Chapter Text
Rain fell down in curtains as she ran across the sidewalk, slapping the soles of her Wellingtons against the soaked stones. Her braids bounced on her shoulders, weighed down by the buckets of water that they contained. She wore a raincoat but it did little to keep the water out at the speed that she was running. She bounced off of a curb and landed in a huge puddle of water, splashing cold water all over her legs and into her Wellingtons; she did not slow. She dodged a group of business men, all rushing to wherever they were headed with their dark umbrellas drawn against the rain.
Summer in London had been heralded, as usual, by buckets of rain pouring down upon them. Normally Lucy Pevensie was a sensible girl that always buttoned her raincoat and made sure to grab her hat and umbrella before leaving the house. However, today had not been a day for dawdling about in search of an umbrella. She had barely had time to throw on her raincoat before she was out the door and speeding down the street.
She dashed out into the street without looking and heard the blare of a car horn. The driver yelled something out of a crack in the window as Lucy leapt out of the way and turned to run the opposite direction on the other side of the street. She sharply turned the corner and vaulted up the steps that led to the makeshift hospital. She barged through the door without bothering with a bell and waved hello to the shocked entry nurse.
“She’s on the third floor, Miss Pevensie, but she is with a patient!” the nurse called as Lucy bolted up the steps, taking them two at a time. “I beg you, wait until she is finished!” Lucy ignored the pleading cry and pushed past a set of nurses chatting on the landing.
One of the nurses laughed and called out, “Room three-oh-two, Lucy!” Lucy did not even pause to offer a wave to the nurse; she merely nodded once and vanished around the next landing.
By the time the third landing came into view, Lucy was having difficulty breathing. The door directly in front of her opened and out stepped a tall girl with long dark hair and piercing blue eyes. She wore a white dress and a small white wedge hat. She carried a tray covered with a white towel and had a bag in her hand. Lucy collapsed with her knees on the second stair down and sighed.
“Susan,” she gasped. Her sister turned to take her in, startled.
“What are you doing here, Lucy?” Susan demanded, coming over and helping her from the floor. “Are you all right? The boys, are they all right? Mother and Father?”
“Yes, yes,” Lucy snapped, reaching into her raincoat. “We’re all fine. This just came.” From her raincoat she produced a cream colored envelope stained with mud or worse.
Almost instantly, Susan’s hands started shaking and she almost dropped the tray she was holding. “Oh,” she whispered, staring at the envelope in Lucy’s hand. She dropped the bag to the floor and used her other hand to steady the tray. Leaning over the banister, Susan called, “Patricia! Would mind taking this tray to Dr. Wheeler?” The girl that had shouted out to Lucy appeared on the steps.
“Not at all,” Patricia answered, eyeing the envelope in Lucy’s hand. “Room three-oh-two, right?” Susan nodded, her eyes still on the envelope. As she handed the tray to Patricia it shook a bit. “Why don’t you take a break; I’ll cover for you.”
Susan nodded again and gestured for Lucy to follow her. She passed Patricia and headed back down the stairs. With a sigh, Lucy followed taking deep, slow breaths.
The two of them trudged down the steps until they reached the ground level. The entry way nurse stood behind her desk and watched them evenly. “Nancy, I’m going to take a break,” Susan said. Nancy glanced to Lucy and noticed the envelope. She nodded and gestured to the small sitting room through a door marked Staff Only.
Susan tugged Lucy through the door and crossed the kitchen floor to the stove where a kettle of tea was waiting. “Do you want tea?” Susan asked, her back to Lucy.
“No,” Lucy answered, watching her sister. “Aren’t you going to read it?”
Susan busied herself with making a cup of tea and adding two sugar cubes. She stirred it slowly before lifting the saucer and carrying it over to the table. Lucy was still standing in the doorway, watching Susan carefully ignore the envelope. Finally as Lucy took a step closer, Susan sipped at her tea and said, “Who brought it?”
Realization flooded over Lucy. It had been months since the last letter, two almost to the day. The state of this letter did not seem promising, stained and battered as though it had lived through its own personal battle. “The postman,” she answered. “It came with all the other post. Just like all of the other times.”
