Disclaimer: All standard disclaimers apply. I do not own Peter or Edmund Pevensie, Oxford University, the Eagle & Child, or anything else that resembles anything real. Please don't sue!
Rating: M for Mature. I've rated it this because of the subject matter, but there is nothing explicit here, no naughty words, no violence, and no slash. In fact, Peter can barely manage to say anything about the subject matter either (the little prude) so it may as well be rated K! The second chapter may well be a bit racier as Edmund isn't quite as buttoned up as his brother.
Important Author's Note. I have rated this as Mature - not because anything particularly explicit happens in the story, but because it does involve discussion of mature issues. I also felt that this one needed a bit of an introduction as it arose out of my rather odd thoughts regarding the friends of Narnia and…virginity. Before you all start looking at me strangely from the corners of your eyes, I will explain. Setting aside for a moment (if I may), the undeniable fact that the Narnia sequence was written for children, my reading of the subtext is that Peter, Edmund, Lucy, Eustace, Jill, Digory and Polly all live and die virgins. Eustace and Jill are obvious - they are too young and will never get any older. Digory and Polly die unmarried, and while I'm not making any assumptions about unmarried persons, neither is there any indication that they do more than live healthily active and useful lives and (in the Professor's case) pursue intellectual and spiritual endeavours.
The four Pevensies are more problematic because they grow to be mature adults, before reverting again to children. Without wishing to be icky about it, it's bad enough being an adult in a child's body, but worse, I would think, being a sexually active adult reverting to childhood. Lewis skirts over this very lightly indeed, as well he might. My personal feeling is that in all he does not say, he is deliberately keeping them 'pure'. The only exception is Susan, who is the only one of the four who comes anywhere near a relationship (i.e. Rabadash) as well as her (hopefully temporary) exclusion from Aslan's country because she is "a jolly sight too keen on being grown-up".
So if we accept their 'purity' as a central, if unspoken, plot thread, then it occurred to me that I had a golden opportunity to weave it into a narrative. I their chastity accidental, or does it come from Aslan? This is my take on this issue and revolves around Peter and Edmund and how they come to realise that they have little interest in physical desire. I don't include Lucy as I think that it is quite obvious in the books that she has dedicated herself to Aslan (at least to my mind - please feel free to disagree).
I would be very pleased to hear anybody else's opinions on this matter as I think it quite an interesting one.
Also my apologies in advance to anyone who has no knowledge of, or interest in cricket - I couldn't get Edmund to stop talking about it!
Oh, and please don't laugh at them too much - poor boys, they can't help it!
CHAPTER ONE
Peter
Merton College, Oxford. June 21st, 1948.
Peter was lounging on his bed listening to Mendelssohn on the wireless when Rupert Forster stuck his head around the partially open door,
"Telephone call for you, old boy", he drawled in his languid manner, "it's that gorgeous sister of yours. Susan, is it?"
Peter felt twin stabs of disgust and anger at his associate's words, but kept the emotions off his face with the ease of long practice.
"I wouldn't get too accustomed to your face, Forster", he drawled in response, taking his time in standing, "If you say that sort of thing too often, it may get rearranged".
Forster took the calmly delivered threat with a smirk and a shrug,
"Well, I wouldn't want to upset the happy little family dynamic", he said as Peter passed him in the doorway, "Besides, no-one takes me at all seriously, you know? Everybody knows the Pevensies are pure as the driven snow".
Peter merely raised an eyebrow in a superior manner, but felt the all too familiar pang of anxiety all the same. Forster had an unhappy knack of hitting on people's vulnerabilities, however inadvertent. Most of the time, Peter was at peace with what he was, but occasionally could be taken by surprise by random comments. It was a reminder that he was somewhat…different from his contemporaries and that was a difficult thing to be, in this England.
He clattered down the winding staircase to the Senior Common Room, his long legs taking the old, worn steps two or three at a time. Grabbing the heavy receiver, he wondered what Susan could be calling him about at this strange hour.
"Hello?"
"Peter, darling!"
"Hello Su! What are you doing calling in the evening, shouldn't you be out somewhere being wined and dined?"
His sister laughed at him, but it seemed forced, as it often was these days. She was twenty now, but usually so sophisticated and elegant, she seemed even older. Peter could remember a time when she had been older still, but fresher, warmer and infinitely more beautiful,
"Oh, don't tease Peter, dear! I'm not always out - besides I'm having a lovely evening in with Edmund and Lucy, just like we used to - do you remember?"
