𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐘 || A Narnian Autumn Writing Challenge (Oneshot Book)

11. Apple Cider

england // october 4, 1948
prompt: "apple cider"
word count: 1,689

xXx

Edmund propped the heavy black telephone receiver awkwardly against his shoulder, freeing both hands to twist a wire on the back of the family radio into place with a pair of pliers as Eustace's electronically distorted voice hummed over the line.

"...because Aunt Polly asked about it in her letter this morning, and I can give a pretty good account of time, you know, but my own map is a guess at best when it comes to direction."

Edmund laughed, and had to shift the receiver again, catching it with one hand before the cord looped under his arm could pull it free. "I should've known what I'd gotten myself into when I gave her your school address." He replaced the pliers onto the table overhead, leaning back where he sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor, radio propped up on a chair in front of him while the phone box rested at his side, allowing the cord to reach where it wouldn't from the wall. "How many days was it from Narrowhaven again?"

"Twenty-five, best as I can remember. Maybe twenty-six. I was still keeping that beastly little diary at the time."

The front door opened with a click and a gust of wind, and Jack Pevensie bustled inside with a paper bag tucked securely under one arm, sharp eyes falling to his son and the makeshift repair station as he shut the door behind him.

Edmund shot his father a silent grin in greeting and earned an answering smirk before he returned his attention to Eustace.

"Well, our bearing was due east, but the storm must have pushed us a few degrees off course at least, and that lasted almost two weeks. Mostly starboard listing, if I remember correctly, so that puts it south of the Lone Islands, and at our speed we could have covered a few thousand nautical miles, though I don't think it looked quite so far as that on Coriakin's map."

"Right," muttered Eustace, in the absent tone that indicated he was writing everything down. "Gosh, that map's something I'd like another look at. I wonder if they kept it at the Cair."

"They'd be fools not to. Hey, did you need anything else? Dad just got home."

"That's all, I think, I remember the island well enough on my own."

"I should think so," laughed Edmund. "She'll be over the moon, I'm telling you. Call you back later?"

"Sure."

Edmund said his goodbyes and placed the receiver back onto its base with a metallic ringing click, stretching his back for the first time in half an hour.

"Cider?" asked his father, producing a glass jug from his paper bag as Edmund stood and returned the telephone to its place on a low cabinet.

"Thanks." He jumped up to sit on the edge of the counter, exactly the way Susan always told him not to. "How was work?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary to report." Mr. Pevensie poured a glass and handed it up to Edmund before pouring his own, leaning back against the table opposite him. "Who was that?" He tipped his glass toward the phone before taking a sip of honey-colored cider, afternoon sunlight splashing in through the kitchen window onto his tan jacket and tie. "Pryer again?"

Edmund shook his head and swallowed his own mouthful of tangy sweetness before answering. "Eustace."

"Mm. You're popular these days."

He shrugged. "He's been writing to Aunt Polly about her books. You know how he is with maps and things. Just needed help with a few details."

"Something from one of your stories, I gather?"