Chapter 4

A turn for the worst

Meanwhile, Lucy was lying with her head in her arms, sobbing quietly. It wasn't fair--why did no one believe her? If only she could find a way to make them see--but they'd tried the wardrobe, and nothing came of it.

Perhaps it is because they are too grown up to believe in magic, she thought, when she heard a knock on the door.

"Go away," she whimpered, but her request wasn't fulfilled. Susan came in, and sat beside her younger sister.

"Lu...Peter says to to tell you he loves you," she began, but this made Lucy cry even harder. "We all do," Susan added, stroking the child's hair gently. "But you really must take better control of that imagination...I fear it runs away with you a bit too much these days."

Lucy sat up, her cheeks damp with tears. "But I wasn't imagining anything!" she cried, hiccoughing every now and again. "Honest I wasn't! I don't know why you or Ed couldn't see Narnia, but it was there in the wardrobe! I wouldn't make that up, I swear!"

Susan sighed, feeling a bit lost for what to do. "Lu, that's enough," she said. "Really."

Lucy turned away, wanting to be left alone. "Go away," she croaked, as the tears began falling.

"Lu..." Susan started to protest, but Lucy repeated her demand, and Susan saw no other way out of the situation. She left Lucy, and made her way back to Peter's room. He lay still, his face ghastly white and covered with sweat. She rushed to fetch a bowl of cool water and a cloth, and began blotting his cheeks and neck. Peter groaned, moving about restlessly, but did not open his eyes.

His breathing was certainly growing worse by the minute, which the Professor noticed immediately when he entered the room.

"Good heavens, he's taking a bad turn," the older gentleman said, and Susan's lips were trembling.

"You don't think he could be allergic to the herb Lucy gave him?" she asked, and the Professor stared at her.

"What?" he asked, blinking through his large glasses.

"She gave him this," Susan explained, handing the Professor the empty mug. "she claims she's been to another world through a wardrobe, and a faun gave it to her."

The Professor's own face turned white, and he looked at Peter. "Did she?" he asked, and Susan nodded.

"She won't give up about it," she added. "I don't understand what's gotten into her...I know she's upset, but even Lucy usually keeps her head."

Professor Kirke cleared his throat, setting the mug aside after taking a sniff from it. "Where is your sister?" he asked, and Susan bit her lip.

"She's in our room," she answered. "but she wants to be left alone."

Professor Kirke nodded, and tapped his fingers together. "Well, I'll have Mrs. Macready send for the doctor again...he can do a better diagnosis." he felt Peter's forehead, which was of course, burning up. "Stay here with him," he said, and hurried out of the room. Susan watched as the old man disappeared through the door, and felt Peter squeeze her hand.

"Let me help you sit up a bit," she encouraged, trying not to break down in front of him. She eased her older brother into an upright position, in an attempt to get more air into his lungs. "Try to cough, sweetheart," she begged, rubbing his back, and fetching a handkerchief from under his pillow. In a feverish haze, Peter attempted to cough as hard as he could, bringing up a mouthful of phlegmn into the cloth she held to his lips. He gulped, choking on a sob of pain.

When Lucy finally came out of her room, she could hear Peter's continuous hacking across the hall. It was clear he was worse...much worse...than before she'd given him the tea. But Mr. Tumnus couldn't possibly have poisoned Peter! she thought, biting her lip. but I didn't know he was kidnapping me either, she added, and wanted to kick herself for even thinking such horrid thoughts. Mr. Tumnus is too dear! He wouldnt! she jumped when Mrs. Macready came up at that moment in her traveling clothes, ordering her downstairs at once.

"I won't have you skulling about when your brother needs his rest," the house keeper snapped, her lips tightly pursed. "I told the Professor we could take care of this ourselves...we know plenty of remedies. Doctor's specific diagnosis my foot..."

Lucy gulped, making her way down to the parlor, where Edmund sat on the floor against the chair, with a book about ships open on his lap. He ignored Lucy completely when she came in, merely turning the page a bit more loudly than was necessary. Both of them looked up when they heard Macready coming in their direction, and she paused at the parlor doorway. "Supper will be on the table at six thirty," she told them. "I may not be back by then, so make sure you are there promptly."

"Yes'm," they replied in unison, glaring at each other.

"And your brother is not to be disturbed. Any shoutin' or runnin' is to be done outside of the house."

She turned switfly on her heel and stalked out the door, leaving the house in silence again.

