Two.

Ears in the Dark

The house of Uncle Harold and Aunt Alberta was not the one you may be familiar with from another story. This was a charming two-story house just outside the city with a large garden. In fact, it wasn't until Uncle Harold got his new job at the newspaper that they became vegetarians and tee-totallers and seemed to have misplaced their furniture somewhere. Also they moved into the city. (They had never been smokers to begin with so that didn't change at all.)

The Pevensies were welcomed quite warmly – if not a bit awkwardly- by Aunt Alberta and Uncle Harold. Cousin Eustace, understandably, hung back a little. He had very rarely had people come to stay at his house and he wasn't sure yet if he would like it. Furthermore, he was an only child and didn't really know what to do with other children around. For this reason perhaps you can excuse him for some of the mean-spirited things he said later on. (He did turn out all right in the end after all.)

For several days the four children were quiet and did their best to be polite and not be a nuisance. But children don't stay subdued very long and soon they were kicking a ball around the garden and playing Tag and generally enjoying themselves. They invited Eustace along but he, of course, refused and instead sat on the step to watch not knowing what to make of the noise and merriment and so alternating between disapproval and wistful longing.

The Pevensie children were meanwhile discovering that it was not such a bad thing to visit relations. Though Pete and Ed had to share a bed, as did Susan and Lucy, and they found some of the food a trifle peculiar (as all children think of food that is not from home). Yet they found their Aunt and Uncle were not exacting as they had feared and Eustace was too intimidated by their numbers to do any of the bullying he was later known for. And, as the good and polite children that the Pevensies were, they were beginning to enjoy themselves - up until the day that the news came.

It started with a call on the tele during dinner which Uncle Harold took in the parlor. He was still there as dinner finished and Susan and Peter helped Aunt Alberta clear the table. He was still there as the children trundled off to bed an hour later.

But, good as I'm sure you know the Pevensie children are, they could not keep from being curious. Peter was the worst of them. And because he was the eldest the others felt they were justified in following him to the head of the stairs and sitting quietly in the dark until their Uncle got off the tele.

They could just see Aunt Alberta's feet as she crossed the sitting room to take him some tea, observing as she quietly crossed back into the dining room where she took her own.

Susan was especially worried that the call was something terrible about mother and father and since she could not boss her siblings for fear of giving away their position she worried her lower lip instead.

Peter was very simply curious. But he was also bad at sitting still and was continually fidgeting in place, anxious to know what was happening and whether it was important. Lucy had fallen asleep. Her head was originally resting against Peter's shoulder but it kept getting jostled so Susan gathered her up so she would be more comfortable.

Edmund was mostly there because the others were. (Eustace, who did not understand the importance of being "in the know", was fast asleep in his bed.) Though Edmund was too sleepy to even think something might've happened to his parents he was old enough to want to be there if something novel or important occurred. Though in the end, he just about missed it.

Just as Ed was nodding off (he would've woken with a red mark on his forehead where he leaned against the banister), the parlor door creaked quietly open.

Susan looked up. Peter stopped shifting. All three looked at each other for a second.

Then they watched breathlessly as a pair of brown men's shoes crossed their line of sight; heard Aunt Alberta murmur a greeting in a concerned tone.

When it comes to being quiet in order to spy on the chaotic and important world of grown-ups there are none more skilled than children. As it became apparent that they would overhear very little unless their Aunt and Uncle raised their voices a little, Peter soundlessly crept down a few more stairs until he was halfway to the sitting room. The others remained as if frozen at the top. (Susan probably would've followed Peter but that would mean rousing Lucy.)

From the top they could hear only more murmuring. Peter's unmoving form gave away nothing and in the dim light his face was but a shadow. Then:

"Are you sure?" That was Aunt Alberta.

Uncle Harold's reply was low and pacifying. Susan was hugging Lucy so tightly that the little girl made a quiet sound of protest.

"I suppose the kids will have to go back home now," their Aunt continued fretfully. "And Eustace, I hope –," but Uncle Harold shushed her and they heard nothing more.

Peter came ghosting back up the stairs. In silence he motioned for the others to follow him and first Susan, carrying Lucy, then Edmund, trailing, came as quietly as they could until they were securely in the girls' room.

Susan put Lucy to bed where she blinked a few times hazily and then went back to sleep.

The three elder children looked at each other and Edmund felt a dash of pride knowing that he was finally grown enough to be included in one of these older-sibling conferences.

Peter spoke in a whisper. "The call was from a friend of Uncle's in the army somewhere on the coast. I guess he was the first to get wind of it, but it'll probably be in the papers tomorrow."

"What?" demanded Susan, louder than she'd intended.

Peter answered gravely. "War."