It's Friday, the weekend is nearly there… a perfect time for some happy moments. I hope you enjoy!
Forgiveness
My characters shall have, after a little trouble, all that they desire. (Jane Austen)
"Mr Parker?"
After a good night's sleep, Sidney's head had finally dislodged the punching ball. It was still early in the morning, another cold day about to unfold as the sun rose slowly to a clear winter sky, illuminating the sea.
"Mr Parker?" It was Julia Beaufort, opening up reception as Sidney was going to leave the hotel for a good, bracing walk before setting off to Birmingham.
"Julia?"
"Lady Worcester left this for you." She handed him an elegant visiting card with a few handwritten words on the back. Charlotte, forgive him. We are all fools in love.
Sidney smiled. At least, he had Lady Worcester's phone number now. If the search for Charlotte proved too hopeless, he would draw on her and her Royal connections. She probably knew someone at MI5. He checked his own phone, just in case. Three messages from Babington. He chose to ignore them. Babington and his ominous Christmas present would have to wait until he had found Charlotte.
"Mr Parker?" Julia was still looking at him. "Philly and I have been chatting. We thought we might start an appeal on social media. For Charlotte. If you don't find her."
"That's very kind of you. Both of you. Thank you." He felt strangely touched by the offer. "But let me have my try first, will you?"
"Of course. – Mr Parker?"
"Yes?"
"We'd be very happy to have Charlotte back," Julia said. "Even though she can be a bit of a headache at times."
"I know." Sidney smiled. "I know very well."
A thin layer of frost covered the Aston Martin. It did not stop the old herring gull from parading on the engine cowling, spreading its wings when Sidney walked past, squawking at him, then rising high into the sky before plummeting towards the waterline.
Sidney also headed towards the shore. What he needed was a little bracing exercise, some cold, fresh air to purge his mind and to prepare for the day ahead – before the rest of the Parker family was awake and ready to bombard him with their guilty conscience (Tom) and their advice (all of them).
He did not need their advice. He knew exactly what to do. The previous night, after swallowing the aspirin and before switching off the light of his attic room, he had had the most inspiring conversation with the Birmingham Cresta Airport Hotel's night porter. This amiable personage had, for once, not referred him to a thing called data protection law when asked about his colleague Charlotte Heywood.
Quite on the contrary, the night porter seemed to be very happy to have someone to chat to. He did not see much of the administration staff – their working hours not overlapping, obviously – but he did confirm that the manager's assistant was called Charlotte Heywood and that she was a bit shortish – but not too short, mind you – with brown hair. He could not say whether she would be at work between Christmas and New Year's Day, but in this regard, Sidney was going to try his luck. If he did not find her in Birmingham, he would continue to Willingden – even if that meant a confrontation with her father and a beating by her brothers. After all, he had survived the red Hulk.
He climbed down the steep cliff trail towards the rocky shore. The old herring gull was still circling in the air above him, squawking mercilessly.
Sidney stopped a moment to take in the view. On this cold and strangely calm morning, all the features defining the Sanditon coastline seemed to be cut out by a particularly sharp knife: the silhouette of the town to his right, the steeply rising slope of the cliff, the sea itself, a sparkling mirror of the rising sun.
What a beautiful day this promised to become.
He turned to the left, towards the cove, passed a family of ever-hungry oystercatchers, spent a few moments studying a rockpool and reminiscing about that lovely, lovely walk with Charlotte when they had stared at birds and barnacles and discussed the weather and its influence on indoor occasions in a desperate attempt to overcome their awkwardness with each other.
And how easy that conversation seemed now compared to the task ahead of him. For when he found her – in Birmingham, Willingden or wherever – would she be willing to listen to him? Would she be ready to forgive him? And would she be free to return to him? That was his worst fear of all: that some handsome Birmingham version of James Stringer had mended her broken heart with a white smile and the promise of a special moment.
He had nearly reached the cove now. There was the spot where he had risen out of the water, there was the rock where he had left his…
Sidney stopped dead in his tracks. Someone was sitting on the rock, turning their back on him, staring out at the sea. Someone wearing a light blue quilted down coat, a white scarf and a white woollen beanie. Someone with long brown hair tumbling down over their shoulders.
Someone who was always popping up when least expected.
Sidney kept staring at the apparition – for an apparition it had to be – for several seconds, unable to move, to speak or to think.
She would be gone if he said her name. She would be gone if he moved. She would be gone if he so much as breathed.
