Narnia. Always, always Narnia. Why couldn't they talk about something else for a change? Yes, it was …amazing. Wonderful. Fantastic. But it was over now, couldn't they understand that? Over and gone. Forever.
Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen of Narnia.
But that wasn't true. They went back, and there was a new king. There was Caspian. Not that she held it against him, of course not. It wasn't his fault.
And then, just like that, she was told she would never return to Narnia. Peter and her. And so what? What did she care? She had a life to get back to in London, after all. In what she had started calling 'the real world'.
It certainly felt more real. Here in London she was Susan Pevensie, pretty, attractive Susan Pevensie. All the girls were jealous of her, all the boys wanted to dance with her. But how could she, when she found herself slipping into Narnian dances. Dances that were sometimes stately and precise, and at other times wild and exciting.
She threw herself into her London persona, pretending not to notice the way her siblings would shut themselves in Lucy's room for hours on end. Pretending not to know what they were doing in there, what they were talking about.
Years pass, and she is certain of herself, here in London, here in her social group, here at college. She is learning to be a nurse, and it definitely has nothing to do with a certain cordial her sister once owned, because that was not real. It did not happen.
She is an adult. A respectable nurse by day, working long hours in the local hospital, and an enthusiastic regular of the dance halls at the weekends. But then her world is thrown off track. A police car drives up outside her apartment block. Heavy footsteps on the stairs, a polite knock on the door. We regret to inform you…
All of them. Gone. Snatched away in a cruel train crash. Lucy… Mother… Edmund… Father… Peter… All gone. Never to be brought back. Where was their precious Narnia now?
Wandering in town one Sunday, she is caught by a sudden rainstorm. She ducks into the nearest shelter – a church. Sitting down silently on a back pew, she stares out at the pounding water, impatient for it to stop. Against her will, she finds herself listening to the sermon. The priest is describing someone. Someone filled with love. After a while, she begins to have a vague memory of someone much like this person… it comes gradually back to her and, at long last, in the back of the small church, tucked away in this most unlikely corner of London, Susan Pevensie – no – Queen Susan, remembers Him.
Mind awash with the memories – how could she have forgotten? Narnia, the witch, Mr Tumnus, the Beavers, Caspian, Reepicheep, Miraz… and Him. Head reeling, Susan leaves the church, stepping out into the street. She didn't even notice the car.
