AN Peter's too difficult too write, as I'm trying to prevent it seeming too like Edmund's. So, you have Polly.
"Hello Susan." A voice came from her bedroom doorway.
Susan started violently, before checking in her mirror to see Polly Plummer. "Aunt Polly, you scared me!"
Polly laughed. "You should pay more attention. You would have heard my bones creaking on the way up!"
Susan smiles as she paints on her lipstick. "You're not that old Aunt Polly."
"I'm old enough." The elder woman grinned. "One of the benefits of age is to know when someone is avoiding you."
"I haven't!" Susan denied.
"Yes you have." Polly said firmly. "The second one of us says something with the vaguest reference to Narnia, you practically run out the room."
Susan sighed, a world of suffering in her voice. "Narnia isn't real Aunt Polly. I do wish you wouldn't encourage them so."
Polly stared at her for a long time, and though Susan wanted to squirm under that harsh, judgemental gaze she just continued to apply rouge to her cheeks.
"You think you're very grown up, don't you?" Polly said finally.
Susan blinked at the non-sequitor.
"You have a great deal to learn my girl." Polly finished, and left without another world.
Susan sat frozen for a short time that seemed like a century, before shrugging it off as one of Polly's eccentricities, (as with a friend like the professor she was bound to have some,) and continuing to get ready, trying to ignore the churning in her stomach.