Helen didn't sleep that night. She had hoped she had been mistaken, that when they got downstairs Peter and Susan would show her she was wrong. Maybe she still was. She didn't know. But David thought they were…and she had to stand by him. That was her duty. Even though she had actually been sick in the bathroom thinking this might be true, she couldn't deny it. David was right. They had to take Susan to America, get her away from her brother. If they spent some time apart, Susan might find another boy. She was a little more bendable—Helen saw that part of herself in her daughter.
She turned into the pillow and sobbed. She knew that Peter wouldn't change. If he loved his sister as a man and not a brother, he would continue to love her. He held on, like his father. She should have stopped this when it was beginning, turned him away from his sister. But how could she have stopped something she never knew about? Helen tried to think back, groping around in her memory in a bleak attempt to pinpoint where things had gone so wrong. Peter had always been so kind and courteous to his sister. One might even say chivalrous, if it didn't sound ridiculous in that day and age. He would open doors, offer his hand to help Susan down from the bus, kiss her goodnight. It had seemed sweet, at the time. But suppose…perhaps this was not chivalry, but the gestures of young romance. What had seemed sweet now turned sickening.
She thought back. During the war she had been so grateful for her two eldest. They helped her more than she could say. Times had been so hard, and she was often doing volunteer work or, though David didn't know about it, seeking the occasional odd job to put enough food on the table to feed four growing children. She knew she could entrust Edmund and Lucy to Peter and Susan's care. She was even forced to admit that they were better disciplinarians than she when it came to Edmund. When they came back to her safe and sound, though with some kind of odd wisdom hanging around them, she could only be grateful. In truth, she had only been thinking of having her family survive the war and the bombings. Now that they were all together she was forced to pay for her negligence of other matters. She would have to tell David this was all her fault.
When she married David she knew she wasn't in love. Not in that storybook way. He was dependable and strong and good, and that was enough for her. She knew he would give her a good life, and she in turn would give him a good family. She had been right. They had four lovely children—even Edmund turned out right in the end, despite his rough patch. She had never, ever expected this. She thought she had escaped all the screaming rows, but here was David yanking on Susan's hair and Peter screaming and banging on doors. He was too old for Edmund's temper tantrums. At 17, she knew his anger was real and serious, and David matched it inch for inch. Lucy sobbed more than she had ever seen the girl cry, and even Edmund grew willful. Just as she hadn't been able to prevent this situation, she was equally powerless to put a stop to it. Her family was falling apart before her eyes, and she couldn't help but think it her fault.
Lucy heard the yelling downstairs through her sleep. She thought that Peter was storming about Calormen or the giants, or perhaps the gall of Susan's latest suitor. She thought she should get up—after all she was Queen too, and all these affairs concerned her—but it was hard because she was so comfortable. Peter shouted particularly loudly, and her eyes pulled open at last, feeling as though her eyelids were lined with sandpaper.
Every time she woke up, Lucy had to adjust to the rush of disappointment that she was not in Narnia. Sometimes she knew right away, but other times, when the moonlight streamed in through the window, changing the shape of things, she needed a few minutes to realize. That night she knew as soon as she woke up. She could hear Peter shouting, but his voice didn't have the deep timbre of the High King. She sighed.
Then she realized that in England Peter hardly ever yelled. Something was wrong. She sat up a little and looked over at Susan's bed, expecting to exchange a wide-eyed stare with her sister. Susan wasn't there. The shouting continued, and she realized her father was yelling as well, yelling at Peter, and that gave her a little stab of panic. She slid out of bed and padded hurriedly down the hall to Edmund's room.
She thought she would have to wake him, but he was already sitting up in bed, hugging his knees. "You heard them," he said rather bleakly. He stretched out an arm and Lucy sat next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.
"What's going on?" she asked, and her voice was smaller than she wanted it to sound.
Edmund shook his head, and his hair fell in his eyes. "I don't know. I haven't ever heard Peter shout like this here. I mean, not unless it was at me."
Lucy started to snuggle a little closer to him, but all of a sudden the shouting got louder. They could hear what everyone was saying clearly, and from the bumps and approach of voices it sounded like everyone was coming upstairs. The first thing they heard was Peter shouting "Leave her alone! Dad, please!" and Susan sobbing painfully.
