Needless to say, this is a work of fiction. Golf carts are not made for racing, so don't even think about it. Even if you happen to find yourself sharing a cart with Sidney Parker.
Beyond the Finish Line
"Good luck, James!" Charlotte cried as merrily as possible when the four teams participating in the first Sanditon Golf Cart Race put on their protective gear. Not that James needed her good wishes. She was confident that he would win, and deservedly so. In stark contrast to their competitors, James and Fred really formed a team, something that could not be said of the other three crews.
The two contestants from Sanditon's driving school seemed to understand only now that their driver would be blindfolded. Crowe, who as well as Babington had been blackmailed into taking part as a compensation for continued free stays at the hotel, was already mourning the loss of the fifty quid he had put on his own Team Seagull. Tom Parker tried to fold his long and wiry body into the passenger seat, beaming around as optimistically as always. However, his brother looked like a giant insect again, his face hidden behind goggles and a helmet – a rather unhappy insect: an insect that kept bumping against the window on its search for a way out.
"I'm so glad we don't have to do the rowing thing again," Arthur said next to Charlotte. "That was last year for the bicentenary. I stumbled over an oar and nearly drowned."
"I think I've heard about that," Charlotte said.
"Still getting goosebumps just by the memory of it," Arthur added with a shudder.
"Good luck, the Parkers!" Mary cried, and Jenny, Alicia and Henry echoed: "Good luck, Daddy! Good luck, Uncle Sidney!" Mr Parker gave them a thumbs up.
There was quite a crowd gathered around the racetrack now. Charlotte made some pictures for the hotel's Instagram account. mrscampion was very busy putting on variations of a duckface while taking selfies. That task completed, she positioned herself close to the finish line, probably hoping to welcome a victorious Sidney.
Sidney. Try as she might, Charlotte could not wipe the image of his face from her memory when she had asked him what it was that he wanted from her. She knew that with the right answer, she would have been ready to forgive him everything. Even bringing Eliza Campion to Sanditon.
But he did not answer. He seemed utterly and completely dumbfounded by the idea that there might be anything he wanted from Charlotte Heywood.
And it hurt. It hurt to understand that she was nothing but a funny little distraction for him, good enough for a romantic dance in London and some tension in the golf cart, but certainly not the real thing.
With a little sigh, she returned her attention to the racecourse. The starting officer, who was no one other than Constable Hankins, was giving final instructions, and then the carts were off.
Team Driving School had a good start but got stuck in the sandbags behind the first corner. Team Seagull, directed by Crowe, without apparent hurry, drove along the start line instead of away from it. Team Parker and Team Stringer remained on par until they reached the first corner. Team Parker had the advantage of the wider angle but the disadvantage of Tom Parker giving directions. Team Stringer, on the other hand, under Fred's careful guidance, took the corner with little elegance but much efficiency.
"Well done, James!" Charlotte cheered. "Well done, Fred!"
"Are you not cheering for the Parkers, Charlotte?" Diana asked next to her.
"I would. Only there is so little to cheer for." Which was not true. Despite Tom's frantic directions, Sidney had manoeuvred the cart around the corner and gained on Team Stringer.
There was a cheer in the crowd when Team Driving School managed to break free from the sandbag wall, but now they were pursued by Team Seagull. Crowe's approach seemed to be that the shortest way to the finish line was not necessarily the quickest, which was why he directed Babington in a merry zigzag line across the track, providing the onlookers with plenty of opportunities to listen in on their conversation.
"Are you sure we are still on the racecourse?" Babington asked.
"Absolutely."
"Only it feels as if we were driving in circles. Which position are we in?" Crowe checked the empty track behind their cart.
"First."
"Really? Where's Sidney?"
"Stuck in a sandbag wall and waiting to be rescued by a cute little siren."
Charlotte blushed and moved on. It was not true, of course. Neither the siren part nor the sandbag part: Team Parker was gaining on Team Stringer, which was quite a feat if one listened to Tom's directions: "Right, Sidney…, no, left now … I mean, it's a rather leftish right … stop, stop!" She could see Sidney's clenched jaw under the helmet. He was determined to win, even if it meant pushing his brother from the passenger seat and running him over with the golf cart.
Team Driving School got stuck in another sandbag wall. If they had hoped to promote their services on this occasion, they had miscalculated.
"Are we anywhere close to the finish line?" Babington asked. Crowe turned around and looked at the racecourse.
"No. But I can safely say that we have just crossed the start line again."
Team Parker and Team Stringer were competing now for victory, glory and the title of the first Sanditon Golf Cart Race Champion. Team Stringer struggled to turn around the last corner and was nearly overtaken by Team Parker, but on the final meters and cheered on by an enthusiastic crowd they managed to gain on the hotel team again. Charlotte positioned herself close to the finish line.
