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Susan turned the knob of her dressing table lamp and sat down heavily in her chair. The sudden light did nothing to soothe the headache that pulsed with every beat of her racing heart.
The headache had come on suddenly. A few bars of music that were familiar and yet completely wrong, a too hard tug on her necklace, and for a wild heartbeat Susan Pevensie wasn't a part of the world. The world moved on around her while she stood frozen in time. And there was something, something she didn't want to remember.
And then Anthony was there, asking if she was alright, offering her punch and fresh air, and growing more and more concerned.
"I want to go home," she whispered, leaning on his arm for stability.
"Alright."
That one word, spoken like a promise, was enough to puIl her back into the world where she was met by a headache pounding like drums against her skull.
Anthony took her home and here she sat, staring into the shadows cast by the harsh light of her lamp.
There was a rustling of blankets from the other side of the room as Lucy sat up in bed and yawned, "Susan? Are you alright?"
Susan turned and offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
Lucy saw through it of course, she alway did.
"The party was so dull it was hardly worth staying," Susan lied, turning back to her dressing table.
The bed creaked as Lucy got up and came to stand behind Susan's shoulder. The two girls studied each other in the mirror.
"What's wrong? Was it Anthony?"
"No!" Susan recoiled from even the thought. "No, he was very sweet and understanding. He brought me home right away when I told him I wasn't feeling well."
Lucy studied her and then gave her a knowing look. Without a word she began unpinning and brushing Susan's hair.
It was a familiar dance by now. Susan refused to explain and Lucy refused to be shut out. Susan was never sure how much Lucy guessed and neither of them ever talked about it.
What was different about tonight? Maybe it was the dark silence of the room, or the piece of song running persistently through her head, or perhaps she simply felt braver when talking through a mirror.
Her voice when she spoke sounded hollow. "Have you ever felt like you were missing something? Something important and you're not even sure what it is? It's right there but just out of sight, a ghost of what you once knew…"
"Yes," Lucy met Susan's eyes in the mirror, "I have. After we had spent a while in Na–In the country, I forgot our parents. Most of the time I didn't think about it, I didn't know I was missing anything. But sometimes it felt like there was this hole in my chest–a big empty place in my life where there was supposed to be something!" Lucy's voice trembled at the end.
A single tear cut a track down Susan's face. "Yes, it feels just like that."
As Lucy began brushing out her hair, Susan tried to ignore the wrongness of her reflection. Too pale, too harsh. They used to call her gentle Susan–No, that wasn't right. Susan the Gentle?
To the radiant southern sun…
"I shaIl have to get my necklace fixed."
Lucy looked puzzled at the conversation change.
Susan drew the broken chain out of her handbag. It was wrong like her face was wrong–too light, too delicate.
She stopped in a once icy cell and lifted the heavy shackles from the floor. Which of her people had been caged here?
Susan dropped the necklace, her ears filled with the sound of rattling chains and the song.
"Susan?" Lucy's voice was far away.
The song was echoing in her head, strong and joyous, and pained. Susan mouthed the words she could remember.
Throw off your heavy chains, your grief
And greet the springtime sun!
The witch is killed, the four thrones filled,
The Golden Age begun.
Aslan has the earth renewed
And the tyrant overthrown.
Her magic deep no more shall keep
The living statues stone.
Susan covered her tear streaked face. Had she only dreamed she heard the flutes and drums?
Lucy wrapped her arms around her sister and murmured comforts in her ear.
The clock downstairs struck ten and Susan pulled away. "I must be overtired to be making all this fuss." She began to dress for bed.
"We can talk in the morning." Lucy was strangely cheerful for someone who had been woken up and cried on by her older sister.
"I'll be alright in the morning, Lu." She gave a fake smile. "Don't worry."
Her cry had left her numb. The song was already fading. A childish part of her desperately tried to cling to it but she was tired down to her bones. She let it slip away.
*******
When she woke the next morning, the events of last night were comfortably distant. She was sitting at her dressing table again when Lucy brought it up.
"How do you feel this morning?"
"Much better." Her necklace still lay on the table. It no longer caused her distress to look at it. "I shall have to arrange for my necklace to be fixed. I got it while I was in America, you know."
"About last night, when you remembered a song from our Golden Age…" Lucy's face was cautiously hopeful.
Susan's irritation surged back. "Narnia was only a game, Lucy. Honestly, little children may not know when to stop pretending but you're old enough to know better! It's high time you learned the difference between the real world and daydreams."
"I'm not the one who's pretending! Are you really going to tell me you didn't remember that song last night?"
"I remembered a poem I found in an old book in the Professor's library. I was very fond of poetry once."
Lucy opened her mouth but she didn't say anything. She looked stunned.
Susan took a deep breath, regretting her outburst. "Come on, Lucy, let's not spoil a perfectly good day like this."
She held out her hand in apology and Lucy took it, but the understanding from last night was gone.
Susan turned back to her lipstick, covering up the stranger who stared back at her from the mirror.
Fear not the shades of memory,
For it was but a waking dream.