"Any idea where Crowe is, Babington?"
The reception for the Annual Sanditon Christmas Ball was about to start, and Sidney was getting worried about his friend's absence. Crowe was always a bit of a wildcard, doing largely what he liked and drinking more than he should, but now he had not been seen since the run-in with the Christmas tree and Eliza's subsequent scolding. Crowe hated Eliza, and Eliza hated Crowe. They did little to hide it. He believed Eliza was a scheming cow, and she believed he was an irresponsible drunkard. It had only been a question of time when they would clash. And now they had clashed, and Crowe was gone.
Babington checked his phone. "Might be running a little late, but he won't let you down, Sidney."
"Where is he? Breaking the bank in the Brighton casino?"
"I believe he's out on a more… charitable mission."
"Charitable mission," Sidney repeated. "Crowe?"
"Why not? It's Christmas, after all. – There you are, my darling." Babington turned to Esther, who had just appeared, wearing a blue silk dress that made her look like a fabled creature from the sea. As always, the seagull brooch was fastened close to her heart. "You look stunning," Babington said, his face as much aglow with love as back in the summer days when he had taken his breakfast to the reception desk and kept Esther from working.
"I look horrible, Babington," Esther said. "I spent the whole day retching, and I would have stayed in bed, but then I would miss Sidney getting our Christmas present."
"We don't give each other Christmas presents," Sidney said, slightly terrified. Or was he missing something?
"It's a one-off." Babington grinned happily, winking at his friend. "Special occasion. - Oh. Hello, Eliza." Sidney turned around. Her timing was impeccable. So impeccable that until now, he had had no opportunity to talk to her. After the handbag stall disaster, she had been busy either with her phone, her Instagram account or her stylist. At some stage, he had had to give up to get groomed himself.
After the ruined white dress, Eliza's second choice was a white mermaid gown with an asymmetrical neckline, leaving one arm bare and the other covered in an elbow-length sleeve festooned with white feathers. It had been provided by one of the fashion labels she was cooperating with, yet, if one was perfectly honest, it was not the best dress for a Christmas ball. The metallic sequins on the bodice and the skirt in combination with the feathery sleeve made her look like an ice queen carrying a bird in moult on her arm.
However, she was in full Eliza mode: "Hello, Esther – Babington. I hope you're feeling better, dear?" And as the film crew was following her, she even laid a hand on Esther's arm and put on an especially concerned face. "Actually," she said, turning to the camera, "the magic about the Sanditon Grand is how we are one big family. Sidney's friends have quickly become my own. I really adore Esther, and I'm so excited about the baby. – You are going to be a godfather, aren't you, darling?" she added, turning to Sidney. Before Sidney could confirm or reject this news or tell her to shut up and stop tormenting his poor friends, Esther grasped Babington's arm.
"Sorry," she gasped. "I think I'm going to be sick again."
"Of course, my darling…" Sidney watched his friend and his wife hurry away towards the washroom.
"Poor darling Esther," Eliza told the camera. "I'm so with her. A terrible case of morning sickness. But Babington is standing by her side, and I know that Sidney will do the same for me when our time comes. Won't you, Sidney?"
"Err… what? Ahem, where?" What was she talking about? They were not even having sex, so who was she planning to have children with? "Eliza, I really need to t..."
"'scuse me, Mrs Campion?" One of the film team's security men was joining them. "Could you come to the admission desk? There seems to be some… disruption."
"Of course," she chirped, dashing off towards the entrance, leaving some feathers in the wake. Sidney shook his head. How was he ever going to end this?
"You cannot trust that woman," someone behind him said. He slowly turned around. He knew that disdainful voice only too well.
"Hello, Gigi."
"Hello, Sidney." They were sizing each other up, like old cowboys meeting for the final shootout.
"You look very well, Gigi." She did indeed, wearing an elegant silk robe the colour of red wine, her hair left in natural curls. She did not need any further adornments, she was a beauty in herself – and more so because for once, there was no more sulkiness in her now lively expression.
"Sorry, I cannot return the compliment." Yet, she was still painfully honest. "You look awful. Been hitting the punching ball too hard?"
"Among other things, yes."
"Well, being with that woman would leave any person aggressive. – Have you heard anything from Charlotte?"
"No."
"Do you think she might turn up for the trial?"