Upstairs, Susan allowed Peter to cough up more phlegmn, accepting a basin from the Professor. "This might be a bit more efficient," he said, and she looked at him, her eyes filled with tears.

"I'm so frightened," she squeaked, and the Professor put a hand on her shoulder. "He can't breathe," she added, as he began wheezing hard again.

"So am I," he replied.

At last, when Peter had coughed up what he could, he fell back against his pillows. Susan cringed at the contents of the basin, and, after setting it down, replaced his old compress with a fresh one.

"I would fetch a hot water bottle for his feet," Professor Kirke said after feeling one of them, "but his fever is much too high to risk anything warmer than the blankets he has over him on his body."

"He keeps shivering," she said, tucking the quilt around his sides.

"I'm so c-cold," Peter croaked, his teeth chattering.

"I know, darling," Susan soothed, and Professor Kirke chuckled.

"Look at you," he said softly. "you sound so much like your mother."

She managed a small smile. "I should write to her," she said. "she ought to know Peter is so sick." she started to stand and the Professor motioned for her to sit again with his hand.

"No sense in worrying your mother, Susan...she has quite enough on her hands with the air raids, and she most likely is not at home."

Susan hadn't thought about that...her mother had problably gone to find shelter outside of London as well. She certainly wouldnt have stayed behind at their house, which was right in the center of all the terror.

"Yes," she agreed, nodding. "you are probably right." she turned to Peter, who was drifting off to sleep at last. "he is in such pain," she choked.

"Given the way his fever is spiking, we may have to give him a sponge bath," Professor Kirke suggested. "perhaps we ought to do so now, before the doctor comes."

Susan sniffed, and nodded. "That might help...I'll go and turn on the water in the tub, Professor."

Professor Kirke encouraged Peter to awake again, and the boy merely stared at his guardian through practically blank eyes. It was a struggle trying to get him out of bed, but the Professor and Susan managed to do so. "This way the sheets and his night shirt will be fresh," Professor Kirke explained, as Susan helped Peter undress, feeling a bit strange staring at her now-naked brother. Oh, she'd seen him naked before of course...they were only two years apart, so as babies they saw it all the time. But now...she shuddered a little with embarassment, grateful that he was too delirious to realize what was going on.

"All right," she encouraged, easing him into the tub. Peter gasped in alarm at the touch of the water, and cried out once he was sitting in it. His teeth chattered violently, and more coughs racked through his body. "It's all right." she took a wash cloth and began to rub it over her brother's boiling body.

Professor Kirke, who knew every nook and cranny in his mansion, found a clean set of sheets for the bed. Macready would have had a fit seeing him work this way, but he did not care. "After all," he muttered, "I am the owner of this house, and she is under my charge. I do fear that she is taking her position a bit too seriously." he made the bed with ease, and went to check on Susan, who was still bathing her brother.

"Is it helping at all?" he asked, and she looked up.

"His skin is a bit cooler," she replied. "not very much, though."

Professor Kirke rubbed his chin. "Well, we'll give him about five minutes more, and take him out...he'll catch a chill on top of this flu if in the water for too long."

Susan stroked Peter's hair, kissing the top of his head when he groaned softly. When it was time for him to come out, the Professor returned to the bathroom, and together he and Susan eased Peter out of the tub. They wrapped him in a couple of fluffy towels, and, after pulling a fresh nightshirt over his head, led him slowly back to the bedroom.

Once he was back under the clean sheets and his head elevated to ease his labored breathing, the Professor checked his pocketwatch. It was already five o'clock, and dinner would be served in the dining room around six. "Take your brother and sister outdoors for the remainder of the evening," he suggested. "all of you need some fresh air to help calm your nerves."

Peter coughed and wheezed again, tossing his head from side to side.

"I can't leave him," Susan told the Professor, and he narrowed his eyes.

"Yes, you can," he said firmly. "Susan, you have your other siblings to think of as well. I will sit with Peter, and Mrs. Macready will return with Dr. Barnaby shortly. Please do as I say, my dear…there is no use panicking, all right?"

Susan gulped, stepping back, and nodded slowly. "All right," she whispered, and left the room. She hurried down to the library, where Lucy lay on the couch, still reading her book: Grimm's Fairytales. Edmund was studying his pocketknife, chizzling a piece of stray wood that he'd found outside earlier that week.

"Professor Kirke says we have to go outside," she said, and Lucy looked up from her book.

