Thanks to TimeMage0955 for my very first review!!!

Four.

A Quiet Holiday

For some precious few days following, the Pevensie family experienced a kind of peace. It wasn't quite restful because they were all now expecting more talk of the War at every turn. And it wasn't quite peaceful either, for that matter. Even the train station when they arrived was full of grown-ups rushing about with more anxiety than the four children had ever seen before. They could even pick out the strange addition of some few men in uniform.

When they met, Mother spoke in cheerful tones. Father was silent, pensive.

"How was your trip, dears? Did you like visiting your Aunt Alberta?"

"Yes, mum, they made us eat beets!" Even aware as she was of some grown-up tension, Lucy could not keep from announcing this important fact. "They turned our fingers red and I helped Aunt Alberta pull them up from the garden, and…" Beets were rarely seen in the Pevensie household. Father disliked them.

"How did you like your cousin Eustace?" Mother asked.

Lucy made a face. "He was boring." She said this as though it were a crime. "And his ears stuck out like a giraffes!"

Most children would associate large ears with an elephant but ever since the unfortunate incident of Lucy getting her hands on a children's encyclopedia she had grown a fascination for giraffes. She liked their horns, she said, and their long tongues and prickly expressions. Ever since, anything that amused her had been likened to a giraffe.

Lucy had continued her discourse. "And he didn't want to play ball with us, anyway…and, and, anyway, so Peter asked him if he ever played games and he said…" though the narrative was bewildering there was more than enough enthusiasm to make up for it.

"I thought he was a little spoiled," Susan interjected her professional opinion. (All of her opinions were professional.)

"Did you boys get on all right?" Mother asked. Peter was preoccupied, trying to carry Lucy's trunk and his own while following his father, unconsciously imitating the swing of his step. "Just don't have him over next holiday," he said between breaths.

"He's a dreadful prig, and –," Edmund caught himself before giving away what Eustace had divulged just before they left. However much of a git their cousin was, Edmund wasn't one to tattle. Also, he didn't want to upset mother and the cruel words of Eustace would be sure to do so.

"I thought Uncle Harold was alright, though." Peter was saying. "He had some great stories about the University." Peter was thinking more about college these days. He had a running list of the sports he wanted to join including rugby, polo, and rowing. He wasn't a bad swimmer either.

"Aunt Alberta told me about when you were growing up," Susan said to mother. "How you went swimming down at the lake and your friend Toby went poling on a raft and got it stuck out in the middle."

The children were full of new stories to share and were animated in the telling, thrilled by their novelty, so that the suspended gloom of the future was all but erased. It didn't last very long, though. That night after supper Peter pulled father aside.

"Dad," he said seriously, and Edmund, who had good ears, paused from reading his book in the next room. "Is it true then? Have you really been called up to go and fight in the War?" Edmund half wished his brother hadn't asked but Peter preferred to be direct when something was bothering him. The crackling of the fire seemed to grow silent as Ed listened for his father's response.

"Yet, Peter, it's true. I suppose your Uncle Harold told you?"

"More or less," Peter didn't tattle either, just on principal.

"I'm to report tomorrow morning, maybe find out when we ship out. Don't worry about it now, Peter." This was accompanied by an affectionate hair tousle that Peter received gravely. "I'll tell you if there's anything to worry about."

Edmund had his doubts about this and from his expression he guessed that Peter did also. Unhappily he turned back to his book, Gullivers Travels, but found he could no longer enjoy it. He tried for a while, then rose and clomped off to bed early.

'Would this War ever stop disrupting things?' he thought.

Just as he'd said, father had gone the next morning early to check in with the other reserves. By the time Edmund was up, Peter and Lucy were already in the kitchen with a surprising air of party about the room. The kettle sung with fresh tea. The toast was surprisingly unburned and when the cooking was done by Peter that was truly saying something. Lucy was chattering amiably in between reading aloud the cooking article from the Morning Post.

"Mix in flour," she proclaimed loudly and it was apparent that half the fun was in the telling. It was equally apparent that Peter wasn't actually going to attempt making scones. Lucy continued anyway, "…and fold in eggs. Then stir, stir – Peter! – you stir it all together until…"

"Don't be silly, Lu, you can't fold eggs, they'd crack."

"Shows what you know about cooking," Edmund said, entering.

"And stir until the constituency…uh consistency…of – oh! Peter, you'll burn the bacon!"

Peter scrambled to rescue the smoking bacon while an unpleasant burnt smell filled the kitchen. Even that couldn't stop the room from feeling cheery though. The window was half open to let in a cool spring breeze. Susan routinely slept late and wasn't up yet.

"Where's mum?" asked Edmund, biting into a crispy piece of toast.

"Well," began Lucy, and Ed prepared himself for lengthy prattle, "this morning mum woke me up and said Peter and I would have to fix breakfast this morning, there was somewhere she had to go early and don't worry if she wasn't back by lunchtime, and also that dad was going with her. They left rather quickly after that so I went and woke up Peter and he thought we should have bacon and toast and tea, and then we found we had eggs so we had to have eggs as well."

Edmund surmised that mother had gone with father, and so he resisted pointing out that Lucy hadn't actually answered his question.

Peter had begun to sing loudly and off-key, trying to wake Susan up who slept in the room directly above and Lucy was shrieking with laughter, goading him on. Edmund preoccupied himself with shoving down as much eggs and bacon (still a little burnt) that he could get. He had been growing lately and couldn't seem to stop eating.

Peter's singing went up an octave and in a moment they heard a muffled thud overhead that let them know Susan was up and shortly after that she was in the kitchen enlightening Peter about when the proper times were for waking people, and the proper methods for doing so.

And so, in many ways, the holidays were peaceful, even cheerful. The children got on with a degree of normalcy such that it was difficult to imagine a great and terrible War was brewing. But the cheer, such as it was, was not destined to last.