The Holiday
The Holiday
The youngest Pevensie children deal with leaving Narnia for the last time.
The Holiday
The summer of 1942 is the worst. Of the three of them, Edmund is fairly sure that Lucy takes it the hardest. For all that Eustace has changed for the better while aboard the Dawn Treader, Edmund knows that there’s still too much stubborn practicality in the younger boy for him to take the return to England as hard as the others. Lucy puts up a good show when they find themselves in the back bedroom in Aunt Alberta’s home at Cambridge for the first time in weeks. She gaily announces that she could do with a spot of tea, and Eustace, of course, enthusiastically chimes in. But Edmund was a bully once, and a king (not to mention a spymaster) for even longer - he’s long known how to read the subtleties in facial expressions and body language: what that shift in the eyes indicates, or what this twitch in the fingers means. And Lucy’s entire being, in those few seconds immediately after returning to England, is as a book. Edmund’s readings are verified later that night, when the badly muffled sound of her sobbing bleeds through the wall separating their guest bedrooms.
“I’ll miss you, Ed,” Lucy says quietly into the lapel of his coat as she hugs her brother at the train station days later. All around them, children are picking up their suitcases, putting on their hats, and filing onto the trains that will take them to one boarding school or another.
“I’ll miss you too, Lu, you big baby,” Edmund replies, corner of his mouth quirking up into a small smile. Lucy laughs, almost like she used to, before gathering up her belongings and running towards the calls of her school friends. Edmund watches her go with a heavy feeling in his heart - he’s worried that it’s too soon for him to be leaving his sister. Too soon after they’ve lost the only place that could ever be considered home. Lucy has been a magnificent liar ever since leaving Narnia, but Edmund will always be the better one. And he doesn’t think that those shadows in her eyes will ever really go away. But perhaps what’s even worse is that he doesn’t know what to do to make it better, no matter how much he wants to.
The night before the new term begins, it takes Edmund ages to fall asleep. The silence that fills his private room bears down on him, pressing against his shut eyelids, pushing down on that spot right above his heart. When he was younger, he used to be grateful for his privacy - no roommate to nick his belongings, no one walking in on him while he was studying. But now he thinks that he’d rather be in a room that smells of dried meats and barrelled wine and sea salt, in a hammock whose ropes tend to cut uncomfortably into his back, surrounded by the snores of a king and the grumblings of a cousin.
As he looks into his mirror to straighten his tie the next morning, Edmund decides that uniforms are completely overrated - give him a simple, linen tunic any day.
In Latin, Edmund chooses a seat in the back of the classroom, right next to a window that’s been left open. The tutor, who’s always been one of Edmund’s favourites, is at the front of the class, perched on the edge of his own desk, engaging Edmund’s classmates in some conversation about something or other. Normally, Edmund would be paying attention. Only today the weather outside is almost unnaturally glorious, and a cool breeze mischievously finds its way into the classroom, playfully ruffling his hair. He turns his gaze out the window, but instead of seeing the courtyard with its stone benches and tall trees, he pictures crisp, blue waves rushing past a beautifully built ship, the reflection of a young sun glittering on the face of the sea. He envisions the good-natured shouts of lion-hearted men, and even a high-pitched offer of a game of chess coming from somewhere around his knees. He imagines home. And for a moment, his heart constricts painfully, and he wonders how Lucy, who’s always taken it harder than any of the rest of them, copes with it all.
“And you, Mr Pevensie?” The tutor’s kind voice cuts into his thoughts, and Edmund turns to find everyone looking expectantly at him. “Did you have the happy opportunity to holiday anywhere this summer?”
Edmund frowns slightly, ready to answer in the negative. But something stops him - perhaps another brush of a breeze over his face. For a fleeting second, he tastes the salt of the ocean on his tongue. “Yes, actually,” Edmund says slowly. “For a bit…with my…extended family.”
The tutor smiles encouragingly at him. “That sounds most excellent. Why don’t you tell us a little bit about your trip? Where did you go?”
“We went abroad,” Edmund replies, mind filled with a thousand images of home. Only it doesn’t hurt quite so much this time. Another breeze brings with it the faint smell of the Narnian sun, and he smiles. “And we went to the most beautiful country…”
Later that night, after he’s taken his supper with his old friends, feeling more light-hearted than he has in a long time, Edmund sits at his desk and pens a letter to his youngest sister.
Lu,
You can talk about it, you know. You might have to change a few details here and there. But it helps more than anything else.
Love,
Ed
When he receives her reply a few days later, he is initially surprised by what he reads. And then he laughs, because of course Lucy isn’t as weak as she might seem. None of them are. They are, after all, kings and queens of Narnia. Once and always, whether they’re wearing crowns or itchy school uniforms.
Ed,
I know - have known since that first time, really. I’m glad you’ve finally found out for yourself.