She exchanged a wide-eyed look with Edmund, and he threw back the covers of his bed and rushed into the hall. She was on his heels. They went to the head of the stairs, where the scene that greeted Lucy was both horrific and surreal. Daddy, usually so calm and steady, was purple with rage as he dragged Susan up the stairs. He must have been holding very tightly to her arm, for she was wincing even as she cried. A few stairs below, Peter was pulling on her other arm, his eyes very wide as he repeated "Let her go! Let her go!"
The most disturbing part of the scene for Lucy was their mother. She merely stood at the bottom of the stairs with tears streaming down her face, choking out sobs. When Susan pleaded for help from her, she could only hiccough "It's for the best, dear."
Lucy touched Edmund's hand, and this seemed to help him find his voice. "What on earth is going on!" he demanded. "What's all the shouting?"
When they heard his voice, everyone froze and looked up and her and Edmund. Peter and Daddy said nothing, they merely yanked tighter on Susan. Mum turned paler and stopped crying enough to command with some desperation "Children! Go to bed!" though of course neither Lucy nor Edmund moved. Susan turned imploring eyes onto her other brother and cried "Edmund!"
Lucy felt Edmund leave her side. He ran halfway down the stairs to his father and laid a hand on his father's shoulder. He was so calm and self possessed in the face of all of this that Lucy couldn't help but admire him. "Dad," he said quietly, "Let go of Susan."
Peter stopped tugging on Susan and looked up at Edmund. Though Ed hadn't issued the command to Peter, he listened all the same. Daddy didn't heed Edmund's voice of reason. "I will not!" he growled. "Go back to bed! This does not concern you."
Lucy didn't want to cry, not as though she was a little girl. She wanted to be calm like Edmund, but she couldn't help that tears sprung to her eyes. Daddy had never been so mean, not that she ever knew. He never yelled, he never screamed. He was hurting Susan, Peter was clearly upset, and she had no idea why any of this was happening. She only wanted it to stop. "Daddy, please," she said. "Let her go." But her father turned away.
"Let go, Peter, unless you want to rip her arm off," he declared.
Lucy saw the indecision in her brother's eyes. He was torn between his principles and the safety of his sister, and he looked to Susan. Lucy knew he was checking to see how much she could endure, how far he could follow this fight without breaking her. She knew, because he had given Lucy herself that look so often when they were in battle.
For her part, Susan glared at her father and said in a voice that carried nothing but disdain "I hate you."
Her mother remonstrated her with a sharp "Susan!" and Peter tensed, ready to protect her, but Lucy felt her eyes widen. What was happening that could make Susan say this? What was going on in their family? Was she hearing right? Yes, because Susan repeated it, tossing her hair. "I do. I hate you."
Daddy's face contorted so that it was truly ugly in his anger. While everyone else stood frozen he gave Susan's arm one last pull and wrenched her from Peter's grasp. He pushed past Edmund and dragged her the rest of the way up the stairs. "Dad!" Edmund gasped in horror.
Lucy wanted to say something, but her voice was caught in her throat. She watched as her father pulled her sister down the hall and Peter sprang after them. "Edmund—help me!" he cried, and Edmund immediately ran to Peter's side
Peter was too slow. Her father shoved Susan into the spare bedroom and slammed the door, holding it shut. "Get the key, Helen," he commanded. Lucy didn't turn away—she couldn't turn away—but she heard her mother going down the stairs and rummaging through the secretary, rifling through the drawers, and sniffling all the while.
"Dad, don't lock her in. You can't," Peter pleaded. Lucy shut her eyes, hating to hear her oldest brother beg for anything. In the next second, however, he was the High King again and he told his father point blank "I won't let you do this."
Lucy saw the look her father fixed on Peter. His eyes were bulging and his face was purple and in truth, he looked absolutely terrifying. "Be quiet, damn it!" he yelled, so loud that Lucy flinched.
Peter matched his volume, roaring "I won't!" That was when Susan started banging on the door. Edmund called to her, but she didn't answer. She only banged and shouted "Let me out! Dad! Let me out, you bastard!"
Lucy's jaw dropped, and Peter looked nonplussed for a moment as well. "Susan, don't!" he counseled. "You'll only make it worse."
It was too late. Daddy wrenched the door open, his face still purple but his eyes narrow now, and he grabbed Susan by the hair. "Don't you dare speak to me that way!" he breathed. Lucy wanted to cry out, but the best she could manage was a strangled gagging noise.