Peter's face relaxed into a smile because she sounded so much like the gentle Susan that had a special place in his heart. He may have been all of twenty-one, but he suddenly missed his family with an acuteness that took him by surprise. He imagined his siblings curled up on the sofa, playing cards or chatting idly, with the wireless on in the background as father worked, quiet and content in his study and mother carefully tallied up the day's rationing vouchers at the dining room table.
"Of course I do. Give them my love, won't you?"
"You'll see them yourself next week - don't forget we're all coming up for the public day. We have to come to you now that you aren't coming home for the summer", she teased lightly.
Peter still felt a bit uncomfortable with his decision, also half-ashamed by his homesickness, "you know I have to Su! I don't want the College to regret appointing me as a Research Fellow, particularly as I've only just graduated. I have a devil of a lot of work to prepare before Michaelmas term, but I might be able to come down to London in September".
"Of course we know you have to, silly! Don't worry so much, we are all so proud of you. You'll soon become a great scholar and rival dear Professor Kirke", she said affectionately. Peter was simultaneously warmed by her tone and made irrationally irritated by her casual mention of the Professor. His dearest memories of Narnia were inextricably bound up in the Professor and his house and that she would bring him up, yet deny she had ever visited Narnia seemed wrong and unnatural. Her tone didn't waver, she seemed unaffected, and he could only wonder in disbelief at her capacity for denial.
She was his sister and he loved her, just as she loved him and the rest of the family. Yet he could not share his most precious and vivid memories and thoughts with her and he could feel the distance between them grow larger each time they met. She must have felt it too, but both pretended that things between them were as they had always been.
"I don't know about that", was all he ventured in response. If his tone was flat, she didn't call him on it.
"Well it's true all the same! But Peter, it's really the public day I'm calling about…sort of". Her voice sounded hesitant, an unusual state for the normally poised young lady,
"What do you mean?"
"Well, it's Ed".
Peter felt a surge of anxiety. "What about Ed? He's still coming, isn't he?"
"Oh yes, of course. I just wondered if…well I know you are awfully busy, but it occurred to me that you might like to…invite him up there for a couple of days? Either before or after the public day, if it suited".
Peter stared at the well-worn rug on the common room floor, his brow knitted in a frown. Susan was, and always had been prone to fits of protectiveness and for some reason best known to herself, it was not Lucy but Edmund who was the most usual target. She was obviously deep in one of her fits right now.
"What's up, Su? Is Ed all right?"
"Ye-es".
Peter blinked, "you don't sound sure".
"I'm not, really. I think he's awfully upset about something but he won't talk to me about it. I think it would do him good to get away from here for a few days, and maybe if you talk to him?" She trailed off hopefully and it occurred to Peter that she was really very sweet sometimes. As for Edmund, his solemn younger brother was very rarely outright cheerful in demeanour, so if Susan thought he was upset, he must be like a wet weekend.
"What's going on Su?"
She sighed, "Well, I don't know for sure, but if it isn't something to do with that awful Margaret Hopkins, I'll eat my hat!"
Hello, this was new. Peter felt his eyebrows rise in surprise.
"A girl?"
Susan laughed quietly and indulgently, "He is eighteen, Peter! You remember what that was like", it was a statement, not a question.
"Yes", he said, only he didn't really. He wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or sad that Edmund apparently did. "It's a recent thing for him, though isn't it?"
Peter remembered the Easter break when he'd come down for the scant week he could manage amidst his revision for finals. He'd spent some time with Edmund, as much as he could spare really as he'd secretly missed his younger brother more than anyone else in the family. He'd seen nothing amiss, or different, but how much could one tell in the space of a week? Peter wondered, with a pang, whether they had somehow lost that easy camaraderie and trust they'd always shared in Narnia. He decided that whatever it was that Susan had to say, he'd have Edmund up on a visit regardless. His brother would be joining him up at Oxford in September, but even so, that seemed a long way off.
"Not that recent! He's not like you, Peter", Susan said quickly, a hint of defensiveness in her tone. Peter realised with considerable surprise that she'd taken his words as mild criticism, an implication that Edmund was rather late in taking an interest in girls. The irony was remarkable.
"Of course!" he replied soothingly, but Susan either didn't listen, or felt she hadn't made her point sufficiently clear,
"I seem to remember seeing flocks of blushing damsels dogging your steps from about the age of fifteen! And you were so polite to them, too. No wonder they kept coming back. Edmund is...well he is sweet and kind, we know that, but he doesn't have your confidence, Peter".
