Lucy labored over her letter to Marjorie for several days. At first, she tried to write a cheerful friendly response, avoiding any mention of her anger. Forgiving means forgetting, she told herself. She would pretend that Marjorie's betrayal had never happened. But reading it over, she was struck at how false her letter sounded and crumpled it up. She, then, tried to write a letter, explaining that she knew what Marjorie had said to Anne but that she had decided to forgive her because they were friends (although she wouldn't mind an apology.) But this one was even worse. She sounded overbearing and patronizing, the very things she despised in Susan's boarding-school friends. Finally, after reading Marjorie's letter again, Lucy wrote a reply that sounded honest, even if it had little substance.

Dear Marjorie,

This is going to be a short letter. I just have one question and I'll write more once you've answered it. Is your father going to read every letter that I send to you? (Mr. Preston, if you are reading this, I am sorry to hurt your feelings and I really don't mean to be disrespectful but I would really like it if my letters to Marjorie were for her eyes alone.)

Love, Lucy

She recognized the letter for what it was, a delaying tactic. Before Marjorie wrote back, Lucy would have more time to think. And to try to forgive. She knew she had to forgive. But nobody had ever hurt her like this before, sneakily, behind her back and she did not know how to deal with it.

Of course, she had been hurt before. When mum had first told her that Father Christmas wasn't real, she had felt furious that the adults would lie to her for so long. But then it turned out that he was real and, for Lucy, that changed everything. When Edmund had lied about being in Narnia, forgiving him had been difficult…but when she found out that his life was in danger, her anger was overshadowed by worry. When Susan and Peter had refused to believe her so many times, each time she had been furious. But each time they apologized, forgiveness came easier. Each time someone refused to tell the truth, or refused to believe the truth when they heard it, Lucy felt rage because she loved truth fiercely. But Lucy had learned during her years in Narnia that truth always came to light eventually and that one only had to wait. And the revelation of truth, always brought things to a climax in some way. Usually those who lied to her or refused to believe her would come to her with apologies. And Lucy had always forgiven freely before. But this time it was a struggle.

And this time was different. This time, the truth was painful. This time, the truth wouldn't lead to an apology unless Lucy confronted Marjorie with it. And Lucy would have no way of knowing whether Marjorie was apologizing because she meant it. When Marjorie's next letter came, Lucy was no closer to understanding or forgiving.

Dear Lucy,

Father and I went to the art museum today. There was a picture of a queen with yellow hair that looks like you. I've gotten you a small copy of that picture as a present. I'm going to mail it to you with my next letter. I got a letter from Susan. She said she was having a great time but she was too busy to write more than a few lines. You didn't write much either. I hope you're having a nice time too. I miss you. I wish you were here.

Love, Marjorie

PS: Father dosn't read your letters, he only reads mine. Father says that if I write nicely and use a dictianary to look up words, he will soon stop cheking my letters before I send them.

Lucy read the letter and burst into tears. She realized, with shock, that she missed Marjorie too. Or rather she missed the Marjorie that she had known before the magic book let her see another side of her character. But the letters revealed the same Marjorie she had always known, timid and uncertain but caring and faithful. Was it all fake? Was it nothing more than a mask of loyalty? Was the Marjorie that she missed even real?

She sat down and began to write, forcing herself to be as honest and affectionate as always, forcing herself to push away suspicions that Marjorie might read her letter and laugh at it.

Dear Marjorie,

I desperately want to talk to you. There are things I need to say to you that could only be said in person and questions that I need to ask that can only be asked face-to-face. But I suppose I'll have to wait until the beginning of school. So I'm going to tell you about what happened to me over the vacation and you'll understand why I must speak to you.

You see, Marjorie, I went to Narnia. Narnia! Eustace and Ed and I were sitting in front of a painting on the wall and we just fell in! It was a painting of a Narnian ship. I wonder where Aunt Alberta got the painting and whether the artist had meant to draw a Narnian ship. Perhaps, it was a regular painting and it only became a window into Narnia because Aslan wanted it to be. Of course, we fell right into the ocean and I was so grateful for those swimming lessons we had last term. Eustace could not swim and he had a rather bad time of it before we were pulled onto the ship. But afterwards, it was lovely. We greeted Caspian and Reepicheep the mouse and they were so glad to see us and greeted us so courteously, even Eustace who was being quite rude. Then Caspian gave me a beautiful room and Narnian clothes and spiced wine to drink. When I lay in bed that night and thought of being among friends and of all the adventures waiting for us, I thought I couldn't possibly be happier! And then…

As she wrote, Lucy forgot about everything. She forgot how she felt about Marjorie, forgot her confusion and anger, and she wrote and wrote into the night. She had just written about how Caspian came just in time to keep them from being taken away to slavery, when she suddenly became aware of the ache in her hand and the ticking clock. She had filled the piece of paper front and back. And she felt peaceful because she knew what she would do now. She would tell the truth.