Chapter Four
Susan Has a Secret
A week marched by with unhurried solemnity, and Susan spent sleepless nights in the boarding house, and days at the switchboard with growing anxiousness. There were only three things on her mind; and that was first, there was some part of her elder brother that lived on. A child that would be brave and beautiful born to a deluded woman who believed in magic. Secondly, this deluded woman belonged to a cult that all built a foundation upon the same madness. Thirdly; were they really insane? Or just misguided?
Misguided was something that Susan could handle. She handled it well enough with her own family, the way some polite agnostics might have a brother or a sister who were religious zealots. Differences could be ignored for the sake of being actively part of her niece or nephew's life. For all the charades, Jane owed her a little involvement. Susan couldn't bear to be left out of it. Imagine if she were to ignore Jane Frances and her mother, Wendy Moira Angelica Maggie Petra Pie or whatever-her-name-was, and forcibly exclude them from any part of her life, then she finds herself walking down the road one day to see a child, age, ten, with Peter's eyes and mouth. A rude shock it would be!
The only problem was pride. Susan was too proud to get on her hands and knees and search her room for the T club card that Dorothy had given her. Even if she did find the card with the telephone number, she wouldn't want to speak to Dorothy. That American maniac thought it would be simpler and more convenient to make Susan think she was being kidnapped and dragged underground by a tall, strong man, than it was to pester her in person with invitations. Susan was British, for god's sake, she could handle invitations.
Novels. That had to be the answer. Dorothy read too many novels and believed so diligently in adventures that if there was nothing exciting going on, she might endanger someone's life to create her own intrigue. Maybe Dorothy really, truly believed that she had been to a magical country called Oz and was best friends with a fairy princess. She had the intelligence capacity for it.
...
Susan called one of her parent's friends from America, an old colleague of her father's that hosted plenty of parties and war bond events while she had stayed there.
"Hello, Archie?" she said airily. "It's Susan Pevensie."
"My god! Hello, Susan Pevensie! I am so sorry I haven't been to... to pay my respects and express my condolences. I didn't want to bother you at the funeral service. How... how are you?"
"I am doing as well as can be expected. I actually called with a favor to ask."
"Ask anything! I think I already know why you're calling, though..."
"...Really?"
"You'd like to come back to the States with Martha and I, wouldn't you? We had such a gay time, you know, hosting you and your... parents... my, those were the good times, weren't they? We can do it again if you like, maybe even talk about citizenship. You could stay with us as long as you liked."
"Oh, Archie, how incredibly kind and thoughtful of you," Susan was touched. They were really only casual acquaintance, but she knew Archie and Martha adored her parents. They were probably their closest friends.
"Martha would be thrilled... thrilled, you know. You haven't met our son yet... he was off in France while were were stateside... but he's coming home, and you too can meet and get to know one another..."
Susan had a feeling that they wanted to see her marry their son, and then settle down far away from England and try to find happiness again.
It was a tempting offer.
"Archie," she said gently, "The idea alone makes me want to forget everything in the world and do exactly as you say. It would be splendid! But all too easy and abrupt. I have many things have to settle here, and a promotion available as the head of switchboard training for several hotels. It would be foolish to abandon them now, and far too much to ask of you and Martha. But I thank you nevertheless from the bottom of my heart."
"Well, if there is anything else I can do for you? What about that favor?"
"I wouldn't even know where to begin looking for an answer to an extremely trivial question that's been burning me alive. I've heard from an old friend about a devastating tornado or two that took place between 1900 and 1940 in Kansas, America. There was one in particular on August 25th, 1939. I would like to know about any survivors. Even be allowed to contact them, if I could. It's a silly little research project I have, something to pass the time."
"Well, well," Archie chuckled. "Silly is as silly does. I myself have been wondering for the past nine years whether or not Hitler combed that mustache of his with a tiny doll's comb or just used his fingers, but not a single lad coming back from Germany has been able to tell me. But at least I can do something about your burning question, whereas I may never have an answer to mine."
"You'll help me, then?"
"We sail out in a week. I'll call up my friend Tom... he's from Kansas, you know... and have him dig out the newspapers. Someone always saves a bold headline from a natural disaster in their state."
"It would mean more to me than I can ever say," Susan replied. "And Archie... thank you, again. For your offer. Someday I might come back to America and start anew if these things don't come through."
"Keep Martha and I in mind, we'd love to have you."
"You're a dear. And do send Martha my love."
"You can count on it. I'll send a wire or a letter sometime next month with an answer for you."
"You won't forget?"
"I have a memory like an elephant. I too shall be eaten alive with curiosity until we find out if there were survivors to a 1939 tornado on August 25th."
Curiosity is key, thought Susan ruefully. "Goodbye, then, Archie, and a thousand thanks."
"Take care of yourself, Miss Pevensie. Again I am so dreadfully sorry for your loss. May God Bless you."
Susan felt a little badly for omitting the truth from Archie, who never did a dishonest thing in his life, but she was practically laying the groundwork for catching someone... Dorothy... in a lie. It was a necessary step, for her own sake and peace of mind. Its best to proceed with caution when proving someone insane.
...
That night, Susan drank too much, and she found herself crying over Finchley.
While she was sitting upright in bed reading a magazine, the chamber was warmly hued from lit candles, dark red pillows, and umber toned walls. The cheer did nothing to prevent a sudden onslaught of grief that came upon her so suddenly she nearly threw up.
She threw the magazine aside, pressed her face to a pillow, and surrendered to the pull of darkness.
She missed the little house, the garden, and the door to the bomb shelter. She missed the picture of her parents that Lucy kept on her nightstand, and the tiny garret. She missed the milk on the porch in the dark mornings. She missed it when Eustace and the Scrubbs came for family holidays, and how uncomfortable it always was, being progressive and vegetarian amongst the conservative carnivores. She missed the way Edmund had carried a photo of their Dad with shattered glass to the shelter on one of the many nights of air raids. And then she was missing old Professor Kirk's house, with the gables and long hallways, the games of hide and seek and exploration trips that took them all day.
She missed the woods, playing games and dressing up as kings and queens having plenty of fun with nothing denied their imaginations. She remembered the times they had to run from the Macready when she brought visitors to show off the house. She remembered hiding in Spare Oom... er, the spare room...
Suddenly another image flooded her mind's eye... not a memory, certainly, unless it was a scene from Lucy's fairy tales. It was herself, and Lucy, dressed in long dresses and warm capes, standing over a hillside. They were crouched down behind some rocks, watching a scene unfold in the clearing below. On the rocks in the little valley, there were creatures of all manner and shape and size, howling and grunting and growling. Lying in the center of them all was a great Lion, tied and bound, with bundles of mane shorn off lying in sheaves all around him. A great woman stood over him, dressed in some sort of ceremonial garment, carrying a knife high in her hand.
Susan stirred uncomfortably, the night air was cold and Lucy was too young to see anything this violent. But nothing she would say, or do, could change what was about to happen.
