CHAPTER THREE:

AN OLD FRIEND

Charlotte felt her breath hitch as a wave of dizziness swept through her, the world revolving in a slow, sickening spiral. The quaint streets of Sanditon, a town she had known like the back of her hand, now blurred into a nebulous fog. The flagstones beneath her feet, which had always provided a reassuring sense of stability, seemed to shift perilously. Her knees wobbled beneath her skirts, and she reached out instinctively, her shaking fingers brushing against the coarse surface of a nearby stone wall. The solidity of it offered a small anchor in the tempest raging within her, and she slumped against it, her legs no longer able to support her weight. She buried her head in her hands, seeking sanctuary in the darkness behind her closed eyes, but even there, the commotion persisted.

What was happening? Sanditon, the town she had come to cherish, had somehow morphed into an unfamiliar landscape, full of peculiar sights and exotic faces. Her senses were overwhelmed, her mind racing to make sense of it all, but no coherent thought would take hold. It was as if the ground beneath her feet had fallen away, leaving her adrift in a sea of unfamiliarity, with nothing solid to cling to. How could everything she once knew have changed so drastically in what seemed like an instant? Had she somehow slipped into a nightmare, where nothing was as it should be?

But even amidst the haze of disorientation, a glimmer of optimism began to form. She had to find her bearings, had to seek out someone who could help her navigate this baffling new reality. The faces of the Parkers flashed through her mind. Of course! They were the pillars of Sanditon, the ones who knew everyone and everything. If anyone could help her understand what was happening, it was them. Yes, the Parkers would know what to do. She had to find them, had to seek their guidance before she lost herself entirely to this madness.

With a flicker of hope restored, Charlotte took a deep breath, feeling the dizziness ebb as her resolve intensified. She stood up, albeit unsteadily, and began making her way towards Trafalgar House. The well-known route should have brought her comfort, but instead, it only heightened her sense of displacement. Every corner, every street, seemed both known and unknown, as if she were walking through a dream, one that teetered on the edge of actuality and fantasy.

When the cloud of despondency felt ready to burst its depressing rain over her once more, Charlotte rounded a corner, and her eyes fell upon a figure that made her heart stop. Just a few paces ahead stood Georgiana Lambe, her dear friend and confidante. Relief surged through Charlotte—here was something, someone, she knew. However, the relief was fleeting, for as her gaze travelled over Georgiana, it was replaced by a fresh wave of bewilderment.

Something was wrong—very wrong. This was not the Georgiana she knew. Gone were the elegant dresses, the carefully chosen bonnets, and the gloves that always completed her refined ensembles. In their place were shorts made of a strange blue fabric that clung to her legs, revealing more of her skin than Charlotte had ever seen. Where she had once worn sturdy, sensible ankle boots, she now had flimsy, flat shoes that exposed her toes, each painted in a garish shade of pink. Her magnificent crown of black hair was streaked with hints of blonde, and Charlotte wondered what curious pigment had tainted her hair, and why she hadn't washed it away. Charlotte squinted to confirm if it was truly her, but it was hard to tell—the woman's eyes were hidden behind oversized, dark glasses that covered nearly half her face, and her ears—oh, her ears!—they were adorned with multiple earrings, small hoops, and studs that sparkled in the sunlight.

Charlotte's heart skipped a beat, her mind struggling to reconcile this image with the Georgiana she knew. Could this really be her friend?

'Georgiana?' she called out, her voice nervous with uncertainty, half-hoping that perhaps she had mistaken someone else for her friend.

But she was not wrong. The woman turned, glared at her haughtily, and then burst into a radiant smile, her hands lifting into the air in an outlandish salutation.

'Charlotte!' she called back with enthusiasm, running towards her. 'It's been ages!' Georgiana exclaimed, her tone light and cheerful, but there was an undercurrent there—something Charlotte couldn't quite identify.

Charlotte approached slowly, her confusion deepening with every step. 'You... you look different,' she managed to say, her words faltering as she struggled to comprehend what she was seeing. 'I hardly recognised you.'

'Hmm,' her friend agreed distractedly, 'I've just got back from the salon—thought I'd try something new. Do you like the colour?' she asked, thrusting her foot into the air and wiggling her toes in Charlotte's face.

In turn, Charlotte hardly knew where to look.

'Very nice,' she consented, though she still felt it rather brash. 'But where are your stockings?'

Georgiana frowned as she fanned herself with her glasses. 'Good Lord, C! It's far too hot for socks!'

'And about that,' Charlotte went on, 'I did not know you needed glasses.'

