Chapter 2
The trouble was that Lucy's words, like Aslan's, faded over time. A week after arriving home, Peter was moping around the house in London, sitting in the window seat and staring out at the bleak landscape of chimney pipes and charred buildings. Finchley was still recovering from the war.
On one of the afternoons when Peter was brooding at the window, he heard Susan and Mother talking in the hallway.
"Please, Susan, just take him with you tonight. He's not been right since he got home, and I've been worried."
"But Mother, you don't understand—Peter is so strange; no one understands him. I'm afraid of what my friends may think."
"He's your brother, Susan, you shouldn't talk about him like that. I should think you'd care about his welfare—"
"Oh alright, I'll take him! But I'm telling you, Mother, it's a bad idea; he won't like it any more than I will."
A moment later the study door opened and Susan entered. She seemed huffy at first, scowling slightly underneath her crown of plastic hair rollers, but her expression softened when she saw Peter. She tucked herself into the window seat and spoke gently.
"Peter? Are you alright?" she asked.
He heaved a sigh before pulling his eyes from the window. "Yes. Fine."
"Because you haven't seemed alright, you know. I was talking about it with Lucy."
"Well then you should know what it's all about," Peter replied moodily.
Susan coughed uncomfortably. "Yes. Well. So…I was going to go to a party tonight with Derek, and I thought you might like to come. You don't seem to get out much."
"Susan, you don't have to invite me just because Mum said." His voice was a little weary.
Susan looked carefully at him. "But I'm not," she said at last. "I want to see you happy again, like you used to be. Come on, who knows, the party might help." Her imploring was gentle and sincere. More out of appreciation for her kindness and relief that at heart she was still Queen Susan the Gentle than any desire to dance, Peter accepted.