"So... she lives in London?"
	"Yeah. The Professor offered her to come live with us once the war started, but I guess the proposition wasn't to her liking. I wasn't even that surprised, she never enjoyed spending time in the country after I was born. It was quite a scandal, you know. She came there to study under the Professor's eye - he accepts young scholars into his home sometimes - but instead of writing a book she ended up with a baby. Not that anyone knew, at least until she came back with a newborn a couple of months later." She pauses for a moment and an involuntary sigh escapes her lips. "They weren't married, of course, she and my father. Many expected him to turn her away, but, surprisingly, he actually agreed to take me in. She wasn't interested in rising a child and he was actually happy to become a parent."
	Peter waits for Birdie to look at him. An then - once their eyes lock - he sends her a small, kind smile. "Sounds like your father was a good man."
	"He was, yes. Not that I think my mother is a bad one. She's just not very..." Birdie trails off, the right word slipping her mind, "maternal. But that's her right, I suppose. Not everyone wants to be a parent. And I'm glad she didn't try to force herself, because we might have been miserable together. I have excellent caretakers in the country and my mother can visit whenever she likes. It is what it is."
	Peter hums. It's a sound that doesn't give anything away concerning whatever he might think now. Birdie can only hope she didn't sound as though she resented her mother, because that's not the case at all.
	"Well, our parents met at a theatre," Peter speaks up quite suddenly, but his tone is soft. It's interesting, how his voice changes when he's talking about his family. "It seems there must have been a mix up in the ticket office, and they kind of double sold some seats. My father was more than ready to just give up his claims when he saw 'the most beautiful girl he's ever seen', but then he had another idea. He asked whether she would like to leave the theatre altogether at have tea with him."
	A smile finds its way onto Birdie's lips. That's a nice story. Certainly nicer than meeting at some country dance and having a baby outside of marriage while being on the tongues of the entire village.
	"Although dad winks at us every time he speaks of this," continues Peter. His voice falters a little now that he's mentioned his father. It's understandable, considering the man is fighting in the war now, but the sadness of what's now is mixed with the happiness of what's been. It makes Birdie realise just how lucky she is not to have any close relatives on the front lines. "Sometimes I suspect him of making the whole story up. Everyone was already talking about the problem with the tickets once he arrived, and I wouldn't be that much surprised if he lied about his own ticket just to ask mom out. Anyways, what do you think that seed might grow into? It is some weird narnian fruit or something normal, like, an apple?"
	"Actually, I haven't really tho-"
	"We're here!"
	Birdie's head snaps into the direction of Lucy's voice. Peter's youngest sisters is skipping through the grass, her movements quick and nimble without the heavy fur coat. She wastes no time grabbing the boy by the hand, dragging him towards Susan and the Beavers.
	They're already a few feets away when Peter turns to face her. "Come on," he encourages before looking back to Lucy.
	And so Birdie does let her feet carry her towards Aslan's camp. But all she can think about is the fact that Peter's smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
🍂
	Birdie's surprised she didn't realise how close to the camp they've got with how much noise seems to be coming from the direction of the tents. She can already hear the buzz of multiple voices carried through the air, accompanied by the sound of swords clashing. The whole camp seems alive, all the hustle and bustle no different from a street in some city in England.