Abide With Me
Christmas 1939
Susan Pevensie stood in front of the looking glass in her parents' bedroom, nervously smoothing down the front of her best white dress. She'd been chosen to sing a solo at the Christmas Eve Family Service that night and she wanted to look her best. Her dark hair was still plaited down her back, but her mother had promised to unplait it before they left for the Church that night, so that it would be freshly curled.
"You look beautiful, Susan." Her mother Helen came in just then, and came to stand behind her, looking at her daughter's reflection in the mirror. "Are you nervous?"
"No," Susan lied, then immediately changed her mind. "Yes. I suppose I am, just a little. I know I know the song, but it's just such an occasion…I wish Dad were here."
Susan's voice cracked as she spoke. She, of all the children, had been particularly close to their father, and it had been her he had spent the longest saying goodbye to at Paddington Station when he left for war three months earlier. Helen slipped her arm around Susan's shoulders.
"You know he'll be thinking of you, darling. You've written to him, he knows you're doing this. He'll be thinking of you, Princess. And you'll do him proud. I know you will. Now, do you want me to undo your hair?"
"Yes please, Mum," Susan nodded, relaxing just the tiniest bit once Helen had untied the blue ribbons at the ends of each plait and run a brush over the plaits to loosen them into waves. Coming round to stand in front of her, Helen tucked an Alice band covered in pearl-coloured velvet into Susan's hair to keep it out of her face.
"There. Perfect."
"Thanks."
Susan's voice was soft and Helen wished she could help her overcome her nerves. She knew, however, that Susan would be fine once she was standing in the Choir stalls, so she didn't even try, only squeezed her shoulders as she said, "Go and put your coat on. I'll tell Peter to walk you down while I get Ed and Lu ready."
"Of course," With the faintest of smiles, Susan was gone, ready as always to do her mother's bidding. Helen watched her go wistfully.
"You'll be fine. I know you will," Peter assured her, helping her out of her coat. Susan nodded.
"I just need to warm up."
"You do that then. I'm going to go back home and help Mum."
"Of course. Oh and Peter?"
Her brother paused halfway to the church door, "Yes?"
"Try not to be too hard on Edmund. It is Christmas."
"It's the same for all of us."
"Yes, but Dad wouldn't want you to spoil Christmas by fighting. I know he wouldn't."
A glance full of meaning passed between the siblings and then Peter murmured, "Dad would be proud, Susie." He hurried out before Susan could reply.
And then it was time. Susan stood with the other sopranos, all of them dressed in white, trying to hide the shaking in her hands. The organist struck up and her best friend Jennifer stepped forward,
"Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide;
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh,"
Susan chimed in with the others, taking confidence in the melded voices as they all sang the last three words, "abide with me."
Susan was the third soloist and had the third verse. When the time came, she stepped forward and found her mother's eyes in the audience before raising her head just a fraction higher.
For an instant, she let her father's face swim before her eyes. Then she opened her mouth and the words came flooding out,
"I need Thy presence every passing hour;
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's pow'r?
Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me"
As she finished, Susan swiped at her eyes. No one was allowed to see her cry. Not here, not now. She had to be the strong one. She'd promised her father. She'd promised him she'd help her mother and that meant she couldn't cry. Not unless she was alone.
Suddenly, muffled by the chords and the soaring voices, she thought she heard a lion's roar.
She shook it off. It was impossible. The nearest lions were the ones in London Zoo, and one could never hear them from Finchley Chapel. She had to be imagining things.
But, imagined or not, she couldn't deny that the lion's roar had given her courage. Courage to face her first Christmas without her father.
Susan raised her head again and joined in the final verse, finding Jennifer's hand as she did so. They always sang the last verse hand in hand. Her lips curved in a smile, and for once, for what felt like the first time since her father had left for war, it was a genuine smile. A smile that actually meant something.