Despite her lack of sleep, Susan was ready to face the next day with renewed resolve. She sat down to breakfast without having to hide a tear-stained face from her aunt and uncle. About half way through the meal, she carefully asked the question she'd been struggling to formulate: “U- Harold. What happened to all the personal belongings that were found in the train wreck?” Uncle Harold stopped with his fork half way to his mouth. “What do you mean, Susan,” he asked, “personal items belonging to the deceased?” Susan nodded, “Not their general clothing – those were returned to us, but other things for which the owners couldn't be easily identified. We never received Father's top hat or Peter and Edmund's coats. It was a hot day and I suppose they weren't wearing them at the time. I'm sure there were other things as well.”
“Why do you want to know?” he cautioned. Susan wasn't sure how much she should say. She didn't even know if Peter was being honest about looking for the rings, let alone whether they'd found them (if they even existed). “I just wondered.” she replied. "I don't know everything that the family had with them – there may have been something important.”
“Now, Susan,” returned Aunt Alberta sharply, “I don't suggest you even try to find out. What good will sentimentality do? Make it harder for you to move on, that's what. Let bygones be bygones.” Uncle Harold was a little less blunt, “When the police took over the investigation, I believe the personal belongings were taken to Scotland Yard. The train wreck left such a mess, that they couldn't easily tell what belonged to whom. They are on display there for family members to identify. Was there something specific you thought you might find?” Again Susan hesitated, before replying, “Edmund always carried a torch in his coat pocket, it was very dear to him, and I thought it might have survived”.
“A torch?” Aunt Alberta was not amused. “Edmund got a new torch for his birthday once when we were still children,” explained Susan, “he lost it while playing a game. He was rather upset afterwards, and so Professor Kirke gave him his old one. It was pretty valuable, and Ed never went anywhere without it.” This was all true, although Susan hadn't thought about it until now. She hoped the part about it being valuable might count in her favour. After a slightly longer than comfortable silence, Uncle Harold finally said, “I suppose it can't hurt if I take her to the city to have a look.” Lest Aunt Alberta object to such an ill-use of her husband's time, Susan quickly replied, “That's okay Harold, I don't mind going down there by myself. I'll take the... coach.” She had been about to say “train”, when she remembered that she had vowed never to take a train ride again.
Susan decided that she'd make the trip to London early the next morning. After breakfast, she walked to the station, which was not far away, and booked a ticket. Then she made a telephone call to her friend Margaret, who lived in London, and asked if she could stay the night at her house. After all the arrangements had been made, and her overnight case packed, Susan decided to try and catch up on the sleep she had lost the night before; she would have an early morning the next day.
As she lay on her bed, staring at the dragon ship painting, she asked herself for the hundredth time why she was doing this. She was surprised that she was seriously expecting to find anything. She hadn't believed about the rings any more than she believed that they had all seen a ghost the night of the dinner party. And yet here she was, travelling to London to look for them. She tried to rationalise her decision – the trip would do her good; she needed to spend some time away from the Scrubbs. Although they refused to speak much about her family, everything in this house reminded her of them, and it was starting to crowd in around her.
And then there was the conversation she had had with Uncle Harold. She needed time to think about how she should be grieving. Spending the evening with Margaret tomorrow should help. She had always been able to speak to her honestly; Margaret would let her cry and ask questions without judging her. The thought comforted her, and she drifted off into a dreamless sleep. But, the last thing that crossed her mind before sleep overwhelmed her, was the ship painting and the distinct impression that it was for the rings and for no other reason that she had to go to London.
“Why do you want to know?” he cautioned. Susan wasn't sure how much she should say. She didn't even know if Peter was being honest about looking for the rings, let alone whether they'd found them (if they even existed). “I just wondered.” she replied. "I don't know everything that the family had with them – there may have been something important.”
“Now, Susan,” returned Aunt Alberta sharply, “I don't suggest you even try to find out. What good will sentimentality do? Make it harder for you to move on, that's what. Let bygones be bygones.” Uncle Harold was a little less blunt, “When the police took over the investigation, I believe the personal belongings were taken to Scotland Yard. The train wreck left such a mess, that they couldn't easily tell what belonged to whom. They are on display there for family members to identify. Was there something specific you thought you might find?” Again Susan hesitated, before replying, “Edmund always carried a torch in his coat pocket, it was very dear to him, and I thought it might have survived”.
“A torch?” Aunt Alberta was not amused. “Edmund got a new torch for his birthday once when we were still children,” explained Susan, “he lost it while playing a game. He was rather upset afterwards, and so Professor Kirke gave him his old one. It was pretty valuable, and Ed never went anywhere without it.” This was all true, although Susan hadn't thought about it until now. She hoped the part about it being valuable might count in her favour. After a slightly longer than comfortable silence, Uncle Harold finally said, “I suppose it can't hurt if I take her to the city to have a look.” Lest Aunt Alberta object to such an ill-use of her husband's time, Susan quickly replied, “That's okay Harold, I don't mind going down there by myself. I'll take the... coach.” She had been about to say “train”, when she remembered that she had vowed never to take a train ride again.
