IV

Susan was glad to see Margaret waiting for her at the bus station. Margaret lived in a small house in a compact neighbourhood a fifteen minute drive from Victoria Embankment. As she stepped out of the bus, Margaret ran up to her and grabbed her small suitcase. “Oh Susan, dear,” she said. “I am so glad to see you. You won't believe it! I received an invitation to a dinner banquet at the Jacobsen's house this evening. You will come too, of course. I simply can't wait! Come, we don't have much time to get ready.”

In reality, they still had much of the afternoon. Susan was speechless. She hadn't seen Margaret since before the accident. Margaret hadn't made it to the funeral – she had had some prior engagement – and this was not the response Susan had expected on first seeing her closest friend. Margaret stopped walking and turned to look at her friend. “Susan, darling, what is the matter? You look awful. Did you put on any make-up this morning? And your hands, they are filthy. But come along, we will talk at my house.” Susan had in fact put make-up on when she had woken early this morning. She wasn't surprised that it had rubbed off, though. It had been a long day. Silently she followed Margaret on the short walk to her house.

Once they were settled down in Margaret's room (Margaret had asked her family's servant to bring tea up to them), Margaret turned her attention back to Susan. For the first time, she noticed how tired and worn-out Susan looked. “Are you okay, Susan?” she asked, with something verging on genuine concern. “You never told me what has brought you to London.” Susan explained.

“You poor thing,” said Margaret, “Going there all on your own. You should have asked me to come with. So, what's Scotland Yard like?” She added the last as an afterthought, “I hear they have some of the most handsome young officers working there.” Susan replied that she'd been rather distracted and hadn't really noticed. “Aw, poor thing, the death of your parents must be taking a heavy toll on you,” responded Margaret, softening slightly, “I'm sorry I couldn't make the funeral – you did get my telegram, didn't you?” Susan replied with an affirmative. Tears were welling up in her eyes again, and she couldn't decide whether to hold them back or not. Margaret's reception hadn't been at all what she expected. But thinking on it, she realised that this is who Margaret was – she always took life a little too lightly.

Susan decided that it wouldn't hurt to allow a stray few tears though – she wiped them away quickly. Margaret noticed the gesture. “There, there dear, everything's okay.” Margaret reached over to hug her. The hug felt good, but released a fresh batch of tears. Margaret pulled out of the hug and examined her friends face. “It should get better with time. When my Fifi died, I didn't think I would ever recover, but look at me now. I will never forget the dear, but life goes on.” Margaret stopped momentarily to muse over her beloved pooch. Susan didn't bother to point out that losing a pink poodle was not the same as losing one's entire family. She appreciated it as her friend's feeble attempt at empathy.

“I know what will cheer you up,” said Margaret, passing on quickly from her reverie over Fifi, “Tonight's party!” Susan sighed, “I'm not sure I feel like going,” she confessed. “What?” asked Margaret incredulously. “Susan Pevensie not wanting to go to a party? What is this world coming to?” Susan almost wanted to smile at her melodramatic friend, “Besides, I didn't bring anything appropriate to wear,” she added. Margaret stopped her musing over the course that the world was taking, “Well, dear, that is something I can help you with. We are nearly the same size, and you will look divine in my blue gown with your hair tied up. Oh, and did I mention that David will be there?”

Susan hadn't thought about David for a while. He had made it to her family's funeral and was one of the few people who had actually spoken to her with genuine sympathy and kindness. Maybe she should go to this party. She had always envied Margaret for her blue dress. But she still wasn't sure. Margaret frowned, “What is wrong, Susan?” Susan decided to be honest. “My mind has been in turmoil ever since the accident. I want to cry all the time, Aunt Alberta doesn't like it. I don't understand why this all had to happen to me. It's not fair, losing so many people in one day. I want to blame God, but I don't even know if he exists. And to make all things worse, I used to think that it was just my family that were crazy, now I think I might be too!”

She went on to tell Margaret what had really brought her to London. She had never spoken to any of her friends about Narnia, but now she told Margaret everything she remembered. She told her how she was sure that they were just games, but her siblings insisted on pretending otherwise. Then she told her about the rings. She opened the bag of items she had brought back from the station, and taking out the bag that contained the rings, she showed Margaret its contents. Margaret's face had turned from concern to surprise as Susan spoke. Now her eyes widened in wonder.

“What beautiful rings!” She exclaimed, “Wherever they came from, they must be very valuable. Ooh, shall we wear them to the banquet?” Susan sighed, “Have you been listening to a word I said?” she asked. Margaret sobered, “Of course I have, your Uncle thought they were magic rings. But obviously they aren't, so why can't we wear them?”

Susan didn't bother reminding her that the Professor wasn't really her uncle. “You don't understand,” said Susan crossly, the fact that all the “Friends of Narnia” died in the accident, the pocket watch, the various references to Narnia in the items I found, and the fact that I actually found the rings! They all point to the possibility that my family was right. Look at the rings – have you seen anything like them before? Where could they have come from?” Margaret looked at them. And then with a flippant expression said, “I appreciate you're going through a rough time, but think about what you're saying Susan. You said that touching the green rings will send you to another world. There's one way to find out.” Before Susan could stop her, Margaret reached out and took one of the green rings out of the bag.

