Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia, all characters, places, and related terms belong to C.S. Lewis. The plot belongs to me.
Author's Note: This is a sequel to Digory'sDiscovery. Digory is 16, Polly 15.
Dedicated: For Narnian Lily.
Polly's Principal
The day is clear and sunny, though cool. The train station is not crowded. A family of four is sitting on one of the three benches on the platform. A businessman checks his watch. Polly peers down the deserted train tracks and then turns around and faces the Kirkes. She has spent her summer holidays with them and now is returning home to London.
"Thank you, for having me," she thanks Digory's parents.
"You are always welcome, dear," Mrs. Kirke says with a smile.
Mr. Kirke nods. "The train should be here in fifteen minutes," he says, checking his watch when Polly glances down the tracks again.
The girl smiles her thanks. Mr. and Mrs. Kirke go to sit down on a bench, leaving the young people with Polly's luggage. An uncertain silence still surrounds them. Polly plays with the buttons on her coat. Digory taps one foot and runs a hand through his hair in a familiar gesture of nervousness; he has barely said anything all day.
After the day Polly went into town with Digory for ice cream, her stay had become more enjoyable. They had gone on explorations and had spent many evenings discussing many things, especially Narnia. Digory had become more concerned about her well-being, seeing that she was content and enjoying her stay. She had never swung alone during the afternoon; Digory would join her at the tree, often read a book. He had continued to visit Courtney, but not as often as before.
Polly had been in bliss during the rest of her stay. She no longer feared her and Digory's friendship dying. They were as close as when they first became friends.
There were times she was aware of a new, undefined feeling between them. Sometimes during their walks, Digory had held her hand only to release it moments later, looking embarrassed. Yet what truly puzzled her was when they were in the yard: sometimes she caught him staring at her with an expression she had never seen before on his face. When caught, he had always quickly returned his attention to his book, his face red.
They have never talked about the kiss they shared that one afternoon. But she has thought about it quite a bit recently.
"Polly," Digory's voice breaks into her thoughts.
She looks at him.
He seems to hesitate a moment, then says, "I'm glad you came."
"I am, too. Thank you for inviting me."
He puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs.
Polly taps the top of her trunk with her fingers. "Perhaps next summer you can come to London," she suggests.
"That would be jolly," Digory readily agrees with a hopeful smile.
Polly mirrors his smile, feeling happy. A wind blows her hair about, and she laughs lightly.
"Polly…" Digory's hand covers hers lightly.
The girl looks down at their hands in surprise and then up at him; he seems closer than she remembers.
"Digory?" she says.
He does not answer for a moment, looking deep in thought, and his face turns a faint pink. He shakes his head slightly and looks her in the eye, determined. "T-there is something I would like to ask you," his voice is very soft, nervous.
"Yes?" Polly whispers, her stomach suddenly doing flip-flops.
Digory takes a breath. "Polly," he says her name for the third time, and the girl is now truly puzzled, "I—"
"Digory Kirke!" a voice calls out.
An expression of dissatisfaction swiftly appears and vanishes from the called boy's face. All heads turn to see the girl who has come onto the platform: Courtney Cornwallis. Behind her come her parents and a man with several pieces of luggage. Saying something to her parents, Courtney hurries to Digory and Polly.
Polly's heart sinks as she watches the beautiful girl approach.
"Digory!" Courtney repeats, drawing up to a stop before him. "It is so good to see you." She smiles brightly and offers him her hand.
"Hullo, Courtney," Digory replies politely and shakes her hand.
Polly observes his reaction with surprise; he has always been more…happy in Courtney's presence. But he is being completely formal.
Courtney's smile falters slightly, and she takes her hand back. Her eyes flash with momentary confusion. Then she turns to Polly.
"Are you leaving already?" she asks, hugging Polly and kissing her on both cheeks as though they are the best of friends. "How sad," she goes on, not allowing Polly to answer. "I had so hoped that I could enjoy your company more." Courtney's words drip with honey.
Swallowing nervously, Polly awkwardly returns the girl's embrace. "Aye, I'm going home. I shall miss the country; it is so beautiful."
"Indeed." Courtney tosses her head; her wavy black hair shines in the sunlight.
Polly fiddles with her buttons for a moment, feeling small and insignificant next to the girl as she watches her wearily.
Courtney pats her hair and fixes her green eyes on Digory, who has been silent since greeting her. (How strange, Polly thinks to herself. He has always been very talkative with her before.)
"You are traveling to London?" Polly asks, glancing over at Mr. and Mrs. Cornwallis and their luggage.
"Yes," the girl speaks to Digory. "My family is traveling to London and will stay there for the winter. In a few days I shall travel to a boarding school in Switzerland," she explains.