"Is Peter feeling any better? Oh I'm so sorry, Susan," she sobbed. "I shouldn't have given him the tea…"

Edmund stuffed his knife and the piece of wood into the pockets of his britches, and hopped to his feet. "Oh good one, Lu," he snorted. "now you've gone and poisoned him, haven't you?"

Susan glared. "No of course she hasn't," she snapped, and went to pull Lucy into her arms. "It's not your fault," she soothed. "Peter may just be having an allergic reaction to the herb…you wouldn't have known about that."

"B-but Mr. T-Tumnus said it was o-one of the best medicines," Lucy wailed, clinging to Susan's arms.

"Lucy, enough about that," Susan ordered. "Please."

Lucy started to protest again, but folded her arms tightly against her chest, and her lower lip stuck out in a pout. "Fine," she snapped. "don't believe me, then! But I know Narnia exists! I know I'm right, and I'm not going to change my mind about it, either!"

Edmund and Susan glanced at each other, and then without another word, Susan urged her siblings outside. It was still warm, but now that it was growing near dusk, a cool breeze ruffled their hair as they sat on the lawn. They missed mother dreadfully, and wished she could be here with them. Peter needed her, especially.

Lucy kept her nose buried in her book, refusing to speak to either Susan or Edmund, and occasionally picked at a blade of grass. They lay in silence until six o'clock arrived, and made their way back into the mansion. Mrs. Macready arrived at six fifteen with Dr. Barnaby, and the three children scurried out of her way to the dining room.

Dr. Barnaby followed the house keeper upstairs, where the Professor sat by Peter's bedside, reading a book as well, and occasionally adjusting his glasses on his nose. "We think he may be having a reaction to an herb, doctor," Macready began, as he felt Peter's forehead, and checked his pulse.

"There has been no real change since your last visit, doctor," Professor Kirke said. "as you can see, his breathing is getting worse. We did give him an herbal tea, but his condition changed drastically since he took it down."

Dr. Barnaby peered into Peter's eyes, which were glazed over from the fever, and peered down his throat. He moved into the Professor's chair and opened his satchel, taking out his stethoscope again. "You believe he may be having a reaction to the specific herb you used?" he asked. "do you remember which herb?"

"Well," Mrs. Macready began, "his youngest sister brought the tea, but she did not know for sure what herb she put in."

Dr. Barnaby looked up, surprised. "I see…"

"This is the cup," Mrs. Macready added, and handed it to the doctor. "I daresay it has a hint of rosemary."

Dr. Barnaby gave a slight sniff, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "Mmmm…certainly an odd type of rosemary. I think I detect a hint of cinnamon, in fact." He handed the cup back to Professor Kirke, who eyed the cup suspiciously, and told Mrs. Macready to bring it back down to the kitchens.

"The boy sounds as though he is beginning to come down with pneumonia judging from his breathing," Dr. Barnaby announced, after listening to his heart and his lungs.

"Forgive me for being so blunt, doctor, but…do you think he will die?" Professor Kirke asked, and Dr. Barnaby smiled softly.

"If he does contract pneumonia, then there may be a danger of his passing away, but we have not gotten quite to that stage yet. He still has a good bit of fight left in him, so I would not be too hasty in your worry, sir." He gave Peter a gentle pat on the wrist when the boy began moving about, and Peter relaxed somewhat. "Have you give him a sponge down yet for the fever? If not, I would certainly recommend it."

Professor Kirke nodded. "Yes in deed we did," he replied. "Not long before you arrived, in fact. And cough syrup as well, though that has not helped very much as you can see."

Dr. Barnaby cleared his throat, ruffling his mustache a little with his breath. "Mmmm. Well, I may be able to prescribe a bit of a menthol steam bath. It may help clear his lungs a bit more easily than the cough syrup. And Aspirin for the fever is best…twice a day."

"Of course," Professor Kirke closed his eyes. "We may have thought of that." He glanced at Macready, who, through her stern eyes and tightly-pursed lips, seemed most definitely worried about the child. Peter opened his eyes slowly, turning towards the doctor, and, in a very quiet voice, whispered, "father?"

Macready put a hand over her heart, and Professor Kirke had to chuckle. "Why Mrs. Macready…is that a hint of emotion I am detecting?" he asked, and she looked at him.

"No, lad," Dr. Barnaby said, frowning. "I am afraid I am not your father." He sighed. "Try those remedies, and if they do not help, then we will have to leave the boy in God's hands."