Susan decided that she'd make the trip to London early the next morning. After breakfast, she walked to the station, which was not far away, and booked a ticket. Then she made a telephone call to her friend Margaret, who lived in London, and asked if she could stay the night at her house. After all the arrangements had been made, and her overnight case packed, Susan decided to try and catch up on the sleep she had lost the night before; she would have an early morning the next day.
As she lay on her bed, staring at the dragon ship painting, she asked herself for the hundredth time why she was doing this. She was surprised that she was seriously expecting to find anything. She hadn't believed about the rings any more than she believed that they had all seen a ghost the night of the dinner party. And yet here she was, travelling to London to look for them. She tried to rationalise her decision – the trip would do her good; she needed to spend some time away from the Scrubbs. Although they refused to speak much about her family, everything in this house reminded her of them, and it was starting to crowd in around her.
And then there was the conversation she had had with Uncle Harold. She needed time to think about how she should be grieving. Spending the evening with Margaret tomorrow should help. She had always been able to speak to her honestly; Margaret would let her cry and ask questions without judging her. The thought comforted her, and she drifted off into a dreamless sleep. But, the last thing that crossed her mind before sleep overwhelmed her, was the ship painting and the distinct impression that it was for the rings and for no other reason that she had to go to London.
*-*-*-*
The ride to London was uneventful. Next to Susan on the coach sat an old man with greying hair and silver-rimmed spectacles. He slept for most of the trip, and read his newspaper the rest of the time. She was glad he didn't snore. The trip felt longer than it should have. Susan was getting tired of her own company, and couldn't wait to see Margaret again. She tried to think about all the things she could tell Margaret since they'd last been together. They could catch up on all the latest gossip – it would be just like old times.
But it really wouldn't be like old times. She'd have to talk about what had happened. While she knew it would be good for her, and that Margaret would listen, it also meant that she would have to bring up all the pain and sorrowful memories which she had managed to avoid for the last day. She had poured out her heart to Margaret before, but had never cried in front of her. Crying gave her a headache and made her feel sick; Susan was tired of feeling like that.
Eventually the trip dragged to it's close. She arrived at the Victoria Station just after midday. Firstly she went to find something to eat. The trip had made her feel hungrier than she had felt in a long while, and she made sure to get something with meat in it. After that, she made her way to Scotland Yard. There were a number of policemen guarding the door to the building. She explained her reason for coming and was directed into a kind of reception area where she was asked to wait.
By now she was getting rather nervous. She wasn't sure what kind of questions they would ask her. Would they require her to list the items she expected to find before letting her in. She didn't know what she would find between the seven people who had died, they might have had any number of items with them. While she was waiting, a lady walked in with permed brown hair. She was plainly dressed with minimal make-up. She came and sat down next to Susan. After a minute of awkward silence, she turned to Susan and tried to make conversation.
“What brings a young lady like you to Scotland Yard?” Susan was tempted to ignore her, but figured that a little conversation wouldn't hurt. “I lost some relatives in an accident. I'm here to identify some of their belongings which I hope were recovered,” she explained. The woman nodded then replied “I'm sorry to hear that. It wasn't in that tragic train wreck was it?” While Susan bit her lip and nodded, the woman continued, “May I ask whom you lost, was it close family?”
“Both my parents,” answered Susan briefly. She was struggling to hold back the tears now, and decided not to say any more. She wasn't in the mood for that pathetic attempt at sympathy she received whenever someone learnt just how many people she had lost. They couldn't possibly know how it felt.
The woman's face softened. “Oh you poor dear, I'm so sorry to hear that. I lost my husband and son in the same accident.” Susan was taken aback. She had been so wrapped up in her own grief, she'd never stopped to think about the other people who had died – that there were others like her, who'd been left behind. Sure, there was Aunt Alberta and Uncle Harold, but they were part of the same family – their loss was linked to hers. This woman represented something different – the unnamed and faceless others who were also grieving and struggling because of this accident.
The woman was still speaking, “...their names were Paul and Frankie,” she said, “Tomorrow would have been Frankie's ninth birthday. I miss them dearly, but I'm thankful for the time the Lord blessed me with them.” Susan examined the woman's face. She seemed to be speaking in earnest. Though tear drops glistened in her eyes, she bore an expression of contentment; certainty. She didn't seem to be covering up her sorrow, or simply putting on a brave face – there was a genuineness about her that Susan hadn't seen in a long time. “I am so glad that my men are in a better place now.”
Susan envied this woman's peace. Coming from some people, that phrase would have sounded hollow. Susan would have been angry that someone could accept what had happened so flippantly. But the way this woman spoke, the way her eyes lit up as she said the words; it was as though this woman truly believed what she said.
“How can you be so sure,” asked Susan, wanting to know where this woman's conviction came from. The woman didn't hesitate, “Because the Bible promises that all who believe in the Christ will have eternal life. My boys might have died in this world, but I believe that they'll live forever in the next. Don't you believe this, dearie?”
“I don't know what I believe any more,” answered Susan, a little too crossly. She had been hoping for something more solid – something that would prove to her that her family weren't gone forever. Believing something just because the Bible said it, wasn't enough for her.
Their conversation was interrupted just then by a middle-aged policeman entering the room. “Miss Pevensie,” he said. Please come this way.
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