Nothing happened. “See,” she said, with a smirk on her face, “No magic. Now I really think we should get ready for the party. It will take your mind off all this nonsense.” Susan decided it was better not to tell Margaret that she wasn't sure about which colour ring did what. Reluctantly, she agreed to get dressed for the banquet. Her plans to spend the night in a heart-to-heart with Margaret were slowly dissipating. The party would make for a good distraction. Besides, she would get to wear Margaret's blue gown.

*-*-*-*

The Jacobsen's house was massive. Of a typical Elizabethan style, it had a beautiful winding staircase leading into a spacious dining room. Being here reminded Susan of the happy days spent at Professor Kirke's old house before he had lost it. Except that his house was better and more enchanting, being in the countryside as it was. Margaret hadn't been exaggerating when she called the party a “banquet”. Susan saw every type of food and drink conceivable laid out on richly adorned tables. She was awed to see how many young people were present – it was by far one of the most expansive parties she had ever been invited to.

She was pleased that she was wearing Maragaret's blue gown rather than one of her own, although even that seemed rather simple compared to what some of the girls were wearing. Some of those dresses would have made her very uncomfortable and self-conscious, her father would never have approved. The young men were dressed in their smartest suits. Susan briefly caught sight of David wearing a dark green waist coat with a yellow flower in his button hole. He looked even more handsome than he had at the funeral.

Susan was immediately welcomed by a clutch of enthusiastic girls – her friends. Most of them were rather polite and enquired after how she was dealing with her loss. But they couldn’t hide their pleasure at seeing her again and concluded that her presence at this banquet was evidence that she was getting along just fine.

The banquet was laid out in a casual buffet style, and so, after helping herself to a small portion of food, she sat down with her friends and listened silently as they babbled on about the latest gossip: Jonathan was courting Molly, and they expected that it would not be long before an engagement was announced. That answered Susan's question as to how Molly had felt about Peter's death and explained her unexpected absence from the funeral.

The evening was dragging for Susan. She was exhausted and didn't have much to add to the conversation. Margaret had been engaged with another, slightly older group of girls (most of whom Susan had never seen before) from the time they arrived. As her mind drifted from the conversation around her, she suddenly overheard Margaret sharing with her confidants in a scandalous voice,

“Yes, that's Susan Pevensie over there in my old blue dress. The poor dear, she's had a rough time after losing her entire family in that train crash. Why she showed me the most beautiful rings that she found among her brothers' possessions this afternoon. When I suggested we wear them to the banquet tonight, she refused and said they had come from another world. Another world! If you ask me they were probably stolen. I don't think her family could afford jewellery of that quality.” The group laughed mirthfully. Susan didn't hear the rest of the conversation.

Thankfully, no on else outside of Margaret's group seemed to have heard the exchange. Susan wiped away the first batch of tears from her eyes. And excused herself from her group of friends. She was on her way to the powder room, when David walked up to her with glasses of drink in his hands. He was taking refills to his friends, but stopped to greet Susan and enquire how she was. He took one look at her face, and stopped, putting the glasses down on the nearest table.

“Are you all right, Susan?” he asked with genuine concern in his voice, “you don't look well.” Susan bit her lip. This was just what she needed – to burst out crying in front of David. “I don't feel well,” she managed to get out with only a slight wobble in her voice. I am on my way to the powder room. Could you tell Margaret I would like to leave now?” David nodded with a smile of encouragement and hurried over to Margaret.

Susan moved towards the powder room as quickly as she could without drawing attention to herself. There she allowed herself to cry a little before washing her face. Then she attempted to cover up what was left of her ruined make up. As dreadful as it would be leaving with Margaret, she needed to get out of this place. She eventually gathered up enough courage to leave the room and was surprised to see David waiting for her, not far off.

“Susan,” he said, “I spoke to Margaret and I'm sorry, but she says she's not ready to leave yet and that if you are feeling so bad, you should take a taxi back to her house.” Susan sighed. It would be better that way. She could go to bed before Margaret got home and wouldn't have to speak to her. “I've already called you a cab,” continued the young man, “it should be here very soon. Come, I'll walk you out. I've already told the Jacobsen's that you are unwell and we will be taking our leave.”

We? Susan must have heard incorrectly. She had a terrible headache and felt a little dizzy. She leant on David's proffered arm as he led her out to the street. As the taxi arrived, David told Susan, “I'm coming with you to Margaret's house. You're in no condition to be travelling alone.” Susan simply nodded, she had no strength to argue. He opened the door for her and she threw herself into the seat as he walked around to the other side and got in. David didn't say a word throughout the trip. It was a comfortable silence and Susan let the tears flow, hidden as she was in the half-dark.

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