"You know, Aslan," said the woman, who was clearly some sort of Queen... or a Witch. "You know whenever someone stops believing in you, they don't think it causes any harm. They think they are just letting you go gently." Suddenly the witch looked up into the dark cliffside, spying Susan hiding among the rocks. In the torchlight of the night, her eyes glinted black, like oil. "But they're not letting go of anything. They are gaining so much more. They are exchanging you... for me." She held the knife higher. "And once I have you, I will do anything to keep you from going home."
Then she dropped with such force that the knife was plunged into the heart of the Lion, and Susan was lunging out of her bed with a horrified scream.
Her room was dark, the candles snuffed out. Blue moonlight was gliding through the window in cold, poetic prose. Everything that was warm and comforting before now looked frightening. The deep pillows looked like empty holes, the shadows may have been women dressed in black staring at her with hungry eyes. Smoke tendrils came whiffling softly from the wicks, and a breeze flirted with the curtains from a gap in the glass.
Susan ignored the candles and turned on the lamp, then she fell to the floor, hugging her knees and pressing her back against the closed door. She thought the witch from her dream might be in the hall, a light footfall on a creaking floorboard. She might come to her door, and test the doorknob with long, white fingers.
"Susan?" she might whisper. "I've come for you. Pay for them with your blood on the stone table."
Susan bit her sleeve, and rocked back and forth.
"Susan?"
"No, no, no, I won't come with you, I didn't choose you, I mean... I didn't know I was choosing you!" Susan cried.
"SUSAN THE GENTLE!" the voice mocked. "You are mine!"
...
Susan was waking up for a second time, the room broken from the spell. It was warm again and the candles were lit, and she was curled up against the red pillows with a half-read magazine partially stuck to her face.
The birthmark on her wrist almost looked a little more pronounced. It was more star-shaped that it was T shaped, there were five elongated points to it's entirety, not three. But was it like that before? Or can birthmarks change shape?
She remembered comparing it to the T on the card Dorothy had handed her. She remembered thinking it looked just like it. And during the club meeting, there was a distinct difference. She couldn't be crazy.
Perhaps it was a bruise, and she re-injured it while she was having a nightmare. Perhaps she flailed her arm and hit the headboard.
Anything was possible, wasn't it? Except... magic. Magic is impossible. So are nightmares that are anything more than nightmares... she was not being communicated with. She wasn't having a vision, or receiving a spiritual truth of any kind.
She peeled the magazine away and stood up, blew out the candle, and returned to bed.
...
The next morning, she dressed smartly, put on a hat, and followed the streets towards an alley that held an entrance to an old abandoned tube station.
Her pumps made a ghostly clock, clock sound against the cement floors, and somewhere there was a tinny drip drip into a puddle. The tracks lay abandoned in the darkness, and the darkness grew blacker still as she retraced her steps away from the stairs. Around a few corners, right, left, and right again, she came to the platform where she had first been greeted by Alice with a lantern held high.
Only there was no one to greet her this time, and no lantern. But it wasn't entirely without light; the room where they huddled by the small fire and drank their tea was lit by old kerosene lamps placed strategically around the room. There was only one occupant; a young man with black hair, blue eyes, and thick eyebrows on a pale, drawn face. He wasn't particularly handsome, but boyish. Sort of puppy-like.
And this must be the elusive Albert, Susan thought. He was bent over the counter, sitting on the old swivel stool where there should have been a ticket master and a glass divider. He was enthralled with an object, and as he turned it over in his hands, Susan realized it must be the amulet she'd heard Dorothy rave about. It looked like it might be made of stone, or a metal. It was shaped like person, or perhaps a spoon with arms, sort of like the voodoo dolls Susan had seen in curio shops in America, handmade and from New Orleans itself. Susan hadn't been impressed with their supposed properties then, and she was even less impressed with this tiny iron figure now.
So that's what they were all obsessed with? How anticlimactic.
The man looked up and noticed Susan. He motioned her inside. "Come in, come in," he said, folding the amulet into a handkerchief and replacing it within his breast pocket. "You must be the newest member."
Susan shrugged. "Not really. I've just come to see Jane."
"Yes, well," Albert shook her hand. She caught a faint whiff of gardenia hovering around him. It smelled sweet, and somewhat comforting. "She'll be along. You're welcome to wait if you like."
"Thank you," Susan sat by the empty metal pit that once held the fire. It was cold beneath the ground, and she could still hear a dripping sound somewhere out by the tracks.
"I'll start a fire," offered Albert. "You may be chilled." He went around the edge of the counter and ducked behind it, reemerging with a few firelogs in his arms. Susan noticed that he was walking with a slight limp, but perhaps it was exaggerated because he was carrying a heavy load.
"We keep a stash back here," he said, "Someday, I think, it would be nice to graduate and have our T club in an actual tea shop. I don't think we have as many enemies waiting for us up there as Dorothy would have us believe. And I'm sure it's warmer, anyway."
"The T stands for travelers, doesn't it?" Susan asked.
"The Traveler's Society of Magical Wanderings is the official name," Albert explained.
"I like it," Susan said, before she could think it through. No. She didn't like it at all. Why was she being pleasing? Because, her mind answered before she could even deny the reality, that's how you are with men. Their good opinion and making them smile before all else. That was how she believed she was wired.
Albert propped the wood up over an old magazine and a whole handful of blank tickets without the train departure times stamped upon them. Then he flicked a match against the box and dropped it in the pit. The flame burned slowly, merely a thin line of orange eating away the edges of the paper.
"So you've never been anywhere... magical," Susan inferred.
"Not in the slightest."
"And you believe these magical places are out there."
"Of course. Don't you?"
Susan shook her head again.
"Oh," Albert looked at her with such concern that it was nearly touching. "They said you were a staunchy non-believer, but I didn't take them all that seriously."
"Who called me staunchy?" Susan asked. "It was Dorothy, wasn't it?"
"Pauline, actually. But you mustn't let that get to you. Pauline rarely likes anyone."
"I hope you don't find this rude," Susan changed tactics, "But how do you know any of them aren't just barking mad if you've never seen anything magical yourself to prove it?"
"Let me put it this way," Albert said, "That is a little rude. This is our safe space, where we can discuss our beliefs without judgement. To put everyone on the defensive while you're amongst us, forcing us to try and give evidence and smiling when we have none... it's rude, simple as that."
Susan's mouth had dropped open. No one had ever spoken to her that way before.
"But," Albert smiled at her warmly. "I've always been a bit of a rule breaker. So I can handle it. But my thought is this; the more questions you ask, the better. Keep asking them, but maybe without the haughtiness, of course. As our matriarch says..."
"Curiosity is key," Susan interrupted crisply. "Yes, I've heard it before."
"Good start," Albert stoked the fire with a pencil, until the pencil caught fire, then he tucked it within the logs. "I think while you're here, with us, try to think like us. If anything, pretend it's a scholarly excursion. You're here to study us and learn about us, not persecute us. All right?"