"I don't think so. As far as I'm aware, there is no call for her as a witness." Which had been one of his hopes. In fact, he had suggested more than once to Otis's lawyer that Charlotte Heywood might help to establish an even more complete picture of his client's character. John Mathews had declined, adding that instead of telling him how to do his job, Sidney better took care of his own muddled affairs and private life.
"I'll find Charlotte anyway," Gigi said. Sidney had little doubt about it. "And I won't let you know when I've found her," she added. "Because what you did to her is worse than what Otis did to me."
"Yes," he conceded. "But then I don't have to face a trial and a prison sentence."
"No. You're just facing a life as a coat stand for ugly handbags. Sounds infinitely better."
Speaking of ugly handbags: Eliza returned to his side, breaking all into smiles when she saw who was with him: "What a lovely surprise! Georgina!" Sidney wondered whether she would actually remember her own name without seeing it on her Instagram account all the time.
"Mrs Campion," Gigi said. "I'm glad to catch you." Was she? Sidney cast her a curious side glance. "I've been wondering about those fabled handbags of yours for months."
"Oh?" Eliza's smile deepened. "I can make a special deal for you. A discount for friends. And it's Eliza, of course, not Mrs Campion. Do you think Mrs Lambe might be interested as well? Are you on Instagram?" Gigi shrugged her shoulders.
"I'm not discussing fashion and social media with my stepmother. We are both more into human rights. Speaking of which – I can assume that your handbags are manufactured in Britain, from raw material fulfilling every aspect of sustainability, by a company adhering strictly to equal pay and equal rights? - No ugly child work in a rundown factory somewhere in a dingy Third World country?"
Eliza gasped. Sidney made a noise that was either a groan or a chuckle, depending on the perspective. Should Gigi indeed decide to make the human rights her vocation, humanity finally stood a chance.
When mrscampion made no reply, Gigi wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, thought so," she said and walked away.
"Such impudence!" Eliza finally cried. "Money doesn't make manners, don't you think?"
That question better remained ignored. "What was that about at the admission desk?" Sidney asked, nodding towards the entrance.
"Oh, just some lunatic claiming he knew me. – The pitfalls of celebrity, Sidney! You'll have to get used to it once the broadcast starts in January. Are you looking forward to it?"
It is so real that you plan to go on nationwide television with it, Sidney.
"Listen, Eliza, can we…" He was interrupted by her phone ringing. She pulled it out from under her feathery sleeve and checked the display. "Sorry, I have to get that one," she said, turning around and moving away from him as she spoke. He shook his head. What kind of call was so urgent that it had to be answered in the throng of a ball? Now that he desperately wanted a quiet moment with her, it seemed to be impossible to get.
Someone was tugging him by the elbow.
"Uncle Sidney, can we dance?" Alicia was looking up to him, large-eyed and expectantly. He could not help but break into a smile.
Eliza was still on the phone. He would speak with her afterwards.
"Of course we can, Alicia. You're my favourite dance partner, after all." He held out his hand, led his niece onto the dance floor and lifted her up, vaguely aware of the cameras following them. Yet, with Alicia beaming at him, it was easy to forget that they were being filmed. He saw Gigi and Arthur joining the dance, as well as Tom and Mary, and Mr and Mrs Hankins. The former Mrs Griffiths was looking much relaxed now that she had to care for a faithful policeman instead of a wayward teenager.
The band was playing "You'll never walk alone", and that alone made Sidney smile. Hold your head up high, and don't be afraid of the dark… He found himself singing, making Alicia in his arms chuckle. At the end of a storm, there's a golden sky… He drew a dramatic face like an opera singer, making Alicia chuckle even more as he twirled her around. Then she joined his singing: Walk on through the rain, though your dreams be tossed and blown, walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart… That was precisely what he was going to do now: Walk on with hope in his heart.
"Uncle Sidney?" The music had ended, and Alicia was pulling at his hair to get his attention back.
"Yes, Alicia?"
"You're not angry about the dress and the chocolate any longer, are you?"
"I'm still not too happy about it, but I believe I understand Jenny's intention."
Alicia nodded. He was about to set her down when she asked: "Why did you lie?"
"What?"
"You said I was your favourite dance partner."
"Because you are."
"No, I'm not. I'm your second favourite, and that's okay. But I think you would much rather dance with Charlotte." He stood her on the ground and went on his knees to stay on her level, accepting that he had no chance against the Parker children.
"But I cannot dance with Charlotte right now, no matter how much I would wish for it."
