The Topic of Love

"You know something."

They were both panting, standing at the entrance of the Study Café after running up from the beach and along the promenade to Trafalgar House. The café was well-attended on this Sunday afternoon, and many guests turned their heads at the slightly dishevelled looking couple wearing cricket gear and leg pads. Otis and Gigi were not among them. Charlotte's heart sank.

"You know something," Sidney repeated, sounding more urgent now. "Tell me what it is."

Charlotte was searching for a way to put it nicely, but there was none. It was her own doing. For once she deserved the tongue lashing that was about to follow. If not worse.

"Hello, Charlotte. Hungry after cricket?" It was Fred's cousin, the café owner, who got her a respite. "We're a bit busy at the moment, but if you want to wait for a few minutes, I'll find a nice little table for you two. – Fred has sent me some pictures of the match. I can't believe you smashed the townsmen nearly all on your own."

"Thank you. We… um, we're actually looking for someone. – Do you remember the girl I was here with last time?"

"The tall, sulky one? Yes, of course."

"Has she been here today?"

"No." Fred's cousin shook her head. "Though I did see her outside. She was meeting someone."

"She was…," Sidney gasped.

"A woman?" Charlotte asked. "Did she meet a woman?"

"It was definitely a woman. Couldn't see much of her, though. She was wearing a wide straw hat and large sunglasses. I saw them walking down the street towards the station." Charlotte turned and ran outside to scan the street as if there was any hope of finding a shadow of Otis and Gigi. Sidney followed her.

"What have you done?" he asked.

She resigned herself to her fate. "I have allowed Gigi to borrow my phone. Since you confiscated hers and even had the landline removed from her room. – Her heart was broken because you forbad her to see Otis. Don't you remember what it was like to be seventeen and in love?" Judging by his expression, he had never been seventeen – and never been in love either. Nevertheless, Charlotte continued. Better it all came out at once. "They arranged to meet today for an hour when everyone was distracted by the cricket match. It was just for a coffee, here in the café, so they could see each other, talk and … hold hands."

"Hold hands!"

"I was supposed to go with her. I intended to tell Mrs Griffiths that Gigi was having... female problems and that I'd take care of her, but… in the excitement of the match… I… I forgot."

For once, he did not shout her down. And that was even worse. Seeing him outwardly cool and with his anger in control made herself only look more foolish and naïve.

"You do realise that Georgiana is the underage daughter of a very, very wealthy man, don't you, Miss Heywood?"

"Of course I do, I…"

"Which is one of the reasons why I like to be informed of her whereabouts and her company. So if anything happens to her, this will be down on your head." Without another look at her, he strode across the street and towards the promenade, leaving Charlotte fighting her tears. This time, the scales were against her. This was no case of rash judgement or clashing opinions. This was not about unsavoury details of his private life. This was about Gigi's safety.

Sidney was so angry that he did not even feel his anger. It was as if a massive wave of acid was building up inside of him, cauterising any other emotion: his fear for Gigi, his ire about that manipulating creature called Otis, his rage at Charlotte Heywood. How could she? How could she! Of course, she could. She had a phone, a heart and more than one reason to think badly of him.

He reached his car in the promenade's parking lot, took off his leg pads and threw them into the tiny boot of the Aston Martin. His phone was buzzing with messages from Tom, from Mary, Arthur, Diana, Babington and Crowe. He skipped most of them, apart from a lengthy one from Tom.

After the humiliation on the cricket pitch, his brother was on the way to London now, hoping to market the open-day, the apartments and the golf course and to find new investors. He was sorry for all the trouble and- Sidney skipped this one as well. Compared to a missing millionaire's underage daughter that was under his guardianship, Tom's worries seemed petty.

He jumped into his car and breathed deeply and evenly for a few seconds. No rash actions. Fred's cousin had seen them walking down the street leading to the station. There was one hint. And he had made sure to confiscate Gigi's passport along with the phone and the credit cards, so at least she was unable to leave the country.

And Gigi might be trouble and angry, but she was no idiot. She knew that her disappearance might set half of the British police force into motion. Chances were that that was precisely what she was hoping for in a bid to provoke and humiliate him. And to revenge her father for what had happened two years ago on his yacht in the Caribbean with… what was her name again? Melissa… Marissa. In frustration, he sounded the horn. Evil deeds always came back. Good deeds never did.

The obvious point to start a search – before sending half of the British police force in pursuit – was the station. He parked his car on the disabled parking space and entered the Victorian building, ready to bully the station guard into showing him the CCTV footage of the afternoon.

The station guard was not impressed. "It's called data protection law, sir. Cannot have anybody walk in and demand showtime."

"Damn it! This is not about showtime, this is about my foster daughter running away with her lover!"

"Would you happen to remember what your foster daughter looks like?"

"What?"

"I happen to remember two lovebirds, jumping on the 16.16 to London. Made it last minute. Two girls, though. If that is why you are so concerned, sir."