Peter, bemused, wondered how he came to be in the position of having Edmund defended against him.
"You're not telling me anything I don't already know, Su. Are you telling me he found some confidence?" He couldn't help the intense curiosity in his voice. King Edmund hadn't lacked confidence at all, but he had been serious and rather solemn at times. Plain Edmund Pevensie was the same endearing chap with his family, but in company was a rather piano version of this royal self. So much so, that all the insecurities he'd so beautifully overcome in Narnia had come creeping back, much to Peter's sorrow. It was like seeing Edmund in sunlight, then being forced to see him only in moonlight - and England was the moon.
"Well, I think so. He met Margaret at a party, which he hadn't been all that keen on going to in the first place, but I dragged him there because he risked being terribly rude to his friends if he didn't. She managed to get him talking and he actually took her out the following day!"
Peter thoughtfully pursed his lips at this unprecedented behaviour from his younger brother.
"Did he?"
"Well, it was only to have coffee at that little place in Muswell Hill, but he did take her to the pictures the following week. In fact, I'd say he was awfully keen on her.
...awfully keen...
The words echoed through his head and Peter wondered at the sense of loss they gave him, then he hated himself for his selfishness.
"So what happened? She wasn't so keen, I take it?"
"Something like that. They were supposed to have gone to a party at the beginning of the week, but Edmund came home early and shut himself in his room. He won't tell me anything, but he's not been himself since – he's really down, Peter. I really don't know what happened, but his face has been sort of...closed in. You know?"
Peter did know, all too well, what Edmund looked like when he was hurt and unhappy.
"So, whether it's unfair to her or not, I decided that Margaret must have said something nasty to him, because I can't imagine Ed doing anything awful. Lucy's noticed as well, and you know she never showed much interest in that sort of thing when we..." Susan tailed off and Peter wondered if she had been about to mention Narnia,
"…that is, she doesn't show much interest in these things", Susan finished, rather too quickly for conviction.
Peter, torn between gratitude at her sweet and earnest defence of Edmund and disappointment that her continued denial of Narnia was apparently a conscious decision on her part, made no response. Eventually he said,
"Get Ed to the 'phone, would you Su? I'll ask him now, if you like".
"I would like", replied Susan, obviously relieved, "but, perhaps it would be better if you telephoned tomorrow to ask him - I don't want him to think we're ganging up on him, or that it wasn't your idea in the first place".
Peter hated manipulating Edmund - who hated it in his turn, but was sufficiently stung by Susan's inadvertent accusation that he would never have invited Ed of his own volition, to agree to the suggestion. Besides, he had plenty to think about before tomorrow.
Oxford Train Station, June 25th, 1948.
"Oh thank Aslan you asked me!" said Edmund, grinning, as Peter released him from the brief, back-slapping half-hug that was all they allowed themselves in public, "Susan was driving me insane. I was tempted to drop everything and go and do my National Service after all, if they would take me immediately".
Peter grinned back, quite delighted to see Edmund again, and grateful they could slip into such ease with each other despite the separation.
"I'd have enjoyed that just to see her face! Lucy would have come after you, though".
Edmund rolled his eyes, gathering up the battered suitcase from the platform. "Don't I know it! I thought she was going to lock me in my room when I first mentioned it last Christmas".
Peter smiled in response, but didn't comment as he had felt exactly the same way as his little sister, if truth be told. Edmund had some strange idea in his head to defer his Oxford entry and do his stint of National Service instead. As an undergraduate, he would not obliged to do military service, but obviously felt he ought to. Peter could understand it in a way – he was a warrior himself, and sometimes the desire to be doing far outweighed his love of scholarship, but there was something utterly different and alienating about warfare in this world they lived in. Lucy felt the same way and surprised everyone in her fierce determination that Edmund wasn't going to be chewed up and spat out by the great military machine. Edmund, who had only wanted to be doing his duty, eventually capitulated.
The day was hazy but warm and humid. Already, traffic was building up on the Hythe Bridge and petrol fumes hung in the air. Peter automatically skirted the main roads and walked towards the quieter Paradise Street bridge which would lead them to the Christ Church meadow and around the back of Merton College. Edmund trotted in his wake, obviously content to follow wherever Peter led.
Peter surreptitiously scanned his brother's face as they walked – he looked tired, but that was quite normal for the restless Edmund. He also looked rather thin, but again that was normal,
"Anything new going on?" Peter asked casually, maintaining his discrete observation.
Edmund's face brightened immediately, "Oh, I didn't tell you! I bowled a few overs at the match against Primrose Hill the other day. No wickets and no maidens, but I did hold out for a couple of singles, so I wasn't too costly..."
Peter smiled, letting the excited cricket associated chatter wash over him. Edmund loved the game and played it at every opportunity. With his lanky frame and quick fingers, he could produce a very decent leg spin and the Finchley Cricket Club had taken him on as a reserve bowler - he just lacked the experience and consistency now, but was quickly learning.
That Edmund had so naturally and easily launched into his tale considerably relieved Peter's mind. Surely he couldn't be depressed if he could happily talk about cricket? There wasn't any restraint in his manner at all. Peter began to wonder if Susan hadn't let her fervent interest in relationships get the better of her good judgement.
"We can go and see a cricket match today if you like?" said Peter impulsively. He liked this cheerful, eager Edmund and he wanted to spend as much time as possible with him. Maybe the volume of work had got to him lately, but he had forgotten how right everything felt when Edmund was with him - that familiar sensation of everything locking into place like an intricate puzzle, that wash of relief lightening the tension in his shoulders. He realised that he had never yearned for anymore than that, with anybody - and that was part of the problem.
"Oh, I say! Really?" Edmund turned a bright, excited face to him that he couldn't resist. If he'd had any other plans for the day, they were already forgotten.
"It's not much", said Peter deprecatingly, "just a match between the Fellows of Magdalene and Corpus Christi - they have a small college competition going when the undergrads have gone home for the summer".
Edmund gaped at him, "Magdalene? Really? Well, come on then, what are we waiting for?"
Peter had been so much involved in his own College, he'd almost forgotten that Edmund would be coming up to Magdalene in the autumn. It was as very strange thing to slip his mind and Peter wondered if, unconsciously, he had been disappointed that Edmund hadn't chosen to join him at Merton. He was also starting to wonder when, exactly, he had started to become so detached from his family that such a slip was possible.
"We'll drop your case off at my rooms first, then we can nip across the High Street to Magdalene - the match is there because they've got the better cricket pitch".
"I know!" came Edmund's fast and fervent answer. Peter felt his jaw drop open in surprise and he stared as his little brother rapidly turned red. Peter felt bubbles of laughter rise up in him,
"Please tell me you didn't apply to Magdalene because of the…cricket pitch?"
Edmund, still red, looked away sheepishly. "Umm…" he said, eloquently.
Feeling better than he had in months, Peter gave a great shout of laughter and playfully batted his blushing brother's head. Edmund laughed with him, his eyes dancing and a look of relief on his face. Why Edmund should feel relieved rather escaped Peter, but he would come to understand it later.
Magdalene Grove, later the same day.
It was a golden afternoon in many ways - the match was gentle and absorbing with just enough edge of competition to keep it interesting. After chatting to the teams at afternoon tea, they finally lounged back on their elbows, enjoying the late afternoon sunshine as the last few overs played out in front of them.
For all the setting was perfect, Peter began to feel increasingly uncomfortable as the afternoon wore on. He and Edmund talked easily about the game, about the Colleges, but there were still topics that Peter avoided as a matter of course - things he had learned to avoid when talking to his contemporaries. Love, girls, sex…And bound up with these was what he had learned about Edmund from Susan. He had never reached a point in the conversation where he felt comfortable broaching the topic, yet his sister's words haunted him. The fact was, he and Edmund had shared everything in Narnia - except this. It had not been deliberate; they had never avoided the subject of sex, or desire, or jealousy, or any of the other emotions associated with romantic relationships, the subjects had simply never come up. At least, not in a personal way. It had never seemed relevant or important.
How much theses things did matter in England had come as a shock to Peter. He had found it alienating and disturbing at first, then he began to realise that he was the one who was odd. Some strange sense of embarrassment, a desire to conform (especially when he was already so different!) had held his tongue, stifled his curiosity. Somehow, he managed to keep avoiding discussions and found ways to camouflage himself. And…he and Edmund had still never discussed the topic.
He had excused himself on the grounds of Edmund's youth, but that feeble excuse no longer held water. He supposed he was just plain scared - he wanted to keep seeing respect and pride and love in Edmund's eyes.
