BY HANNAH SKIPPER

“I passed, Pol! I passed!”

Second Lieutenant Kirke, still wearing his flight jacket and gloves, splashed his way up the slushy London walkway in late November as a drizzling rain subsided. Barely noticing another uniformed man climbing into a car parked at the curb, he raced towards the woman with her hand on the doorknob.

“I passed my last flying test, Polly!” Looking almost comical with his goggles pushed back on his sweaty brown curls, he continued babbling as he leapt over the three stoop steps and took her hands in his, “I’m an official pilot now! Can you believe it?”

“You should’ve stayed at university,” her tone was icy as she jerked her hands back, “Then you might live long enough to grow old.”

For a moment, he was shocked into silence. Then his face heated up. “Now, see here. I’m not a coward! You’ve read the papers. The king needs every able bodied man we can get. Quite frankly, with the training it takes to be a pilot, I feel like I’m already—”

“Is he bothering you, Polly?” The other man had returned, looming up behind them like a bouncer.

“No, go home, David,” she answered shortly, her face pink but stony, “Digory is an old friend. I had a lovely time, but you need to go home.”

Turning away abruptly, she unconsciously ended yet another budding romance as the other man stumbled backwards down the steps as if he’d been slapped.

“Why is he here?” Digory hissed.

“The least you could’ve done was say hello,” her tone was wounded, “You just blew right past David like he was invisible!”

“But why was he here?” the new pilot persisted, “Didn’t Aunt Letty tell you I was coming home? I telephoned yesterday.”

“I suppose,” she shrugged, “But David had already asked. I couldn’t very well—”

“Well, why not?”

“Oh, as if you were going to take me somewhere!” she fired back hotly, “Digory Kirke, you’re the most incorrigible man I know!” Ripping open the front door, she shoved him inside, continuing her rant in a hushed tone once she was sure the coast was clear, “I know you were busy with school before and now, now—”

She shuddered convulsively and turned aside with a hand over her mouth, looking sick for several moments before she caught her breath and turned back. “I’m not getting any younger, you know. Why, most girls our age are married with two or three children already. I barely get noticed anymore!”

“I mean,” she hastily tried to clarify, “I know no one could ever come close to what we share, but… Don’t you understand?”

Averting his eyes, he took a swift survey of the lightly furnished hall, biting his lip as he noted the few Christmas decorations that were up and thought of how nice the Plummer’s home would look once everything was out. Then his mind jerked back.

“I named my aeroplane, Fledge.” It was all he could think of to say.

“Of course, you did.” she trembled again.

Biting his lip again, he took another glance around the room. “I think we should go up to our attic.”

Taking her arm, he tried to swallow his mounting frustration and mentally went over everything that had happened in the last few minutes as they silently walked to the back of the house and climbed the stairs. Of all the girls he’d ever known, Polly Plummer was the only one he could count on to truly understand him. And he understood her. Very rarely did they struggle to communicate and, when they did, it never lasted long. Over the years, he’d even come to see himself as the only one who knew where the key to her heart was hidden.

“I feel like a teenage fool up here.”

She glowered at him once they were seated on the dusty old cushions in the long passageway that connected all the homes on the street.

“I think it’s pretty cozy.” he scooted closer, trying a hopeful grin.

She snorted but almost laughed. “It doesn’t change anything.”

“Oh, come on, Pol.” he pleaded, “Don’t be doom and gloom. Think of when the sun came up over Narnia and we saw Aslan for the first time. Remember it? There was a whole new world being created right before our eyes! Or think of when we rode on Fledge and saw all the different places where there’d be new countries and people and Talking Beasts living together. And we made up stories about who they’d be and what they’d do for their whole lives.”

She recoiled sharply, hissing. “Have you forgotten that there’s a war on?”

The blood rushed into his face but she continued before he could open his mouth.