"Mummy says if you are a good and honest person, your wishes are more likely to come true."
"I'm not sure I'm such a good and honest person, Alicia."
"You can try. I'll show you and become honest about something myself."
"What might that be?"
She moved forward and whispered into his ear: "On the open-day, I shot the buttercream at Mrs Campion on purpose. I thought she was looking like someone who does not want to get their hands dirty."
"Yes," Sidney sighed. "Somehow I'm not exactly surprised."
"Mummy says you're feeling better when you have unburdened your heart, and I think I do now."
"Yet we better make sure Mrs Campion never finds out." He gave her a crooked smile. Now all he had to do was to unburden his own heart and end his lies. He was looking around for Eliza, but she was nowhere to be seen, and neither were her faithful followers, the camera team. So she was probably down in the kitchen, telling the chef how to cook the midnight-soup, or in the banqueting galley, giving Manoel advice on how to run the service. With another sigh, he returned Alicia to her mother's care.
"Thank you, Sidney," Mary said. "That was sweet. – I think I've never heard you singing before ."
"I usually don't practise in public. Have you seen Eliza?"
"No. But she said earlier that she had a surprise for you."
Oh God, not another one. First Babington, now Eliza. Unless it was Charlotte Heywood popping up on the dance floor, he really did not care for surprises. He excused himself from Mary and Alicia and, carefully circling around other guests, walked over to Babington on the other side of the room. His friend was rechecking his phone, nervously tapping the display.
"Where's your wife?" Sidney asked.
"Keeping her aunt company." Babington nodded at the box from which a frail Lady Denham kept an eye on the evening's events, Esther sitting by her side
"I hope she is feeling better now."
"At least you can always rely on her timing."
"Any news from Crowe?" Sidney asked because he really did not want to comment on Esther's timing for being sick in front of Eliza.
"No," Babington said with a sigh, glancing at his phone again. "I'm starting to be a bit concerned."
"You know Crowe. Whatever that charitable mission was you sent him on, he must have stumbled over a casino or joined an impromptu pub tour." But Babington shook his head.
"You underestimate him, Sidney. By far." Sidney, remembering by how far he had underestimated Charlotte Heywood, did not reply.
x
"You're sure we're still on track?" Fred was leaning over the steering wheel, peering through the front window into the complete darkness that surrounded them. "This short cut seems to be going on forever. Might have as well stayed on the motorway and waited for the congestion to dissolve."
"Don't you worry," Crowe said from the backbench, checking his phone. "We've passed St Andrews Magna and St Andrews Abbas, and will soon be seeing the lights of St Andrews Parva on our right."
"That's quite a lot of St Andrews," Fred said.
Crowe raised his hands. "I don't claim responsibility for place names in Oxfordshire."
"As long as we are still in Oxfordshire," Fred replied.
Charlotte, clutching the seagull on her lap, was also staring out into the darkness. There was not much to see beyond the headlights of the car. Hedgerows were growing on both sides of the narrow gravel road, and random snowflakes were dancing in the light, melting away immediately.
"Should get out of this before it turns into a snowstorm," Fred said.
In the rear mirror, Charlotte saw Crowe holding his phone away from him, first to the left, then to the right and finally over his head.
"There's no reception on mine either," she said, wondering whether she should be worried.
"Courage, Admiral Heywood," Crowe said. "We'll get you safely into Sanditon."
She was peering into the darkness again. "Didn't you say this St Andrews… whatever would be on our right?"
"I did. And then it's just another turn to the left, and we'll be back on the motorway."
"It's only… there seem to be lights on our left side."
"That must be some other St. Andrews," Crowe said, still searching for a signal.
"Maybe we better head back?" she suggested.
"And get you to the ball for the midnight-soup? No, no. Trust me, Charlotte, I am in complete control."
Charlotte still had no idea what would actually happen once they arrived at the hotel, no matter whether it was before or after the midnight soup. But she was more sure than ever that seeing Sidney again would have to be a very private moment. No cameras, just the two of them.
"Not sure we're still in England though." Fred leaned forward, peering through the windscreen. "This might as well be Wales."
"Which only goes to show your shocking ignorance of geography," Crowe replied. "Now beyond the next rise, we'll see St Andrews D…" – but whichever the next St Andrews was, it was drowned out by the short and unpleasant sound of an explosion.
"What was that?" Crowe asked.
"I think we have a puncture," Charlotte said, gazing out into the snow that was falling more and more densely now.