Now it was suddenly falling apart. The afternoon had started so well, but his tongue had become increasingly constrained until he scarcely knew what he said. His long silences were obvious and uncomfortable. Now, as he watched a new over start, he anticipated the end of the match with dread, aware of the increasingly anxious glances Edmund was throwing in his direction.
Peter kept his eyes glued to the action, as though it was the most exciting finale he had ever seen. In fact, Corpus Christi were futilely chasing Magdalene's second innings lead and on their last batsman, were obviously not going to do it - but everybody was too polite to say. It couldn't last long, and didn't, with a short, fast, ball that caught an edge and fell to the wicket keeper; he and Ed joined in the smattering of applause.
Peter stared at the disappearing players and felt horribly self-conscious. He didn't know what was wrong with him - this was Edmund. He had thought he could talk to his brother about anything, but today had given the lie to that and he was left confronting something he'd never confronted before.
"Well…" he started, then cleared his throat and sat up straight. He hated this. "That was…"
"Pete…" Edmund's voice was low, strained, almost desperate. It froze Peter in his place.
"God…Peter…what have I done?"
Peter's throat closed in horrified disbelief and he whipped his head around to stare at Edmund's lowered face. His brother was staring down at clenched fists, his brow scrunched. He looked terribly unhappy.
You've done this…you've done this to him…
"I…" he began, but didn't know how to continue.
Edmund threw him another of those anxious, half-frightened looks, then he returned to the contemplation of his hands.
"I've been so worried about you, Peter", he began, his voice rapid and breathless as though half-afraid of what he said. "For months, you've been…not there. I mean, you don't talk to me much anymore, you hardly talk to anyone, you don't come home. I know you've been busy, but you were always busy before…in Narnia, I mean…and you always had time for me too, so I thought I must have…I thought, maybe it was something I'd done, or said, or…"
"No…" said Peter, but it came out as a whisper from his dry mouth.
Edmund looked at him then, terribly earnest,
"I was so pleased when you telephoned last week to invite me up. And relieved. I thought, when I got here…you were so normal…I thought I must have been imagining everything and I felt like a fool. Then you…" he trailed off again and swallowed hard. Peter saw a suspicious shine in Edmund's eyes and swore there and then that Ed would never, never find out that it wasn't his elder brother's idea to invite him up to Oxford. Peter was fairly sure, now, that Edmund would have waited a long time for an invitation if Susan hadn't been involved. It had been unconscious, but he had been slowly detaching himself from his family.
"It's not you, Ed. I swear it. It's not you". Whatever else happened now, he could at least stop his brother from punishing himself for no reason. He looked back at Edmund, hoping to see the effect of his words, but the expected relief was not there,
"The thing is", Edmund said hesitantly, "you say it's not me, but if it's something else, it's not something you trust me to help you with. It's not something you trust me enough to speak of. What's so awful, you can't even tell me, Peter?"
Peter stared back at him for a long time before admitting to himself that Edmund was right. He hadn't trusted his brother enough. He hardly knew where to start with any of this, but he realised now that his continued silence was hurting his brother more and that was something he couldn't begin to tolerate.
"Well", he said, terrified of the decision he had made, but calm now that he had made it, "Well, then". He stood and reached down a hand to Edmund who was staring at him, half-hurt, half-bemused. He held up his arm automatically and Peter heaved him to his feet.
"Pub", said Peter.
"What?" Edmund shook his head as though he barely understood what was going on.
"Pub", repeated Peter. "If I'm going to do this, I'm doing it with a drink in my hand".
Edmund's mouth dropped open, then slowly closed as a strange look came into his eyes; a hint of anxiety, a large dose of relief and something that may have been amusement. He tipped his head to one side, eyes narrowed, and faintly smirked,
"All right", he said slowly, "as long as you're not going to confess that you have a drinking problem. Then I'd be worried".
Peter's mouth curved in a warm, affectionate smile as he realised that this Ed, the witty, sardonic one, had, until this moment, been missing altogether.
The Eagle & Child Pub, the evening of the same day.
They went to the Eagle & Child, for no particular reason other than it seemed the quietest pub they passed on their stroll along Broad Street and St. Giles. Inside it was warm and dark and it stank of hops and pipe smoke, so in that respect it was typical of every other pub in Oxford. Edmund found them a quiet table in the corner, beneath a faded print of a man in Royalist costume in a gilded frame, and Peter fetched two pints of beer, dark brown and foamy.