"Miss Heywood," a screeching voice said.
"Mrs Campion." Charlotte acknowledged her without so much as looking at her. Nevertheless, the woman kept talking to her, wiggling her bandaged finger.
"I do hope Sidney wins. I don't see the point of entering a race unless you win it."
Charlotte did not bother with a reply. On the racetrack, Team Stringer crossed the finish line half a cart's length ahead of the Parker brothers.
"Well done, James!" Charlotte cried and ran over to give her friend a hug.
"Do I get one as well?" Fred asked. He did. She was glad to see these two win the race, especially after conceding victory so generously at the cricket.
"That was fun," she heard Tom Parker say. "Even if we did not win. It is not always about winning, is it, Sidney? It's the competition that counts." Sidney grumbled something unintelligible and dumped his protection gear into the cart.
Once the missing teams Driving School and Seagull had been retrieved, the award ceremony, as Mr Parker called it, began. He had recruited his unofficial guest of honour, Lady Worcester, for the handover of the First Sanditon Golf Cart Race Cup, and Susan completed this duty with her usual obligingness and elegance. Charlotte took some pictures of Team Stringer and the cup, and some more of Mr Parker and Lady Worcester, and another one of all contestants. This one she deleted immediately afterwards because Sidney Parker looked in it as if he was going to throttle James for taking the victory away from him.
It was past six now, and the open-day was drawing to an end. The winner of the Cupcake Competition declared, all tombola prices claimed for, the hotel's stock of champagne entirely drained and half a strawberry field eaten up in Strawberry Secrets, there was nothing left to do but to hand out Arthur's meringue swans to departing guests, and to clear up the mess.
At the shuttle bus waiting in front of the hotel entrance, the Parker family had gathered as Mr Parker was saying good-bye to his newly found best friend. "Well, Mr Parker," Susan said with that charming smile of hers, "I must thank you for a most invigorating day."
"I have to thank you." Mr Parker bowed and grinned and blushed, all at the same time. "And I hope we might welcome you back to Sanditon many, many times… you and your friends."
"There is a certain likelihood. I hope for at least one very happy occasion that will make me return to Sanditon. - Charlotte." She held out her hand for her young friend, and squeezing her fingers tightly, led her a few steps away from the shuttle bus. "Goodbye, dear Charlotte. You mustn't lose heart. The race is not yet run." Charlotte sighed, thinking of mrscampion's words at the finish line again.
"Thank you, but I'm quite resigned to its outcome."
"My dear, when it comes to love, there is no such thing as a foregone conclusion. Your friend may find it a little difficult yet to understand his own heart, but once he does, both he and his heart will be yours forever." With one more encouraging smile, Susan turned to the shuttle bus.
"Excellent," Mr Parker said when the bus drove off, clapping his hands. "Excellent! My open day was a triumph."
"It was," his wife said. "Though it might be fair to say that it was Charlotte who brought Lady Worcester here and that it was Charlotte who had the idea of the open-day in the first place and who did most of the organisation."
"Of course!" Mr Parker was beaming at Charlotte now. "And how glad we are to have you, my dear! I knew it the moment I picked you up at the station. I saw you, and I said to myself: Tom Parker, this is a young woman of spirit and understanding, a young woman ready to embark on an adventurous course to change her fate – and consequently, that of the Sanditon Grand Hotel." He was talking catalogue speech again, which Charlotte found even more frightening now that it was about herself.
"I'm glad I could be of help," she simply said, blushed and started searching for her clipboard which in the general hustle and bustle of the day, she had lost somewhere along the way.
x
Sidney had remained at the racetrack. Now that the race was over and everyone had left, this seemed to be the most solitary place on the hotel grounds. He returned the carts to the shed and dismantled the track. He was sure that on Charlotte's clipboard list, someone was in charge of these tasks, but that someone – probably Edward Denham – was nowhere to be seen. And apart from that Sidney was glad about some physical exertion that kept his mind from thinking.
Thinking about Eliza, thinking about Charlotte.
Eliza, who had occupied his memory for eight years. Who had been a part of his life for more than twenty. Who had returned, wishing to leave the past behind and to start a new future with him by her side. A wish he had only encouraged by welcoming her as his special guest to the hotel.
Eliza, in whose company he seemed to become a different man, a man treating Charlotte Heywood abominably.
