Three.
Eustace Opens His Mouth.
As they lay side by side in the dark that night the Pevensie boys were both having trouble sleeping – though for different reasons entirely.
Peter Pevensie was still youth enough the find the idea of pitched battle exhilarating. He had visions of himself upon a white horse cutting down a great multitude of faceless, yet menacing, enemies. These visions were silly perhaps (he would certainly think so after he had seen his first real battle) but that night they were warming thoughts. Edmund had had his daydreams on the train ride and now Peter was having his - and they were just as pleasant to him as Edmunds had found his own to be, so that he was lulled into quiet dreams.
Edmund, for the first time since climbing aboard a train to go and visit his Aunt and Uncle, was feeling homesick. If you have ever tried to sleep in a bed that is not your own while the uncertainty of war looms in the near future then you will know just how the boy Edmund was feeling. More than anything he was wishing to be back home, curled contentedly by the fire with his father in the next room and his mother on the sofa with her stitching.
It seemed terribly drafty in the room he shared with Pete and he tried very hard to remember the smells of home and the taste of hot tea. Though he would hardly admit it (he was a boy after all) he really was wishing for a bit of comfort at the moment. With these distressing feelings he drifted into a doze and from a doze into a fitful sleep and so slept until morning.
Peter, it turns out, was correct in his prediction.
It was on the front page: spelled out in great black letters. (Su even sat down and read the article.) Fortunately the Pevensie children were saved from having to pretend surprise or concern, Eustace did it for them.
"Mummy, why is there a war? Will they take our house? What's going to happen? Are we going to die?" Eustace's shrilly voice followed their Aunt around the kitchen.
Aunt Alberta made little effort to answer these questions. She merely patted her son's shoulder and went about fixing breakfast. This is something you may have observed before in grown-ups: when frightening things happen they just keep doing the same old ordinary things. They do this because it keeps them calm and is somewhat reassuring. Children like it much better to have a good cry – which is exactly what Lucy was doing. And for once Susan didn't scold her about it, only petted her hair a little until she'd calmed down.
Edmund woke in a grumbly mood. He hadn't slept well and the faint effects of homesickness were still with him. He took his breakfast silently and tried to ignore Eustace, who was getting annoying. As for Peter, he could hardly wait to get back to playing ball in the garden, so that Aunt Alberta finally sent them all out of doors. And that was that.
They left for home two days later, but not before Peter and Edmund had a troubling conversation with Eustace.
Eustace deserves some brief introduction. The past two days he had spent in some eavesdropping of his own. Now he was full to bursting with important information and no one to share it with. Also, he had been irritated for some time by his lack of authority among his cousins (being an only child he was accustomed to getting his way) and now he finally had a chance of "getting his own". For a moment he considered popping in on Susan and Lucy but he was a little frightened of Susan so he ended up sauntering up to Peter and Edmund's room instead.
The two boys were inside, busy packing their cases. Clothing was strewn about and there had been a recent argument over a pair of lost socks.
Eustace took all of this in for a moment. Then, his eyebrows lifting as he said it, he repeated the juiciest bit of information in as superior tone as he could muster. "You do know your father's been called up don't you?"
The brothers turned to face him.
"What do you mean?" asked Peter.
"I mean Uncle George has been called up by the army and he's going to go and fight in the war." At the stricken look from his two cousins Eustace knew his words had had the desired effect. "Of course," he continued, "no need to make a big soddy deal out of it. Wouldn't want you to worry your mum any. You're not crybabies." (Eustace was, himself, something of a crybaby.) "I'm sure the War will be perfectly safe."
To be fair, if Eustace had thought for one second that his Uncle George could come close to dying he never would've said such a cruel thing. But he was just as ignorant as his cousins and to him the War was still just a game with an exciting name and a whole lot of importance.
"Oh, sod off!" Peter jumped forward angrily and Eustace took off like a jackrabbit (likely to the safety of his mother).
Back in the room, Ed and Pete looked at each other, knowing they were both feeling terribly worried, of a sudden. But, brothers that they were, neither wanted to say anything and so after a moment they turned silently back to their packing. This time there were no quarrels over lost socks.
Edmund thought of his mother. With an unpleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach he considered how upset she would be. He thought of his fathers' uniform, the one hanging in the upstairs closet for when he marched with the reserves. More than ever Ed wished for a grown-up to tell him everything was all right.
But before long his thoughts brought him again to his mother. Up until now she had been merely his mother, that ever constant presence. But now, he thought of how distressed she would be, how consumed with worry. Then, with surprising ferocity, he was overwhelmed by affection for her. If you have never wanted to sacrifice your own feelings for the sake of another then perhaps you can't quite understand the sudden change in Edmund. But he felt, overwhelmingly, that from now on he would want nothing for himself, vowing that he would be the most help and the least amount of trouble that he could be.
Strengthened by this new resolution the boy hefted his overlarge trunk off the bed and tugged it downstairs to the door.
Peter, it must be admitted, had quite forgotten about mother for the moment (though he was ever so attentive when they returned home, so perhaps he can be excused). Though he was but a youth, his father's leaving had thrust him suddenly to the head of the family. Sure he had looked after them before, mostly Lucy, but always in a brotherly fashion and with the overriding authority of mother and father. He became a little more of a man in that moment. Though the thought of taking care of his family scared him a little he found that the fear steadied him, made him more alert. It was as if someone had dumped a bucked of cold water over his head and now he could see and hear all the better.
Lifting his own trunk he followed Ed down the stairs. He took a moment to survey his siblings: Susan, Edmund, and Lucy, gathered as they were at the door waiting for Uncle Harold to bring the car around to take them to the train station. With the welling of an emotion in his chest that he did not yet recognize as pride (and pride that is unrecognized is a very humble kind of pride), Peter made his own vow to look after them with every bit of himself that he could.
And with that Peter, Edmund, Susan, and Lucy left their Aunt and Uncle's house to return to their own snug home in Finchley.