Mum was upstairs now, holding out the key. Lucy turned to her, hoping to find some comfort somewhere, but her mother was shaking so hard that she dropped the key. Instead of saying something, instead of getting Daddy to let go of Susan, she fell to her knees searching for it. Lucy stared at her a moment, wondering where her mother's strength was. She balled her hand into a tight little fist.
Meanwhile she heard scuffling behind her and saw that Edmund had succeeded in pinning Dad to the wall. "Stop it," he commanded quietly, and Lucy found herself immensely grateful for her level headed brother. She kept her eyes on him, hoping that he could calm their family and maybe herself as well. She saw Peter take Susan in his arms and ask her if she was alright only out of the corner of her eye. She focused on Edmund.
Dad struggled against him. "Get off me!" he spat. He sounded petty and childish against Edmund's even but dangerous reply "Not until you calm down."
The problem was that Edmund was hardly fourteen, no longer a hardened and battle proven king. Dad pushed Edmund off him with only a moment more of struggling and dusted himself down, looking at his younger son with scorn. He turned now to his older children. Peter was hugging Susan tightly and vowing "We'll stay together." Lucy didn't know what was so inflammatory about this, but her father spoke with a clear warning in his voice. "Get off her. You get off her right now, or God help me…"
"I won't," Peter said simply, holding Susan even tighter.
She hugged him back. "I have to get out of here," she said flatly.
Lucy didn't know what to make of any of this. She didn't understand what was going on or why Daddy and Peter were so angry and what had pushed Susan over the edge, making her so upset. She didn't know why her mother was still on her hands and knees searching for a key that was no longer needed. But when she heard Susan ask to run away and Peter nod in agreement and say "Where do you want to go?" her insides turned cold.
"I want to go home," Susan said, her eyes filling with tears. Lucy looked at her brothers. Peter closed his eyes, his jaw tight, and Edmund was pinching the bridge of his nose. They were willing themselves not to cry, and that made Lucy want to break down more than anything that had come before. She crept close to Edmund.
Edmund took Susan's hand. "Don't go. Please," he pleaded.
"Ed, it's for the best," Peter explained. "Just for awhile. Then you can come with us."
"None of you are going anywhere," Daddy cut through with a shaking voice. "Susan is coming to America. Peter's going to Gloucestershire. And then we'll all come back here and things will go back to normal."
"No. No," Peter repeated, and as he did, Edmund put his arm around Lucy. That was when she started to cry.
"Daddy, why are you doing this to us?" she said, not understanding anything except their impending separation. She couldn't stop her tears at the thought of it. She broke away from Edmund to plead with her father. "We only want to be together."
He looked at her for a long moment, and when he spoke, he was close to tears himself. "It's not normal, baby. It's not right. I can't let it happen." Lucy bit her lip, torn between her fear of losing her family and her frustration. No one ever explained anything to her anymore. She was a baby, a child. "It's for your own good," Daddy added, employing what was possibly one of the most infuriating grown up expressions.
"Please don't," she said, fixing her eyes on his.
"I have to, Lucy. I have to."
She looked over at her siblings. Peter had Susan wrapped in his arms, which Lucy knew was one of this safest places in this world or any other. Edmund was gripping Susan's hand, a gesture which always inspired Lucy with confidence and infused her with strength. "Please," she said, the tears running down her cheeks. "I need them."
For the first time in Lucy's memory, her father yelled at her. "You don't! They're not your parents! We are!" Her eyes widened in surprise and she shrank against Edmund, who put his arm around her and drew her close, even while he was still holding Susan's hand.
"Dad, don't yell at Lucy," Peter said with gravity. "You knew full well she's done nothing wrong."
"I…" he began, but he looked at Lucy and he froze. "Oh!" he cried, a monosyllable of frustration, and he hared off down the stairs. When he got to the bottom he wrenched his jacket off the coat stand and threw it on.
"Where are you going?" Mum's voice sounded piteous through her tears. Edmund asked the same question at almost the same moment, and his voice cracked on a note of panic.
He didn't stop to look at any of them as he reached for the door handle. "Out…to the pub…I don't care."
"David…no!" Mum cried, running down the stairs to stop him. She was too far behind. He gave her one backwards glance and slammed out of the house. Mum sunk down onto the stairs sobbing.
Susan screwed her face up. She turned to Peter and put her arms around his neck, crying. And Peter…he held Susan to him and buried his face in her neck. Was he crying? Was Peter actually crying? Lucy couldn't be sure, but the possibility hit her heart like a hammer.
