Walking to the park was especially tedious that afternoon. Peter could feel an unnatural weight hanging in the air, reinforced by summer heat. Disquiet lay on the Pevensie siblings like a mourning shroud, pressing them into silence, causing their feet to drag, creating more scuffle-marks on already worn shoes. A young woman with painstakingly blonde hair and tight skirt spotted them near the arching entranceway, her eyes flashing with interest, sending messages that Peter ignored, because he was with his siblings. Because he wasn't that kind of fellow. Because he…oh, just because. He gripped Lucy's hand tighter.
"Peter," Susan attempted to say agreeably, her tone coming off rather forced, "I think we should stop for an ice cream." She moved up and brushed against him, shoulder to arm and pointed to the vendor scooping creamy pink perfection into a cone. Lucy stiffened with excitement, her child senses asserting themselves, wanting that colorful sweetness with single-minded focus, growing afraid that Peter would disapprove and walk past without stopping. Peter could feel all this through her hand, the tightening of her little fingers upon his. Lucy wasn't all that difficult to discern.
The girl bent over forward to adjust her nylons, flashing a hint of golden skin and shadow, her kohl-rimmed eyes fluttering pleasantly.
"Peter."
"Yes," he hummed, not pleasantly, turning his body so that Lucy could not see either salesperson, now looking down into Susan's irritated eyes, "What did you say?"
"I said 'we should stop for an ice cream'. It's hot, Peter."
She crossed her arms, mouth pulling downward, sweat beading upon her pale brow. Behind her, Ed shuffled his feet, attempting to stare at the ground, but not quite managing, sneaking peeks at the nylon-girl with his cheeks flushed. This didn't aggravate Peter, yet. Young boys tended to be curious.
"I suppose it couldn't hurt," Peter grudgingly gave in, reaching into his shirt-pocket for the shillings he'd dropped in earlier that day, when he'd felt cheerier, looking forward to a romp in the park. Before the post came. Before Mum had called her two eldest into the sitting room, eyes red-rimmed, hands folded in her lap, ever so properly.
He shook his head quickly, inhaled…didn't want to think about that. "Right then," he mumbled, turning and allowing himself to be pulled towards the vendor, allowing himself a faint smile as Lucy bounced with happiness, so easily delighted. He remembered being young like that, filled with irrepressible innocence that bubbled and spurted within, spilling out at the most mundane of moments. Creating light.
That felt like such a long, long time ago.
"We'll take four cones, please. Two strawberry, one chocolate, one van…"
"Vanilla," Ed finished for him, his eyes meeting Peter's briefly in smoldering rebellion, daring him to say anything, to do nothing. Peter did neither, and nodded his approval, forcing a smile for the vendor, who looked rather unsure.
"That was rude, Ed," Susan murmured, as Peter handed over his shillings and pretended not to hear. If Susan wanted to scold Ed, that was fine, as long as she didn't expect Peter to back her up. He wasn't really in the mood today.
Ed didn't reply, but licked his white cone in a vertical zigzag, sinking back into his self-created isolation. They proceeded into the park.
There was a spot of coveted shade close enough to the exit, underneath a sturdy tree with sun burnt leaves. Ed drifted off in search of his trouble-making pals, and Lucy, driven by sugar, quickly found another little girl to play tag with, shrieks of delight becoming immersed in the many voices floating around, human and otherwise.
"Don't wander far," Susan called after her, sinking onto the blanket next to Peter, nibbling on the tail end of Ed's discarded cone. Now that it was just the two of them, the tension that had been hidden for their sibling's sake was allowed to emerge, souring the air within Peter's lungs. He cleared his throat and laid back, studiously avoiding Susan's discerning gaze.
"You know," she said almost casually, after watching Lucy play for a time, "I'm not at all certain, but I read that homemade ice cream tastes better."
"Really," Peter replied, sensing that she would not be satisfied with an affirmative grunt. He felt a headache coming on.
"Yes. Maybe in the country…"
"I don't want to talk about that," he announced quietly but firmly, turning onto his right side, back to Susan. Her hurt and frustration broadcast clearly to him, but he shut it out by closing his eyes, feeling the warm breeze flow across his skin, now that he'd turned into it.
"Ignoring it won't make it go away, Peter," she whispered, but didn't press him to reply. Briefly, she considered joining Lucy in play, but found neither the energy nor unction within herself to do so. So she turned onto her left side, and sought no solace in the wind against her back, but in sleep that came instantly, without permission, but not without welcome.
Behind her, Peter's fist clenched in uneasy rest.
It was an hour later that the storm clouds rolled in, dark grey and formidable, scattering Lucy's playmates and leaving her quite alone, ice cream sated and rain sprinkled. Peter woke to her pudgy fingers beating on his torso, her little voice squealing in equal parts child-like delight and lady-like horror at being slowly soaked through to the bone. The tone of her voice startled him, but not enough to rouse him to immediate action. Therefore, he just groaned and rolled over, shaking Susan's droplet-coated arm.
"Su…wake up, Su. It's raining."
"What is it, Peter?" She was wakening grumpy, he could tell by her voice. Lucy wiggled in growing unhappiness, feeling the water begin to soak through her jumper and into her panty hose.
"Ugh," the tone of Susan's voice changed from testy to disgust as a droplet fell from a branch onto her nose. She pulled herself upright and looked for Edmund. There he was, running towards them with an incredulous look upon his face, holding a wet newspaper over his dark head.
"Come on!" He grabbed the edges of the blanket with his free hand and pulled anxiously, eyes flashing with impatience. His feet scrambled for purchase on the slippery grass, finding no support in his skinny legs and knobby knees.
"Alright," Peter grumbled, staggering to his feet and wrapping his fingers around Lucy's, "We're going. Take Susan's hand, Ed."
Ed stuffed his hand into his pocket, scowling.
"Ed!" Peter was awake now.
Susan tucked the soggy blanket underneath her arm and grabbed Ed's elbow, jerking him towards the exit, rolling her eyes. "Let's go."
The ice cream vendor was nowhere to be seen as they scurried through the archway, having abandoned the park for drier ground when the clouds first began to form. The prostitute, Peter pretended not to notice, was still there though, now on the street corner, curls plastered to her mascara-smudged cheeks. She looked so insignificant now, so piteous with her arms wrapped around herself, eyes meeting Peter's without a trace of pride. He wondered what she saw, when she looked at him.
Probably what he saw, in his minds eye: a serious, baby-faced teenager, pretending to be mature, dragging his reluctant family home after a rare day of clear horizons and warm sunshine.
It didn't matter, he supposed, for there were more pressing issues at hand. Mum.
Mum would not be pleased.