Susan touched a speck on the floor with the toe of her shoe, and shivered when it skittered suddenly away. "I can manage that," she said calmly. "May I ask how you came to be a believer in magic?"
"That's a very nicely put question," Albert winked at her. "My grandfather, James, used an amulet to travel all over the world and in history. Well, I mean, I called him Grandpa, but he was technically he was my father's uncle. Does that make him my great uncle?"
"Great-uncle, yes," Susan said distractedly. "I think the more confusing part of your sentence was not how he was related but the part about traveling in history."
"Time-Travel."
"Time travel, like in novels?" Susan clarified.
"Right... ancient Egypt was a personal favorite. He passed the amulet to me."
"And he told you bedtime stories to go along with it," Susan added.
"He told me the truth. When I saw the ad in the paper I just knew that he would want his amulet to be of some use to others like him, so I brought it along. But no matter what we've done, we cannot get it to work. When Peter and Edmund needed a way to get back in to Narnia to help the King... Tirian, I think his name was? He called me up and asked if they could give the amulet a try. It didn't work, naturally, but I was pleased that he trusted me to help him in an hour of need. Eventually they decided to use the old magician's magic rings instead, but..." Albert trailed off, and noticed that Susan was very flushed and wide-eyed, but hanging on to his every word.
"Then what?" she asked.
"Well," Albert hesitated, "They were on their way back from retrieving the rings when..."
"When the accident occurred," Susan whispered.
"Yes. From what we can gather, Peter and Edmund and your parents were on the platform... Lucy... and maybe Professor Kirk and Polly were on the train. Or perhaps," Albert scrubbed at his forehead in a strange gesture of forgetting, "It was the other way around?"
"You mean to tell me that they were all near that train because they were searching for magic rings to take them to a magical land?" Susan said quietly.
"Yes, you see," Albert said, "During their dinner party at Professor Kirk's, they received a message from beyond, and Tirian... or was it Titian? He was pleading for their help. Someone had to have gotten through. You see, Peter explained that Aslan calls ordinary boys and girls from our world and into Narnia. So even if they were not successful, someone had to be."
"But they were fetching rings," Susan repeated with horrified belief. "The whole point of being near, or on, that train, was because of something magical related."
Albert could see the pain this gave her. "Yes," he said quietly.
The constable that had delivered the news to her had no such details... and why should he? No one knew what they were up to. It looked as if there were just too many people in one place at one time, that when a coincidental accident occurred, it took everyone that Susan loved.
"So you believe in the fairy tales my brothers and sister believed in," Susan asked, her voice thick, "Just as much as you believe in your grandfather's stories? And Wendy and Jane's accounts? And Dorothy's narcissistic belief she helped rule somewhere with a princess?"
"Don't forget Alice," Albert added. "She loves her magical land more than anyone I knew... the desire to return to it must be like a physical ache in her heart. She longs for it. Unlike Hank, who's just relieved he made it out of Camelot alive. Alice is more like your sister... Lucy," he laughed lightly, "Lucy was very special. Such a dear, sweet girl. She was hopeful... more hopeful than anyone I ever met. She was always very encouraging to me! Even when I had nothing but doubt!"
"Lucy was special," Susan repeated in a monotone.
Albert stood up, the limp pronounced as he walked to the door. "They'll be here soon, I should light it up a little. Do excuse me." He took up a cane leaning against the front door.
War injury, Susan realized. That must be it. He's too young to have arthritis! He can't be more than thirty.
She watched Albert unashamedly as he hobbled out onto the platform, mesmerized by a certain beauty he seemed to possess in his crippled walk and his charismatic, but not beautiful, expression. Susan was used to seeing men as challenges. What was Albert to her? Was he a challenge, or was he the beginning of changing her habits around men?
Albert didn't seem like the rest, though. She simply didn't have the energy to seduce him.
Albert was an unwrapped parcel. But was he a gift, or a mis-delivery? Did she deserve to see any more than surface detail?
He pulled the lantern from inside the podium, and lit it up and set it on top. Once again it resembled a lamppost. Why that image refused to leave her mind, she didn't know.
Spare Oom.
Susan remembered her nightmare that night, and shivered, holding her hands out to the small fire.
Alice was the first to appear from the dark tunnel entrance, her silver hair done in a beautiful wide knot on the back of her head, with soft curling tendrils framing her face. She was arm in arm with Hank Sr., but he seemed far more keen on having her on his arm than she did.
Albert laughed with utter delight to see her, and bent down, kissing both of her cheeks, and then embraced Hank Sr. like a grandfather. Susan realized that's exactly what they were to him; honorary grandparents. Albert even mentioned that his great-uncle passed the amulet to him, which meant he was likely dead. Maybe they had even said as much a week ago, but she was hazy on the details. She should have offered condolences for his loss, and hadn't thought about it.
"And look. Susan Pevensie is here to see Jane," Albert gestured to her as if she were a royal guest.
"Well, well, well, look who came back," Hank Sr. laughed. "Hank Jr. will be sorry he missed you. He was quite taken with you, he was. He felt dreadful after the whole debacle before. Just terrible."
Susan couldn't believe her own words that popped out of her mouth. "Tell him I forgive him, he mustn't worry."
"Isn't that nice?" Alice said, stepping inside and sitting beside Susan, patting her gently on the knee. "You're a very gentle heart, dear, underneath all the prickles. There's a romantic and a compassionate girl under that expression you wear. Why don't you let her out for today?"
Susan didn't even know what to say. "I... I don't..."
"It's all right," Alice whispered conspiringly. "I understand."
"How many can we expect today?" Albert asked.
Alice looked at Hank's wristwatch. "All the ladies, I think, except for the Morgan offspring. Hank Jr. is down with a cold, and Pauline is looking after him."
Hank Sr. smiled. "My children know how to take care of each other. Though usually they're both trying to take care of me. This will give us both a respite."
"Good people! You did not start without me, did you?" Dorothy swept into the room, wearing a velvet burgundy coat that hugged every curve to its absolute appeal, buttoned at a lacy white throat and fastened with a brooch. She took off a hat with feathers and set it atop a hat rack beside the door. She noticed Albert and frowned.
"Alfred," she gave him a prim nod, sitting as far away from him as she could.
"Dot," Albert grinned at her. "Fancy you forgetting my name already! I've only been gone a week."
"A week too long," Dorothy replied.
"You must have missed me something fierce then," Albert laughed. "Come, why don't we just acknowledge the truth?"
"What truth?"
"You're obviously in love with me. I can feel your passion just sizzling from across the room. You'd like to make an honest man of me, wouldn't you?"
"I'd rather vomit circus peanuts," Dorothy snapped.
"Children!" Hank Sr. rapped his cane sharply against the floor. "Let's settle this feud once and for all. Albert, what were you up to? Let's put our club president's mind at ease."