"The pub won't even be open at this time of night," Edmund said flatly.
Lucy turned to him. "He'll be back, won't he?"
"I don't even care," Peter said bitterly.
Edmund gave her a squeeze. "Don't worry, Lu. You've got us, whatever happens."
She nodded and let her head drop onto his shoulder. "I want to go home too," she said softly.
"Me too. Me too…" Edmund agreed, his voice hoarse. Lucy hid her face against him. What had happened? Why was Daddy so mad that he couldn't stand to look at Peter and Susan? Usually he was so proud of them. Why were Peter and Susan so distraught? Yes, Susan hadn't been the same since they got back from Narnia, but that was more of a cold sadness. Lucy hadn't seen her like this at all in England, not since that very first night after they stumbled out of the wardrobe. And Peter…Peter was never distraught. When everyone else was losing their heads, Peter was her rock. She bit her lip and clung to Edmund, her head reeling with possibilities. Maybe Mum and Dad had found out about Narnia. Maybe they thought that all four of them were mad, though Dad seemed to be angry more at Peter and Susan. Maybe because they were older. She didn't know, and she didn't know what to do and she wished that Caspian would wind Susan's horn and pull them all away right then and there, take her and the others into Narnia and away from that awful feeling like all her safety was crumbling around her ears.
Susan broke away from Peter and started to go down the steps to her mother. Lucy heard the movement before she saw it, and when she looked at Susan she saw her face was blank. Susan had a way of erasing pain from her face. She picked up the key to the spare room and offered it to her mother.
Mum didn't even seem to notice. She sat hunched on the steps and continued to sob, a soft keening sound.
Susan sat beside her. "Mum…I'm sorry."
Lucy felt Edmund start to stroke her hair. She looked up into his face and saw that his eyes were very anxious.
"It's not normal. It's not normal," Mum said through her tears. "I thought Alberta was out of her mind, but it's true. Susan, my beautiful girl, how could you?"
"I didn't do anything, Mum! Neither did Peter! He was just hugging me. That's all!" Susan balled up her fists.
Lucy's mouth dropped open. Surely they weren't saying…surely not. Not here as well.
Peter had risen to his feet beside her and Edmund. "God, this makes me sick," he muttered.
Edmund winced and looked at Peter. "I know. What happened?"
"She came into my room, and she was crying about Erech," Peter said, his eyes fixed on some point on the wall. "I held her. That's all. But Mum came in, and she thought…" His face twisted, and he couldn't seem to say anymore.
"Again," Edmund said heavily. "I thought we'd been through all this already in Narnia." So they were talking about what Lucy feared. This was worse than being thought mad.
Susan was still pleading. "Mum…please. Please don't send me away. Don't split us up. Please."
Her pleas were heartwrenching, but Mum only said "We must do as your father says," and wiped the corners of her eyes with the hem of her dressing gown.
"No! No, he's crazy!" Susan cried.
"He's not crazy," Mum said in a soft voice. "Don't say that."
Susan rose. Up until this moment, Lucy thought that Susan and Mum looked alike and sounded alike. Their grief had the same shape and the same sound, the lilting voice of weeping. When Susan stood, she showed the difference between them. When Susan stood she looked like a Queen, even though the tears were still wet on her cheeks. "I will! He's crazy if he thinks that Peter and I would…that's disgusting! How can he!"
"What are we supposed to think, Susan?" Mum said wetly, sniffing. "Brothers and sisters aren't supposed to act like that…not at your age."
Peter moved forward down the stairs and laid his hands on Susan's shoulders. "It's not about normal anymore, Mum." Next to Lucy, Edmund grimaced and shook his head. Lucy knew Peter had said the wrong thing.
Mum dissolved into more tears. "Peter don't. You were such a good boy. I used to be able to count on you."
"You can," Peter said. "More than ever." Lucy believed him with her whole heart.
His words apparently gave Susan courage as well. "Look, Mum…I know that you and Uncle Harold never really got on, but Peter and I…we're just…we're close, that's all.. It's not wrong."
"Exactly," Peter joined in. "We've been through a lot together."
"I was really upset tonight, and Peter just gave me a hug and talked to me…that's all. You have to believe me," Susan said, looking at her mother with steady eyes but trembling lips.
Mum looked up at them. "But what about what I heard you say? 'I'd die without you'?"
