Nearnia — The Line Which Was In The Wardrobe Addendum by Maeryn Lamonte It's raining. Lucas is bored. He finds and old wardrobe and steps into it, and we all know that magical places can be found at the back of old wardrobes. Lucas's curiosity was piqued. Mrs Macready had told them no-one lived in the house apart from her and the old professor, and yet here was someone totally unexpected. He made his way cautiously around the walkway towards her, ignoring her growing agitation. There was something familiar about her that he couldn't quite... “Professor?” he asked, realisation dawning. Puffy sleeves sagged as her shoulders slumped. She sighed and spoke in the professor's voice. “Oh dear.”.

“It is you, isn't it Professor?”

“Yes, dear boy, yes it is. Only, I wonder... would you mind dreadfully? It's just that when I'm dressed like this, I prefer to be called Mrs Tumnus.”

“That's a funny name.” Lucas couldn't help laughing, though it seemed evident that the old man was serious.

“Yes, yes, I suppose it is. I used to have a doll called Mrs Tumnus, so I took her name to honour her memory, sort of thing.”

“You.. erm...” Lucas wasn't sure how to ask the question without seeming impertinent. In the end he asked it anyway. “You are a man, aren't you professor?”

I suppose I am, only...” A wistful look settled on the professor's lined face. “On the outside I am a man, there's not question there, but I've always felt that on the inside I was someone else.

“Do you know that when I was little — younger than you are now — I used to play with my sister. We'd play dress up and have tea parties for all her dolls and animals. It used to be such fun. Then one day, Father told me I was to stop. Little boys didn't wear dresses or play with dolls.

“It was a sad day for me, and I remember running away and crying. I can't even remember why I cried in particular. I mean, I was a little boy and I knew that playing with my sister the way I did wasn't the sort of thing other boys my age liked to do. I didn't want to, but I accepted that I needed to grow up and become a man.

“The thing is, I didn't want to. My sister knew this and she let me keep one of her dollies. She let me choose and I picked out a rag doll with a pretty white dress, not so different from this one. As I said earlier, I called her Mrs Tumnus and, when she wasn't in bed with me while I was sleeping, I kept her at the back of my sock drawer.

“I suppose Mother knew, I mean how could she not? The maid who put my clothes away would have seen her and told Mother, but she kept my secret. It wasn't until some years later, when Father came into my room to wake me for something or other, that he saw me sleeping with Mrs Tumnus. He was quite furious and, whatever else he had planned to do with me that day, he first set about building a fire and he made me throw my poor dolly into the flames.”

“That's awful. How could he be so mean?” It was strange the way he felt sitting here. I mean to see a man wearing a dress was odd enough, but to sit here chatting away, watching the rain fall on the central garden, seemed the most natural thing in the world. What was most strange was how normal this all felt, but then Lucas had always been more curious than cautious about anything unusual.

“Oh, you mustn't judge him too harshly. He was just doing what he thought was best.”

“So is that why you dress up now? Because of Mrs Tumnus?”

“No, that would be silly. I mean fancy putting on a dress just because of a toy. No, it's because of the way I feel inside. The happiest memories I have of my childhood were the ones when Susan — that's my sister — and I would dress up in her prettiest dresses and play with her toys.

“Father used to make me go and play with the boys who lived next door, but they always used to play at football or sword fighting or some such. It was always rough, and I would be hurt more often than not. They used to call me a sissy because I used to cry a lot.”

“So when did you start dressing up like this?”

The professor was beginning to relax again. Inquisitiveness was so much more agreeable than the name calling he'd expected. Boys tended to be cruel with anyone and anything they didn't understand, but not the young man.

“Would you like some tea... er... it's er...”

“Lucas sir. I mean ma'am, I mean... er...”

The professor allowed himself a smile. “Mrs Tumnus or ma'am would be perfectly acceptable, Lucas, but if you feel uncomfortable using those, I suppose I wouldn't mind professor or sir. Now, tea. It's about time for elevensies, and I think I have some Turkish delight we could share. Would you like that?”

Lucas nodded his head enthusiastically. He'd tried Turkish delight before and found it most agreeable.

The professor — Lucas still found it too odd calling him Mrs Tumnus — walked across to the fireplace, where he pulled on a tassled cord, then back again. The way he moved was very much more like Mrs Macready or his mum than a man; he moved in a graceful gliding motion rather than walking, and he took some care to arrange his voluminous skirts about him as he sat.