“Or maybe you still believe that cock and bull they were saying a few months ago about it all being over by Christmas? Don’t they let you read the newspapers at training camp? Have you noticed what the obituary section looks like? Oh, Digs, sometimes I feel like this world is coming to an end!” She shuddered, swiping at the tears in her eyes as she hugged her knees, “Maybe that’s a reason to be thankful I don’t have a family yet… What could I tell the little ones about the dreadful place we’re going to leave them?”

“It’s not as bad as all that!” he blurted out, “I mean, yeah, I guess it is, but I don’t want to think about this world ending up like Charn. I don’t think we will anyways, in the end.” He shrugged helplessly.

“You must be insane!” she sniffed miserably; burying her head in her knees, her voice became muffled, “Why, just in the past week, fifteen of the girls I was with for Red Cross training found out their husbands died at the Marne. Can you believe that? It’s taken this long to process what was left of them and get word back too. We were all on shift together when they found out. It was horrible! And what could I say to them? I just stood there like a stupid ninny, with my jaw hanging, while they sobbed and I couldn’t even help them!” Her face flamed, “And that’s not all. A couple days ago, I saw Robert Elliot. Remember him?”

“Our old classmate. My best friend before I met you…” Digory nodded soberly, nervous goosebumps rising on his arms, “H-how is ol’ Bob?”

“He was just processed out to convalesce at home.” she answered darkly, shooting daggers at him, “He’s lost a half a leg, Digs. Do you know how many—”

“Oooh, no…” he dropped his head as tears misted his vision, “It’s just—”

“Just what?”

“Well, on my last test flight, my instructor let me fly to the airfield near the old country house. Mum and Dad picked us up and we had lunch with them yesterday. That’s where I just came from.” He paused at the look on her face, but forced himself to push ahead, reaching out to hold her hand, “Listen, Pol, when I flew over the house, the first thing I saw was our Narnia tree and, well, it all came back. Everything that I was just talking about. The sun rising over that world and our first sight of Aslan. And riding Fledge and seeing all those wonderful places where people and Talking Beasts would live before anyone else had. It always comes back when I see our tree…and, ever since then, I’ve had this hope and peace in my heart. You know?”

“But we’re not in Narnia, Digs!” she almost shouted at him, “I mean, it’s all well and good to know that Narnia is at peace and Jadis isn’t making trouble because the Tree of Protection is there. But that’s a whole other world. Not here!”

Looking down at the dusty boards, Digory bit his lip again, trying to find the words that would make her understand. He knew he could. Their special connection was unbreakable.

“What?” she prompted.

“It’s just that I did feel all those things yesterday, and still do, despite all that we’re going through. I’m not ignorant about what’s going on, Pol. I’ve seen the soldiers coming home on the trains and in the street. I’ve read the papers too, as far as that goes.” He rolled his eyes, “I know there’s a censor on what gets out too. But when I saw our tree and remembered Aslan, I couldn’t help but remember His love and goodness and I couldn’t help thinking that everything will work out, even in this world.”

Squeezing her hand, he continued, “Whenever I think of Him, I feel enveloped in His protection. Haven’t you ever felt that way when you remember Narnia?”

“Yes, of course.” she sniffed softly, “Every time.”

“It’s like Aslan planted a tree of protection in each of our hearts before we left and each time we remember Him or think about what He said to us, that memory can protect us from the fear and pain and death that’s in this world. Don’t you think?”

“I guess…” her lips twisted in thought, “But what does that say about your Uncle Andrew?”

“Oh, you would bring him into it, wouldn’t you?” he scowled for a moment.

“Well, he was there with us.”

“Yeah, but he couldn’t hear Aslan’s voice, remember?”

“Yeah… But what does it mean?” she shook her head, “I mean, I know—”

“I guess, maybe, it means that he couldn’t get the seed Aslan offered him planted properly.” Digory mused, “I mean, we feel His protection when we remember Him and the things He told us, but Uncle Andrew didn’t get the benefit of those instructions, so…” He shrugged again.