The elder girl took another sip of her tea and her gaze darted to Lucy. She was weighing the truth in Lucy’s statement. Finally she reached out a hand and waited as Lucy dropped the envelope into her palm. She tore at the seal and pulls the paper from its sheath. It unfurled to reveal the familiar scrawl of his hand. She devoured it, reading his words as if they spilled from his lips instead of the paper. Each punctuation mark is a stab of the pen. She could tell when he is writing quickly by the upcurl of his letters, and how the periods began to have tails from where he was too rushed to lift the pen completely. Her eyes flew over the words, scanning them for any of her warning signs. She flipped through the pages, holding her breath until she could hardly stand it.
The final page is finished and with a flourish his name was scrawled at the bottom. Susan set the letter down on the table and sighed with relief. Lucy sighed too and sank into the chair next to Susan. “He’s all right, then?” Lucy asked, reaching over to place her hand over Susan’s. Susan nods, tears in her eyes. “Thank God,” Lucy answered, her eyes drifting to the sky. “Where is he?”
“Still in France, but he has been promoted and moved to a new corps. He’s been made a warrant officer of the thirtieth corps. They ship out in a few days,” Susan replied, going back to the first page and actually reading at a normal pace.
Lucy nodded, squeezing lightly on Susan’s hand. “That’s probably good news, right? He was promoted and now he’s being shipped out. That means we’re one step closer to getting him back.” Susan nodded, taking another sip of her tea. Lucy glanced out the window and noticed that the rain had stopped and the sun had come out. “Oh, there’s a lull in the rainstorm. I should get home before Mother notices that my hat and umbrella are still in the mudroom.”
For the first time since Lucy had arrived Susan turned to really look at her. “Lucy!” she exclaimed, “I cannot believe you left home without your umbrella on a day like today! You’re mad!” She pushed herself away from the table and went to the wall near the door where her raincoat and hat hung on a hook. She donned them both and snatched up her umbrella. Crossing back she carefully folded the letter and placed it in the pocket of her raincoat. “Come on,” Susan said, gesturing to Lucy. “I’ll walk you home.”
“Why?” Lucy asked, eyeing Susan. “I know how to get there.”
With an eyeroll, Susan took Lucy by the arm and led her out into the entry. “Nancy,” she said. “I’m off for the day. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, all right, Susan,” Nancy replied, scrawling down Susan’s time on a paper. “See you tomorrow.”
Susan nodded and opened the door for Lucy.. The two girls stepped out into the overcast London streets and Lucy jumped down the stairs and ran out onto the sidewalk. “Lucy!” Susan called, slowly and safely making her way down the stone steps.. “Watch where you’re going!”
The younger girl threw a glance over her shoulder and darted back around Susan, stomping in a puddle along the way. Muddy water splashed up and soaked Susan’s white stockings, covering her white shoes and staining the hem of her dress. Lucy froze in her spot and stared down at Susan’s feet. “Oh, no!” she exclaimed. “I’m so sorry, Sue!”
The elder girl stood stock still, staring down at her mud covered feet. Neither one of them moved for a long moment until Susan tilted her head up to stare at Lucy. Finally, Susan reached down and brushed at the mud stained stockings in an attempt to clean them slightly. She glanced back at Lucy and started to laugh. It was a high pitched laugh that rained down on them as they stood in the middle of the sidewalk with people staring at them as they walked past. “Sue?” Lucy questioned softly, reaching out at tentative hand in her sister’s direction. “Are you all right?”
Suddenly Susan’s foot stomped in the puddle that Lucy was standing in and splashed dirty water all over the younger girl’s stockings and skirt hem. Lucy shrieked happily, drawing looks from passers-by. Susan grabbed Lucy’s hand and darted away from the front of the hospital, pulling her sister along with her..
The two girls ran through the streets, spraying water in every direction. Laughter rang out loudly, bouncing back from cold, empty walls. Finally they reached the corner of their street and slowed to a walk. They were still giggling as they reached the steps and Susan turned back to help Lucy maneuver up the rain soaked stairs.
As they reached for the knob the door swung open to reveal Helen Pevensie standing in the doorway. “Where have you two been?” she demanded, “Just look at your stockings! Lucy, you are soaked to the skin! You’ll catch pneumonia.” She stepped aside so that the girls could step into the mudroom. “Really Susan, what has gotten into you?” Helen asked, taking her coat.