They sat; stared at each other, then at the beer. Murmured conversations swirled around them and Peter could hear a clock ticking gently in the background.
"So…do I have to guess?" Ed's voice barely concealed his irritation with Peter's long silence.
Peter sighed and took a fortifying gulp.
"I don't know where to start", he said when he'd swallowed the warm, yeasty mouthful.
Edmund's eyes opened a little wider as though in alarm, "The beginning's usually a good place".
Peter sighed again. He'd known this would be hard, but he'd underestimated quite how hard. "I don't know where to find the beginning. Is it here? In Narnia? Was it Aslan's doing, or is it just me?"
Edmund's obvious irritation had, if anything, increased. And his alarm.
"Peter! Just start somewhere and tell me!"
"Right. All right". Peter closed his eyes, trying to find the best way to start. Edmund would have been so much better at this than him. "When we were…when I was fourteen, I had my first…no that's not a good place to start. Umm. When we were growing up…in Narnia, I mean…when we…umm. Actually, I'll ask you a question instead. Ed, when did you first…?"
"Peter…" Edmund grabbed his forearm and held it, his grip warm and strong. "You're rambling and you are not making any sense! Why are you asking me questions? This is about you. Why is this so hard?"
"Because it's not just about me!" Peter said and stopped on an indrawn breath because he was realising something for the first time. "It's not just about me", he repeated quietly, leaning closer. "We never talked about this, not in Narnia and not here! I'm such an idiot, I never stopped to think that you might have been as confused as me when we had to go through it all again in England".
There was an arrested look in Edmund's eyes as he stared back at his brother,
"Confused about what?"
Peter ignored the question for the moment, still caught in his revelation, "There were so few humans around, we never really had a basis for comparison. We didn't know what was supposed to be normal".
"Normal? Peter…" Edmund looked almost frightened in the dim light of the pub. Peter could see he was confused, and couldn't blame him, but there was also something there that made Peter think that Edmund was beginning to understand.
"Pevensie! And…Pevensie Two, if I'm not mistaken?"
The familiar drawl, too loud for the small room, stopped conversation momentarily and made Edmund start noticeably. Peter ground his teeth in frustration. It was bad enough tolerating Forster at College, without having to endure him in the rest of the city too!
He reluctantly turned to face Forster who was smirking at his own pun. Of all the bad timing.
"Ed, this is Rupert Forster".
The two perfunctorily shook hands, Edmund's mouth pulling into a frown as they did so. He nodded politely, but Peter thought his face daunting enough to put off almost anybody. Almost.
"We met once before, old boy. It may have been when you'd just come up - young Master Pevensie here was but a callow youth. I believe you are joining us in September?"
Forster drew up a chair, uninvited, and Peter longed to push it away with his foot, but sense prevailed. Forster just got worse if he sensed any discord.
"Ed's joining the flesh-pots at Magdalene", said Peter, referring to an old joke.
"Magdalene? Re-ally?" Forster drew out the word, studying Edmund appraisingly.
"And your brother a Merton man? Why, that practically makes you a traitor!"
Peter winced inwardly, but Edmund flinched quite visibly. Peter, feeling bad for his brother, and seething in impotent rage, clenched his fists under the table when he saw Forster's mouth stretch into a pleased smile. There was nothing Forster loved more than getting a more pronounced reaction than he had bargained for, and he had hit the jackpot this time. Never one to rest on his laurels, he shifted tactics.
"It's a pity you were out all day with the young sprig, Pevensie, you missed one of your lady callers".
Oh Lord, Forster never missed an opportunity to throw Peter's 'conquests' in his face. It was misplaced jealously at best, Peter had decided a long time ago.
Forster neither expected nor required an answer. "The comely Miss Marjorie Simpkin from St. Hilda's called around. Something to do with a graduate party at the Sheldonian of all places. I forget the details, but she left you a billet doux with all the details and was vastly disappointed to have missed you". He finished with a sidelong look and a smirk.
Peter grimaced, not caring who saw him. Forster had set out to irritate him and succeeded very well indeed. Peter really didn't know why so many young women seemed so keen to become acquainted with him; some of them were so persistent, he ended up taking them out because it seemed rude not to. He always gently but firmly told them he was too busy at present for any formal courting - sometimes he was so firm, he was practically brutal. Yet, none of them ever got the hint. He thought he was probably doing something wrong somewhere, but was too used to reticence on the matter to know who or what to ask. Miss Simpkin was amongst the number who seemed to view rejection as a challenge.