“I kind of have the idea that even if he’d gotten the seed planted inside himself the right way,” he continued, “he would’ve tried to cut down his tree before it was mature anyways. You know, before the roots had properly grown down into his legs and gotten into his feet or before the branches had grown all the way down his arms into his fingers or up into his head so he could think properly about things. Like when he wanted to use all of Narnia’s new resources the wrong way when he saw everything growing so fast on the first day, even though Aslan said it wouldn’t always be like that.” He shook his head, “He liked the new creation so much that he never bothered to listen to the Creator. I always felt bad that I couldn’t make him understand before he died.”

“You and me both…”

They both lapsed into silence after that, mulling over things past, present, and future in both their world and another. Five, ten, twenty minutes passed in silence. Then half an hour.

“Pol?” Digory suddenly remembered why he’d been so anxious to come see her.

“Yes?”

“Do you want to come flying with me?”

She recoiled again. “Are you allowed to do that?”

“Sure.” he shrugged, “I’ve seen lots of other guys take their girls up.”

She laughed with misty eyes. “Am I really your girl, Digs?”

“Yes,” he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, “I could never love anyone else the way I love you. I promise you that.”

“Me neither,” she admitted, smiling softly, “No matter who else I invite over for lunch.”

“Come on, Pol,” he pleaded, squeezing her again, “Come with me. Then we can stay the night with mum and dad and I’ll bring you back in the morning. You do have time, right? With your Red Cross schedule?”

“Yes…”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Are you really, truly allowed to do it?”

He looked offended. “Have I ever asked you to do something that could get us in trouble?”

She laughed in his face.

“Oh, come on!” he blushed, “I was just a boy then!”

“And you still are, in your heart.” she retorted, with a lopsided smile, “As I am only a girl deep inside. We’re just a girl and a boy searching all over this world for something or, maybe, someone, who has become more dear to us now than perhaps ever before.”

“Yes, Digs,” she continued, “I’ll go with you if you’ll fly over our tree again. Then, tonight, after everyone else is in bed, let’s stay up late and talk about Narnia again? How many foals do you think Fledge has now?”

“Oh, he’s probably got great grand foals by now!” he bounced up joyfully, pulling her with him, “Come on! Let’s get to the station before the next train leaves!”

Happily, it didn’t take too long to find a cab, but as they were driven through the increasingly crowded streets, Polly began to fidget.

“What’s up?” Digory whispered in her ear.

“It’s not quite the same, I know,” she confessed, “but I always think of you know who when I ride in a cab.”

“Ugh, me too!” he cringed, “but she’s not here so don’t worry.’

“Oh, I’m not worried,” she grinned, reaching across him to open the door when they arrived at the station. Shoving him out, she added, “Just glad to get here!”

“I’m so glad you’re coming with me, Polly.” he whispered in her ear again, once they were seated and speeding towards the Essex countryside.

“Your excitement is catching,” she smirked, “Heaven help me!” Wiping tears from her eyes, she continued, “I’ve never understood why Aslan didn’t call us back, you know? I’ve always wanted to go back so I thought we would.”

“I know,” he bit his lip hard, “Sometimes, if I let myself dwell on it, it becomes more than I can bear.” Shaking his head, he continued, “Sometimes I bury myself in my books just so I can get my mind off it. I’m sorry I’m not around very often so we can share our burden together.”

She nodded, biting her lip too, as she screwed up courage. “Digs, would you tell me about your aeroplane?”

“Well, it’s called a BE2.” he answered, scooting closer, “That stands for Bleriot Experimental. The second model.” He countered her scowl with a hopeful grin, “It’s a two seater, of course. One for the fighter pilot and one for a surveyor with a camera, if the mission calls for it.”

“I suppose you’re going to be the fighter pilot?” her eyes dropped to her hands.

“Yes,” he touched her arm lightly, “I wouldn’t have been able to name it if I wasn’t the pilot. I don’t think I’d like being up there if I didn’t have a way to defend myself against those German murderers anyways.”

“I don’t think Aslan would like you calling them murderers when you’ve never even met one.” She wrinkled her nose, “Don’t you think He would love them if they met and they listened to Him like we did?”

“I guess…” he dropped his eyes too.

“Digs.” Her tone had a tiny edge, “I don’t like it when the papers call them raging Huns and all those other terrible things. I don’t think Aslan would either. Aren’t they just men and women, fighting for their country, like us?”

“I’m sorry, Pol.” he jerked his head up, “I guess I don’t either, deep down. But I also see the guys coming back.”

“So do I!”

“I know, I’m sorry…”

“Just go on, will you?” she pleaded, “Tell me about your Fledge, specifically.”

“Well, it’s really not any different from any of the other BE2’s,” his voice dropped again, “They paint them with a pattern called dazzle. That’s—”

“Next stop, Essex!” a middle-aged steward made his way through the car, “Tickets? Anyone getting off at Essex?”

“Here, sir.” Digory popped up, “The lady and I.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” he checked them off with barely a glance at the names, “Good luck to you both.”

“Thank you, sir.”

With their conversation forgotten, they disembarked arm in arm and hurried to hail a cab for a short ride to the airstrip.

“Do you mind cabs outside of London?” he joked as they sped down a country lane.

“Not so much, I guess,” Polly snorted softly, trying not to laugh, “I certainly think of her though.”

“Well, think of my Fledge now. We don’t want her memory stealing our joy.”

“I really can’t believe this is happening,” her face glowed, “You can’t imagine how furious I was when I heard you were going to try out for the Flying Corps. It scared me, of course, but I was jealous too.”

“Well, you won’t have to wait much longer,” he took a quick peek at their driver; the older man seemed lost in his concentration on the road, “Honestly, I’ve wanted to take you up ever since I signed up as a pilot.”

“Shhh,” she too eyed the driver.

“He’s all right,” he answered softly, “Don’t be so jumpy.”

“I can’t help it. We’re in a cab.”

“Thank you, sir,” Digory interrupted to pay the fare, pointing,. “See there he is.”

“He’s beautiful.” her eyes misted, “Digs, are you sure—”

“Of course,” he hustled her out, “Don’t you trust me?”

“I trust your skill, and your heart, and your mind,” she answered carefully, “I know how much you’ve wanted to fly again and I know you know how much I’d like to go too. I just don’t want you to get stripped of the awesome privilege of flying in the new corps because of me.”

“And I’d give it all up for the chance to fly with you again, even just once.”

“You’re a dear,” she took a hold of his chin and pecked his cheek, “A blithering fool, but a very dear one.”

“Why, thank you.” he grinned, “Now, run softly, just in case there’s anyone around.”

They sprinted like madcap fools across the well manicured field that served as a runway and Digory bounced up onto the wing to open the little cockpit door. Handing down an extra helmet, goggles, coat, and gloves, he smirked wickedly, “I stashed these here last night just for this moment. Get ‘em on while I do the preflight checks.”

“Honestly, I don’t know how you get me into these scapes.” Her eyes darted around as she scrambled to dress.

“I really don’t know either,” he hopped back down, his smirk more wicked, “but you seem to be all the more willing to get into them ever since we came back from Narnia. Now, be a good girl for once and let me concentrate.”

“Oh, sure…” she stuck out her tongue.

“We’re good to go.”

He spoke again after about ten minutes, biting his lip against laughing at how silly she looked. “I really tried, Pol! It was the smallest one I could find!”

“Well, thankfully, all our fighting men are bigger than this ol’ spinster.” She folded her flopping sleeves over her chest.

“You’re not an old spinster!” he protested, “You’re a lady, remember?”

“Oh, sure, whatever you say,” she gave him a look, “I’m ready to go.”

