I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update. I should say at the beginning: This next chapter is probably my weakest one so far, it's been so hard to write! It is almost a bridge between the end of one story and the beginning of another (yes, I have decided to keep going!)
It's kind of a bitty chapter, but another will follow it pretty quickly. Hope it's not too below par - there's a nice little bit of sibling bonding in it, I'm counting on that helping to sweeten the deal. I promise it will get better, don't lose the faith! (Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.)
The little household was unusually quiet in the week that followed. Edmund and Lucy trudged off to school day after day, with heavy hearts and heavy heels, while Peter spent long, quiet days at home with Susan.
They didn't talk much, and barely ate; Peter had never prepared anything that couldn't be cooked over an open fire, and besides, neither of them had much of an appetite. Peter was too tired and keyed up to even think about eating and it seemed Susan couldn't keep anything down. It was some comfort that they were at least making the rations go that bit further, and that there would be more for the younger ones; but even the sandwiches that Lucy made up when she got home from school often ended up feeding the birds.
When three of Susan's girlfriends came to the door to ask after her, Peter stood in the doorway and explained that his sister had come down with a fever and they didn't know when she would be able to receive visitors. He had looked so very grave and serious that even Freda didn't feel much like playing a round of the popular favourite: "Make Su's Brother Blush." In the end, they had simply smiled their concern, wished Susan a speedy recovery and departed.
Then, one wet Wednesday evening, a young gentleman rang the doorbell and was treated to a very peculiar tableau. It seemed to Clive, (for that was the young gentleman's name,) that Susan's entire family had answered the door. Truly, he thought, it had been quite enough to make a lesser chap turn tail and run.
"Is Su about?" he had asked, proffering a bunch of peonies and running his hand nervously over a head of hair, quite slick with pomade. "Mags told me she was ill, I thought I'd pop by and try to cheer her up."
For several long and awkward moments there was no reply. Su's elder brother, the blonde one, who was looming rather large in the doorway, glowered at the visitor with an expression that made Clive feel somehow ashamed of himself. In fact, he didn't mind admitting that he almost ran for the hills when the hallway light flicked on and he spied another brother lurking in the hallway. A younger sister, barely visible, sat on the stairs behind, but of Susan herself there was no sign.
Some secret communication appeared to go on between brother number one and brother number two; the elder inclined his head and raised his eyebrows at the other who stared hard at Clive for a few seconds, then shook his head and looked at the floor. Number one, looking a tiny bit friendlier now, turned back and said:
"She's not able to see anyone yet, but I'll see she gets those."
Then, taking the flowers from Clive's befuddled grasp, he shut the door in his face. Really, it had been very strange, and terribly bad form. But then, everyone knew that the Pevensies were a little peculiar.
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Edmund had never cared a bean about his own peculiar reputation, but it appeared that even he wasn't completely oblivious to public opinion, when he came home one afternoon nursing a bruised and lacerated palm.
"What happened, Ed?" Peter questioned his brother in a hushed but heated whisper. He had walked into the kitchen to find Lucy wrapping the injured hand in her handkerchief and bathing it with tears. When Edmund did not reply, she eyed him with wary concern and sniffed:
"He got into a fight. I think someone said something… I don't know what, he won't say… but Mr Walden beat him for it."
Peter clenched his jaw, and placed a heavy hand on Edmund's shoulder, but Edmund jerked away, hissing:
"'Someone said something!' They were all saying it! The stupid bastards… Bastards!" And Edmund kicked the kitchen cabinet, making the pans within rattle.
"Stop it! Keep your voice down!" Peter grimaced, nodding towards the living room where Susan was resting. "What? Who? Who was saying what?"
"They were all making out that Susan's some kind of slut! I couldn't let them talk that way…"
His face was black with fury. Peter too was so angry he could barely speak. Lucy was reminded as she looked from face to face, exactly what her brothers were capable of when their family was threatened. It frightened her, but in a way it made her feel strong, and safe. Peter was breathing heavily, but something more pressing than his rage forced itself to the front of his mind and out of his lips.
"What exactly was said? What do people know?"
Edmund drew a deep breath, and then all of a sudden, it seemed the wind had gone out of him. He slumped a little and hung his head.
"It was just… Oh I don't know! Some fellows were making cracks about her, how she's pretty and all that, and how they'd like to… you know. And then one chap said something like she's a really 'friendly' sort, implying that she's easy or something and… I just saw red. I shouldn't have hit him, but I couldn't help it."
"Oh Ed," Peter made a half hearted attempt to scold his brother, but instead found himself embracing him tightly. Lucy put her arms about them and they stood together for a few moments before Edmund disentangled himself.
"I suppose it's nothing they haven't said before. We all make jokes about each other's mothers, sisters, anyone really - but it's different now, after…" and Edmund groaned and put his head in his hands. "I've made a bit of a hash of things, haven't I? Please, don't tell Su, please…"
"Of course not," Peter agreed, shaking his head fervently, and trembling a little with a mix of anger and relief. It could have been a whole lot worse than it was, and Peter was thankful at least for that.
"Edmund?" Lucy looked up at her brother with a tearful smile, and squeezed his uninjured hand in hers.
"I love you," she said.
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Doctor Steadman was as good as his word. He came back to check on Susan a week after his first visit, and then again a week later when he took out the stitches and declared his patient to be well on the mend. Still, there was something in the Doctor's usually cheery, comforting manner that seemed strained on that third visit, even if it was only Lucy who saw it.
Mr and Mrs Pevensie returned home in high spirits at the end of the month, full of tales of their trip and with cases overflowing with goodies of all kinds. Susan met them at the door: a gay smile on her face and a good dinner cooking on the stove.
"Susan, darling!" her mother cried as she embraced her tightly on the doorstep, "Ooh, I've missed you! Has anything exciting happened while we're been away? Peter couldn't seem to tell us anything interesting on the drive back from the station. I'm counting on you to fill me in with all the gossip!"
"No mum," and if Susan's voice cracked from lack of use, her mother didn't notice it. "Really… Everything's just the same, nothing's changed at all."
"Oh, you do make it sound dull! Still, I suppose it's better than bombs or bruises. Well come on then, let's go inside and have tea. I can give you all your presents."
When Peter and his father had brought the last bit of luggage in from the car, the family sat down together in the living room. Mrs Pevensie was so excited to see her children again, she could hardly stop talking.
"Here you go Peter, I hope you like it," she said, passing him a large, book-shaped package, "It's about all the beautiful horses they have out in America, they're quite different from ours you know, wilder somehow. You would have loved them, darling."
Turning her head, Mrs Pevensie continued: "Lucy, this one's for you… ah, you know what it is don't you? But you know we won't be able to get you any more sweets for a long time, so try to make them last, there's a good girl.
"I would have brought you some sweets too, Edmund, but you're not so keen on them as you were, are you? So I got you a new set of drawing pencils instead, I hope you like them, sweetheart."
Mrs Pevensie reached into her bag one last time and removed a small package with a smile and a flourish.
"And last but not least, Susan… oh, I don't know why I'm pretending this is a surprise, you pestered me enough to get them for you! Here you go, darling - enjoy!"
Susan smiled her thanks. Fumbling a little with the string, she unwrapped the parcel and gazed down at the contents which fell into her lap: A black kohl pencil, and a pair of real, silk stockings.