Susan turned her head to glance at Peter then looked back at Mum. "Well…I would! I need Peter. He's my best friend." Lucy saw Peter grip Susan's shoulders tighter when he heard this. "But," Susan continued, "I would never do anything like what you're thinking."
"Never, Mum," Peter added emphatically.
"You do believe us, don't you?" Susan said, and Lucy couldn't see how anyone could do anything but believe them.
Yet all Mum did was put up her hands in protest and say "Children, don't. It's out of my hands. The decision is your father's, and I shall stick by whatever he says."
"That…that's a lot of rot. She can make decisions too," Lucy whispered fervently. Edmund nodded. She clung to her brother and whispered, "Edmund, what are we going to do if they separate us?"
He hugged her tight, brushing the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. "I don't know." He shook his head and repeated "I don't know." Lucy felt cold on the inside. Edmund always knew what to do. She trusted him to know.
"You have to talk to Dad! Make him listen!" Susan cried desperately.
Mum only shook her head. "You know your father. He won't back down now. I can't change his mind, and he's head of this household. We must obey him. All of us," she added, looking hard at Peter.
Now Susan said the thing that really made Lucy's heart freeze over. In her very soft voice she said simply "Then I can't stay."
"Susan, don't," Mum said, shaking her head. "Don't run away. What will become of you?"
"Well what else can I do? He's going to lock me in the spare room for a week! And then he's going to make me go away to bloody America! I won't go. I won't," Susan vowed.
"Don't…don't you think it might be good for you?" Mum asked. Her voice was soft too, but it had none of Susan's resonance and resolution.
"No! It would kill me. I need Peter and Edmund and Lucy. And they need me."
"Darling, no. It won't kill you. Why would you say that? It's just a holiday?" Mum said, trying to sound soothing.
"She's right," Peter added, and his tone was so resonant and his face so set that Mum seemed to deflate before him.
She shook her head, giving up the argument. "Your father said." She rose, and Lucy thought that her eyes were very dull. "I'm going to bed. Hopefully your father will be home by morning."
"Well maybe I won't be," Susan muttered rebelliously under her breath.
Helen gave one last look at Peter and Susan, and Lucy saw both scorn and regret in her mother's face. "We must abide by his decision," she said mounting the stairs. Susan pressed against the wall to let her mother pass, avoiding eye contact. Edmund scowled at her as she approached. Mum barely seemed to see him or Lucy, but she said "Goodnight children," in a laconic voice and laid her hand on Lucy's head. Lucy felt her fingers shaking. Mum would have done the same to Edmund, but he shrank from his mother as he hadn't done since the time they said goodbye at the train platform. Her eyebrows rose ever so slightly, but other than that her face was blank as she turned from them. She went into her room and shut the door with a dull thud.
Lucy looked at the door to her parents' room for a moment, but then Edmund guided her down the stairs to where Peter and Susan were standing. Peter pulled all three of them into a hug, and they stood together, subdued. Finally Susan murmured "Oh Aslan! Let us come back…if we ever needed him, now is the time…" and Edmund kissed her hair. Lucy couldn't bear it anymore. She couldn't bear to see all this pain for no reason; she couldn't bear to think her family was falling apart. She broke down into sobs.
Susan pulled away from the embrace with a sniff. "I've got to go."
"Don't—wait for me," Peter said, letting go of Edmund and Lucy. "I'll come with you."
"That'll just make things worse, won't it? They'll say we ran away to be together," she replied.
Edmund spoke the words that Lucy couldn't form. "Don't go…not without us."
Peter ignored him, or seemed to. "It doesn't matter! We promised to be together!" Young though she was, even Lucy caught the irony of this statement. Being together meant all four of them, but he was only talking about him and Susan.
"Let's all go!" Edmund said. Lucy nodded. She would go anywhere they went.
"Ed, no…you've got school," Susan said in her kindest, saddest motherly tone.
"You've got to finish," Peter added.
Edmund's face twisted, and he spat furiously "To hell with bloody school!"
Peter and Susan both shook their heads. They didn't even chide Edmund for his language.
Lucy started to feel very cold and very bleak. She looked from Peter to Susan, unable to believe this was happening. "So you're just going to leave us?" she asked, and her voice was very small.
"No, they're not!" Edmund spat. "They're going to take us with them."
