and dropping them in the nearest sewer, but of course that would never do. Finally she made it out of the station and into the taxi. Mr. Coggins closed the door behind her and told the driver where to take her. Susan never even heard what he said; the tears were creeping into her eyes again, and this time she could not hold them back. They flowed freely down her face, making her cheeks feel rather sticky as they ruined all her make-up, but for the first time Susan didn't care. She was thinking of the last time she had seen her family, on the very train station platform she had just left. Peter had hugged her affectionately, but with the distant air which he had affected around her since...how long? Probably since they had gone to America together, all those years ago. So had Edmund. He had told her she looked ridiculous with so much paint on her face, and she had laughed at him and called him a silly boy. Now she wished she had said anything but that. But then, how was she to have know that was the last time she would see him? He could have been nicer about it, if he didn't like her makeup. And then there was Lucy. Lucy, who was always so bouncy and cheerful, had seemed very strangely sad and withdrawn. Oh, she had smiled and told Susan she would bring her back a present and wished she could go to the play, too. But Susan had caught Lucy looking at her with a silent look of sadness in her eyes, almost as if Lucy disapproved of her. Susan remembered the last thing Lucy had whispered in her ear before she boarded the train. She had leaned down from the stairs and kissed Susan on the cheek and said "We never dreamed of Narnia, Susan. None of us have good enough imaginations for that." Susan had laughed at her, as she always did. Lucy was forever trying to convince Susan that those games they had all played as children had been real. The funny thing was that Peter and Edmund, whom Susan considered to be extremely smart about everything else, were always trying to do the same, and were always sad and angry when she told them they were all imagining things. Susan always said that they couldn't bear the thought of not being kings.
And what if they couldn't? Why did it matter? Why had Susan always been so insistent about winning every argument that had to do with Narnia? She was willing enough to let her siblings have their own way in everything but this. Susan realized this with a start. She looked out the window of the taxi at the passing buildings. Why had she always laughed at them, and then felt so empty inside? Winning an argument usually made her feel better, not worse. As she looked up at the passing sky she remembered how when they were younger Lucy used to get into bed with Susan on a cold winter night and tell Susan stories of Narnia, because Lucy said Susan had forgotten already. Susan had always listened as one listens to a fairy tale; you know it isn't true, but you would like to pretend so for a little while. So it would seem she had forgotten.
"But it never happened!", Susan whispered fiercely. The taxi driver looked back at her with a curious expression on his face, and Susan smiled half-heartedly. The driver shrugged and turned back to his driving, and Susan turned back to her thoughts. Of course none of it had ever happened, she thought. If it had she would have remembered! Suddenly there was that whisper again. "Susan," it said, louder than it had at the train station. Susan jumped and looked up at the driver, but he paid no attention to her. She looked around wildly, but once again there was no one there. A peculiar tingling feeling went down her spine, and something in her said she knew that voice and that feeling. In her mind she saw Lucy look up at her and smile and say "It feels like magic!".
Susan could not take it any longer. She refused to be tormented into believing nonsense! If only she knew that the more nonsensical a thing seems, the more likely it is that it's the truth. She reached out and grabbed the handle of the door. Fortunately for Susan, the taxi stopped just then, and when she threw herself out onto the pavement, she didn't fall over or roll out into the street as she could have if it had not stopped. The driver yelled to her to pay her fee, but she didn't hear him. Before her was a hoard of people crowded around a mess of railroad cars and derailed engines, and she plunged into the crowd, elbowing her way to the front of it. What she found when she got there was a mess of twisted metal and luggage spewed all over the ground. A policeman yelled at her to step back, but she of course didn't listen, for she saw on one of the pieces of luggage not too far from her a name plate with Lucy's name on it. She hurried over and picked it up. It was broken open, and all Lucy's clothes and things fell on the ground at Susan's feet. From the bottom of the suitcase fluttered a single piece of paper, which landed on top of all the other clothes. Susan bent over and picked it up. It was a rather old piece of paper. The sides were all wrinkled the way paper gets when it dries after being wet. When she turned it over, she found it was a child's drawing in pencil of two young girls and a lion. The first was dark haired and carried a bow, and the second had short hair and a dagger at her waist. They had their hands in the lion's mane, and around them were dark trees. The signature on the bottom was Lucy's. Susan recognized herself and Lucy as the girls, but the lion she couldn't remember. As she stared at it, the picture seemed to come alive. She was walking in the woods at night, and Lucy was with her. They were walking towards someplace, and eerie cries echoed in the dark forest, and she knew that wherever they were going held something very evil. And yet they were not afraid, because they were with...who were they with? She felt as if she should remember...
"Susan." Again the whisper cut into her thoughts, but it wasn't a whisper anymore. It was more like a gentle beckoning. Susan whirled around and behind her in the crowd was a giant lion, just like the one in Lucy's picture. No one else seemed to notice him, but Susan did, and all of a sudden she felt very frightened. Now that he was right there, it was impossible not to know who he was.
"Aslan!"
"Peter!", Lucy called to her brother as they hiked up a steep ravine. Aslan had said that the only way to get to their parents was to go 'Further up and further in!', but he hadn't told them they would have to go this far! Lucy felt as she hadn't stopped walking for days! Next to her Jill and Polly also paused to catch their breaths. Above them Peter, Edmund, Eustace and the Professor were climbing all over the mountain path as agily as little boys. Lucy was beginning to wonder if they were little boys again. "Please remember that not all of us are robed for climbing as you are!", she reminded Peter.
