Chapter Two
Charlie had never been to London before, and that put everything in a new light everything for Susan as well. The trains and ferry rides from Paris to London had been uneventful enough, and Susan complained almost the whole way about the rain and the cold – ailments of Paris, too, that she managed to overlook a bit better in that foreign city. When they stepped out of the train station, Charlie was all eyes, gawking as though she had never seen a platform or dirty urban streets before.
So busy scrutinizing was she that she was only faintly aware when Susan cried out, "Ed!" and went sprinting away. Charlie yanked up her trunk and quickly followed Susan to the lanky, dark-haired boy leaning casually against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He grinned when Susan approached, though, and generously conceded to lean forward for a hug.
"Oh, Ed, I think you're still growing," Susan teased, realizing that for the first time in their lives, his eyes were a good two inches above hers.
He rolled his eyes and shrugged, "Yeah. 'Spect I might get bigger than Peter."
"Well, we'll see about that," she laughed. When Charlie cleared her throat, Susan gasped, "Oh, right. This is my brother Edmund. Ed, this is Charlotte Auburn."
"Hi," he offered simply, holding out his hand to shake. Here, he was clearly much more sociable than Susan gave him credit for. Charlie shook his hand and gave him a warm smile, not missing the slight clumsiness in even his simple greeting, but appreciating it all the more.
"Is everyone home?" Susan pressed as Edmund helped pull the luggage out to the curb.
"No, Peter's not yet. Dad will still be at work but Mum and Lucy are frantically cleaning the house."
Charlie laughed, "They really don't need to! I promise not to look under the rug or behind the vases."
"Well I think you had better promise to so that all their efforts aren't wasted," Susan argued. Mrs. Pevensie had given Edmund money for them to take a cab back, and once again Charlie was overwhelmed with excitement as they slipped into the expansive back seat of an iconic black cab.
"What, never been to London before?" Charlie shook her head at Edmund's question, then nearly squealed with delight as the two middle Pevensie children took to pointing out landmarks, both famous and personal, as they passed. When at last they arrived in the borough, at the familiar home that Susan had lived in her entire life previous to Paris – excepting, of course, her brief stay at the Professor's – Charlie nearly forgot her purse in the backseat; Susan had to grab it for her. She was far too preoccupied with admiring the quaintness of the house. In reality, it was nothing spectacular, just a simple middle-class English suburban home, and yet somehow it seemed to encapsulate for Charlie exactly what she expected of an English home. There were two small, leafless trees in the front yard on either side of the walk leading to the front door, and a low row of shrubbery running all along the front wall. The curtains were pushed back so she could see straight into the living room. Someone, perhaps Susan's younger sister, had hung paper snowflakes in the windows very similar to those she had complained of on the Champs-Élysées. Here, though, they fit.
The front door swung open and a young girl just on the brink of her teenage years came sprinting out, light brown hair flying behind her like a cape. She launched herself across the icy sidewalk and into the open arms of Susan, who squeezed her tight and sighed, "Oh, Lucy."
"Susan, I missed you so much!" Lucy cried, burying her face in Susan's neck. That, too, was different; she had been at least a few inches shorter when Susan saw her last. It had only been four months since her last visit, but suddenly Susan felt very much like she was missing seeing Ed and Lucy grow up.
"And you're Charlotte," Lucy stated, apparently proud of herself for figuring this out on her own.
"Good guess, but this is actually Winifred. Charlotte's in the next cab," Edmund teased. Lucy glared playfully and made to hit his arm, but he dodged away, lugging several of the girls' cases with him.
"It's wonderful to meet you, Lucy. I've heard wonderful things about you."
Lucy beamed and insisted, "Susan told me all about you in her letters, about how you used to be an actress but now you want to be an artist . . . Did you ever make a film?"
"Come on, Lucy Loose-lips, help us carry our things in," Susan interrupted, shoving one of her cases into Lucy's hands. Lucy obeyed but hung on to every word from Charlie's lips as she answered vaguely yes, she had done one film, but really, she didn't see what all the fuss was about.
