EDMUND'S DILEMMA

CHAPTER ONE

(BIRTHDAY BOY)

April, 1941

The worst part of having a birthday at school was having to go to lessons all day when you really wanted to run about and celebrate. Those were Edmund's thoughts towards the closing of his Maths lesson on his eleventh birthday. Apart from the choruses of "happy birthdays" from friends and the traditional round of the bumps, it was really a day like any other. The masters treated him just the same, and were certainly not prepared to ease the workload on account of it being eleven years since his birth. He had, in fact, received a sharp reprimand from Mr Donohue, the French teacher, for failing to turn in a piece of homework. As this was the first incident of this kind all year, Edmund had been let off with a warning, but had been warned that a second occurrence would most assuredly result in several raps on the knuckles with the ruler.

It wouldn't have done any good, of course, for Edmund to explain to his teacher that he had been worried about his brother of late. Short of bereavement or serious illness, very little in the way of extenuating circumstances were accepted by many of the masters. "We're here to prepare you for life in the real world," Mr Donohue would remind them, "and these excuses simply will not do in the real world."

As onetime King of Narnia, Edmund had had more than his fair share of challenges. Preventing war, engaging in war…he had come close to losing his life on numerous occasions. But he had grown to an adult in Narnia and always, always, he'd had the support of his siblings, who were always there to help share the burden or give him a comforting hug or kiss if he needed it. He'd also had the many loyal friends and subjects to turn to. In England, he was very much a little boy again. A little boy imbued with greater wisdom and knowledge than previously, yes, a boy in many ways wise beyond his years, but still a child, a tender, vulnerable child.

Normally, when something was concerning him, Edmund would have Peter to turn to. This time, however, Peter was the source of Edmund's concern. Since the start of the January term, there had been a slow but perceptible change in Peter. He had become more bossy and irritable, less inclined to show patience with something or someone that was annoying him, and more likely to flare up instead. He was too polite (and fearful of punishment) to answer back to the masters, but there had been a change in Peter's attitude towards them as well. Less helpful, a touch less reverent. Sometimes, in his eyes, the other boys saw something like impatience and annoyance with the teachers. Not the ordinary schoolboy annoyance, something…deeper.

Edmund thought he understood. Sort of. It was hard to say, since Peter hadn't confided anything to him. But, being as close as they were, Edmund could usually make an educated guess at what was troubling his brother. Peter, he surmised, was having difficulty adjusting to life as a fifteen-year-old schoolboy when he had so many memories of being High King Peter the Magnificent, adult monarch of Narnia. This had been difficult for Susan, Edmund and Lucy as well, to an extent. They had each found themselves a puzzling mix of child and adult, naïvety and worldliness, innocence and cynicism. It had taken them all some time, but the three younger Pevensie siblings had all reached a place in which they were happy with themselves. For Peter, this was not so.

Edmund was more than willing to be patient with his brother. He well remembered the angry, uncooperative and resentful child he had been in the eight months or so before their adventures in Narnia. His siblings, along with all of Narnia, had forgiven him his act of treachery, which Edmund still rebuked himself for. If Peter could welcome his little brother back with open arms after what he had done, then he could surely remain loyal to his older brother throughout his own bout of less than exemplary behaviour. He could not deny that it could be difficult, though. In the last six weeks or so Peter had become harsher with Edmund, giving him orders, ticking him off for minor things, and showing very little appreciation for anything Edmund did for him. If Edmund bothered Peter when he was busy, he was more than likely to be met with a scowl and a retort, but if Peter wanted to spend time with him when Edmund had things to do, he would snap at Edmund for being selfish and ungrateful for his sociability, until Edmund felt bad enough that he put aside what he was doing and tailed along with Peter instead.

He sighed, pushing his textbook to the front of the table as he heard the master announce that the class was shortly ending. Things would get better. They had to.

And, he reflected, on the way to the school's general office, they were about to. Or the day was about to get better, at least. Now that it was four p.m. and lessons were over for the day, he had a chance to go to the office and retrieve his post. His family had always been very good about birthdays and he was certain they were not to let him down.

Twenty minutes later, he was returning with letters from his mother and sisters, as well as a couple of packages – a new sweater and some chocolate from Mrs Pevensie, a book and a penknife from Susan and Lucy. Now all that remained was Peter's gift.

He found Peter in his year group's study room, his head down; shoulders slumped, writing something – presumably an essay. The room was empty save for themselves as, with lessons having only just ended, the last thing the boys wanted to do was yet more study – they were either clowning around in the common room, playing outside, or had taken the opportunity go into the local town and explore some of the shops. He had not expected to find his brother until the evening, but was glad to have caught him now. He cleared his throat.

Peter jumped slightly and turned around. "Oh. Edmund. Hello," he said flatly.

Edmund tried not to let his disappointment at this rather unsavoury greeting show in his face. This was the first time they had seen each other today. No happy birthday?

He gestured to the sheaves of paper on Peter's desk. "Working hard?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact." They stood gazing at one another in silence, Edmund feeling more awkward by the minute until Peter said, "Look, Ed, you know I'd love to talk, but not now, all right? I've got work to do."

Edmund was used to this kind of brush-off by now but that didn't make it any less hurtful. He swallowed. "Fine. I'll…I'll see you later tonight, then."

"Maybe," came the curt reply. Peter was already sitting back in his chair, back turned.

Edmund paused at the door. "Mum – Mum and the girls wrote," he said.

Peter turned again. "Did they? Leave their letters here, then, and I'll read them later."

"No, they're not for both of us," Edmund told him. "Just me. For, you know…my birthday."

And, with a sinking heart, as he saw the flash of guilt in Peter's eyes, saw him clench his teeth in exasperation, he knew his older brother had forgotten his birthday.

Peter, for his part, had the good grace to cross the room and take his brother by the shoulder. "Ed, I'm sorry. I really am. I've just had so much to do…" He knew his reason sounded trite, but what more could he say? "You'll get your present this weekend," he added.

"That's not the point," Edmund said in a low voice. "It's my birthday today, Peter. How could you…you never forget…"

"I said I'm sorry, Edmund. You'll get your present soon. There's nothing more I can do for now."

"All right," said Edmund, his voice shaking. "It's nice to know that I'm so well thought of, that you can forget my birthday at the drop of a hat, when I've been talking for weeks about how much I've been looking forward…"

"Oh, don't be such a child, Edmund," snapped Peter. "It's not the end of the world."

Edmund didn't want to cry in front of his brother. With a snort, half of anger, half of sorrow, he left the room and hurried up to his dormitory, clutching the gifts from his mother and sisters as though they were his only possessions in the world. Once alone in the dormitory, he let the packages and letters fall to the floor, lay down upon his bed, and allowed the tears to come.