But Peter was still shaking his head. "Not forever. Just for a little while, until we get settled." Susan sank down onto the step, and Peter laid his hand on her head for comfort while he spoke. "I can find work to take care of me and Susan, but I don't know about you two yet. I couldn't bear to see you starving. And Ed, you need to finish school. You're meant to go to university. You're too smart not to."
Lucy shook her head. Surely, surely Peter wasn't saying this. He wasn't suggesting they separate. Surely. She pinched her arm, hoping to wake up from the bad dream. Nothing happened except that Edmund replied, still nearly spitting with anger.
"I don't give a shit," he declared. "I can work too..I can help support us. I can go to university later."
"Don't talk like that," Peter remonstrated wearily. "You're too young yet. Listen, I promise you—both of you—that we will be together. All four of us. We just have to be patient."
Lucy didn't know whether she wanted to sob and cling to Peter or beat at his chest. How could they be together if he was talking about separation now? They'd always gotten through everything together. Did he think she and Edmund were worthless now that they were back in England and children again? Could he really think that after everything? Could she bear not knowing where Peter was, not being able to call on him for comfort?
Edmund shook his head. "No…don't leave us."
She wanted to add to his plea, but she couldn't speak. She shook a little and reached out for Edmund's hand. She needed some kind of anchor. Perhaps he did as well, because he wrapped his arms around Lucy.
"Lu…Lucy," Peter said softly. She looked up at him from the shelter of Edmund's arms. "You know I wouldn't ever break my word to you. You must trust in me."
She bit her lip and looked up at Edmund. He didn't look ready to trust in this plan. He looked hurt, just as hurt as she felt that Peter could so much as suggest this. Susan got up and came over to join them, standing by Peter's shoulder. Lucy thought of them leaving her, of vanishing from her life, and she couldn't bear it. She hid her face against Edmund and wrapped her arms around him. She needed someone, and Edmund was turning out to be the truest of them all. He kissed the top of her head.
Then there was the familiar click and jingle of a key turning in the lock. All four of them turned to the door, and Peter moved to a lower step to stand in front of his siblings. Daddy came in with his head bowed—looking defeated, Lucy thought. Slowly he raised his head to look at them. "Get to bed—all of you," he said through gritted teeth. He looked hard at Lucy and Edmund and added with a snarl "And not together." He shook his head and put his foot on the lowest step. "What did I do to deserve such a family?"
Lucy had never felt so alone. Peter and Susan were leaving, her father thought she was a curse on him, her mother had given up. All she had was Edmund, and she clung to him, praying that he wouldn't push her off too. Even Aslan seemed far away in that moment. She couldn't help but shed a few fresh tears, turning her head into Edmund's neck.
"Dad. Stop it," Susan said.
He only pushed past her as he started to climb the stairs. At the top, he turned and stood silent for so long that Lucy looked up. The man she saw seemed so different from her Daddy. He was a man who looked twenty years older, a man with no life in his eyes and sagging shoulders. "I've failed you all," he said, his voice rasping, "And I'm going to put it right. Susan—go upstairs."
Lucy bit her lip. If Susan was going to run away, she would do it now. Already she could see her sister sprinting down the stairs and slipping out the door, perhaps with Peter on her heels. But Susan locked eyes with Lucy, and she could see the indecision in her sister's eyes. Then Peter whispered "Don't leave. Please. Stay with me," and Susan's resolve seemed to weaken even further.
"Just for tonight…I need to know where you are. I have to keep you all apart," Dad said, still in that weary voice. Tears started to run down Susan's cheeks. He saw her indecision and added "Be good, for me." He rubbed his face and said in a more commanding voice "Susan. Bring the key."
"What are you going to do?" Lucy asked fearfully.
Susan already knew. "Dad…please. Don't lock me in. I'm…I'm scared to be alone." Lucy knew the truth of this. She wondered how she could manage to be there for Susan.
Susan's pleas only seemed to energize their father to stubbornness and anger. "Don't be ridiculous. You're too old for that nonsense now." When she heard this, the tears ran faster down Susan's cheeks. Peter took her hand, and Lucy saw that he was prepared to defend her.
When he saw this, Dad's face contorted. "Either she goes in there or you do, Peter. I mean it."
"Then I'll go," Peter said simply. "Leave Susan with Lucy."
"Fine," Dad answered.
Susan's eyes grew round. "No, Peter…" She shook her head.