"Thank you," Sidney said, turned around and bumped into Charlotte Heywood.

"Mr Parker…"

"Miss Heywood." He was not even surprised. He grabbed her by the arm and marched her out of the building. "Go home."

"But I wish to help."

"Help?" He looked her up and down. Nothing but muddy legs, dishevelled hair, large eyes and heaving cleavage. And a dimple. "How exactly do you think your presence would help?"

"Well, for one thing, Gigi has been using my phone." She took it out of her trouser pocket and offered it to him. "I thought you might find something on it. – And I believe she might have gone to London. So I came here to find out whether she has been seen, and to follow her."

"Coincidentally, I have had the same idea. And yes, they have been seen," Sidney said, filing through the online protocols of her phone. "Did you search train times to London for Sunday afternoon?" He showed her the page. She shook her head, blushing.

"No."

"Did you even think about checking your phone when she returned it to you?" Now she looked up to him, her face full of defiance.

"I'm her friend, not her watchdog."

He twitched his mouth at that and continued with browsing through her messages. Quite a lot of Heywoods. Several names he had never heard of. James Stringer, discussing options of avocado salad for lunch. Mr Sidney Parker. Mr Sidney Parker?

Wi$**,'''''

So she had neither deleted him nor the cryptic message he had accidentally sent when he dropped his phone at Heathrow immigration. Did that mean anything?

"Mr Parker?"

Basically, it meant that she was one of three women making his life a misery right now. Four, if one counted Eliza.

Her last message was from Otis, telling her that she was on the train and expecting to arrive in Sanditon on time. Damn the woman.

"I'm in large part to blame for what happened," Charlotte said. "You have to allow me the chance to put it right." Her obvious distress combined with her pleading eyes made him soften a little.

"You've done enough," he said. They had reached his car now. "What are you doing?" he added as she opened the passenger door.

"I'm going with you."

"I'm taking care of this. You are going back to the hotel and calm down the rest of my family." There was still the matter of Tom, after all.

"You cannot order me around, Mr Parker. I'm not your foster child."

"And you cannot decide to occupy my car." She gave a shrug and sat down next to him on the passenger seat.

"Call the police to have me removed. Oh. Maybe not such a good idea, given the fact that you are stealing a disabled parking space. Again."

He leaned his head on the steering wheel and closed his eyes in exasperation. "Miss Heywood, my life is full of worries right now. Can you please stop being one of them?"

"It's Gigi you have to worry about, not me. If only you'd been honest with me… if only you'd told me about Otis and their weekend in London before you went to Australia…"

"I could not have made my feelings for Miss Molyneux any clearer."

"You could have! All this would never have happened if only you'd been honest with me. Gigi is in love, and despite all her bravado, she's deeply troubled, because she's not in love with a nice boring future banker, but with a woman who is an artist and ten years her senior. She needs your guidance, not your criticism. Don't you see that? Whenever you disparage Otis, you give Gigi another reason to defy you."

He shook his head, too exhausted by it all to explode. "I had no idea it was so easy to manipulate you, Miss Heywood."

"Manipulate me?"

"Look, I know I'm not a shining knight. In fact, I'm dreading the day I have to face Gigi's father and explain it all to him." He turned his head to face her, and when he saw the genuine concern that was now in her eyes, he felt a tiny little twinge of hope.

"Explain what?" she asked. He cleared his throat.

"Miss Molyneux, or Otis, as you know her, took over the art department at Gigi's boarding school after half term in February. She's her teacher. She cannot be in a relationship with her."

"Oh. I… that…" He watched Charlotte process this new piece of information. "I had no idea," she finally said. "That's bad, I agree, but … oh. Is that why Gigi was expelled from school?"

"Both of them. They were both expelled. But only after that weekend in London. They overdrew the limit on Gigi's credit cards and got her arrested for underage drinking while Otis fled the stage. And they forged my signature to get Gigi out of school in the first place."

"I did not know that," Charlotte said after a few moments of shocked silence, not looking at him. "Gigi told me bits and pieces… but never the full story."

"No, I didn't think so. I can't have her in the company of that woman, you see that now, don't you?"

"Yes. Yes, I do see that." There was a treacherous shimmer in her eyes as she was staring blindly ahead of her. He understood that he had to share a little more with her.

"Gigi can be… creative when it comes to the truth. I have always put that down to her family situation … losing her mother when she was only three years old, her father's blend of girlfriends that followed, growing up in an environment where money could buy anything, yet remaining an outsider because of the colour of her skin. I used to laugh about her little lies and made a sport out of exposing them when she was younger… playfully, never in a reproachful way. It was only Otis who managed to manipulate that behaviour into outright evil."

Somehow, Charlotte seemed to regain her energy. She was never one to fret and dramatise, she was always searching for solutions. It was a quality Sidney actually admired.

"So what do you suggest we do now?" she asked. He shrugged his shoulders.

"London is a city of eight million people. I can as well start searching for a needle in a haystack. The only thing I can do is inform the police."

