Chapter One
It could be argued that of the Pevensie siblings, Susan was the one who had adjusted best to life after Narnia. She retained some of her graces and had been part of the archery team in secondary school. But when all was said and done, Susan enjoyed being ordinary and responsible for herself and not an entire nation. The other three, on the other hand, were a different story.
"Early post today," muttered Susan, sorting envelopes while she sipped her tea. "Bills, bills, advertisements, note from Lucy, note from Edmund, essay from Peter. What's so exciting about America anyway?" She put Peter's letter aside, as she felt he could wait given that he had written to her the previous week. It was Lucy's note that most interested her.
Dear Susan,
As you might have gathered, I'm still alive. I know you were worried, and I am sorry for not writing before, but really, there was no way to get the letters to you. Johannesburg is an odd city – I'm not sure how I feel about it. On the one hand, the part where I'm living is lovely, with trees and well paved roads, and I'm grateful for all of that. It's like – do you remember when we met Caspian, and all of Nature and the animals were being oppressed? It feels like that: like a place I knew and loved, but somehow tainted and wrong. Unfortunately, I don't have a magic cordial or a small army to put things right here.
I hope that you're doing well, and that your job is fine. I miss London and home sometimes. I'll be back by Christmas, though. I'm not entirely sure if I'll come back here after. Still, Christmas will come sooner than you'll think, and we'll see each other again.
Love, Lucy
Susan re-read her sister's letter until her tea was gone. Checking her watch, she dropped the letter on the table and, pulling on her shoes and coat, raced out the door in time to catch the local bus. It had been three weeks since Susan had heard from Lucy; her little sister had decided to trek around the world on a grand adventure in search of… something, Susan couldn't remember what. Going through Africa wasn't something most women thought of doing, but Lucy was determined, so off she went, much to Susan's distress. Peter and Edmund were fairly concerned themselves, but had told Susan that they had faith in Lucy. Edmund was living in Ireland, watching the people and attending plays that were specifically Irish. Susan felt he was going to get himself killed, writing glowing reviews for Irish plays in the Times. And Peter was in America, working for a law firm and relishing the challenge of a slightly different system.
There were days when Susan missed her siblings and wished that she could be more like them. As she stepped off the bus, and landed in a puddle, she recognized that today was likely to be one of those days. The magazine she worked for was struggling, and Susan's job was to read through boring or poorly-written articles to find the interesting gems that occasionally came in. Lucy wrote pieces once in a while, and her articles were the highlights of the editorial staff's day.
"Morning Susan," said Fiona. "The boss wants to see you in his office. It's about your selection for this week's issue, I think."
"Thanks, Fiona," said Susan. She put her coat and bag down at her desk, made a vain attempt at drying off her shoes, and made her way to the back office, where Mr Coghill put the pieces of the magazine together and hid from the majority of the world. Susan and Mr Coghill didn't often see eye to eye on many things pertaining to the magazine; nonetheless, whenever Susan was put in charge of selecting articles, they inevitably got letters from readers asking for more similar articles. While Mr Coghill wished to print only beauty, fashion and cooking articles, Susan insisted on the inclusion of current events, such as upcoming possible charity events that required volunteers, or world events from a perspective such as Lucy's. They'd even run a few of Edmund's pieces on Irish culture at the beginning of his career. And so, every so often, Susan would be called to the back office for another argument over what women wanted to read about.
Reaching the door at the end of the hallway, Susan knocked and entered to find Mr Coghill standing over his work table and glaring at the pages spread out in front of him. He turned to look at her as the door clicked shut behind her. Nodding briskly, he said, "I'm so glad you're here Miss Pevensie. I was just going over the letters from readers regarding last week's issue. Mixed reviews, but overall you were right about that essay on morality. Lots of complaints there, unfortunately. Positive feedback on the twenty-minute meals section, apparently that was very helpful."
"I'm glad I insisted on including that then," said Susan. "Are there any issues with this week's selections?"
"I'd say so," said Mr Coghill, "but then, I'm not sure about this health article on vitamin supplements that I believe you recommended."
"I think it's rather important," said Susan. "You've said that women's health affects the entire family. I rather think that women should have a little bit of information to take to their doctors and ask more questions. Preventing illness is certainly preferable to being ill. And knowing what's going on with women in other countries is equally important, thus the inclusion of the letter from the woman living in Thailand."
"It certainly captures the imagination," mused Mr Coghill. "Speaking of women overseas, have you heard from your sister lately?"