Edmund's arms dropped to his sides. "Oh god," he said, sounding as though he was going to be sick.
Peter gave curt nod and started to climb the stairs. "Peter…" Susan pleaded, but she didn't seem to know how to finish the sentence.
As he passed her, he kissed her forehead. "Better me than you, Susan. I'll be alright."
She burst into tears. "No! You can't lock him up! You can't!"
"Now, son," Dad said, and his voice broke as well. Lucy felt sure this must be a dream. Peter, being locked up like a prisoner? How could this possibly be real?
"For crying out loud, Dad!" Edmund cried.
Dad ignored him. "Peter…get in there. I won't wait all day."
Peter looked at Edmund and Lucy and gave Susan a nod. "Stay with Edmund and Lucy." Before anyone could say anything further, Peter had stepped into the spare room and Dad had given him a nod and shut the door. Lucy felt her heart sink, and Susan's face was white. "I will!" she called to Peter. There seemed so much more than a door between them.
Lucy could bear this no longer. She tore herself away from Edmund and went to her father. "Daddy, don't! Not Peter, please," she said, looking up at her father.
He didn't even look at her. He only said "Bring me the key, Susan."
"No! I won't!" Susan cried. "Damn you!"
"Bring me the key," he repeated with a catch in his voice.
"Daddy, please," Lucy repeated, taking her father's hand in her own two small ones. He barely even seemed to notice.
Meanwhile, Edmund came up the stairs and laid a hand on Susan's shoulder. She broke away, though, and went to the landing window. She wrenched it open and threw the key to the spare room into the dark garden, crying "Go get it yourself! I hate you!" With that, she marched down the corridor and went into Peter's room, slamming the door.
Edmund stared after her and gave a low groan, but Lucy looked at her father and made another essay. She still held his hand, and she looked up into his face and said "Please let him go."
He looked down at her now, seeming to see her there for almost the first time. He lifted his hand and grazed her cheek with his knuckles, an old gesture of affection that had passed between them many times. But he said "Go find the key for me, sweetheart? For Daddy?"
Lucy bit her lip and shook her head. Nothing in the world could make her betray Peter or Susan. "I can't," she said simply.
He dropped his hand from her cheek.
"Just let him go," she added, trying hard not to cry.
He bit his lip and shook his head. "I can't," he answered, his tone echoing hers.
Now the tears spilled over. All she said was "Oh, Daddy," but she could hear the sense of betrayal in her own voice. She never expected her father to let her down. Not like this.
"Dad…this is madness," Edmund said thickly.
"I'm doing it for their own good," he answered.
"But you've got it all wrong!" Ed protested. Lucy nodded fervently in support of this.
He sighed. "I wish I could believe you. You're good kids. But I can't…"
"Dad—" Edmund began, but Daddy cut him off.
"No, Edmund," he said in no uncertain terms.
"Daddy please," Lucy said again, but he was back to ignoring her.
He turned to the door, his movements slow as if his body was too heavy for him to move. "Peter," he called, "You will stay in there until morning. You will not come out. Do I have your word?"
Peter's voice sounded hollow and far away. "Yes. You have my word." Just like that, Lucy knew that everything was a lost cause now. If Peter had promised, nothing would make him go back on his word. She dropped her father's hand.
Her father nodded, then turned on his heel and marched along the corridor to Peter's door. He raised his hand to knock, but his eyes were still trained downward. He froze, looking at the doorknob. His hand moved jerkily, but he turned the key and withdrew it from the lock, dropping it into his pocket.
"Dad!" Edmund gasped.
"You were going to lock Peter in!" cried Lucy. "He gave you his word!"
His mouth was set in a grim line, and his face was gray. "Well, now thanks to Susan, I can't do that. She's made her own bed. And I have to be sure…I have to be sure…" He shook his head one last time and went down the hall to his own bedroom. Lucy stared after him, covering her mouth with her hand. Where was her family? Where had they all gone? Who was that weeping woman who had been on her knees in the hallway? Who was this man with the cruel mouth and hard eyes? Where were the High King and Queen Susan? Was it true that they were little more than prisoners? She had never been up at that hour of the night before in London, and the shapes and shadows in the hall were unfamiliar. She and Edmund couldn't even find words to say goodnight. She moved down the hall to her own room, and as she crawled under the covers, looking at the heap of blankets on Susan's unmade bed, she realized she had never been so scared in her life. For the first time, she was unsure where Aslan was.