"Oh," Polly is nearly at a loss for words. "How nice."
"So we shall be traveling together!" Courtney exclaims, her attention still on Digory. "Digory," she steps closer to him. "I am very delighted to see you here. I had so desired to see you before I leave. I dare say we shall not meet again until next year."
Polly can see perfectly well that Courtney has no real interest in her and is more interested in Digory. She has set her cap on him, Polly sighs to herself. She is not wanted here. Looking about, her gaze falls on Mr. and Mrs. Kirke conversing with Mr. and Mrs. Cornwallis. Perhaps there she will be more welcomed.
The girl starts to step away from the two – Courtney is attempting to sweet-talk Digory – but Polly is stopped by a firm grip on her hand, keeping it on her trunk. Polly has forgotten about Digory's hand resting on her own. Now his hand holds hers in a firm grasp, preventing her escape.
Frowning in confusion, Polly looks at Digory; he is watching her out of the corner of his eye and gives the faintest shake of his head. Uncertain still, she nods slightly. A corner of the boy's mouth curves upward; then he looks back at Courtney when she tugs on his arm.
"Will you not come and see to my parents, Digory?" the girl's voice is almost pleading; she is bewildered by his behavior towards her today.
"The train shall be coming any minute, and I must help Polly with her things," Digory replies, smiling at both girls, though his eyes linger on Polly.
Courtney falls silent, her eyes darting between the two.
Relief and a strange thrill fill Polly. Digory does not want her to go. He does not want to leave her. She smiles in gratitude.
"I hope you will write me while I'm away at school," Courtney speaks once more. "Digory, I shall miss you. Please say you will, I can give you the address."
The boy looks surprised and shakes his head. "I thank you, but it would be impossible for me to write you," he says in a voice that leaves no room for argument or questioning.
Courtney blinks in astonishment; so does Polly. Never have they heard him speak in such a tone before. An awkward pause – for the girls, at least – follows.
Suddenly a far off "toot-toot" fills the air. Smoke fills the sky as the train nears the station. The platform bursts into activity.
Digory bows to Courtney. "I hope you shall have a safe trip and enjoy Switzerland," he says.
The girl stares at him for a second and then nods. "Thank you, Digory." She lowers her gaze and for the first time sees his hand covering Polly's. She blinks then slowly looks at Polly. Her eyes flash with uncharitable understanding. Polly simply returns her gaze with incomprehension. "Farewell," Courtney says, curtsying, and returns to her parents.
Suddenly feeling tired, Polly leans against her trunk with a sigh of weariness. Digory squeezes her hand. They are both silent as they watch the train steadily approach. The girl is startled when the boy releases her hand. She looks at her friend inquiringly. He runs a hand through his hair.
"Why did you not agree to write her?" she asks, curious. "She is sweet on you." And you were as well, once, she adds silently.
"Aye, she is," Digory agrees quickly. When Polly's face falls, he says, "But she does not like you." His face becomes troubled. "I'm only sorry I did not realize it sooner."
"It does not matter," Polly says, glancing down at her shoes.
"You know it does," Digory objects. "If and when I get a sweetheart, I would be glad if you two get along." He blushes.
Polly's stomach does another flip-flop. Caught between delight and distress at the thought of him having a sweetheart someday, she smiles at him. "Thank you, Digory, that…means a lot to me," she says shyly.
The boy smiles in return. His eyes cloud with concern when, as Polly returns her attention to the approaching train, he glimpses something akin to sadness come over her face. He watches her for a moment and then also turns his gaze to the train.
"You never asked me your question earlier," Polly recalls, her eyes on the train.
Digory nods, stares at the ground for a long moment, then at her. "Yes, Polly." He waits until she faces him. "I wanted to ask…if you would write me while I'm at school," he says quietly, watching her closely.
She gaps at him, stunned. A frown settles on her face, and she lowers her eyes.
"You, you do not have to," he says quickly.
"You really wish me to write you?" Polly asks in a soft, uncertain tone.
"Aye, nothing would give me greater pleasure," Digory confesses.
"But, but then…" A furious blush rises in her cheeks as she understands everything. Half fearing he is making jest of her, Polly looks at him. Digory's eyes are serious, nervous, and hopeful. Her heart pounding, she answers, "I shall."
The boy's eyes widen. "You shall, truly?"
"Yes. I would love to write you," Polly assures him.
Gently, Digory touches her cheek. Recalling where they are, though, he drops his hand. But then he smiles at her, his eyes full of happiness and tenderness.
And it is enough for Polly as she smiles in return. She reads a thousand words in his smile.
THE END