𝙸𝚁𝚁𝙸𝚃𝙰𝙱𝙻𝙴. ➪ 𝙴. 𝙿𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚎

𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎

Phillis had never run so fast in her entire life. The rain had stopped. The sun was out. But it was cold.

As Phillis turned towards the train station, it was clear there had been an accident. There was a large crowd and everyone seemed to be screaming and shouting. Phillis pushed through the crowd, much to the disgust of the Londoners. There were barriers stopping people from getting any closer to the wreckage. "Let me past!" she cried.
"You need to stay back," a police officer yelled, holding his hand out.
"Please, my family was in there! Are they okay? Are there any survivors?" she asked, tears spilling from her eyes.
"The survivors we've found so far are over there, you can go and see if your family are with them," the police officer explained.
Phillis thanked the officer before dashing off towards the group of scared people. She didn't say anything to them, she just examined their faces, hoping to find one that resembled a member of her family somehow. But alas, they were all strangers.

The last ounce of hope she had slowly washed away. A gruesome thought settled in her brain: what if she was never to see Edmund again? Or Peter, or Lucy, or Freddie, or her mother, or Helen, or Mr. Pevensie. And she would later come to learn that Eustace and Jill Pole had been on the train. Alongside Tommy, Digory Kirke and Polly Plummer. They were gone. Really gone.

Phillis stood in the street for a moment, crying. She didn't know where she was to go or what she was to do. An elderly police officer had asked if he could be of any assistance, but Phillis smiled weakly and shook her head. Deciding she ought to visit Susan, she turned and left for Susan's house.

She knocked on the door and within seconds, Susan had answered. Like Phillis, her eyes were red and still had fresh tears sliding down her cheeks. "Are they alive?" she asked weakly.
Phillis looked down at her shoes and shook her head. As she'd turned away from the horrific scene, she prayed harder every second that just one of them would call out her name. But the call never came. Enoch came waddling to the door, hugging one of Susan's legs. "Is daddy really gone?" he asked, taking a moment to make sure he was using all of the correct words.
Phillis knelt down and hugged her son tightly. She cried into his shoulder, that was answer enough for him. But he needed to hear her say it. "Mummy?" he said.
"Yes," she sobbed, picking him up.
Susan opened the door wider, allowing Phillis into her home. "Can I get you anything?" she asked, her voice sounding just as broken as Phillis'. "Tea?"
In a way, Susan was saying such bizarre things because she wanted to keep the normality. It was hard, though. Phillis, clearly wanting the same, nodded her head. Forcing a smile, she said, "Thank you, Su."
Enid was fast asleep in a little bundle of blankets on one of the sofas. Enoch just cried into his mother's shoulder. He was young - nearly two - but he understood perfectly that he was never to see his father again. Or his Uncle or Aunt, or Grandmas or Grandpa. When Susan returned, she handed Phillis a dainty cup of tea and sat down beside the girl. "It's just us now," said Susan quietly.
"If I shan't see any of them ever again, I suppose I'll have these reminders of what I once had," Phillis gestured to her son and daughter.
"They're angels, truly."
"What do we do now? Now everyone is gone?" Phillis asked, looking up at Susan.
"I'm not sure. Perhaps we continue on as if everything were normal. We'll grieve a bit along the way, I suppose. Think back about the happy times we shared. Wonder what could have been if they hadn't gotten on the train," Susan answered, a fresh tear trickling down her cheek. "But we have to remember them. We can't forget. If we do, they will have lived for nothing."
Phillis nodded, hugging her son even tighter.
"And we stick together," Susan said. "We have nothing else, but each other."
There was a moment where no one said anything or did anything. But Enid's sudden cries filled the small living room. Phillis stood quickly and scooped Enid up in her arms. The baby girl cried and cried. "It's almost as if she knows," smiled Susan sadly.
"That would be a shame. She ought to enjoy these moments of content whilst she can."