Love,
Lu
Fin.
The youngest Pevensie children deal with leaving Narnia for the last time.
The Holiday
The summer of 1942 is the worst. Of the three of them, Edmund is fairly sure that Lucy takes it the hardest. For all that Eustace has changed for the better while aboard the Dawn Treader, Edmund knows that there’s still too much stubborn practicality in the younger boy for him to take the return to England as hard as the others. Lucy puts up a good show when they find themselves in the back bedroom in Aunt Alberta’s home at Cambridge for the first time in weeks. She gaily announces that she could do with a spot of tea, and Eustace, of course, enthusiastically chimes in. But Edmund was a bully once, and a king (not to mention a spymaster) for even longer - he’s long known how to read the subtleties in facial expressions and body language: what that shift in the eyes indicates, or what this twitch in the fingers means. And Lucy’s entire being, in those few seconds immediately after returning to England, is as a book. Edmund’s readings are verified later that night, when the badly muffled sound of her sobbing bleeds through the wall separating their guest bedrooms.
“I’ll miss you, Ed,” Lucy says quietly into the lapel of his coat as she hugs her brother at the train station days later. All around them, children are picking up their suitcases, putting on their hats, and filing onto the trains that will take them to one boarding school or another.
“I’ll miss you too, Lu, you big baby,” Edmund replies, corner of his mouth quirking up into a small smile. Lucy laughs, almost like she used to, before gathering up her belongings and running towards the calls of her school friends. Edmund watches her go with a heavy feeling in his heart - he’s worried that it’s too soon for him to be leaving his sister. Too soon after they’ve lost the only place that could ever be considered home. Lucy has been a magnificent liar ever since leaving Narnia, but Edmund will always be the better one. And he doesn’t think that those shadows in her eyes will ever really go away. But perhaps what’s even worse is that he doesn’t know what to do to make it better, no matter how much he wants to.
The night before the new term begins, it takes Edmund ages to fall asleep. The silence that fills his private room bears down on him, pressing against his shut eyelids, pushing down on that spot right above his heart. When he was younger, he used to be grateful for his privacy - no roommate to nick his belongings, no one walking in on him while he was studying. But now he thinks that he’d rather be in a room that smells of dried meats and barrelled wine and sea salt, in a hammock whose ropes tend to cut uncomfortably into his back, surrounded by the snores of a king and the grumblings of a cousin.
As he looks into his mirror to straighten his tie the next morning, Edmund decides that uniforms are completely overrated - give him a simple, linen tunic any day.
In Latin, Edmund chooses a seat in the back of the classroom, right next to a window that’s been left open. The tutor, who’s always been one of Edmund’s favourites, is at the front of the class, perched on the edge of his own desk, engaging Edmund’s classmates in some conversation about something or other. Normally, Edmund would be paying attention. Only today the weather outside is almost unnaturally glorious, and a cool breeze mischievously finds its way into the classroom, playfully ruffling his hair. He turns his gaze out the window, but instead of seeing the courtyard with its stone benches and tall trees, he pictures crisp, blue waves rushing past a beautifully built ship, the reflection of a young sun glittering on the face of the sea. He envisions the good-natured shouts of lion-hearted men, and even a high-pitched offer of a game of chess coming from somewhere around his knees. He imagines home. And for a moment, his heart constricts painfully, and he wonders how Lucy, who’s always taken it harder than any of the rest of them, copes with it all.
“And you, Mr Pevensie?” The tutor’s kind voice cuts into his thoughts, and Edmund turns to find everyone looking expectantly at him. “Did you have the happy opportunity to holiday anywhere this summer?”
Edmund frowns slightly, ready to answer in the negative. But something stops him - perhaps another brush of a breeze over his face. For a fleeting second, he tastes the salt of the ocean on his tongue. “Yes, actually,” Edmund says slowly. “For a bit…with my…extended family.”
The tutor smiles encouragingly at him. “That sounds most excellent. Why don’t you tell us a little bit about your trip? Where did you go?”
“We went abroad,” Edmund replies, mind filled with a thousand images of home. Only it doesn’t hurt quite so much this time. Another breeze brings with it the faint smell of the Narnian sun, and he smiles. “And we went to the most beautiful country…”
Later that night, after he’s taken his supper with his old friends, feeling more light-hearted than he has in a long time, Edmund sits at his desk and pens a letter to his youngest sister.
Lu,
You can talk about it, you know. You might have to change a few details here and there. But it helps more than anything else.
Love,
Ed
When he receives her reply a few days later, he is initially surprised by what he reads. And then he laughs, because of course Lucy isn’t as weak as she might seem. None of them are. They are, after all, kings and queens of Narnia. Once and always, whether they’re wearing crowns or itchy school uniforms.
Ed,
I know - have known since that first time, really. I’m glad you’ve finally found out for yourself.
Love,
Lu
Fin.