Charlotte, who had angered and infuriated him more than any other woman on this planet. Who questioned and doubted and criticised him at every possible opportunity. But who was also warm-hearted, and full of kindness, and able of insight and self-reflection. Who always saw the good in other people. Maybe even in him: a man reigned by his tempers and troubled past, jaded by his experiences, used to make others suffer for his anger. And yet, Charlotte Heywood had managed to touch him, to melt something inside of him.
He realised that Charlotte knew him better after these six weeks than Eliza had come to know him during their six years of a relationship.
Charlotte knew the worst of him, and it did not pain or trouble or embarrass him. It was alright. It was good. He wanted her to know everything about him. And then he wanted to close his eyes and come to rest in her embrace.
He turned around, sensing that someone was watching him.
Eliza, clutching her handbag with her bandaged hand, looking like a younger, more vulnerable version of herself. Maybe, and despite all her bravado, the emotions of the day had taken a toll on her as well. Plus the piping bag incident. And the herring gull attack. And Crowe mistaking her handbag for a rubbish bin.
"I was waiting for you," she said, looking at him intently.
"You didn't have to," he replied, trying a kind smile and feeling remorse because he had brought her here when his heart was engaged elsewhere.
She made a step forward. "I have waited so many years. What is another quarter of an hour?" And as he could not come up with an answer, she continued, searching his hand: "The truth is, now that I have found you again, Sidney, I cannot bring myself to let you out of my sight."
"Eliza …" he softly said, withdrawing his fingers.
"I never lost hope that we would be together once more." She moved closer to him. "And here we are! Fate is giving us a second chance. It's like a miracle. I let you go once before; I am not going to make that mistake again, Sidney."
He sighed, then searched her eyes and gently shook his head. "I don't want to go back, Eliza."
"I'm not asking you to go back! I'm asking you to look ahead! To build a future with me! There is so much we can achieve together! Just look at your hotel – I see the potential for - "
"It's my brother's hotel, not mine," he corrected, wondering nevertheless what potential she saw in it. He was not going to ask, though. Eliza sighed.
"I know how much I hurt you back then," she said, searching his fingers again. "I was young and ambitious. Are you going to punish me for that?" He shook his head.
"Of course not. Everyone who's made a mistake deserves a second chance." She dropped his hand at once and took a step back.
"It's that girl, isn't it? This Charlotte Hay-thing. She's stealing you from me."
"Charlotte cannot steal something from you that is not yours in the first place." Her hand went to her mouth, and with a sob, she turned away from him, her shoulders twitching.
"I'm sorry, Eliza," Sidney said. "Until not too long ago, I would have wished this to work out, but it doesn't. I should never have brought you back to Sanditon. I've been lying to myself for weeks, and for a moment, I allowed myself to believe we could revive the past, but we can't. I'm not the same man, and you are not the same woman, either. - I'll drive you down to the station, and we'll part with much less drama than eight years ago."
x
After the bustle of the day, the hotel was strangely quiet now in the evening. Charlotte made one final round through the building, thanking the kitchen and the service staff for their efforts. Doktor Fuchs's guests were having their half-board dinner on the Conservatory's terrace, enjoying the view and the mild evening sun. The postcard lady and her friend waved at her, and she waved back with a smile. Over at Reception, Julia Beaufort was filing through the pictures of the day, marking the ones they might use for the website.
Charlotte glanced outside. The Aston Martin was gone. She imagined Sidney and mrscampion driving through the countryside, the roof open, the balmy evening wind playing in their hair, and them having a sunset dinner at some fancy countryside restaurant before returning to London late in the night.
Well, good riddance. Had she actually ever believed that she could be anything to Sidney Parker? To a man eight years her senior, to a man of his experiences, his lifestyle? A country girl from the middle of nowhere? What a joke she was indeed. What a laugh Sidney Parker and mrscampion must have at her right now.
Don't think of it, she told herself, and continued her tour at the gym. The lights were switched off now, the punching ball looming in the semi-darkness like a ghost. But there was a noise that caught her attention, something in one of the changing rooms. Could not be Edward and Clara again, for Clara was still on sick leave. And it did sound more like someone crying.
"Hello?" she called out and opened the door to the ladies' changing room, only to step back immediately. Over there on the bench in front of the lockers, sitting three feet apart from each other were Babington and Esther. Esther was crying, covering her face with her hands, and Babington, half-turned to her, did the best he could do to console her without touching her.
"I'm so sorry," Charlotte said, uncertain what to do. Though there was quite a lot of love written all over Babington's face, this was no lovers' scene.
"It's alright," Babington said. "It's only Charlotte, Esther."
"But whatever has happened?" Charlotte asked, kneeling in front of her colleague whom she only knew as aloof and composed.
"Apparently, Lady Denham is recovering and will be leaving the hospital tomorrow," Babington explained.
"But that is good news, isn't it?"
"I thought so, too." Whether one liked Lady Denham or not: it was good news.
"Clara," Esther muttered. "The scheming little serpent."
"What has she done?" Charlotte asked though she had an indistinct idea.
"She's pregnant. She's made sure Edward got her pregnant, and now he'll have to marry her."
"Why would she do such a thing?" Babington asked, furrowing his brow.
"Because she wants his title and a share of the Denham's fortune. But our aunt is going to explode when she hears about this. She's going to disinherit them, both of them."
"I don't understand," Charlotte said, and Babington looked as if he did not either.
Esther finally looked up, her delicate features covered with tears.
"That will leave me our aunt's heiress."
"And that's a bad thing?" Babington asked. Esther hid her face again. "Look, Esther," he continued. "I don't know what has transpired, and I'm aware of the fact that you don't hold me in much esteem, but … I'm here because I'm your friend. I'm on your side, and I won't allow your brother or Clara or anyone to make a victim of you." Esther gave a long sob, then suddenly reached out for the hand he had placed on the bench.
Charlotte rose to her feet. "I'll leave you two to it. – If there's anything I can do for you, just let me know, Esther."
"Good night, Charlotte," Babington said. "And thank you. For this – and for today."
Charlotte returned to the office, wondering what it was that made Esther cry. There was something in this triangle of Clara, Edward and Esther that she did not understand.
It was nearly dark now, but Mr Parker had forgotten to shut down his computer, so the office was bathed in the blue light of his screensaver. Charlotte did not bother to switch on the ceiling lamp. The light falling in from the corridor would be enough.
Esther's wooden namesake was still sitting on her desk. "Just another conundrum," Charlotte told her, filing through the papers Mr Parker had dumped earlier on the desk. Many entries for the hotel's newsletter, several new memberships for the golf club, and a list of people asking for more information on the apartments. There was no doubt that the open-day was a success. Her success. Something to put on her curriculum vitae when she applied for her next job.
As a final task, Charlotte clicked through the hotel's Instagram account. The most popular post of the day was the one showing James and Fred as winners of the Golf Cart Race. How James would blush, and Fred would laugh when they saw all the burning hearts and flattering comments dedicated to them! Even from a marketing aspect, the best team had won.
There was a noise at the door that made Charlotte spin around. "Oh." She was truly startled, for she had assumed Sidney Parker was miles away, on the road somewhere between Sanditon and London, not ten feet away from her in his brother's office. "If you're looking for your brother…"
"I'm not looking for Tom." He remained where he was as if to make sure that he did not cross an invisible boundary. Despite the low light, Charlotte could make out his features: all the anger he had shown at the race was gone. Instead, there was something very solemn in the way he regarded her, and in his dark and gentle gaze, she discovered an emotion she could not name but found deeply unsettling.
"As a matter of fact, I'm looking for you," he explained.
"I thought you and… Mrs Campion were heading back to London," Charlotte said primly, trying to keep her feelings and the sudden, stupid hope from her face.
"I have seen her to the station," Sidney said. "I still have to go to London tonight, but I decided against leaving in her company."
"I don't understand."
He looked down at his feet as if the explanation might be lying on the ground. Eventually, he looked up, making eye contact again. "I would very much like to stay here. But I can't. I have an appointment tomorrow morning and a meeting in Berlin on Wednesday. I'll be back for the Midsummer Ball, though." Charlotte nodded, unable to speak. Of course, he would be back next Saturday for the Midsummer Ball. Just as she would be back to carrying trays with champagne glasses.
He made a step towards her, yet keeping his distance as if he wanted to make sure she did not feel imposed on. His face was more in the light now, and she was struck by how open, how vulnerable his expression was. Never had she seen him so serious, so intent. She felt as if his whole body and all his senses were focussed on her. After a few moments, he spoke again. "Charlotte... I know I am a good deal less than perfect. You have made me all too aware of that."
Have I? she wondered.
"But, for whatever it's worth, I believe…" He paused, looked down again, then slightly shook his head as if he was weary of denying a rather obvious truth. Lifting his head, he looked her square in the eye. "I believe I am my best self - my truest self - when I'm with you." A shy, nearly apologetic smile. "That is all," he added, turned around and was gone, leaving Charlotte alone with a wooden seagull, a pile of golf club membership applications and a heart beating so heavily that she heard a buzz in her ears.
I am my best self - my truest self - when I'm with you.
She must have been dreaming.
Outside, the Aston Martin started with a violent roar.
She had not been dreaming. Sidney Parker had been here, and he had offered her nothing less than his heart.
