After the Funeral
Disclaimer: Narnia and the Pevensies are the creation of C. S. Lewis. I own only the plot.
A/N This is intended to be a loose continuation of my previous story, Before the End. You don't need to have read that first but it may help, especially with the second chapter
Susan closed the door of her flat behind her with a feeling of dull relief. At last she could be alone with her grief and not have to cope with the constant stream of condolences and looks of sympathy.
Her friends had wanted to come in and keep her company for a while, perhaps even stay the night. They were insistent that after burying her entire family she should not be alone. They had even offered to cook her supper but Susan had little appetite and no desire for company. Almost a month had passed since the railway accident; a month which Susan had spent mostly in a state of shock as she tried to arrange the funeral of her parents and siblings. Now that was finally done with she just wanted to sleep and escape her pain for a while.
Hanging up her hat and coat on the stand in the hallway, Susan went into her bedroom, intending to undress as quickly as possible and then seek refuge in sleep. She was halted by a glimpse of herself in the mirror of the dresser. Susan wondered for a moment what her friends must have thought of her far from immaculate appearance. Her hair was dreadfully dishevelled and without any make up she looked pale and wan, but Susan couldn't really bring herself to care. Ever since losing her family her looks, which she had once taken such trouble over, seemed trivial and unimportant.
Susan turned away from the mirror to her bed and then stopped, going rigid as she noticed the battered cardboard box lying on top of it. She suddenly remembered the policeman who had called earlier in the day, returning her family's effects. As the funeral car was due in a few minutes she had just dumped it on her bed and then forgot about it.
For a moment Susan was tempted just to put the box somewhere else and forget about it again until tomorrow. But after a brief hesitation she sat on her bed and started to examine the contents.
There was not really a lot there. It seemed nothing of Peter or Edmund's belongings had survived. The only items she had been left were her father's watch and wallet, her mother's handbag and Lucy's shoulder bag
Susan fingered her sister's shoulder bag, smiling tearfully as she remembered that Lucy had always hated handbags; she preferred to have her hands free so she had used a shoulder bag instead.
Opening it Susan started going through the contents and placing the items carefully on her bed. There was her sister's identity card and a small purse containing a pound note and a handful of coins, a half empty packet of cigarettes and a lighter, and a comb, lipstick and powder compact.
This was pretty much what Susan usually kept in her own handbag but searching further she found one last item that made her blink in surprise. It was a small book in red vellum with the words Common Prayer embossed in gold on the spine.
Susan knew her sister had been very devout but she had never realised that Lucy had been in the habit of carrying a prayer book around with her. The small book looked quite tattered; the spine was coming undone and some of the pages were loose, suggesting long and frequent use. Flipping through the book she saw a large part of it consisted of a Psalter, with many of the verses underlined in pencil. Noticing one page that had been heavily underlined she found herself reading the opening verses of the ninety first Psalm.
Whosoever dwelleth under the defence of the Most High
Shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty
He will say unto the Lord thou art my hope and my strong hold
My God, in whom I shall trust.
For he shall deliver thee from the snare of the hunter
And from the noisome pestilence
He shall defend thee under his wings
And thou shalt be safe under his feathers
His faithfulness shall be thy shield and buckler
Thou shalt not be afraid for any terror by night
Nor for the arrow that flyeth by day
For the pestilence that walketh in darkness
Nor for the sickness that destroyeth in the noon day.
Tears were streaming down Susan's face and she started to sob brokenly. The words were lies, beautiful and comforting lies but still lies. Lucy's faith in Aslan had been absolute, she had trusted the Great Lion without question, but in the end He had let her down. She had died anyway, in spite of her faith.
"You were taken for a fool, Lucy," Susan whispered. "You trusted in Aslan and He betrayed you!"
She had not meant to say the words out loud and was rather surprised by the sound of her own voice. But a second later she was even more surprised when her words were answered.
"Now that's not really true!"
Susan looked up with a small scream of surprise. Leaning against the door of her bedroom was a figure she recognised at once.
"Lucy?" Susan whispered her sister's name.
It was unmistakably Lucy standing there, looking exactly as she had done the last time she had seen her alive and in absurd contradiction of the fact that Susan had just buried her an hour ago. She gave Susan a rather cheeky grin.
"Hello Su. Nice to see you again!"
Susan just stared at her, her mind whirling with incredulity and disbelief. Suddenly everything in the little room was spinning around her and there was a dull roaring in her ears. Then everything went black as Susan collapsed on her bed in a dead faint.