She slowly turned around as if she had sensed that someone was watching her. There was a perfectly peaceful expression on her beautiful, beautiful face, and her large eyes turned luminous when she quietly said: "Sidney."
It was her. She was real. She would not vanish when he moved towards her. She was so real that Esther's namesake was sitting next to her on the rock, her wooden head turned towards the sea.
"What… what are you doing here?" he asked, coming around the rock to face her, unable to process this turn of events, yet mindful to keep a distance, not to intimidate her.
"I couldn't sleep," she said. "Fred was kind enough to offer me his bed and sleep on the sofa himself, but he was snoring like hell… and poor Crowe in the armchair was sneezing all the time – and I was so restless, I… I just thought I'd watch the sunrise from the promenade, but then I started walking, and I ended up here."
"You ended up here," Sidney repeated, not making sense of anything she had said. At least she did not run away from him, and Crowe seemed to be alive, which was both good news. But Fred? Surely not Fred Robinson, Stringer's friend? Stringer again! Sofa?
"I'm sorry," Charlotte said. "I'm not talking coherently. We had a puncture in a very dead spot of Oxfordshire, and Crowe did not know how to change a tyre and said he was getting a cold. Fred said the last tyre he had changed was ages ago, so I had to talk him through, and then it started snowing, and we got stuck in a snowdrift, and we had no reception on our phones, and they were discharging quickly anyway, so we were getting a bit worried. By the time we came into Sanditon, it was a quarter to three and too late to go to the hotel, so Fred took us to his place, and that was it."
"That was it," Sidney repeated, still unable to process what she was talking about. He was too afraid she might vanish if he came any closer, or shout at him and run away, so he just kept staring at her. However, he managed to ask the obvious question. "What were you doing with Crowe and Fred on a snowy night in the middle of Oxfordshire?"
"We were taking a short cut from the congestion on the motorway. That was Crowe's idea, only that it wasn't a shortcut, but a detour."
Sidney shook his head. Something was going on here, and it was definitely the best thing ever, though he had no idea what it was.
"What are you doing here?" he asked again, carefully moving towards her until he was an arm's length away.
She looked up, fully meeting his gaze for the first time. How beautiful her eyes were, so warm, so wise, yet with a sadness lingering in them that only seemed to underline their appeal.
"I came here to save you from the giant sea serpent," she said. "It wasn't my idea. I thought Babington might have told you. He conspired with Crowe, Fred and James. And Esther. And the seagull. They even made my sister a collaborator."
"Your sister?"
"Alison. She's been phoning and messaging with James for months, behind my back. So when Esther said she wanted to give me her wooden sister for Christmas and Crowe had the run-in with the purple tree, Babington got in touch with Fred, and Fred called James, and that's how they found out where I was."
"At the Birmingham Cresta Airport Hotel," Sidney said. Suddenly, it all made sense. Crowe's charitable mission. The seagull vanishing from Tom's office. Babington sticking to his phone all evening.
She looked up. "How do you know about Birmingham?"
"That's a long story. I heard about it only last night." Sidney gazed at her again. He longed to touch her, just to make sure that she was actually real, but there was something in her calm and reserved demeanour that made him hold back. "What do you mean by fighting the sea serpent?" he asked instead.
"I did not want to come here. I was so afraid that… that I might be hurt again." She glanced at the seagull by her side. "They were so lovely… Babington, Crowe, Fred… but I changed my mind only when James said that in today's version of the sea serpent's tale, it's perhaps not the girl but the boy that has to be saved from drowning."
And who was better qualified to fight a giant sea serpent than Charlotte Heywood, advocate for love and affection, cricket player extraordinaire, the only person in the world bold enough to serve Sidney Parker some unwelcome truths? Sidney smiled to himself, wondering how it was possible to love this wonderful bundle of contradictions now even more than two minutes ago.
"So you came to Sanditon to save me from the monster?" he asked, hope rising in him.
Charlotte shrugged her shoulders, gazing out at the calm sea. "I'm not sure. I think Babington and Crowe expected some dramatic action, me crushing the ball and plucking you from… from her side, all under the eyes of the cameras."
"That's not quite your style," Sidney said. Even though Sam and the production team would have loved it. But then, the red Hulk's performance had not been that bad either.
"No, I…" She looked down at her hands for a second. "I hoped we might talk somewhere in private. Just the two of us."
"We are talking in private now," he reminded her, moving a tiny little half a foot closer to her. "Just the two of us." Plus some curious oystercatchers, but hopefully, they did not count.