"Funny you should ask," said Susan. "I just got a note from her this morning. I'm rather pleased that she's still alive and enjoying travelling. She might send something else in soon."
"I love reading her work," said Mr Coghill. "She doesn't mince her words, Miss Lucy. Fascinating, how she includes bits of conversation with local women she meets. It certainly provides a little peek into the exotic cultures."
"Well, she'll be back for Christmas," said Susan, "so if you wanted to set up an interview for then, I could write to her and ask if she was willing."
"I'll write to her myself," said Mr Coghill. "Thank you, Miss Pevensie. I think this week's issue will be a great success."
"Of course," said Susan. "Shall I go through the reader letters to see what other things they might want to read about?"
"Please," said Mr Coghill. "And then go in person to make any local inquiries. Negotiate to the best of your ability."
"Yes sir," said Susan. She quietly collected the recent mail and carried it back to her desk, shaking her head at Fiona's inquisitive eyebrow quirk. The letters requested interviews with various people, suggested different kinds of article and praised or criticized past editorial choices. Susan sighed, sorting the requests by probability of success. Four piles sat in front of her when she was done.
"Fiona, would you mind helping me out a bit?" asked Susan, knowing that the other two girls in the front would be listening. "We've gotten a whole bunch of requests. I need help setting up appointments to discuss article possibilities."
"Sure," said Fiona. "Pass us a stack. Though I don't see why we can't just do it over the phone."
"You know how Coggie is," said Lizzie, retrieving a stack of requests from Susan's desk. "Besides, it'll be nice to get out of the office for a bit, won't it Susan?"
"Fresh air never hurt anyone," said Susan in agreement. "How about you, Betty? Would you make some calls?"
"Nothing new's going to come in, likely," said Betty, stretching her pudgy arms. "And nothing will without effort. Let's see what we four can dig up.
By lunchtime, Susan had gotten through all of the 'very unlikely' requests pile. When she checked around the room, she found that most of the other requests had been pursued as well, and that Susan had two meetings to go to that afternoon. Lizzie went to a nearby café to pick up lunch for the office, while Susan went to the back room to report on the front's progress with the requests.
"We've gone through the requests and have managed to set up a few meetings," said Susan to a slightly distracted Mr Coghill. "I'll be out of the office this afternoon to talk to a few possible interviews. Is that alright?"
"Just fine, just fine," said Mr Coghill. "Get Betty to assign the reporters, won't you?"
"Of course, sir," said Susan. The bell over the front door rang faintly. "That will be Lizzie, back with lunch. Excuse me, Mr Coghill."
By five o'clock, Susan had decided that lunch had been the best part of the day. She'd spent her afternoon negotiating first with underpaid overworked secretaries, then with crotchety, overpaid and underworked managers concerning the articles. Susan had gotten them to agree eventually, but it had taken all of the skills she'd learned as Queen of Narnia to not lose her temper and remain pleasant.
After such a maddening afternoon, Susan decided to walk through Trafalgar Square on her way back to the office. She liked to look at the giant bronze lions, as they felt familiar to her. She took a seat on the edge of one of the fountains and went through her day in her mind, deliberately highlighting the good points. Being miserable simply wasn't helpful.
"Susan!" called a familiar voice. Susan looked up to see Betty hurrying towards her. She waved her coworker over.
"Hello, Betty," said Susan. "What brings you to Trafalgar at this time of day?"
Betty laughed. "Everyone knows that you come here on stressful days, Susan. I just came to get the stuff for the articles, and to give you this. Mr Coghill said that you should go straight home today, instead of coming back."
"Thanks Betty," said Susan, absently handing her the notes from her meetings. She took the envelope from Betty and looked quizzically at the return address. "It's from Mr Kirke. My siblings and I stayed in his house during the war. I wonder what he's writing to me for?"
"I've no notion," said Betty. "See you tomorrow, Susan!"
"Goodnight, Betty," said Susan. Carefully, she opened the envelope to find a single gold leaf and a scrap of paper inside. The note read:
There are infinite possibilities in infinite worlds. The Lion's kingdom is not the only realm beyond ours. There is a key to every door.
"Well," said Susan to herself, "that was very helpful. I can't imagine why he wouldn't explain himself properly." She looked up at the nearest lion statue. "Can you?"
The lion, to Susan's surprise, lifted his head an nodded twice. He blinked at her, then settled back into the position he'd been sculpted in. Susan was startled by the statue's antics; after all, statues did not come to life in a world without magic. Leaf in hand, she stumbled backwards into the fountain and felt herself being pulled through an endless tunnel of rushing water.