Mrs. Pevensie was waiting just inside the door. Charlie's heart warmed at how strikingly like her mother Susan was in appearance; she loved when families closely resembled each other. The woman waited just long enough for Susan to finish the introduction to give Charlie a warm hug and declare, "We're so glad to have you with us this Christmas, Charlotte. I'm terribly sorry you won't be able to go home, but I do hope you'll make yourself at home here. I know I appreciate what a good friend you've been to Susan—"
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Pevensie, but I'm afraid Susan's been a far better friend to me," Charlie interrupted, and that was just what Mrs. Pevensie wanted to hear. She motioned for them to take the things upstairs; Charlie could have the guest room to herself and Susan could resume her old bed. Lucy hadn't changed much in the bedroom they had always shared, and Susan was secretly glad. It still felt like home.
They returned downstairs, Lucy still badgering Charlie with questions about the movies until Susan demanded she hush or Charlie would never answer a single one of her questions. They were exhausted from their trip, and Charlie could tell stories later. Mrs. Pevensie and Edmund were both in the kitchen, the former putting a pot of tea on the stove and the latter taking a large bite from an apple.
"I thought we should wait until everyone is home to put up the tree," she was saying to her son, as though he didn't already know her plans. It seemed more for the benefit of the girls, as they entered the kitchen. "Perhaps you and Peter and your father can go find a tree tomorrow and you children can decorate it tomorrow night. Do you like to bake, Charlotte?"
"I love to bake! I'm afraid I can't cook hardly at all . . ."
"Well! Neither of my girls can bake a batch of cookies on their own to save their lives," Mrs. Pevensie laughed, earning scowls from both Lucy and Susan. Truthfully, Lucy could follow a recipe if she watched it closely and didn't get distracted, and Susan could do likewise with actual dishes. Her cookies just had a tendency to come out a bit darker than was desired. "I ask because there's a baked goods drive at the church next week, you see, to raise money for charity . . ."
"Mum, aren't you going to let us sleep at all?" Susan asked, but Mrs. Pevensie simply laughed, "Where, Susan, is the fun in that?" Clearly the excitement of having all her little birds returning to the nest was going directly to her head, and Mrs. Pevensie was in an elated state such as the children couldn't remember seeing her . . . possibly since their father returned, basically unharmed, from the war.
Two things then happened at once. The tea began to whistle, and Mrs. Pevensie busied herself pulling it up from the stovetop. Simultaneously, Edmund, peering out the window over the sink, cheered, "Hey, Peter's home!" This, however, was followed by a clearly pregnant pause, a furrowed brow, and a slight frown.
"Ed, what is it?" Susan pressed, stepping closer and leaning over the sink to look out the window also.
"He's got someone with him," Edmund answered, his confusion and discontent only deepening. Mrs. Pevensie and Lucy both glanced over with confused surprise. "A girl someone."
"What!" Lucy cried, darting to the large window in the living room to look out. Mrs. Pevensie did likewise and Charlie, not wanting to be left out and feeling like something monumental was happening, followed them. She felt somewhat silly standing beside the eldest and youngest Pevensie females, looking for the scandal surrounding someone she didn't even know.
Peter, the charitable older brother, must surely resemble their father, because he looked nothing like Mrs. Pevensie. His eyes were blue, his hair blond, and his frame taller and broader than Edmund's, though that certainly could be simply a result of age.
"Do any of us know of any girl?" Mrs. Pevensie quickly asked. "Did he tell me and I forgot?"
Susan shook her head, "I knew he was sort of seeing a girl, but he hadn't said much about her . . . certainly not enough to warrant bringing her home!"
"Is this big?" Charlie asked Lucy in a rather loud whisper.
Lucy nodded, wide-eyed, and whispered back in an equally loud voice, "Peter's never brought a girl home, and always said he wouldn't bother unless . . ."
"You don't think . . ." Susan began.
