If anyone is wondering why I am referring to C. S. Lewis as Jack, that was his nickname.

An Author Babysits Two Deranged Children

Or,

C. S. Lewis's Inspiration for Narnia

A Friday evening would normally have seen Jack Lewis patronising his favourite tavern – speaking with friends, sampling the cider or writing new ideas for short stories and novels in his leather-bound notebook. Ideas which withered and died before they got anywhere. Page upon page ripped out, screwed into a ball and hurled into the waste bin.

This evening was different, however. Amelia Fevish, a lady with whom Jack was on friendly terms, had contacted him earlier in the week asking if he could possibly do her a favour. She had been due to look after two children this coming Friday, but her mother had taken ill – nothing TOO serious, she assured him – and she had to go to her straight away. Her other friends all seemed to busy. If Jack had nothing in particular to do, would he mind dreadfully looking after the children himself? It would only be for a few hours, and she would arrange everything with their mother.

As Jack trampled through the snow-laden streets, the January frost trying with all its might to slice through his thick coat and scarf, he hoped these two children were going to be well-behaved. He liked children well enough, of course, was really quite fond of them in fact, but his writer's block had put him into such a bad temper of late that he really didn't feel he could take it if these youngsters turned out to be troublesome.

Their mother, Mrs Pevensie, had seemed pleasant enough. They had had a brief talk on the telephone in which Mrs Pevensie had expressed her thanks and told him a little about the children in question. The boy, Edmund, was three months shy of his eleventh birthday. The girl, Lucy, was nine. "Usually I'd have my elder two watch them," she'd explained, "but Susan is going to a dance and Peter is attending an awards ceremony. Thank you so much, Mr Lewis."

Jack remembered that she had said something about the younger children only just starting to recover from a rather nasty bout of the flu. He supposed – or hoped – that this would render them reasonably meek. But it could mean that they would be in rotten, un-cooperative moods. Oh dear! Surly children could be so difficult. Already he was rather regretting his decision to help out and he hadn't even met the children yet.

The Pevensies, Jack was thankful to see, lived in a pleasant suburban street. Throughout his journey the wind had whipped up and he was now keener than ever to get indoors. He hoped these Pevensies had a good fire blazing. If their children were just getting over the flu, they ought to.

In such a hurry was Jack, that he did not pay as much care to the icy ground beneath his feet. Approaching the steps to the Pevensies' front door, he felt his foot slide. Before he could steady himself he was toppling forwards. With a yell, he tumbled straight into the bush – now devoid of its leaves – on his right.

Emerging moments later, brushing dry twigs from himself, he found that the door had been opened and two small children were regarding him with curiosity and faint amusement. The girl had soft, laughing blue eyes and an open face. The boy had large dark brown eyes and a pale, serious face. It was he that spoke first.

"Hello, are you the gentleman who's to be looking after us tonight? You're more dishevelled than we're used to."

"Edmund! Don't be rude!" That was the girl. She smiled at Jack. "He doesn't mean to be insulting. He's just in a bad mood because we've been ill."

"Lucy thinks my outlook should be all sunshine and daisies whatever the circumstances," the boy said wryly. "She's right, though. I don't mean to sound rude. Are you Mr Lewis?"

"Yes, and you two must be…" Jack was cut off by a shout from Mrs Pevensie.

"EDMUND! LUCY! What do you think you're doing? You should be wrapped up in your blankets in the living room. You know I told you to stay put!"

A woman with mousy brown hair came hurrying into view and chivvied her grumbling children into the front room. Jack remained where he was, as he had not yet been formally invited inside.

"Is that Mr Lewis? Oh, do come in. I'm ever so grateful for you agreeing to stay here this evening. Would you like some tea? I made a fresh brew just a few minutes ago."

Jack found himself being introduced to a golden-haired gentleman two or three years his senior. A cup of tea was pressed into his hands, from which he drank thankfully. The three adults were able to snatch a few minutes of conversation before Mr and Mrs Pevensie had to leave. Mrs Pevensie kissed her children, told them to behave for Mr Lewis, and that was that. Jack was left alone with Edmund and Lucy.

The children were tucked under thick, heavy blankets in the front room, mugs of cocoa resting at their feet. The Pevensies did have a fire going, a youthful, excited fire, full of energy and heat. Jack sat in an armchair close to the fireplace and immediately felt as though he was in a toaster. The warmth was so deliciously relaxing, he felt like taking a snooze, but he knew he should make some conversation with the children.

"So your name is Edmund and yours is Lucy?" he asked them. They nodded their assent.

"And you have an older brother and sister too, is that correct?"

"Yes, Susan and Peter. They argue over which one of them is in charge of us all," Lucy said with a giggle.