"Yes." There was one small tear forming in the corner of her eye. He wished he could just lean forward and kiss it away – but again, there was something in her demeanour that made him hold back.
"What is it you wanted to tell me?" he softly asked. "In private?"
"I wanted to tell you how it hurt. You see? It hurts so much that even now, half a bloody stupid year later, it makes me cry."
"Charlotte…" She flinched when she heard him say her name, and he stopped himself from coming even closer, however much it shook him to see her pain, however much he longed to take her in his arms and tell her how sorry he was. But he could sense her need to keep a distance, her fear to be overpowered by her emotions. She took off a glove and wiped her eyes, evading his gaze.
"I wanted to ask you whether you know how degraded I felt when you offered me to be your secret girlfriend while parading with her out in the TV world." Sidney hung his head.
"I know it was a terrible thing to ask of you, Charlotte. I still have no other excuse than that I had no idea how to go through this TV circus without knowing that my Admiral Heywood was out there to keep me sane." And when she still would not meet his eyes: "It all ended last night in a massive blast. – She never wanted me. She wanted the hotel."
That made her look up. "I'm not surprised."
"No, of course, you're not." Sidney could not help but smile at her like a lovesick teenager. Well, a teenager he was not, but lovesick he was. "I know you suspected something like that in the summer. And last night it turned out that while being madly in love with me in front of the cameras, Eliza was having an affair with her younger sister's ex-husband. You might have heard of him. His name is Richard Pratt. Apparently, you've been in touch with her father about the bill for the wedding."
"John Matthews? That's Eliza's father?"
"Yes."
"Oh. I had no idea. He's the lawyer you called about Otis, right?"
"Exactly." Sidney sighed. "She's been estranged from her family since her sister found out about the affair. - It also turned out that Eliza was hoping to find me cheating on her so that she could tighten the conditions of our contract. – So, basically, it's over. EMIL will end in tears, and it will not be renewed for a second season."
"But what is to become of the hotel?"
"Well, I've had a good and long conversation with Gigi's father. I made my confessions about Otis and Marissa and about you, and I was shown a kindness I hardly deserve. – No, that's wrong. You are being shown a kindness, and you do deserve it."
"I don't understand," Charlotte said.
"George Lambe is going to be our new investor," Sidney explained. "He says he owes you a thank you for being such a friend to Gigi in the summer. And for doing what you did for me."
"He doesn't owe me anything for my friendsh…"
"Yes. I told him you'd say that. But whatever you say, it will not stop him from helping us. – We will have to accept some changes in the hotel's management, though, along with five conditions."
"Which conditions are that?" There was undeniable wariness in her voice. Without a doubt, she expected some new impossible price for the investment.
"Tom will be discharged of anything having remotely to do with money," Sidney explained. "Mary will return as the hotel's accountant, and I am to become a financial supervisor."
"That's three conditions," Charlotte said, observant as ever.
"Right. The fourth is to get rid of the purple Christmas decoration."
"I've heard about that." For a split second, he believed he saw a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "I'm sure Crowe will be happy to assist you. - And the fifth?"
"The fifth condition is actually the first. It's about you, Charlotte." Sidney cleared his throat. "He told me to find you, get on my knees, beg for your forgiveness, and make sure you return to my life and to the hotel. – I… I hoped you might spare me the part of going down on my knees. This being an outdoor occasion."
If she had heard the light note he was trying to insert, she ignored it. Sidney's heart sank. Of course, she was not ready to drop into his arms, flutter her eyelashes, sigh his name and promise to remain by his side for the rest of their lives. This was Charlotte Heywood, after all, a young lady of convictions and principles.
She looked away from him, her gaze wandering beyond the even mirror surface of the sea and towards the horizon, as if somewhere out there in the blurry distance, she might find the shadow of the girl that had come to Sanditon eight months ago. That girl so full of hope and enthusiasm, that girl so brave and candid that it had melted a jaded man's heart. The girl that had paid the most terrible price for her integrity.
That jaded man was no longer, and neither was the girl Charlotte Heywood. She was wearing a scar now, and she had grown from the pain he had inflicted on her. He could read it from her careful demeanour, from the way she kept the distance between them, evading his direct gaze.
He had known all along that with his actions after the fire, he had broken something inside of her. All he could hope for now was that she would allow him to help her pick up the pieces of what had been between them, and reassemble them in a stronger structure.
"Can you forgive me, Charlotte?" he asked.
