Chapter Two:

The country side came into view shortly throughout the trip. She knew a train would have been faster, but was terrified of them now (and who wouldn't be).

She shifted on the seat again. It was pretty uncomfortable, and she wasn't wearing her most comfortable clothing. The driver glanced at her in his mirror.

"You all right back there?" He asked in a heavy Scottish brogue. She nodded.

"Just tired," she replied, although it wasn't the least bit true. She was nervous.

After the funerals, Susan had been escorted into the lawyer's office. According to him, Uncle Digory's big house in the country had been left in his will to the Pevensie children. Since Susan was the only Pevensie left, the house fell to her.

Susan knew why the house had been left to her and her brothers and sister. It was because Digory believed in Narnia, too, and he believed whole-heartedly in the others' claims of adventures.

"You kids have the greatest imagination," Mrs. Pevensie said, smiling at her children. They'd been chattering on about Narnia ever since she and father had come to fetch them from Uncle Digory's house. They were sat down to dinner with Digory and his old friend, Ms. Plummer.

"Mum, it really happened!" Lucy insisted. "Mr. Tumnus is my new best friend." Mrs. Pevensie exchanged looks with her husband. As they did, Professor Digory winked at Lucy, who grinned back.

A tear trickled down Susan's cheek. Lucy had always been so innocent and naïve; even after she grew older. And she'd been devastated when she'd "come back" from Narnia the last time. She said Aslan had told her she couldn't ever go back, that she was too old. Susan vaguely remembered a similar conversation, even now, involving Peter. They weren't allowed to return to Narnia because they were too old.

For the first time since she'd decided there was no Narnia, Susan began to doubt herself. Why on earth, as children, would they make up such a wondrous place and then exclude themselves from it? She hadn't thought of it at the time, but it didn't add up. If Narnia was something they'd created in their minds, something they continued to talk about for years, why wouldn't they just "play Narnia" again? Why would they pretend that Aslan had told them they couldn't come back?

Shaking herself, Susan wiped her tears away. Her grief was obviously affecting her mind. She was beginning to accept that Narnia might really exist.

They pulled into a long, winding drive that Susan found so familiar and yet so strange. The house was even bigger than she remembered, and she wondered how she could ever live in such a place alone. Yet she had no choice, she had no where else to go. Her parents' house, the house she'd grown up in, the only place she'd ever lived, was on the market for a new buyer, and Susan certainly didn't have the money to buy it.

Uncle Digory had also left a substantial sum of money for the children to live on, but Susan couldn't spend it on a house she didn't need, or else she would have to start working for money so she could eat. She'd heard of women in the States working during the war while their husbands where off fighting. She hoped she would never have to do such a thing. If she rationed the money carefully, she would be able to live on it for a long time.

The car came to a stop in front of the house, and the driver was out of the car and opening the door before Susan could even get her hand on the latch. She climbed out and stood in the drive, waiting as the driver pulled her trunk out of the boot. Once he'd done so, he let her into the house, and she couldn't help but stand in the front hall and look around for a moment, letting the memories wash over her.

She climbed the stairs to their old bedrooms and stood in the center, looking around.

"We've fallen on our feet and no mistake," said Peter. "This is going to be perfectly splendid. That old chap will let us do anything we like."

She could almost see Peter standing there next to her, grinning.

Although she'd promised herself she wouldn't, she went to the room containing the wardrobe.

Stepping inside, she coughed at the dust her shoes kicked up.

"She's just making up a story for fun…"

"No, Peter, I'm not. It's a magic wardrobe. There's a wood inside it, and it's snowing, and there's a Faun and a Witch and it's called Narnia; come and see."

And suddenly, looking at the old wooden wardrobe, she had to know. She opened the door and climbed up inside, pushing through the many coats. Part of her hoped, and part of her felt silly. She pushed aside mounds of fur and stretched her hand out.

Her fingers felt cold wood. She ran her hands along the entire back, around the corner, and up to the front. Nothing was there, it was simply a wardrobe.

"What're ye doin'?" Susan spun around and fell out of the wardrobe, landing in a heap on the floor. Looking up, she saw the driver watching her with concern on his face.

"Nothing," she replied angrily, pulling herself to her feet.

"I took yer trunk to yer room," he told her, still watching her carefully. She turned away to hide her tears.

"Yes, thank you." She said nothing more, and after a few moments she turned back to find the room empty. Sinking to the floor in exhaustion she let the tears flow. Why did she have to come back here? There were so many memories.

"Peter! Susan! It's all true. Edmund has seen it too."

"Oh, yes, Lucy and I have been playing – pretending that all her story about a country in the wardrobe is true."

She sighed, wiping her face with her hands, and stood. She ventured through the house, stopping in some rooms and passing by some others, when she came to the Professor's old study.

She stepped inside, enjoying the smell of leather and musk. Walking around the desk, she ran her fingers across the top of the polished mahogany and vowed to keep it this way; beautifully polished and looking like new.

Even this room brought back memories.

"But this couldn't be true – all this about the wood and the faun." Susan could picture herself sitting there with Peter and the Professor.

"That is more than I know." She remembered the confusion she had felt at that moment

"But do you really mean, sir, that there could be other worlds – all over the place, just around the corner – like that?" She imagined the look of incredulity on Peter's face.

"Nothing is more probable."

How could he have believed it? He had confessed to them later about his adventures in Narnia as a boy, and how he was the one who brought the White Witch into the country. How could he remember and believe after so many years, and she could hardly do either after only nine?

She hurried out of the study, deciding it would be best to get something to eat. There was a housekeeper; not Mrs. Macready but another older woman to do the shopping and cleaning, and there was a caretaker to handle the grounds.

Once she had the food and was seated, she found she was no longer hungry. Everything in this house reminded her of Lucy, Peter, and Edmund. Leaving the plate where it sat, she climbed the stairs to the room she'd shared with Lucy so many years ago. Without a second thought, she fell onto the bed Lucy had slept in then. It was too small and too short, but she didn't care. A few minutes later she drifted off into a restless sleep.