“I'll answer your question in a minute, Lucas, it's just that... ah there she is.”

Mrs Macready had appeared through the same doorway that Lucas had used. Come to think of it, it seemed to be the only way into the sheltered garden. There were other doors off from the cloister, but they led to small rooms like the one they were in now, and had no doors leading off from them. The housekeeper carried a tray in front of her, challenging Lucas's imagination as to how she had negotiated the fur coats and the bends in the dark wardrobe.

“Ah, Mrs Macready,” the professor smiled. “As you can see, I have a surprise visitor. I wonder if you'd be so kind as to bring an extra cup, and perhaps some of that Turkish delight, if we have any left that is.”

Mrs Macready gave Lucas a hard stare and harrumphed as she swept away in response to the professor's request.

“Don't mind her, Lucas,” the professor leant over to murmur in his ear. “She may seem a bit fierce, but underneath she has a heart of gold. I don't think she approves of this particular manner I have of passing the time, and I rather think the reason she told you and your brothers to leave me alone was because she didn't want me contaminating the purity of your thoughts with my base behaviour. Sometimes I wonder if she sees me as something of a witch.”

“I think she was rather more upset with me, prof... Mrs Tumnus.”

“I should think so. I have done nothing wrong, keeping to myself and the seclusion of this place. You, on the other hand, exercising the keenness of your sharp mind and your insatiable curiosity, investigated your way through a wardrobe full of fur coats into my own private little world.”

The professor poured Lucas a cup of tea and distracted him with a few nonsense facts until his housekeeper returned with a second tray, carrying the second cup and the box of promised delights. Only once she had withdrawn for the second time, did the professor return to the earlier conversation.

“I've been dressing like this for a great many years now. At first, I tried to keep it a secret, but that's a nonsense in a house full of servants. The first ones who found out were scornful and unkind, and I had to send them away. Mrs Macready, God bless her, was more understanding, after dealing with the lack of respect shown by the earlier maids, and warned them off telling on pain of receiving poor references, she suggested this place as a retreat for my eccentric behaviour. And so it has been for many years. She helps me dress in the morning — I mean you can understand that putting on a dress like this is not something one can do for one's self with any ease — then she leaves me to my own ends for the morning. I read a little, look after the garden when it isn't raining, write a little — all genteel, lonely pursuits — until around eleven, when she brings me some refreshments, then she leaves me again until sometime after noon when she comes and helps me to undress. I spend the afternoon and evening as the professor and go to bed looking forward to being Mrs Tumnus again in the morning.”

“But where did you find the clothes? I mean, I can't imagine you going into a women's clothes shop for a fitting.”

The professor bowed his head, trying to hide some of the shame.

“Most of the dresses I have that fit me used to belong to my mother or my sister, although in recent years I've been wearing my mother's more. Mother was a great hoarder and wouldn't throw anything away, including any clothes my sister and I outgrew. I think there are still some chests in the attic with some of Susan's and my clothes from when we were very small. This is one of Mother's; she always had such elegant tastes.”

“Doesn't she mind you wearing her clothes?”

“Oh dear. I'm sorry, I was sure you knew. My parents and sister died over thirty years ago during an influenza epidemic. I caught it too, but for some reason I was spared and they were taken.”

A tear squeezed out of the professors eye, prompting Lucas to take hold of his gloved hand.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know. That must have been awful for you.”

“It was a long time ago; a year or two after I finished my Bachelor's. It took the longest time to see them buried, especially given the number of other people who died. There isn't a family in the village who didn't lose at least someone, though I think ours — mine now, I suppose — was the worst hit.

“Anyway, some months after the epidemic, I found myself rattling around by myself in this house. With the inheritance I had money enough to go back to university and continue my studies, and the old house reminded me so much of the people I'd lost. I hired Mrs Macready to look after the house and I went away.”

“But that means you wouldn't have the clothes to wear, doesn't it?”

The professor smiled. “I knew you were sharp. You're right of course. The thing is I missed my family dreadfully, Susan most of all. I visited the house a few times a year to wander around the place and remember. It was always so strange, everything shrouded in dust covers and silent, as though the house itself were in mourning.