There was a small twitch around her mouth as her eyes slowly settled on him. He felt his heartbeat accelerate, as if he was eight years old again, waiting to share the first kiss with his very first love behind the bike shed of Sanditon Primary.
"I felt so… broken," Charlotte finally said. "I felt so broken I wondered whether I could ever stand upright again."
"Charlotte…" She shook her head.
"My father took me to help him with the calves, and I was crying because their eyes made me think of you." Sidney swallowed, torn between guilt for her pain and the image of Charlotte surrounded by a herd of Sidney-calves. "I tried to put you from my mind and to cauterise my heart," she continued. "I told myself time and again that you were a shabby thief and even worse because you were doing to me what Eliza had done to you."
"I'm so sorry, Charlotte." It was such an empty phrase and did not even come close to what he was feeling. Or hoping to express. "I'm sorry for breaking my promise about your special moment. I'm sorry for taking your distant country away from you."
She looked up in surprise, fully meeting his eyes for the first time. "How do you know about that?"
"I found your books. I read the poem." He sighed, thinking of those painful minutes in her apartment. "God, Charlotte… I could see you in those lines… so beautiful… and so brave and passionate… so ready to trust me, and to share with me everything you had to give… and all I did in return was to ask you to be my secret little affair. I have never been so ashamed in my whole life. If you hate me-"
"I do not hate you," she very calmly said, searching his eyes. "Hate is such a dark emotion. I believe it only makes you feel even more unhappy without solving any of the reasons for your unhappiness." He nodded. She was right, of course. Better to move on than to have a life poisoned by ugly feelings.
"And I understood that we were both caught in a devilish equation," she continued. "The man I had fallen in love with was the man ready to sacrifice everything, including his own happiness, to save his family. The man I met on the balcony would not have done such a thing, but then, on the other hand, I did not love him. - So my greatest worry was always for you, Sidney. I was so afraid her poison might work and turn you into a man who hated himself."
"Her poison did not work, Charlotte," he quietly said. "Not this time."
"So… you did not need me to fight the sea serpent. You did it all on your own." Her gaze was very steady and serious.
"I suppose I did, yes," he said, realising only now the truth of the matter.
"But you got bruised in the process," she added, pointing at the mark Eliza's lover had left under his eye.
"Yes. I did not expect an encounter with the red Hulk, obviously."
"The red Hulk?" He believed he saw a twinkle of amusement in her eyes again.
"Another long story. We were having quite a showdown last night at the ball. I'll ask the production people to show you some footage of the event. It… err, it might help to redeem myself with you."
"Redeem yourself?" she repeated.
"Because I need you, Charlotte," he explained, tentatively moving closer to her, so close that all he had to do to touch her was to raise his hand. "You made me strong enough to withstand Eliza and her circus. You knocked on my conscience time and again, and you told me to be honest with Gigi's father. You've been with me on every single day since you left me, and I… I… never want to wake up again, not knowing where you are or how you are or when I'll ever see you again." He saw another tear slowly run down her cheek. How he longed to kiss it away, to kiss all her sadness away. "So, can you? Forgive me? Will you come back to Sanditon? And to me?"
Charlotte did not answer immediately. For a few moments, her gaze went out to the sea again. Her herring gull friend had landed on the shore and started parading up and down like a personal bodyguard, ready to step in should Sidney Parker misbehave. She smiled at the bird, then returned her soft gaze to Sidney, making him shiver. She did not speak but simply raised her hand to his cheek. Her cold fingertips met his skin, sending a tickle through his body. She carefully touched first the stubble of his beard, then the bruise under his eye, making him wince. She caressed the soft skin of his temples with her thumb, her fingers stroking his hair, keeping the eye contact during her exploration, allowing him to lose himself in her warm and gentle gaze. "Charlotte…," he gasped as he understood that the answer to his question was right there, in her eyes and in her touch.
"Yes," she confirmed.
x
Even a kiss, Charlotte realised, could mean a plea for forgiveness.
So soft, so tender was Sidney's touch, shyly, nearly reverently caressing her lips in a silent appeal to trust him again. She answered his plea by pulling him closer and kissing him back more fervently, putting all the pain and desperation of the past months into her reaction until he, too, lost his restraint. They shared all their tears, all their loneliness, all the kisses they had missed, and when their lips had said all there was to say, they held each other close, their foreheads touching, his nose tenderly grazing hers.
High above them, in the light of the rising sun, a very old herring gull circled in the clear blue winter sky.
What a beautiful day this was going to be.