"Really, Peter", continued Forster, with overdone camaraderie, "you shouldn't keep them all dangling so - I can hardly keep track of them! Why it was only yesterday that the pretty girl from the Post Office - Anne, isn't it? - came looking for you, with a 'personal' delivery".
Really, the man was an utter menace. It was all very well when he was being insulted, but Peter couldn't bear it when he so casually damaged the reputations of those innocent girls. Peter hated to think what Edmund was making of all this, and glanced at his brother, quite determined now to end the conversation before it got worse.
He never got that far. Edmund was staring at him, quite white beneath his summer tan and looking sick to the stomach. The eyes of the brothers' locked and held. Aslan only knew what Ed read in his eyes, but he suddenly stood, abruptly and awkwardly, so that Peter's pint wobbled and sloshed beer over the table.
"Excuse me", said Edmund in a small, painfully formal voice, "I need some air". Then he strode out of the pub, practically pushing his way out of the door.
Peter, uncertain of the why of his brother's action, but feeling the tension like a knife against his throat also stood. Nothing else was more important than his brother any more - and certainly not his colleagues. He bent over until his mouth was level with Forster's ear and hissed,
"Talk to me again, Forster, about anything and I won't be responsible for the consequences".
The sky was still a deep blue when he left the pub, but the light was fading and dew was beginning to form. Edmund had already crossed the road and was skirting St. John's College, his head down, striding back towards Cornmarket Street.
"Ed!" Peter called, not caring that heads turned in his direction. He ran across the road and easily caught his brother, grasping him by the arm and turning him around. That Edmund didn't resist told Peter that he wasn't seriously running away, but just needed to be moving.
"I'm sorry about Forster", Peter said rapidly. "He's a poisonous little squirt - I can't stand the fellow. I should have got rid of him straight away".
"It doesn't matter", Edmund replied, his voice still tight, so that Peter's throat ached in sympathy. "I'm sorry I walked out like that, I just couldn't…I mean…Oh, hang it all!" His voice ended in a half-shout of frustration.
"What is it?"
Edmund looked up then, his eyes pained and somehow rueful.
"It doesn't matter, Pete. I just realised that I'm a total hypocrite! I've been pestering you to tell me all your secrets, when I…when I…can't. You don't have to tell me anything. It doesn't matter".
Peter felt anxiety skitter rapidly over his skin, making him shiver, despite the mild evening air. He felt a little sick himself, but also hopeful, as if things that had been hidden for too long were finally coming to the surface.
"Stop saying it doesn't matter. Everything you have to say matters, Ed! What can't you tell me?"
Ed took a deep breath, closed his eyes tight, then opened them again and Peter could see all his brother's vulnerability in his eyes.
"Pete…I…it's not anything bad. I don't think it's bad. It's just…after what he said, and…I don't think you'd understand! I don't want you to think less of me!"
Well. Peter knew what that felt like.
"Ed", he said gently, touching his brother on the shoulder, "I could never think less of you. Not in any circumstances, I don't care what it is you think I won't understand".
Ed stared at him, eyes wide, then blurted out, "I hate girls!"
Peter felt a hysterical giggle rise up and had to bite the inside of his mouth to stop it escaping.
"What?" he managed, his voice only slightly unsteady.
Ed, who looked as though he couldn't believe his own daring said again. "I hate girls! I mean - I can't stand being close to them. They make my skin crawl. I can't kiss one without feeling ill!"
Peter had never, ever wanted to laugh so badly at such an inappropriate moment. He scrunched his eyes shut, trying to concentrate on something depressing, but Edmund's blurted words kept replaying in his head. He belatedly realised that his actions probably looked bad, so he opened his eyes again only to be confronted with Edmund's wide-eyed and terrified stare. Then he had to turn his back and he hoped Ed couldn't see his shoulder's twitch as a few silent giggles escaped him.
"Pete?" Ed's quietly desperate voice successfully sobered him, but he couldn't help smiling when he turned back to his brother. He was so relieved.
After all that soul-searching and they were both in the same boat. They should have talked years ago.
He smiled wider and ignored Edmund's bemused expression, grasping his brother's arm and leading him back towards Merton,
"Come on, we've got a lot to talk about".
TBC
Coming soon: CHAPTER TWO: EDMUND. Wherein Edmund is a lot blunter than his brother and wonders what all the fuss was about.