Mrs. Pevesie shook her head, "Surely not! I'm his mother! Surely he would not go off and get . . . get engaged without even letting me know he was thinking of it first!" However the idea clearly presented itself as a possibility in her head, and she plopped most ungracefully onto the couch, her eyes drifting to the floor with sheer disappointment. Susan sat as well, putting her hand over her mother's, while Lucy and Edmund continued to spy and whisper amongst themselves. The couple had stopped just on the walk because there were too many bags for Peter to carry on his own, and the girl seemed a bit incapable of it herself.
"Well . . ." Charlie mused, sure she was probably overstepping her boundaries but not seeing what else was to be done, "should we go meet them?"
"Yes, yes, that's the logical thing to do," Mrs. Pevensie sighed. She sounded as enthusiastic now about welcoming her eldest son home as one would in going to get the mail which is probably nothing but a pile of bills and notices at any rate. So the lot of them trooped outdoors, no one now saying anything, and Charlotte felt a strange thrill in the pit of her stomach that she was now inside and this Peter fellow was now outside. She couldn't see that lasting long, though, because surely it was wonderful news that their brother had found a sweetheart.
The girl standing beside Peter was about as cute as a button. Even Charlie thought so, and the same was frequently said about her. Her bright blond hair was curled just right, dark chocolate eyes were perfectly rimmed by dark lashes, and soft pink lips rested beneath a just-barely upturned button nose. She was surprisingly tall, taller than Susan and almost as tall as Peter himself; thin and willowy, graceful simply by standing. Both Susan and Charlie were frequently on the receiving end of flattery pertaining to their appearance, and yet both found themselves suddenly frumpy and pale next to this beam of sunlight.
Peter was hugging Mrs. Pevensie and Susan and Lucy and Edmund, apparently oblivious to their stiffness, and also not noticing Charlie in his excitement to introduce this girl. With a broad grin, he announced, "Mum, this is Lydia. Lydia, my mum, Helen Pevensie, and my brother Edmund, and my sisters Susan and Lucy . . . oh, and you must be Susan's friend."
"Yes, Charlotte Auburn," Charlie answered casually, empowered by the lack of conversation from everyone else. It was all right; she could sweep their awkwardness under the rug. It was her little favor to thank them for inviting her for the holiday. "It's a pleasure to meet you both." She shook Lydia's hand as well.
"You are American?" Lydia asked uncertainly, as though fearing embarrassed lest she guess wrong. Charlie really didn't see how she could with a Southern accent like hers . . . but then these people were British. They didn't know the difference between Tennessee and New York. Except Lydia wasn't British.
"Yes," Charlie reassured her, and Lydia was clearly relieved. "You're French? Or Swiss?"
"French." Lydia beamed, happy to have guessed correctly, and even more happy to be identified, though having lived in Paris for five months now, Charlie felt she had an unfair advantage.
Still no one was saying anything, and actually now Peter was beginning to look a bit uneasy, though one look at Lydia returned the smile to his face. Edmund seemed the only other one aware that something needed to happen; the Pevensie women were dumbstruck.
"Uh . . ." he attempted lamely.
Charlotte smiled, for once glad she was adept at handling unconventional situations, and asked Mrs. Pevensie, "The tea was finished just before we came outside, wasn't it? Perhaps Edmund can help them with their bags and we'll help you set out tea?"
"Oh, yes, that's a lovely idea, thank you, Charlotte," Mrs. Pevensie nodded, though still her eyes were distant. "Edmund, would you—"
"Sure, Mum." He seemed simply relieved to have something to do, and now Peter and Lydia both felt at ease again for the same reason, the availability of a distraction.
Susan took Mrs. Pevensie's arm to lead her into the house, muttering only loud enough that Charlie and Lucy could hear, "Honestly, Mum, boys can be so stupid. Not even telling you he was bringing home a girl for the holidays. Honestly! He really is a dumb egg . . ."
Charlie bit her lip and felt much better when Lucy giggled beside her, "Now we have a mysteryous girlfriend and a movie star! This Christmas really couldn't get any better."