Edmund snorted. "It's Peter by miles. Su's wonderful and all, but she's still a girl. Girls couldn't lead anyone into a maze, let alone out of it."

"You do talk rubbish, Ed," Lucy retorted, but her reply was affectionate. "But then, boys' heads are filled with nothing but nonsense."

"Even if they were, it'd still be much less than the rot girls have for brains…" Lucy punched him playfully on the arm. "Anyway, if we're talking about who should be in charge of us all, it should be me. I've as much experience in leadership as Peter has. And all that time I've spent settling disputes, smoothing over quarrels…" His eyes seemed to go dreamy and far away. A side-effect of the flu, Jack supposed.

"You miss it, don't you, Edmund?" Lucy said to him softly.

He nodded, then nudged her sharply. "We'd better hush now." He nodded to Jack. "We've got company."

"Oh, do let's tell Mr Lewis, Edmund! It's awful only being able to talk about it all with Peter and Susan, and the rest of the time having to keep everything so bottled up."

"The Professor said we weren't to tell anyone!"

"He said we could tell someone if they'd been to Narnia as well," Lucy said obstinately.

Jack's ears pricked up. "Narnia? What's that, children?"

"Lu!" Edmund exclaimed in annoyance. "I think you should be quiet now."

Lucy ignored him. "You look like you've been to lots of strange places, Mr Lewis," she told him. "I can see something in your eyes. Is it true? Have you travelled to different lands?"

Jack blinked. What did she mean? Then he realised it was probably her way of asking if he used his imagination. Being a writer, he'd often done that. "Yes, my dear, I have," he replied. "Many times."

Lucy gave Edmund a smug look. "See? Let's tell him, Ed, it's safe to."

"Oh, all right." Edmund gave in. "I'm too tired to argue. You will keep this a secret, won't you, Mr Lewis?"

"Oh, I'm good at keeping secrets," Jack assured him. "Fire away, Lucy." He didn't expect the tale, whatever it was, to be very interesting, but he was glad he was getting along with the children.

What came out of Lucy's mouth next was completely unexpected. "Well it all started when I went into a magic wardrobe which led me to a land called Narnia where I met Mr Tumnus – he's a faun – and…"

"No," Edmund interrupted, "when you tell a story you should start at the proper beginning. It really all started when we were evacuated last summer into the country. We went to stay with Professor Kirke…"

"But all that's so boring, Ed," Lucy complained. "But anyway, we were staying with the Professor, and in one of his rooms he has the magic wardrobe that I told you about. So I went into the wardrobe and…"

She launched into a tale of her meeting the faun in a snow-covered forest. Jack listened politely but felt his eyebrows rise. What nonsense was this? He wondered if the girl was just making up a story for fun. But he dismissed that idea. The girl seemed too passionate, too excited for this all to be make believe. Plus, the boy was agreeing with her as well. With a shock, Jack realised that both Edmund and Lucy genuinely believed everything they were telling him. They were both operating under some shared delusion.

"And then Edmund went into the wardrobe and met the White Witch…"

Edmund shuddered. "Do we have to tell him this part?"

"Yes, Ed, or it won't make sense, will it?"

Jack wanted to say that it didn't make sense now, but held his tongue. What was this about fauns and witches and spying trees? He'd never heard such madness, not even from the diagnosed schizophrenic who lived in his street.

"You'd better let me tell the part about the Witch," Edmund interrupted. A small but perceptible change had come over him – a glimmer of pain now seemed to be present in his eyes and a shadow appeared to cross his face. "I was a miserable, angry boy at that time. The Witch…was good at taking advantage of people's emotions. She pretended to be friendly to me and gave me Turkish Delight that was bewitched…"

Jack suddenly became very tense. Thinking of his schizophrenic neighbour had put a most unpleasant idea into his head. Was it possible that these children were mentally disturbed? That would explain their ridiculous fantasies and delusional behaviour. With a sinking heart, he remembered that in the area to which he'd been told the children had been evacuated, there was a special hospital which cared for the mentally ill of all ages. Of course! That was the reason they had been sent to stay with this Professor Kirke! They had been sent their especially so the children could receive treatment during their stay. Whether it had worked at the time, Jack knew not, but certainly here, removed from their doctors and therapies, their madness had re-emerged.

Lucy had taken over the story-telling again and was saying something about all four children finding Narnia through the wardrobe. "Finally Peter and Susan believed me!" Jack found himself wondering if Peter and Susan were real and not some other delusion, but remembered that Mrs Pevensie had spoken of them herself. That meant they had to exist…unless, of course, the whole bloody family was completely bonkers.

Jack had been told that the best way to deal with psychotic people was to humour them. To nod, to smile and to go along with everything they said. It would never do to react dismissively or with anger. There would be no use attempting to bring Edmund and Lucy into touch with reality, that was for the mental health professionals, and goodness, did these kids need them!

Another dreadful thought crossed Jack's mind. If he were to confront them, it was quite possible that they might turn violent. Especially that boy Edmund. Jack was now most disconcerted by the expression in the boy's eyes. They had taken on a darkness and intensity which had not been present before. A small scowl had settled on his face. Jack didn't like it at all. His hands felt for anything he might use to defend himself in case Edmund became angry. His fingers found a newspaper. A newspaper. Fat lot of good that would do. Still, Jack surreptitiously rolled it up. If the boy caused any trouble he could smack him across the head with it.

What was the girl babbling on about now? Jack's mind returned to the tale. Oh no. It was getting worse. Now some talking beavers had entered the story. He forced himself to hold back a groan. Well, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised. What with fauns, witches, dark magic and all the rest, was it really so shocking that the children believed they could verbally communicate with animals?

"They took us to their home and made us a lovely dinner of fish and potatoes…"

"Which, since I was about to starve to death, was particularly welcome," Edmund added.

Jack forced a smile onto his face. "How…how nice for you."

Not just talking animals, but animals who cooked as well? Jack silently cursed Amelia Fevish. She had really dropped him in it. Perhaps she didn't know what lunatics these kids were. He was going to have to have a talk with her when he saw her next.

What was he hearing now? Something about a prophecy…a lion called Aslan…why was that boy Edmund starting to squirm? Jack tightened his hold on the newspaper.

"…we noticed that Edmund had gone," Lucy said breathlessly.

Jack wished Edmund would go now. The pain and the anger in Edmund's eyes had intensified. The boy looked quite wild. Jack worried that he was in danger of flying off the handle at any moment. Well, just let him try, he thought stubbornly. Surely I can more than hold my own against a boy, insane or no.

"I'd better take over from here," Edmund said in a quiet voice.

Jack watched Edmund carefully as the child went into a flat monologue about heading to the White Witch's home to hand over his siblings. In spite of himself, the older man found himself quite taken with Edmund's description of the stone statues and the witch's castle. He could almost feel the icy chill of Jadis herself. As Edmund described his nightmarish experiences, Jack found himself shuddering. This boy must be REALLY disturbed, he thought, to have created such horrid encounters for himself.

Fleeing in the snow…fighting wolves…Father Christmas bearing gifts…Jack jolted at that. Father Christmas? Meeting Aslan…Edmund reuniting with the others…Aslan's sacrifice…the Battle of Beruna…the children being crowned kings and queens…and finally, their return through the wardrobe years later. Jack had to stop himself from letting out a sigh of relief that their account was now over. How long and exhausting it had been. How worrying.

Looking at the clock on the mantelpiece, he realised that it was past nine o'clock. "I think it's time you two were getting off to bed," he said, glad for an excuse to be apart from them.

"Oh, but we're not in the least tired!" Edmund protested.

"I am, a little," Lucy admitted.

"Oh, Lucy!" Edmund's tone was cross. "Now we'll both be packed off to bed and I wanted to stay up to see Susan and Peter return."

"Bedtime, children," Jack said firmly. At least they would be no threat when they were asleep.

Edmund got up unwillingly. "Oh, all right. Thank you for sitting with us, Mr Lewis."

"That's quite all right, Edmund."

"Did you enjoy what we told you, Mr Lewis?" This came from Lucy.

Jack bit back his real retort. "Oh yes. Very much so," he said weakly. "Now do skedaddle, children. You're making me tired."

Thankfully, the children obeyed and, at long last, Jack was left alone to sink wearily into the armchair. Thank goodness that was all over. Now the children would be in bed and he would be spared any further lunacy. What a night. Oh, what a night.

Seven years later, when Jack Lewis was giving serious consideration to the idea of writing a novel for children, he recalled that strange and spooky night he had spent looking after those demented Pevensie children. He supposed they would be mostly grown-up now and wondered what life would be like for them in the adult world. No doubt they were both still off their rockers. Perhaps they would have to be cared for all of their adult lives.

Still, he mused, it had been quite a story, and many parts had been mightily impressive. People said the line between genius and madness was very thin. Perhaps there was some truth to that, as the situations and descriptions from both children had been quite incredible. If he had been reading it in a book, he would have been gripped.

Sucking his pen, Jack wondered.

Could he? Could he really?

He smiled. Yes. Why not? Perhaps that long, uncomfortable evening would turn out to have been a blessing in disguise.

He opened his notepad and wrote the first sentence:

Once there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy.