Disclaimer: Don't own Narnia or Edmund, darn it. Maureen is mine, however.
AN: I realize Edmund most likely went to a boys only bording
school. In LWW, though, Lewis writes that he went to a new kind of
school prior to his adventure in Narnia - one where he started to go
bad - and for the purposes of this story, it was co-ed.
Chance Encounter
"Thank you very much, sir," Maureen Dowling said to the man behind the ticket counter as she counted out her bills, "Thank you."
"You're welcome, miss," the man responded, smiling kindly, although goodness knows how long he had been there, dealing with impatient customers. "Here are your tickets. Have a good holiday."
She nodded in response as she took the yellow bits of cardboard paper and tucked them into her purse. Distracted as she turned to go, she fairly collided with the people standing in line to her left, and her belongings clattered to the ground. "Blast!" she muttered loudly, squatting down to retrieve the make-up tin and lipstick that had rolled merrily away. "Sorry! Please excuse me! So sorry!"
Most of the other customers looked on with pity, some were irritated. Maureen tried to ignore these pointed glares as she gathered up the bits of paper and receipts she always kept stashed, in true pack-rat fashion, in her purse. A pair of brown walking shoes stopped in front of her and someone bent down to her level. "I believe this belongs to you, ma'am," said a pleasant male voice.
Maureen looked up to see a handsome young man holding out her little box of throat lozenges. "Yes, that's mine," she said, a flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck. "Thank you for your kindness."
"It's no trouble," he responded, "Here, have you found everything? Yes? Good…" He took her arm and helped her to her feet and away from the converging lines. "Have your tickets?"
"Yes, thanks," said Maureen, squishing her purse closed and snapping it shut. She smiled at her helpmate tentatively. He looked rather familiar. He smiled back, a friendly grin, and swept his dark hair away from his forehead with long fingers. "Traveling far?" he asked, clearly in no hurry to leave.
"Not really," she said carefully, although she felt as though he were trustworthy. "It's holiday for me."
"Everyone needs a holiday," he said, "Some of us more than one a year."
"Certainly true." There was an awkward pause, until finally the young man straightened and sketched a salute in farewell.
"Nice meeting you – have a terrific time." He turned with one last smile and moved away, a very slight limp marring his otherwise confident stride. Maureen watched him go, wishing a little that she had more courage or more conversational skill. He was certainly handsome, but he seemed more than that – deeper, somehow. And she knew she had seen him somewhere before, sometime long ago. Ah, well, it mattered little now. With a small sigh, she made her way towards the small café located in the station's rear. She wanted a bite to eat before she caught her train.
A day or so later, coming down from her room at the hotel, she picked up the daily newspaper for something to read at the beach. With a snap, she shook it open to skim the headlines. MULTI-CAR CRASH AT WEST HAM PLATFORM, one read, DERAILMENT CAUSES CASUALTIES. Something made Maureen stop and read the article, and when she came to the list of dead, her heart gave a leap. …Peter Pevensie, Edmund Pevensie, Lucy Pevensie…
"Edmund!" she whispered, sitting down slowly on the lobby couch, "Oh, Edmund!" That's who the young man at the station had been – how foolish of her not to recognize him! Even when she compared the young boy of her memory with his grown self, the relationship was clear. He had been such a little prig when she had first known him, at school. Following the war, she had had close contact with him only one or two other times, and he had seemed very different – nicer. He had helped her repack a trunk when it had spilled open on the school lawn, very much as he had helped her in the train station.
Maureen folded the paper gently and placed it back on the table. She would send her condolences to the family, in gratitude for his kindness. "Rest in peace, Edmund," she whispered, "You will be remembered."