Susan reached into the inner pocket of the raincoat and withdrew the letter. “Look, Mother!” she exclaimed, waving it wildly before her face. “He’s alive!”
Helen’s eyes lit up and she threw her arms around Susan. “Oh, darling, that’s wonderful!” she exclaimed as Lucy perched herself on the bench to remove her mud-crusted boots. Helen turned to Lucy and smiled, “So this is why you went running off when the post arrived.” Lucy nodded. “Well, this time I will let it slide, but if you ever go running off without your raincoat again I promise you that you will regret it.”
“Yes, Mother,” Lucy replied obediently, nodding and stripping off her mud covered stockings. “I should go change into dry clothes” With that, Lucy rose to her feet and dashed through the door and up the stairs.
Helen Pevensie turned to Susan and gestured to the fireplace in the sitting room. "Well," she said as the two of them stepped into the circle of warmth that filled the room. "What does he say?" she continued.
The younger woman withdrew the letter from the envelope and unfolded it. Her eyes darted to the top of the page and she scanned the first line quickly. "He's been promoted to warrant officer and moved to the thirtieth corps. Do you think that Father would know anything about them?" Susan asked, glancing to her mother.
"We'll ask when he gets home next week," Helen answered with a nod. "A promotion, hmm? He must be doing exceptionally well." Susan nodded and dropped her eyes back to the paper. "What other news?"
Susan shrugged, her eyes drifting over the paper. They came to rest at the top of the sheet and her heart sank into her chest. "Oh, Mother!" she exclaimed. "This letter is from months ago! May 18th! Who knows where he is now!"
An arm dropped around Susan's shoulders and Helen pulled her closer. "Well, we know his company; surely we can find out where they are stationed. We will be sure to ask your father when he comes back," her mother offered, moving across the room. "Now, go and change out of those wet clothes, before you catch your death."
With a nod, Susan folded the letter and pushed it back into the envelope. She took the stairs quickly and moved down the hallway toward her bedroom. The door to her right pulled open and Peter stuck his head out. "Oh," he said, "Sue. Any word from Caspian?" She nodded and waved the envelope. "Good, good. I was wondering if you might want to head out to the park with me tonight. A few friends invited us to the picture shows."
Susan tilted her head to regard her brother soundly; Peter never chose to go out to the park with people. He prefered solitude even more than Susan did and spent his time at school locked in the library or out on the fields. "I suppose," she agreed. "But not too late, I have to be at work early tomorrow."
"Yes, all right," Peter said quickly, his voice soft. "I do too." Susan nodded once and continued down the hallway to her bedroom. Stepping within she flipped on the lamp and began to remove her shoes and stockings. Halfway through the removal of her second stocking she paused and took up the letter again. Withdrawing it from the envelope she reveled in the whisper of paper against paper. Alone she could focus on exactly what was written and hear his words as though he was speaking.
It was not often that a letter called to her, but this one had been so long in coming that she could barely stand letting it out of her sight. It had been two months since she had recieved any correspondence and the Commodore had gone to post shortly after so she had no chance to find out word on Caspian. The newspapers had been unhelpful, spouting nothing but news of victories and oppotunities of advancement for the army.. The only hope that Susan held on to was the letters and they were arriving sporatically and too far between to be reliable.
She opened the paper again and lingered on the opening paragraph.
My Queen,
Today it is overcast and warm. My company members are complaining of ailments the likes of which I have never seen but I have managed to come through these past weeks with nary a sniffle or ache. I know that it has been a long time since I last wrote to you, but it has been a rough couple of weeks here and I have been unable to produce any single train of thought. These days all I can think is of your face and the light in your eyes as you laugh. I lay on my cot, staring up at the stars and think only of your smile. These are the thoughts that ramble through my mind and I cannot help but drift away. Even now, as I write this I find myself staring into space and dreaming of the day that return to you.
For a moment Susan paused in her reading to stare at the letter itself. It was a plain white paper, crinkled slightly as though it had once been stuffed in a pocket for a brief time and then creased hard to give it shape. It was stained dark brown at one corner and she briefly thought of what it might be before pushing it from her mind. He would not have posted it if he had bled on it, at least she liked to think he would not.