Professor Kirke nodded, accepting the bottle of aspirin. Mrs. Macready said they did have menthol, and that she would set immediately to making the mixture. "Will you stay for supper, doctor?" she asked. "it is just about to be served."

Dr. Barnaby checked his watch, and with another "Hrem," he looked at them.

"I would not want to impose," he said, and Professor Kirke put a hand on the doctor's shoulder.

"Of course not. You are most welcome."

"Who will sit with the boy?" Mrs. Macready asked. "With his breathing so uneven like that, I fear to let him alone."

"I…" Professor Kirke began, and Mrs. Macready pointed at him.

"You most certainly will not," she said. "you've been sitting with him all day long. I will."

"I do not think it wise to be eating supper in the room," Dr. Barnaby said. "perhaps outside the room on the bench here is all right."

Mrs. Macready agreed to sit with Peter for the time being, and Professor Kirke led Dr. Barnaby down to the dining room. Susan, Edmund and Lucy were already seated and waiting for Betty the cook to appear, and all three of them looked anxious when the doctor joined them.

"Good evening doctor," Susan told him politely. "is everything…all right?"

Dr. Barnaby watched as Professor Kirke took a seat at the head of the table, and smiled thoughtfully. "He is going through a bad spell, I'm afraid, and it will be a struggle…there is no doubt about that."

Lucy sobbed once, covering her mouth with her hands, and Susan immediately pulled her close.

"He's…dying then?" Edmund asked, and the doctor shook his head.

"Of course he's not dying, lad. But he is going to have a bit of a fight for the next couple of days."

"Shshhsh," Professor Kirke warned as the girls began to cry softly. "I'll not have crying at the dinner table." He took his spoon when they both paused in their tears. "Perhaps you would like to see a bit of a trick?"

"What?" Susan choked, and Dr. Barnaby grinned.

"Yes, a trick would be very nice in deed, sir. Tears will be of no use," he added. "your brother needs you all to be strong for him."

Susan dabbed at her eyes with her napkin, and Lucy did the same. Edmund hadn't cried at all…he sat very still in his chair, his lips very tight. He wouldn't cry…he really didn't care about Peter that much—not his stupid older brother. His blundering, irritating…

"Now," Professor Kirke began, interrupting his thoughts. "I am not sure whether you know how this is done…children are always so clever these days," he added, "but, watch closely."

They did. He breathed on the cuped part of the spoon, and stuck the metal to his nose. Susan's mouth hung open, and almost immediately, Lucy began giggling.

"Professor!" Susan gasped. "wherever did you learn such a ridiculous thing?"

Professor Kirke watched as Lucy attempted to do the same with her spoon, only succeeding in having it fall to the floor.

"Ridiculous, eh? It's magic, my girl, and magic is far from ridiculous!" he looked at Lucy who was attempting to do it again, and shook his head as the spoon once again slipped off. "No, no, you don't blow on it—you sort of do a light "ha" like that…there!"

Betty at that moment came out with the supper, and Professor Kirke turned to her with the spoon still attached to his nose. "Thank you, my dear," he said, and the poor cook nearly dropped everything with surprise.

"Goodness me," Betty laughed. "that is impressive!" she began to serve the meal…rost pork, rice, green beans, and fresh bread. "How is the other boy?" she asked, having heard of the illness.

"Not much of a change, Betty," Professor Kirke replied. "but we are hoping for the best." He looked at the children, whose eyes were lowered, and cleared his throat. "well, dig in, then, before it gets cold!"

The rest of the meal passed slowly and quietly. When it was over, Dr. Barnaby stayed a bit longer, to help give Mrs. Macready and the Professor exact directions on what to do for Peter. Lucy was allowed to come in and give her brother a good night kiss when it was time for bed, and Peter turned to face her. "Lu…?" his voice was so weak that it was barely audible, and the Professor encouraged Mrs. Macready to join him in the hall for a couple of moments.

"Oh Peter," Lucy choked, stroking his sweat-soaked hair. "I will get you well, I promise. I'm going to go back and see Mr. Tumnus, and he'll help set things right." She took his hand, which was so weak and frail now.

He smiled faintly, reaching up to stroke the ends of her hair. "Love…you," he croaked, before drifting off to sleep again. She felt tears falling down her cheeks, and watched as they splashed onto his comfortor. After the adults came back in, she stood watching as they gathered around Peter's bed to begin his nightly treatments, and clasped her hands in front of her.

"I promise," she whispered, and instead of going directly to bed, she went to the spare room.