"No! No… I have another idea."

Guilt, anxiety, self-reproaches: Charlotte found it impossible to name all the emotions that came down on her. She did not doubt Sidney's tale. It was all too obvious, the lies, the half-truths, the words unsaid. Again, the scales were in Sidney's favour, however hard it was to admit. But there was one thing he had overlooked.

"The hotel. When Gigi told me about the weekend in London, her version was less adults only, but don't you think they may choose the same hotel again? Especially if they want to be found and see you humiliated in front of half of the British police?" Sidney's mouth twitched.

"It was Beecroft's Boutique Hotel. Somewhere off Fulham Road."

"Right," Charlotte said, opening Google maps on her phone. "Oh."

"What is it? Has it burned down?"

"No … no, it's just … it's located in Sydney Walk."

Sidney sounded the horn in frustration. "She does this to annoy me. She wants to be found."

"But still better us storming in than the police, right?"

"Absolutely," Sidney conceded and started the car.

They remained silent for most of the drive, each of them following their own thoughts. Charlotte made a quick call to Mary to make sure she did not worry – she had enough to worry about her husband, poor woman -, typed a message to James and another one to her mother who had tried to call her – a call she had rejected. She was not going to discuss the events of the weekend with her mother when Sidney Parker was sitting next to her.

Just before reaching London, Sidney left the motorway, followed the road into the next town and parked in front of a Pizza Express.

"What are we doing here?" Charlotte asked.

"Food," Sidney said. "Don't know about you, but I am hungry."

"But do we have time for that?"

"I trust Gigi and Otis are safe in Beecroft's Boutique Hotel, and I don't want to have you fainting on top of everything else."

"I'm not the fainting type," Charlotte said. He grinned.

"Of course not. You're the one who nurses the fainted girl back into consciousness with her left hand while she takes down the villain with her right, aren't you, Miss Heywood?"

He did not deserve an answer to that. But he was right, she was hungry, and a healthy bite of Pizza Margherita and a coke did revive her spirits.

It was a quick meal, and for most of the time, he was busy texting back and forth with Tom and Mary. Apparently, Lady Denham had been taken ill after the cricket and had to be rushed to hospital in Brighton – one more worry for Tom.

Charlotte watched Sidney, bent over his phone with a furrowed brow. Her actions had only added to his troubles, that much she understood, and the knowledge made her feel terrible.

"I never meant to place Gigi in harm's way," she said, hoping to start an apology.

He looked up from his phone. "And yet you did."

"All I ever cared for was her happiness."

"What do you think I care about?"

"That is anyone's guess." Well, maybe not anyone's, but hers.

"I have done the best I can by Gigi," he said, shoving the phone into his pocket and staring out of the window to the restaurant's parking lot. The Aston Martin was drawing the usual crowd of admirers. Charlotte felt her anger return with his words, and her anger was stronger than any self-pity.

"No," she said with so much emphasis that some guests from the other tables turned their heads. "You have abdicated your responsibility. She is a troubled teenager, and all you could think of was to send her to your brother's hotel to be looked after by your former nanny – and by me when you strolled off to the other side of the world for your oh-so-important-business. If you were so concerned about her welfare, why did you not look after her yourself? When you asked me to see that she was kept out of mischief, why did you not tell me what that mischief was?"

He was playing with his napkin, evading her gaze. "It was a piece of information I did not think fit to share."

"Of course not! Because you are determined to be an outlier, to solve all the problems of the world all by yourself. Why share anything with anyone?"

"Please do not presume to know my mind, Miss Heywood." He dropped two twenty pound notes on the table, stood up and left the restaurant. Charlotte followed him, determined not to let him get away this time.

"How could anyone know your mind?" she asked his back once they were outside. "You take pains to be unknowable. All I know is that you cannot bear the thought of two people in love."

He turned around abruptly, glaring down on her, his face a thundering mass of anger. "What Gigi and Otis have is not love."

"For Gigi, it is love, however misguided."

"And what do you know about the topic, Miss Heywood?"

Maybe not as much as most girls of her age. But that was none of his business. "I would sooner be naïve than insensible of feeling!" she declared.

To her surprise, her words made all the anger drain from his face. The man standing in front of her on the kerb suddenly looked five years younger and extremely vulnerable, and he searched her eyes as he quietly asked: "Is that what you really think of me?"

Charlotte felt something shift inside of her, something she could not even name. Yet she understood that it was important. She did not know what to say, and she did not know how to escape those dark, sad, questioning eyes. He gave the answer himself: "I'm sorry you should think so. How much easier my life would be if I were insensible of feeling." He turned around again and walked back to the car.

Charlotte kept staring at him as she followed him to where the Aston Martin was parked. Was it conceivable that she had had him wrong? That he was not devoid of emotion? But if that was the case, who had trampled his feelings, who had bruised him so deeply? Who had made Sidney Parker the conundrum that he was?