Don't ask me what I expected to find through the door, because I don't know, but this was certainly not it. By "this", I mean a forest of snow-covered pine trees that shone opalescent in the sunlight that dappled them, a victorian-style lamppost iced with frost, and Sarah sat on the ground beneath the lamppost, shivering, staring at a nearby moss-encrusted cave in silence, but apparently calmed down. She stood up when she saw me. I marched over to her, and started yelling, fast and garbled. "SARAH JANE SMITH WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?" I glared at her for a moment before continuing. "In the space of about two minutes, you have defaced a train- City of London property!- stepped into what could be a tear in the fabric of space and time, and dragged me with you!"
She watched me calmly. "I didn't drag you with me," she replied, "and getting on the train was your idea. And anyway, I can't take you seriously when you yell at me, you're a head shorter than me!"
"Whatever, Goliath, we're in this predicament thanks to you!"
She gave me a long, pained look. "Seriously, Emily," she sighed, "who uses the word 'predicament' in 21st Century speech?"
I'd like to say I responded to that well. Honestly, though, I punched her in the stomach. Then I exhaled, calming myself down. "What we've got to do first is work out where we are."
Sarah nodded, rubbing her stomach. "We'd better take an inventory of our surroundings."
"Do your stuff, Sacragewea." I've called her that ever since her mother forced her to join Girl Scouts.
She started looking round and listing watch she saw. "Trees, snow, lamppost, more trees, and-"
"Stop!" I had suddenly had the biggest epiphany of my life. Sarah turned to look at me, frowning.
"What?" she asked.
"Do. You. Know. Where. We. Are."
She rolled her eyes. "No. I. Don't. We've. Already. Established. That."
I ignored her mockery and seized her arm in excitement. "Can't you see?" I cried, passionately, "We're in Narnia!"
"I knew it," Sarah was shaking her head sadly, "you've finally lost it. You've finally cracked."
"Shut up and look. We've all read 'The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe,' and this is exactly how it was described! There's the lamppost, look!"
"Two things, genius, firstly, that's impossible-"
"That's exactly what Peter and Susan said in the movie, and look at them!"
"Movie being the operative. And anyway, we didn't get in through a wardrobe, we got in through a train!"
"Ah ha!" I was exultant with the triumphant nature of my answer. "They get in through a train in 'Prince Caspian', so-" Oh lord. I blanched.
Sarah suddenly looked concerned. "What's wrong?"
Fingers trembling, I unzipped my bag, and drew out my book. The cover was emblazoned: "The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian."