“I see her!” Lucy cried, her face pressed against the cold train window.

“Where?” Edmund, Susan, and Peter turned to look where Lucy pointed.

“There! In the same green cap as ever!”

“I see her, too!” Edmund yelled.

“Hush,” Susan said. “People are looking at us.”

The other children looked around, noticing the annoyed faces on some of their fellow passengers and the indulgent faces of others.

After an eternity, the conductor opened the door and allowed his passengers to stream out of the coach.

“Mum! Mum!” the Pevensie children shouted, making their way toward the familiar green cap.

“Peter! Susan! Ed! Lucy!” Mrs. Pevensie said as she gathered them all into a hug. “Oh, I’ve missed you!”

The five cherished the hug, reveling in the knowledge that all five of them were safe and hoping that their father was, too. Finally, Edmund began to squirm, and Mrs. Pevensie released them.

“Let me get a good look at you,” she said, and sized them each up in turn. “I do believe you’ve all grown!” she gasped. “And you’re all well?”

They nodded. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Our house is a bit worse for wear, though, what with all the bombs,” she warned her children. “But we’ll have it fixed in no time if we all work together. You must tell me everything that happened while you were away.”

Taking Lucy by the hand, Mrs. Pevensie led them from the station as they tried to tell her about the house in the countryside all at once, having unanimously agreed on the train to keep Narnia a secret, even from Mum.

~

The next few weeks were spent fixing up the house, which had been severely rattled by more than one bomb falling in the vicinity. But it was soon finished, and three weeks after the children returned to London, Edmund asked, “Can I get a job, Mum?”

Mrs. Pevensie looked across the dinner table at him. “We’ve done so well on the house – you four are so industrious! – that I don’t see why not, since school won’t start until after the holidays. Do you have something in mind?”

Edmund nodded. “There’s a stable a few blocks down. I’d like to work there, and I’ve already talked to the owner. They’ll take you, Pete, as well, if you’d like.”
“Really?” Peter asked, his eyes lighting up.

Edmund nodded. “I know you’ve missed the horses and other animals as much as I have.”

“Horses?” Mrs. Pevensie questioned. “I thought the professor only had one.”

“The neighbors had more,” Peter said, stretching the truth.

“Could we visit while you’re working?” Lucy asked.
Edmund shrugged. “I didn’t ask.”

“Do,” Lucy said, almost pleadingly. “It’s been far too long.”

“Let’s not forget,” Susan said practically, “they won’t be our horses.” The others understood that she meant Narnian talking horses, and nodded.

“I’d still like to go,” Edmund said. “Mum, can I start tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow? Well, I suppose so,” Mrs. Pevensie said, a bit surprised by the change in her son. But they had all become very hardworking and mature while they were away, and she could not complain about that.

And so, Edmund began working in the nearby stable. He enjoyed being around the horses – it filled him with bittersweet memories of riding into battle, of relaxing walks, and of long conversations with Phillip.

Poor Philip, he thought now, as he often did, grimly keeping his face straight. Left to wonder about how we disappeared practically in front of him with no warning, never to return. Edmund sniffed hard, and surreptitiously wiped his eyes. Some days it was hard to soldier on, knowing he had abandoned his friends and his country without warning, albeit accidentally.

In an effort to move his thoughts in a happier direction, Edmund began to talk to the horse he was brushing.
“You’d like it there, in Narnia,” he told it. “The grass is ever so green, and it goes on and on until it hits the forest. There aren’t so many buildings that they block out the sky, and the bad smells are few and far between. And even the horses are free to do as they please.”

“Boy,” came the owner’s voice. “Are you talking to the horses again?”

“Yes, sir,” Edmund replied, unafraid of his employer, who seemed rather small when compared to a minotaur.

Perplexed, the stablemaster said, “You do know they won’t talk back, right?”

Edmund swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump that had returned to his throat. He nodded.

“Good lad. They do seem to like it, though, don’t they?” the man said. “Maybe you do have the right idea.”

While Edmund endured his memories, Susan and Lucy were enduring something entirely different.

“Now girls,” Mrs. Pevensie said nervously, “before you get much older, there are things that you must know about yourselves and… your bodies.”

The girls looked at each other incredulously.

“Let’s get tea ready,” their mother continued, “then we’ll talk.”

“We don’t need The Talk again,” Lucy whispered to Susan as Mrs. Pevensie bustled about making tea. “We’ve gone through it all in Narnia.”

“But we can’t tell her that,” Susan returned sensibly. “Though I must say, I’ve enjoyed not worrying about it, though I’ve also been on tenterhooks wondering when I’ll get it again. You still have a few years.”

Lucy nodded. “I was thirteen when I got it the first time.”

“Let’s sit down, girls,” Mrs. Pevensie said, pulling out her chair.

Sharing another look, Susan and Lucy obeyed.

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