She put the letter down and continued to remove her stocking, watching the paper out of the corner of her eye as though it would vanish if she looked away. She dropped her filthy stocking in the bin and began to unbutton her dress. At her father's suggestion she had gotten a summer job in hopes that it would keep her from pining away from day to day. Working as a nurse had been her mother's idea and it was probably the reason she spent so much time worrying.
The patients that they received at the small hospital were not often soldiers. They were overflow patients from St. Bartholomew's Hospital that were often moved because of swells in the soldier arrival. They came into the off-shoot hospital with tales from soldiers that had been shot, lost limbs and worse in battle. Each tale created a swell of fear deep in her stomach and radiate out into her limbs. At night she would dream that Caspian had arrived at Bart's and some patient told her a tale of a soldier that came in, wounded beyond recognition and he just kept saying her name over and over in his tortured sleep. On those mornings she would wake up in a cold sweat and cry until she was out of tears.
A knock sounded at her door and she looked down to her water stained camisole and slip. She had been daydreaming again and silently berated herself as she donned her robe and crossed to the door. Peter stood outside wearing slacks and a light green sweater vest over a lightly lined shirt. "The film starts at sundown, Sue," he said, glancing at her robe.
With a sigh, Susan nodded. "Yes, all right. Let me change. But if I catch pneumonia you're bringing me soup in bed." Peter grinned brightly and nodded before stepping away from the door. "I'll meet you downstairs in a few minutes," Susan added as she closed the door.
Alone again she shed her robe and climbed from her water stained slip and camisole. She located a second pair and stepped in. In the bottom of her wardrobe she found a pair of light wool stockings and pulled them on. It may be a warm summer eve but her feet were chilled from running through the water and she would not risk a cold now. She pulled out a light blue colored dress that her mother had recycled from one of her old play dresses and buttoned it up. She quickly brushed her hair free of tangles and set it back from her face in a low ponytail. With that she stepped into her shoes and ran out the door.
Halfway down the hall she spun back and dashed back to the bedroom. Lying on the comforter was the letter, open and glaring at the ceiling. She quickly pushed it back into the envelope and gently stowed it in a wooden box beside her bed. With a backward glance at the box, she made her way back down the hall to the staircase.
Peter waited by the door, wearing his coat and holding Susan’s. She shrugged into it and turned to look at him over her shoulder. “Does Mother know that we are leaving?” she asked. He nodded and opened the door to the mudroom. “What film is playing?” she asked, stepping in.
“Does it really matter?” he asked, stepping past her and opening the outer door. She shook her head as she stepped around him and into the pre-twilit street. The maneuvered down the stairs in silence and then turned and padded up the street. Susan wrapped her coat tighter around her and stepped closer to Peter in an attempt to block the wind that was whistling down the sidewalk.
They reached the corner before the rain started to pour down on them. With a sigh, Susan grabbed Peter’s hand and pulled him into a run. They stomped through the rain slicked sidewalks for the three blocks before reaching the Underground tunnels. On the way down the steps, Susan hit the step wrong and slipped. To keep her from tumbling down the stairs, Peter reached out to grab her and wrapped his hand around her arm and pulled.
“Thanks,” she said, finding her footing.
They moved further down the stairs to the platform. “Watch your step, Sue. Tread wrong and you’ll fall.”
Susan swiveled her head to take in her brother and stopped short. “What does that mean?” she snapped angrily.
Peter arched an eyebrow as he came to an abrupt halt and stared at her. “It means the stairs are wet,” he replied with a questioning tone. “Why?” With a shake of her head, Susan passed him and continued down the steps to the platform. “Susan,” he pressed, following her. “What is going on?”
“Nothing,” she replied, stepping onto the well lit platform. “I’m just tired.” She stepped closer to the edge of the platform as a train pulled in to the station. A newspaper blew from one man’s hands and slapped against Susan’s leg. She reached down and peeled it from her stocking to hand it back to the man. As she folded it in half the headline caught her eye.
Allied Troops Lose Ground; Thousands Missing
“Peter,” she whispered, her hands shaking. “I think I’m going to be sick.” Peter stepped up beside her just as her knees buckled and her world went black.