"Nonsense!", Edmund called back down. "You roamed all over Narnia in a dress like that when we came to rescue Caspian!"
"It wasn't made of silk then!", Lucy fired back. And she had a point. It was much easier to climb in a dress when you weren't worried about ruining it.
"Digory, be careful!", Polly called up from some way down the path. "You aren't as young as you once were!" The Professor laughed at her. Apparently he didn't agree with her.
"Come on, Lucy!", said Edmund. "You're acting like Susan on a bad hair day!" Eustace and Jill both laughed, but Lucy and Peter didn't, so Eustace and Jill stopped abruptly and looked around awkwardly. Lucy was looking up at Peter, and Peter wasn't looking at anything in particular.
"Don't joke about Susan, Ed," Peter said very quietly. "I'm not quite ready for that yet." Edmund immediately became silent, the way he always did when Peter chastised him.
"I'm sorry," Edmund said immediately.
"She forgot everything, did she?", the Professor asked, sinking down onto a rock and stretching out his legs, which were more sore than he cared to tell, but they seemed to be getting better instead of worse. Narnian air has a peculiar effect on one's constitution that way.
"That was how she coped, don't you see?", Peter insisted. He turned to Edmund. "You and Lucy got to come back, but we were told oh, so gently that we would never see Narnia again."
"That was rather harsh," Polly agreed. "Even Digory and I weren't told that."
"But you did see Narnia again," Jill piped up. Peter gave a short laugh, like those your parents give when they are sad and you try to cheer them up.
"Yes, because I never gave up hope that maybe Aslan was just telling us another riddle," he replied. "Susan was too practical to be a dreamer, remember?"
Lucy sighed. "Aslan was always telling her she listened to her fears too much."
"And I was right, wasn't I?", a familiar voice asked from up the path. Everyone looked up quickly and smiled. Aslan was standing there with the sun shining down on his soft fur. They all ran up to him at once, and were all surprised at how much bigger Aslan was since the last time they had seen him but a few days ago. He was so big that even Peter, who was still the tallest of all of them, could bury his hands in Aslan's mane without bending over. In fact, it was almost as if not one of them had ever grown up, and were still as small as when they had first met Aslan. Lucy felt as if she could sit down between his paws and be safe from everything. In fact, that is what she did, and it felt just as she thought it would. No one could be sad when Aslan was near. Except for Peter. He stood next to Aslan with his hands buried in the lion's mane and looked almost like he was going to cry.
"And what troubles you, dear one?", Aslan asked as soon as the excitement had died down. Peter smiled and shook his head as if to say nothing was wrong, but everyone could tell something was bothering him, and they all had a pretty good idea of what that something was.
"It's Susan," Lucy told him. Aslan nodded understandingly.
"Your sister turned her back on Narnia," Aslan said sternly. "She forgot everything I told her, and refused to believe you all those times you tried to remind her of the truth."
"But, Aslan!", Peter cried.
"She is, as you said yourself, no longer one of us, Peter," Aslan replied sharply. Peter backed away immediately. After all, Aslan was not a tame lion, and sometimes it seemed as though if provoked he could bite your head off. But Peter still looked stunned and hurt by Aslan's answer, and Lucy was upset to see him so upset. It wasn't that she didn't love Susan, but Aslan was right; she chose to turn away. Still, Lucy couldn't help wishing that maybe Aslan would change his mind.
"Aslan," Peter said in a hoarse voice. "I still love her, even now. After all, she is my sister."
A change came over Aslan. He sighed and relaxed, and up until that point no one had noticed that he had become tense and rigid. He smiled softly. "I know, dear one," he replied gently. "And it is because of your love that Susan has been given another chance."
At that everyone looked up in surprise, Peter particularly. He seemed to become almost frantic with anticipation. Aslan saw this and smiled. He turned to look up the path and called to someone as yet unseen. Then from around a rock appeared a young woman dressed in a dark blue gown. Her hair was long and wavy, and when she raised her head everyone gasped. It was Susan, though it took a moment for some to recognize her because she wasn't wearing any make-up. Peter tore up the path and hugged her fiercely. Susan started crying, and then everyone else started crying, too. But these were happy tears, not sad ones. You can always tell which is which, because when people are crying happy tears they are usually laughing, too. And everyone was laughing now, even Aslan.
"You came back!", Lucy cried the moment she hugged Susan. "I hoped you would!"
"I know," said Susan. "That's why I'm here. Because you never gave up on me."
"You doubted, Susan," Aslan broke in. Everyone became quiet to listen to him. "But that is not where you went wrong. It is never wrong to doubt. The wrong comes in when you give in to your fears and let your doubt become your truth."
"Aslan," Lucy began. "Would Susan have been given another chance even if we had, well, given up on her?" Aslan just smiled, and Lucy knew the answer. She sighed and buried her face in his mane.
"You are too good for any of us," she told him. He purred softly, and Lucy felt the strange urge to giggle. Then he looked up at them.
"You were all going somewhere before I came, were you not?", he asked. Everyone nodded. "Well, then let's go there together. Further up and further in!"
Finis