Albert shrugged. "I swam to France and spent a week in a little hamlet on the coast, dressed as a mime and living off the small coins tossed in my top hat."
"Try again," growled Dorothy.
"I went to an old house in Paris, covered in vines, and seduced a nun who was supposed to be caring for twelve orphans."
"Oh, you must think you are the greatest thing since Charlie Chaplin," Dorothy sighed.
Alice rolled her eyes, and whispered to Susan, "They're always like this."
"Here, as a token of my good will," Albert pulled the amulet from the handkerchief and unwrapped it. "Why don't you hang on to this for a few days?" he tossed it unceremoniously over the fire, and Dorothy caught it in both hands with a surprised yelp.
"Don't throw something so valuable!" she chided. "What if something happened?"
"That's the point, Dot," Albert exclaimed. "Nothing ever happens. It doesn't work. I wasn't using it this last week. I have a life outside of these underground tunnels, and I was off living it. My business is my own business. Why don't you just play around with that for awhile, see if anything comes of it? Give it back to me on Saturday."
"Next Saturday?" Alice questioned. "It seems we're always losing you, Albert dear. Where are you off to THIS time?"
"To the Russian wastelands of Siberia, to see the snow queen," Albert winked.
Dorothy huffed with annoyance.
"I am sorry we're late!" Wendy came trotting into the tunnel, Jane slowly waddling behind her. "One thing just led to another..."
"She means I was having difficulty walking," Jane said, pausing at the sight of Susan. "You came back," she said with genuine surprise. "I wasn't sure if you would."
Wendy looked at the two of them, and hustled her bag and hat to the hat tree and hung them up. "Well," she said quietly, "Why wouldn't she? We're practically family, after all."
"I was coming to see you," Susan said. "I wanted to inquire about you and the baby. See how you lot were getting on."
Jane looked at her with big eyes. "How thoughtful of you!" she came and sat beside her, and Susan found herself smiling at her. Smiling, and at another young, pretty woman. Would wonders never cease?
"How are you two doing?" Wendy said to Hank and Alice, trying to give Jane a little privacy. They began to chatter amongst themselves in low tones.
"Would you... would you like to feel the baby kick?" Jane asked.
"The baby is kicking right now?" Susan asked with surprise.
"No, but she always kicks when I want her to," Jane said.
"She?"
"Yes, I think it's a she. I feel that it is. Don't you?"
Susan smiled. "Peter would have loved a daughter. He would have made her a princess and spoiled her dreadfully."
"Well, try this," Jane took Susan's hand and placed it gently on her upper belly. It was still, save for Jane's breathing. "Now," Jane whispered, "Pat the baby gently and say Aslan loves you."
Susan nearly shook her head, and bit her lip. Of course it would be something Narnian.
"Oh go on, you silly thing, it won't invoke Aslan's spirit or anything," Jane encouraged. "I wouldn't let you say it if it did. I would not want to be here for that conversation."
Susan gave her a chiding look, and patted her stomach gently. "Aslan loves you," she said, flippantly, trying to prove it didn't trouble her at all.
The baby kicked, a soft thump against the womb, and Susan's hand flinched in surprise.
Jane clapped her hands. "See?" she congratulated Susan. "Not so hard. She'll be terribly dramatic, I think. Like her grandmother."
Wendy shot her a mock scolding expression.
"You know what I was thinking," Susan said. "Is that... um... perhaps we should spend some time together."
"I am so glad to hear you say it," Wendy interjected. "We try to meet two or three times a week. Always in the evenings, except for Saturdays, then we meet in the mornings."
"Of course we'd be honored if you'd let us include you," Alice said.
"I am aghast," Dorothy laughed gaily. "Susan Pevensie consenting to join us at last? None of you can say I didn't have anything to do with it..."
"Well, that's not really what I was thinking, I mean," Susan could see this going much too far. "What I was thinking of... I was thinking of... shopping. I'd love to buy something... um... for the baby," she turned back to Jane, trying to exclude the rest from misinterpreting her again. "But not without your approval, of course."
"That sounds like fun," Jane replied. Alice discreetly nudged her foot with her toe. "Perhaps we could meet here, after the meetings," Jane said. "Then go find some nice little place downtown to explore. First we'll buy something for the baby. Then we'll buy something for us."
Susan breathed a sigh of relief. This was what she could do; this was in her capacity to do. Spending a little money and maybe even getting Jane a decent pair of nylons without any runs. Honestly, what she was wearing was embarrassing as the mother of her future niece.
"Excellent," Susan said, standing. "What do you think about Tuesday evening?"
"Tuesday evening would be lovely," Jane said.
"I'll see you then," Susan replied.
"Oh, don't go just yet!" Albert exclaimed. "The fun is just getting started!"
"Well, since you ARE here," Alice said suggestively, "Even though you girls have already made your plans... why don't you stay a little longer? Hank Sr. is going to grace us with a story today."
"This is news to me," Hank Sr. said. "Won't you do me the honor of staying, Miss Pevensie? These old birds will tell me anything an old man wants to hear, but if they demand a story, and my story isn't really all that good, can I trust you for an honest opinion?"
Susan glanced at them uncomfortably. "Well, I suppose a little while longer wouldn't hurt," she said, sitting down again. "I will warn you, Mr. Morgan. I am a harsh critic."
"Right then!" Hank Sr. turned to Alice, eyes glinting. "What story do you wish to hear, mademoiselle?"
Alice pulled a small, old book from her handbag. The brown wave was old, and the title on the binding was unreadable. "I have procured this," she said triumphantly. "A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court by Mark Twain, American humorist and essayist and novel writer."
There was a stunned silence.
"Pray tell, what is the synopsis?" Albert asked airily.
"Ahem," Alice recited, "A yankee from Connecticut named Hank Morgan suffers from an engineering accident and awakens to find himself in 6th century England during the reign of King Arthur and uses his knowledge of the future to rise to the top."
"That's me, all right," Hank laughed bashfully.
"You got all your ideas from a book?" Susan asked, rather shrilly. "I believed you were a fraud, Mr. Morgan, but to plagiarize and swindle these people?"
"Wait just a moment," Alice said. "Miss Pevensie, you mistake me."
Susan bit her lip.
"Mr. Hank Morgan is not under any doubt as to whether our experiences are real," Alice explained, "But an accusation of breaking our solemn vow of secrecy!" She handed Hank the book. "We agreed not to tell."
"Just look at the published date on that volume!" Hank laughed, opening to the first page and holding it upright for her to see. "Alice, once again, your curiosity forces you to jump to conclusions. I sold my story long before I answered the ad in the paper and we agreed to be monks in a subway."
"Eighteen-eighty-nine," Alice read out loud.
"I was twenty-eight years old," Hank replied wistfully. "When I was approached by a man in a museum named Mr. Twain, who as you can see, refers to himself only as the Narrator in that little book. Over a process of many interviews and days spent together, he turned my autobiography into a little comedic adventure novel. With some embellishments."
"I am curious about which embellishments?" Alice asked.
"Don't you worry, Alice, this was long before I met you," Hank assured, "But I was married once..."
Alice gave a little sigh. "It matters to me not if you've been in previous relationships!"
"Well, anyhow... My wife, Sandy and I, were very happy at first, you know. Before she left me- but I am getting ahead of myself. Twain says she was a woman in the past whom I fell in love with and had a daughter with, and when she fell ill the Catholic Church forced us to flee Camelot. That's a fabrication, of course." Hank flexed his hands of paper skin, the blotchy age marks prominent and dark. Susan saw a matching mark on his inner wrist, a fully fledged star. Or perhaps it was just another coincidental age spot.
"I fled Camelot period, and I was not with a wife and daughter," Hank went on, "I met Sandy when I returned to America, and had Pauline and Hank Jr. here. But Mr. Twain thought it would be more exciting if he moved our first meeting earlier, had us marry in the past, and then put Pauline's life in mortal peril and change her name to something very silly." Hank turned and looked at Susan with a soft smile. "I told Mr. Twain to kill me off at the end so that I could live anonymously."
Susan didn't know what to say. Did they expect her to throw her gloves to the ground and say I give up on being a non believer? There was nothing they could say or do to make her believe that Hank's story was any truer than the others. In fact it seemed less likely, now. So he read this book in his youth by Mark Twain, and as the memories crippled by time and age were warped, he actually believed the incidents occurred to him because he shared the same name as the protagonist.
"Why don't you tell us about a joust or something?" Albert laughed. "You always tell us about coming home or getting there, nothing in the middle."
Hank shrugged. "I am old and tired. Why don't you read my autobiography?" He tossed Albert the book, who caught it with a jovial smile.
Wendy pulled a knitting project from her bag and picked up in the middle of a stitch, watching the on-goings with a bemused smile. She was making a pair of bootie slippers for the baby. "Well, Dorothy," she said, "Any news on the Oklahoma front?"
"No," Dorothy said with a pout, slumping in her chair. "Betsy's relations won't say a word."
"Another girl from America went to Oz at some point," Jane explained to Susan. "Betsy said she was shipwrecked and that's how she ended up in Oz."
"If she's in Oz, and you're here, how do you know anything about it?" asked Susan.
"Well, she arrived while I was still there. And she decided to stay forever," Dorothy imitated in a high-pitched, girly voice. "But she never told me the details before I was sucked away, and her distant relations in Oklahoma have no intention of telling me how she was shipwrecked."
"Are you trying to... recreate her shipwreck to get back?" Susan asked with surprise.
"It's worth a try," Dorothy shrugged.
"To kill yourself?" Susan exclaimed.
Dorothy gave her a level stare. It was such a vague poker-face that for a moment Susan thought she was trying to hide something. "That's how it always happens."
"How what happens?"
"Getting to Oz. I got swept up in a tornado. I was washed overboard on my way to Australia. Betsy was shipwrecked. I got stuck in a terrible earthquake. Those are the methods by which I've been pushed into the realm of Oz, and the nearby land of Ev, and so it seems my life must be in ultimate peril in order to trigger the magic."
"So why don't you become a test pilot?" Albert asked with a wink.
"Unexpected dangers to my life are the portal, not just being stupid," Dorothy said with exasperation. "I think it has to be a natural disaster or a tragic accident."
Susan shifted uncomfortably. It sounded much too suicidal.
"Your brother used to give me the same look you're giving me now," Dorothy sighed.
"Peter doesn't approve of reckless endangerment," Susan shrugged. "He believed in... sacrifice. Danger as a last resort."
"Not Peter," Dorothy said, "Edmund."
Susan felt her wounds open again, her heart bleeding anew. But at the same time, it made her smile a little. She and Edmund had few things in common, except for being quick to play fair and being extroverted later in life but not as children. It seemed that Edmund found Dorothy's theories just as troubling as she did, and it made her feel as if she had caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye. A brief touch of her brother's hand, and maybe a half-grin that indicated he was on her side no matter how much Dorothy tried to sway everyone around her.
"Oh," she said in a small voice. "I see."
"Edmund wasn't a member of the T club, you see," Dorothy reminded her. "He visited once in awhile but we didn't really get on."
"You scared him off, likely as not," Albert said. "When you said you wanted to stand on the nearest rooftop when that terrible thunderstorm erupted last summer because a lightening strike might open the portal."
Alice tsked. "If there was one small piece of advice I could give you young people, it would be stop living like you're immortal and live like you want to go on forever. Take care of yourselves! Eat! Exercise! Do not go anywhere near a rooftop during a thunder and lightening storm."
"Speaking of living forever," Wendy said with a wistful expression. "I saw the ship again last night."
"I was sound asleep and missed the whole thing," Jane added gloomily. "What I wouldn't give for one more glance!"
"What ship?" asked Susan.
"Captain Hook's pirate ship still sails the night skies," Wendy said with a shrug. "Whether or not he's returned from the belly of a crocodile is up for debate, certainly. But I believe Peter Pan is captain now, and he sails the ship across the clouds until it really looks like one."
Susan nodded slowly. "So... you've seen a pirate ship... in the sky?"
"Sailing on the clouds," repeated Wendy.
Albert gave Susan a half smile, but it looked more like a challenge.
"How... pleasant," Susan finished lamely.
Wendy laughed instead of being offended. "I know you don't believe me, Susan. It's all right. We can live with our differences, can't we? I am just so overjoyed that you know about Jane and Peter. It's not right to keep you in the dark... not at all. You can think I'm barking mad for believing in Peter Pan... but the thought that we might go on as a family... and have you over at times to spend some time with the baby... that's all that matters, doesn't it?"
Jane nodded emphatically. They were very alike, the two of them. Jane embodied the hope and youth of everything that Wendy believed in, and Wendy had the instinct and gentleness to guide her daughter through being a single mother. Together they made a pair of bookends, the sort that didn't match but should never be separated anyhow.
"Of course," Susan agreed. "Peter would have been so pleased."
...
Albert recreated a rousing tale told by him by his great uncle Jimmy. Susan had a hard time following it involved five children, a sand fairy, and a series of misadventures where time was warped and nothing was as it seemed. Albert had them all in stitches. At one point, he stood up and recreated a conversation between his mother, Anthea, and an Egyptian guard, who had an argument about the origin of the pyramids. Anthea knew it had likely been built by Hebrew slaves, and the Egyptian argued that it was placed there by a god.
"She says, OI, there's only one God, you know, an' his people built your palaces," Albert mimicked a high-pitched British school-girl voice. "Your Pharaoh is a dictator!"
Susan politely raised her hand.
"Yes, to the little lady in the front," Albert pointed at her with a flourish.
"How did a little girl from England and an ancient Egyptian understand each other?" she asked practically.
"Oh, that's an easy one," Albert laughed, "The amulet works as a translator. Anthea heard the guard in English, and he heard her in Ancient Egyptian."
Susan pretended to smile when everyone burst into laugher.
Everyone around the circle shared a story. Wendy told them about a wolf that she was raising in Neverland, and how she believed the wolf could hear her thoughts. Jane said that a fairy called Fusspot had adopted Peter Pan as her own sometime after his first fairy, Tinkerbell, had passed away. Fusspot was very kind and dainty, and couldn't stand it if any child were ill or mistreated. She singlehandedly convinced Peter to take in half a dozen lost boys in less than a year, multiplying their little family until they had a compound of boys and girls and had to move out of their Home Tree.
As the hour came to a close, the club was beginning to look expectantly towards Alice. It seems that it was a tradition that she end close things up. Instead of telling an amusing story, she waved her thin, wrinkled hand, with a sad sort of smile on her face. "You don't want to hear me ramble about the old days, do you?" she sighed and rubbed her eyes. "This old lady needs rest. Let's meet again next week and discuss having a party for Jane's baby."
"I love parties!" said Hank Sr.
"Ladies only," Alice declared.
Everyone began to stand up and put their coats on, returning to normal subjects such as the baby, and the post-war changes in society, and whether or not to bring umbrellas next time.
Susan tuned everyone out and remained entirely focused on Alice. Dear, sweet Alice, a harmless old lady who believed so strongly in magic that the grief of losing it was etched in every feature. It was odd how Susan found features similar to her own, when they looked nothing alike.
Everyone began to bid goodbye and wish everyone safe travels until next time, and Susan waved farewell as she remained in her seat. Then at last, it was only Susan and Alice.
Alice was crying softly.
"Whatever is the matter?" Susan asked with obvious concern.
Alice looked at her with big blue eyes, sodden with tears and her wrinkled chin trembling. "Oh, my dear," she said sadly, "I just miss Wonderland and the Hatter so very much. When I was a child I just couldn't wait to get home, where everything made sense and no one spoke nonsense. But I grew up and realized adults speak nonsense more often than not. My husband made sure of that. And nothing makes sense, either." She took Susan's hands in her own and held them tightly in her lap. "You know. You've lost your whole family. I lost both my eldest boy, David, in the war. Andrew Jr. lost his mind somewhere in the trenches of France and hasn't found it yet."
Susan felt physical pain in her chest for Alice's sake.
"Life doesn't make any sense at all, and how is this life worth the grief and horror it holds? I could have stayed in Wonderland, you know." She sniffed, and dabbed her nose and eyes with her sleeve. "I had a third adventure I rarely tell anyone about. When I was probably about your age. I never told my husband about it. I mean, the affair was before I met him."
"You don't have to tell me about it," Susan said politely. "Not if it makes you unhappy."
"I went back to Wonderland when I was about twenty or twenty-one," Alice went on. "Hatter was almost the same as I left him, only... more lucid. He was still having a Tea-Party, but it was if he had been awakened. He wondered why he was sitting there drinking tea all the time, and why the Dormouse spoke in riddles. He wanted to know why no one but me had been brave enough to stand up to the Queen of Hearts."
Susan nodded, trying to help despite the fact none of this made any sense to her. "Perhaps this Hatter you met was beginning to see reality," she said gently.
"Wonderland stopped shifting. It seems that as I grew up, so did Wonderland begin to. My imagination was not nearly as wild, and neither was Wonderland. And the Mad Hatter was just a Hatter, no longer mad. I fell for him, and he for me. We made all sorts of wild plans about taking down the Red Queen and White Queens, who were doing battle against each other and making Wonderland suffer for it. The Queen of Hearts was mere child's play by comparison. For all the awakening of Wonderland, another thing woke up; violence and hatred. The Jabberwocky stalked the woods again."
Susan bit her lip. What the hell is a Jabberwocky?
"But something went wrong with the magic," Alice sighed. "Hatter thought I wasn't safe there. We arranged for a rabbit hole to be dug near where I was staying. I promised I would come back as soon as I could. Hatter told me my promise would keep him alive. Then we kissed one last time," Alice began to cry again, "And I crawled through the rabbit hole and emerged at my parent's estate. And from that point on, I was never able to go back. Every mirror remained solid. Every hole only surface-deep. There is no magic for me to return to Wonderland. I've tried EVERYTHING!"
Susan made a soothing sound and patted her back gently. "There was more in this life for you to live," she said, and she was surprised to find that it was the same sort of answer she hated from people who tried to explain away the train accident. "That's why. You're here in a land without magic because that's where you were meant to be... to live... and to grow."
Alice looked up at Susan. "I can see it now," she said softly, "There you are, Queen Susan... the Gentle. I knew you were in there somewhere."
"There, there, don't be silly," Susan said. "This is about you right now." she searched her handbag for a hanky, finally locating one and handing it across. "Here. Dry your eyes."
Alice dabbed at her eyes again. "I married Andrew Sr. not more than a few years after I returned from Wonderland. I was getting to be an old maid at twenty three, and my parents worried I would be a true spinster. I completely gave up on magic and was horribly depressed. But when I had David and Andrew Jr. my life changed... I found purpose in them!"
"Children must help the aggrieved," Susan said. "Just look at Jane... and Peter. She'll have his child to remember him by."
"Well," Alice said bitterly, "Peter died heroically. My marriage ended because I divorced Andrew almost twenty years ago. You know why? He found himself much too indulgent with his prostitutes and it made the papers. I was so humiliated!"
Susan opened her mouth, and closed it again. She thought it best to not comment on adultery.
Alice let out a short little laugh. "And there is the story of Alice Little-Whitmore. The woman without magic and a heart too weak to see around that. Am I not a pathetic figure?"
"I think you're very brave, to have lost so much and yet still lead a group of people all searching for similar things. That's very brave of you." Susan found it to be true... for once, she wasn't lying just to make someone feel better. "You've made me feel better."
"Really?" Alice took her hands in her own again. "Then I am happy for that, my dear. So happy." She stood and embraced her closely. "We miss Peter, Lucy, and Edmund so very much," she whispered. "nothing that compares to your grief, of course. But you must understand that we have all lost someone. We all know how it feels." She pulled back. "You may lean on us, when life is too difficult. You're welcome anytime. We are very non-judgmental folk."
"I can see that," Susan chuckled lightly, through tears threatening to spill forth. "I am so very sorry that you are stuck here, and cannot go to Wonderland."
"I guess it doesn't really matter though," Alice said honestly, "You don't believe in Wonderland."
"I believe that you believe it," Susan walked to the hat rack and took down Alice's heavy coat. She returned and wrapped it around the frail woman's bony shoulders. "And that makes your sadness real."
"Thank you, dear," Alice said.
"May I offer you my arm?" Susan asked.
"Yes, thank you." They linked arms, and Susan turned out the last kerosene lamp. Together they walked slowly into the darkness through the tunnels. The drip, drip, drip of a puddle somewhere didn't seem nearly as terrifying, and Susan led Alice back to the entrance as if she'd been coming through this old underground her whole life. Somehow, in Alice's tearful monologue and the vulnerability of sharing her doubts and fears, Susan felt the judgement of their magic slip away. Her hard exterior was beginning to be worn down by kindness, and the relief of knowing that she did not sit among a room of hypocrites who just wanted to get drunk at the next party or find a way into Susan Pevensie's knickers.
It was almost like feeling safe and loved, in a world where nothing was safe and everyone she loved was dead.
...
Susan safely saw Alice into a cab before turning and trying to hail one for herself. She raised her arm and stepped to the curb, only to see someone familiar out of the corner of her eye.
Albert was still hanging about, speaking with Dorothy. They appeared to be arguing, two shadows on the nearest street corner with abrupt and intense hand gestures. She quickly lowered her hand and stepped back by a police box, unashamed of her eavesdropping.
They kept their voices low, but Susan thought she heard snatches and phrases here and there.
"-always running off with the damn amulet!"
"I gave it to you for safekeeping, didn't I?"
"Only because you know I don't know how to use it!"
"Well, maybe I'll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours!"
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Meaning I think you're hiding something, Miss Gale."
"I'm an honest American, and I resent your accusation."
"I think you're an honest American who will do anything to get back to your precious Oz."
"What a ludicrous statement!"
"Deny it all you like! There's something different about you, something greedy in your eyes. You've had it ever since you met Susan Pevensie! Maybe even before that. You want something from her, I'd warrant. You think she can help you get back to Oz."
"Susan Pevensie couldn't find a way to Oz even if the yellow brick road led her from her own door to the steps of the Emerald City. She'd find a way to go around it and end up at that shoddy hotel where she works just like she always does."
"Dot, you're a peach, have I ever told you that?"
"Albert, you're a dog."
"I thought you liked dogs."
"I liked my dog. Before he died. I'll thank you not to remind me of him."
"Are we ever going to be friends?"
"I have much too fun being your enemy. Same time next week?"
"Would I miss our verbal martial arts for the world?"
"Enjoy a week without a magical getaway."
"Enjoy having an amulet that doesn't bloody work!"
With exasperated groans, Dorothy and Albert turned away from each other and marched down the sidewalk in opposite directions. Without a second thought, Susan stepped out from behind the police box and followed Albert down the street..
Keeping behind garden gates, trees lining the road, or corners, Susan managed to discreetly stalk Albert for nearly half a mile. The distance didn't trouble her a bit; she felt that in a past life, she might have been accustom to walking great distances without cabs nearby. She had always been athletic in her youth, joining rowing and swim teams and generally trying to prove that she could be better than the boys.
Where had that spark and energy gone? When she returned to school after staying with Professor Kirk, she had been enveloped by a dark depression. Peter, Lucy, and Edmund couldn't help her, and only through the help of the girls at her boarding school was she able to come into her own again. She wondered if it was something clinical, a digestive imbalance of some kind. There had been no reason to be so bloody sad, exhausted, and angry all the time... but she was.
And only when her roommates, Agatha and Helen, taught her how to do her hair and make up, Susan was able to find ways to make boys fill the empty void inside her heart.
Eventually she gave up trying to beat the boys in sports, and tried to win their hearts instead. And it worked.
Susan's memories were partially interrupted when she saw Albert ascend a tram. His figure disappeared inside, maneuvering through the people sitting or standing. Susan reached out her hand and caught the handle as it rolled slowly by, the loud clanking of the engine drowned out momentarily by a whistling horn. She remained near the front, sliding into a seat behind the conductor. Every few moments, she peeked over the back of the seat.
Albert looked thoughtfully out the window, his reflection in the glass revealing nothing but a passive expression that watched the buildings and the people go speedily by.
When they came to another stop, Susan pulled the brim of her hat down to hide her face. Three or four people stood and exited the tram, but Albert didn't. She breathed a sigh of relief and settled in for another brief haul.
After five or so more stops, Susan was beginning to relax. If he hadn't noticed her now, he probably wouldn't, ever. Whatever he was up to, she'd find it out. It might be easy to fool Dorothy, but not her. Dorothy wasn't willing to exert herself to solve any puzzle. Susan had a curiosity that rivaled Alice's obsession with the word itself.
She was so busy congratulating herself that she didn't notice at first when the tram came to another halt. The few seconds cost her her secrecy.
"Ahem," said Albert, standing in the aisle and looking down at her with a bemused expression.
Susan looked up innocently. "Oh. It's you."
Albert held out his hand. "Come on. No use hiding now."
Susan diligently accepted his hand and followed him off the tram. "It's been years since I've ridden one of these," she said lightly, pretending she did not need to apologize for following him.
"Well," Albert shrugged, walking her down the sidewalk, "I didn't want to catch a cab. It would have been much harder for you to follow me."
"Did you know it the whole time?" Susan asked, peevishly.
"Of course I did."
"I'm just curious about why things are so difficult between you and Dorothy."
"Because we don't trust each other," Albert stopped her and looked at her steadily. "Don't you think it's important to only be friends with someone you can trust?"
Susan discreetly took back her hand and wrapped her arms around herself. It was chilly out. "I should think so."
"I can assume that you've followed me because you want to know my secret," Albert added.
Susan didn't expect him to be so... brazen. "Well, yes," she admitted. "There's something funny going on."
"All right," Albert said, "If I trust you with this, it means we should be friends."
It was impossible to be friends with men, as they usually only wanted a specific sort of relation with Susan. She shifted uncomfortably, and looked at his earnest face. He seemed an honorable young man, and not particularly interested in settling down with a girl any time soon. Maybe they could be friends.
"Friends," Susan agreed.
Albert turned and walked off the sidewalk and down the curved drive of Middlesex Hospital. Susan balked at first.
"Well, come on," Albert said. He held out his hand. "Do you want to hold my hand again?"
"I'm perfectly capable of..."
Albert took her hand again despite her protest and tucked it around his arm, as if they were a young couple on a yacht, not two acquaintances who barely know each other. But for some reason, everything about the T club... or the Tea Club... or the Traveler's Society of what ever the bloody hell it is, none of the typical rules applied. So what if she had just met Albert a few hours ago?
This felt like the natural progression of a heroine in a novel that Lucy might like to read, going along with every situation that presented itself and believing the best in everyone. So what if Hank Jr. practically kidnapped her? Didn't Lucy believe she'd been kidnapped by a faun who wanted to sell her to the witch? And were they not the best of friends?
And Lucy willingly returned to Narnia, so she said, even to see the very faun who kidnapped her. Susan may be drawn back to the abandoned tube station for the same reasons. What if there was more to the mundane? What if she might be friends with them? Would it be so wrong to be friends with them, after all?
Susan realized; maybe it was, maybe it wasn't, but that didn't matter, because she had no one left.
Oh, Lucy and her faun stories... She'd know just what to say or do. She drank the tea, listened to the music, and ate the toast with sardines. Susan was walked arm-in-arm with someone who felt just a little magical, probably only because he believed in it so devoutly, but she was not excited about the brick and pillared building they approached.
It was the Middlesex Hospital.
Her first reaction wasn't so virtuous. She wondered what sort of diseases might be lying in wait for her recently grieving and vulnerable health.
The second reaction was understandable confusion. What the hell was Albert doing here? How was this part of his big secret?
And the third was where the Queen tried to peer behind the heavy curtain of her prison: What was wrong with Albert, and why should fate see fit to give her a new friend, only to limp slight
Susan didn't want to walk through the front doors with him, but she did.
It was her sardines on toast.
...
"Albert, lovely to see you, as usual," said at least three nurses as they walked through the front.
She caught a brief glimpse of somber paintings in the front hospital lobby, waiting to greet people and remind them it was a place where one ought not to be happy. The images were long figures in gray, standing on stairs, or sitting at tables around spheres of light. The effect was supposed to be merciful, but she felt the result was grotesque.
Albert led Susan expertly down the halls, past all normal front-desk operatives or wards where Albert could have had someone to visit. Susan had a sinking feeling that he knew his way around; not because he was visiting a friend or another Tea Club member, but because he was a patient.
"And who is this lovely lady?" asked a man in a white coat.
"This companion of mine is Susan Pevensie," Albert introduced with flourish. "My friend."
"How do you do," Susan barely managed to say before Albert had whisked her off again. He led her through the doors marked Radioactive Treatments.
"Albert," she said, her voice choking up ever so slightly. Don't be melodramatic, she reminded herself. After all, they only just met! Don't get attached. Don't get attached. Everyone dies someday, some sooner than most. "I won't go another step until you tell me why we're here."
"My appointment for radiation therapy. Or whatever they're calling it nowadays." Albert sat in a small chair and patted his leg, the one that he favored in a limp that morning, with a reluctant smile. "Bone cancer. From my knee to my ankle. And spreading fast. I practically live here."
Susan stood still, her body refusing to have a reaction of any kind.
"You know they've recently approved a new medicine," Albert said. "Believe it or not, they made it somehow out of the mustard gas the chaps use in the war. Or maybe it was inspired by it? Or maybe just made of the same substance. I don't remember. But by the time it's in circulation by any normal hospital, it'll probably be too late for me."
She realized she was shaking. "This is ridiculous," she said, coughing and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I don't even know you. In fact, I don't even know if I LIKE you!" Albert tried to say something funny and smiling, but she went on. "Maybe it's my fault," she whispered. "Sooner or later, everyone I know dies. By association, you're going to die sooner than you should. It's my destiny to see everyone around me go to an early grave."
"Who says I'm dying?" Albert said, his smile faltering. "I'm just sick." He reached up and took her hand, and pulled her down to the seat beside him. To her surprise, he put his arms around her and embraced her. His thin body-type and dark hair made him, just for a moment, look just like Edmund. Hugging him felt like hugging Edmund.
She hugged him back. "I'm very sorry," she whispered. "I realize we're strangers, but..."
"We're not, remember?" Albert pulled back. "You agreed. We're friends."
"Yes, well... new friends. Very new." Susan looked away with embarrassment. "I just wanted to say if you need anything. Anything at all. I'm sure you'll let me know, won't you? I don't have anyone else in the world, I might as well spend some effort and look after you."
Albert smiled. "That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me."
"I don't think I've ever been responsible for saying the sweetest thing to anyone," Susan nearly smiled. She looked towards the door, and the clock above it. "When's your appointment?"
"In... thirty seconds."
"Shall I go in with you?"
Albert looked at her the way Edmund would when he was proud of her. "You know, you really are a gentle person. It's no wonder your siblings called you a Queen."
But it didn't answer her question. "Well... shall I?"
"You can't go in with me. Radiation, and all. They put me in a lead-lined room and pull a giant thing down from the ceiling and... well, you can watch through the window if you like? Nurse Hartford, the x-ray technician, probably wouldn't mind. I'm an old favorite."
"Only if you like."
"I think I'd like just about anything you say, or do, Susan Pevensie. You're a refreshing spring in a desert of old, crabby people."
"I don't think I've ever refreshed anyone, either."
"That's where you're wrong. You've been hiding in disguise for far too long, you've just forgotten. This is the real you, this kind, warm, and curious creature. You just offered to go into a radioactive room with a stranger!"
Susan let herself smile. "But you said we're not strangers. We're friends."
"Why yes, I did say that, didn't I?" Albert winked.
The doors opened and Nurse Hartford stepped out, followed by another white-coated doctor, this one a little younger and handsomer.
"Where have you been all my life?" Albert rose to greet them.
"Married, remember?" said Nurse Hartford, beckoning him into a room full of strange wall panels with dials and buttons, like nothing Susan had ever seen before.
"Not you!" Albert teased. "Doctor Handsome over here."
"All right, you dandy," chided Dr. Handsome, whose name-tag read Hansen. "Flattery will get you very little from me."
"Will it get me a special guest to wait in here with Nurse Hartford?" Albert asked sweetly. "I'll be good, I promise."
"You're already being very naughty," said the doctor, "You're not using your cane like I specifically asked you to."
Albert slapped his forehead. "I left it at..." he looked at Susan. "At the Tea Shop," he said with realization. "By the door."
"You did," Susan nodded emphatically. "I can promise he was using it very diligently this morning."
Albert grinned at her as if to say, partners in crime. Then he took her hand and squeezed it. "Wish me luck," he said, and he stood and led them through to another chamber. Susan was allowed to sit in a room full of wall panels of dials and knobs and meters with needles that whisked back and forth. She didn't understand much of what she was seeing, only that the x-ray technician was a friendly brunette about her own age. She could watch Albert through a window while she sat at a small table and adjusted the x ray's controls. The doctor and the nurse shut the heavy door behind them, and the room lined with lead looked like any old exam room, save the large machine hanging from the ceiling that looked sort of like a telescope.
Susan made herself as comfortable as she could be in a small chair, and before lying down on the bed, Albert gave her one last look through the window. He smiled and winked again, but the light didn't reach his eyes this time.
He's scared, thought Susan, giving him a timid wave. They pulled the machine down from the ceiling, adjusting the length and angle until it was pointed at a specific portion of his calf. Susan's mind went back to Dorothy's prods and accusations of Albert, and came to her own decision. Maybe I was a failure with my family. Maybe this is a second chance. I couldn't protect them, but I can try protecting somebody.
She would never let Dorothy grouse at Albert for his absences ever again, even if she had to attend every single bloody Tea Club meeting to do it.
...
Dear readers, I hope you are love reading this as much as I've loved writing it... each chapter gives me more joy than the last! I am so excited to begin work on chapter 5!
Please review and let me know what you think...