“That first visit, I found myself in Susan's bedroom. We'd always looked more alike than brother and sister should, and I missed her so much, I suppose I thought if I put on one of her dresses and looked in the mirror it would be a little like having her back, or maybe it was the memory of playing together and pretending to be sisters. Anyway, before I knew it I was wearing her favourite dress, and it felt wonderful. As though I'd been holding myself in some unnatural pose — you know, back straight, stomach in, chest out; like in the army — and all of a sudden I realised I didn't need to. I felt so relaxed and... right. I smiled for the first time in months, and decided that, since I wouldn't be hurting anyone else, why the Dickens shouldn't I?

“That first time, I packed enough of my sister's things to fill out my suitcase and headed back to university. On subsequent visits, I took more and more things, until they became difficult to hide in my small lodgings.

“It was some years later, after I had completed my doctorate — in English, I should say — that I was found out. A fellow professor came visiting unexpectedly while I was indulging. I tried hiding in the hope that he would go away, but he knew where I hid my spare key and came in to wait. I had nowhere to hide, and he had no option but to report me to the dean.

“They had no idea how to deal with my particular situation. Such things were completely unheard of you understand. Oh, I suppose there were other people like me, you did hear scandalous stories from high society and such, but to have a university professor doing such things...

“In the end, they decided to hush things up. It would have been as bad for the university's reputation as it was for mine, so they made up some story about my having a relapse with my health, and I packed off back here with my tail between my legs.

“I have a good enough income to maintain this place and the few servants you've seen, and I still write a little. Because of my reported health problems I was never drafted for the first war, and now, of course, I'm too old. I keep to myself and the villagers keep away. Mrs Macready looks after me and suffers my idiosyncrasies, and helps me keep them hidden from the outside world.

“I still have to be the professor for the most part, but the mornings I spend in here, in my own little magical kingdom, are the times when I feel truly alive. I don't suppose the world is ready for people such as myself just yet, but neither am I strong enough to be the professor all the time. When you know there's a better way to live, it becomes harder to go back to the paucity of a life when you can only be a small part of who you are, keeping the real you hidden beneath tweed and a cantankerous exterior.

“Mrs Tumnus is an essential part of my life now, and even though she doesn't approve, I do believe Mrs Macready understands that. I only wish it weren't such a lonely existence.”

Lucas took the old man;s gloved hand again. “It doesn't have to be professor, I mean Mrs Tumnus. I could visit you like I did today.”

The professor smiled and cupped Lucas's cheek. “You are such a kind hearted child,” he said. “Do you know, I think I should enjoy your visits very much.”

Lucas looked away, his face reddening.

“I-I should be going now profess... er Ma'am. I've been gone a long while and I think my brothers will be looking for me.”

“Well, thank you so very much for visiting today Lucas, and thank you for listening too. So many boys your age would have run away calling me names, but you have been very understanding.

“I don't know what time you wake in the morning, but Mrs Macready usually helps me to dress around seven o'clock. You would be most welcome, any time after that.”

Lucas stood and put on his best smile. “I'd like that Mrs Tumnus, if you're sure you don't mind being disturbed.”

“Not at all dear boy. I haven't enjoyed myself so much in many years. I do have one request though.”

“Don't tell my brothers, or anyone else. Don't worry Mrs... er Ma'am, I won't say anything to anyone. This can be our little secret together.”

The old man smiled again. There was no escaping that was what he looked like. He was slim, and the dress fit him well, but there was something about his face that gave him away. It made him look a little silly in all the froth and frills of his clothing, and yet there was something about him, a serene quality that always seemed to be missing whenever Lucas and his brothers crossed paths with him dressed as the professor. It was a look that Lucas realised was missing from other men he had met, as though they knew something was missing from their lives, or there was some inward struggle that never quite ended. The thought frightened Lucas and he ran back round the cloister, through the entrance and following the length of twine back to the wardrobe.

He stood, surrounded by furs, breathing heavily and tasting moth balls on the stuffy air. As before, the coats reminded him of his mother, so many miles away, and he held one close against his cheek, enjoying the cool softness for a while as his racing pulse settled back to normal.

He listened for a moment, but there were no sounds from the other side of the wardrobe. The door gave with a quiet click when he pushed on it, allowing him to slip out unnoticed. All sorts of strange thoughts flew around like so many songbirds in the garden of his mind, and he ran off to find his brothers before one of them jumped up and frightened him again.