“Then allow me, m’ Lady Polly of Narnia.” He gave her a meaningful look as he pulled his goggles down and extended his hand with a bow.

“Lord Digory…” she suddenly felt very solemn, “I do thank you for inviting me to ride in your flying contraption.”

“Step right up on his wing. It won’t hurt him a bit. ” It took a great deal of effort for him to keep his voice steady. “You’re up front. I’ll fly it from the back seat.”

“That seems rather odd…”

“Just think of it in turns of being the surveyor. You wouldn’t want the pilot’s big mug blocking your camera shots of the Germans’ positions.”

“Oh, I guess that’s right. I didn’t think of it like that.”

She closed her eyes as he strapped her in, letting herself go back all those years and soon her mind’s eye was coasting above the Narnia and Archenland, feeling the gentle wind created by the rhythmic beat of Fledge’s new wings.

“Kinda quiet up there?”

Digory’s voice brought her back to the present and when her eyes popped open, she gasped in shock.

“We’re flying!”

“You hadn’t noticed yet?” he cracked a tiny smile.

“I was thinking about Narnia.” she shivered, “I can still feel the draft from Fledge’s wings.”

“Yeah, well, I’m afraid this Fledge has a bit stronger one.” he answered, “You cold?”

“No, I’m all right.”

“You’re shivering.”

“I’m excited.” she blushed, wishing she could turn around and look at him as tears caressed her cheeks; she swiped at them, “This is lovely, Digs. I-I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to you.”

“Y-you don’t have to, Pol,” his own voice caught, “T-this is something I’ve wanted to do with you ever since we heard about those men in America making the first flight. It’s a dream come true for me.” He shrugged, “I mean, even if we never get to fly over Narnia again, I think I could be okay with that now.”

“If you get yourself killed I don’t know what I’ll do…”

He couldn’t quite read her tone. Was she more sad or angry at the possibility of his death? Or maybe just not quite willing to let herself think about it…

“I hope I come home to you too, Pol,” he answered carefully, “but remember the oath that King Frank and Queen Helen took before Aslan? You know, about them being first in the charge and last in the retreat. And I’m a lord in Narnia, so it’d be just as bad for me to not do my duty when my country calls us to arms?” He bit his lip again, not wanting to have this conversation in the air, “Look down, Pol. We’re coming up to the house soon and you’ll see our tree. Think of Aslan when you see it. Then you’ll see what I mean.”

She cautiously leaned over as he dipped his wings to the right and held her breath for a long moment as the world seemed to speed by under her. Then she saw it.

It didn’t have many leaves left, owing to the season, but the few that stubbornly remained were a bright golden color, like Aslan’s mane as the sun had risen over Him on the first day of Narnia. Her heart surged with joy and hope.

“It’s amazing!” she gasped, trying desperately to swing around and see her friend’s face.

“Easy, Pol,” he cautioned her, “This ol’ Fledge doesn’t take well to fidgeting around.”

“Digs, I never even imagined it’d be like this!” she tried to settle herself as her eyes watered, “I-I do understand what you mean now… Seeing our old tree and thinking of Him; the war doesn’t seem as important. Nothing’s more important than Him.”

“Yes, Pol,” he agreed, smiling, “He’s the most important one to think about. When I do, I can’t imagine ever thinking of anything else ever again…even if I always end up doing just that.” He wrinkled his nose.

“But, I promise, Polly,” he went on, taking a deep breath and licking his lips, “Wherever I am, whether in the air, chasing around after the Germans or the Austrians, or if I’m on the ground taking a break. Or even if they decide to send me to the trenches or if this ol’ Fledge gets blown to bits and you have to patch me up and send me home to convalesce, there won’t be a day or night that I’m not trying to keep my mind focused on Him and remembering that He’s going to see us through, whatever happens.”

“Me too, Digory,” she answered softly, “Me too. Now we’ve made a pact.”