Georgiana's laughter rang out, clear and melodic, but it did little to calm Charlotte's nerves. 'These?' Georgiana said, gesturing to the glasses as if they were the most ordinary thing in the world. 'Oh, they're not for seeing. They're just for fun.'

Charlotte tilted her head, perplexed. What a peculiar thing to do. Then again, Georgiana was always abreast of the latest fashions, so it was likely that this was some new trend she had not yet encountered.

'It seems that I am still the country bumpkin,' Charlotte commented, attempting to make light of it all with a light joke.

'Oh, Charlotte, you're so quaint!' Georgiana giggled, reaching into her astonishingly large bag and pulling out a small mirror.

Charlotte watched in a trance as Georgiana began to draw a charcoal-like line around her eyelids, an addition that made her look rather like a chimney sweep. She then added a touch of rouge to her cheeks. On seeing this, Charlotte's own cheeks coloured naturally. What would people think? Georgiana was dressed like a woman of ill-repute! She was about to ask what she was doing, but a small purse-like object diverted her attention that Georgiana retrieved from her bag. This time, she took hold of a tiny silver rectangle and pulled it. It moved along a silver line and opened up, revealing little silver teeth on each side, and within this purse, there was a shocking amount of banknotes in eye-watering amounts—£20 each! And there was an assortment of small cards that bore Georgiana's name, accompanied by some numbers and names of what seemed to be banks and shops. Why would she need so many calling cards? Georgiana really ought to tidy her purse. However, Charlotte's confusion peaked when Georgiana retrieved a silver cylinder from the bag with red lettering on the side that read 'Coca-Cola,' and after flicking a catch on the top, she tilted her head back and began to drink from it. Right there! In the middle of the street. With no glass!

Charlotte's mind swam, trying to grasp the absurdity of it all. Everything was topsy-turvy and worse —nobody seemed to care!

Georgiana caught her friend staring at her agape, or was it aghast? She pulled a face.

'You alright?' she asked, taking out a bottle of white lotion and rubbing it into her exposed skin.

'Oh, I am sorry, Georgiana,' she replied, her voice wavering. 'I do feel… I feel rather queer today.'

'You know I hate that name!' her friend interrupted a playful pout on her lips. 'I go by GG now. And don't say queer,' she snapped. 'Queer is a queer word to use and people will think you're queer, not that that's a bad thing,' she added, 'it's just, we all know you're not,' she advised with a knowing wink, as if she knew something Charlotte did not.

Charlotte blinked, taken aback. 'I don't know how to put this,' she began, her voice unsteady, 'but... everything feels different. It is as if Sanditon has been transformed, and I do not recognise anything—or anyone.'

Georgiana's brow furrowed slightly, though her smile remained. 'What do you mean? Everything seems perfectly normal to me,' she assessed, dipping her glasses and vaguely inspecting the scene.

Charlotte glanced around, her eyes widening as she took in the surroundings.

'What are all these buildings?' she cried, pointing at the towering, metallic structures that loomed where familiar houses once stood, their shop names plastered across them in garish lettering. 'And what, pray tell, is yoga?!'

'Honestly,' her friend replied, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips, 'you should try it. You need to destress,' she teased. She knew that her friend had been very busy of late, but really, Charlotte needed to relax.

But Charlotte was still looking about her, now at all the people. They looked nothing like the Sanditon residents she had known—where were all the fishermen and washerwomen? Nobody smiled in the usual friendly manner; they just stared down at their hands, engrossed in little glowing bricks, never lifting their gaze to greet or meet anyone. Their appearances, their attire, their mannerisms—it was all uninterested and unresponsive. And then there was another thing. Dark-skinned men and women strolled by in greater numbers than she had ever seen. It was quite something to behold.

'And about that,' Charlotte began cautiously, choosing her words with care, 'are all these people your friends?'

Georgiana's smile faded slightly, a hint of wariness creeping into her expression. 'What people?' she asked, though Charlotte sensed she already knew the answer.

Charlotte hesitated, feeling suddenly foolish, but pressed on. 'The... the black people,' she whispered, her voice barely audible. 'I have never seen anything like it.'

Georgiana's tone was cool. 'Why, Charlotte? Because you think all black people know each other and can only be friends with each other?'

'No, that is not what I meant,' Charlotte stammered, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. 'It is just... I've never seen so many of them before. Your people, I mean. It is... unusual.'

Georgiana's lips pressed into a thin line, her voice taking on a sharp edge. ' Them? Your people?' she repeated, the words slicing through the air like a knife. 'I never took my best friend for a racist.'

Charlotte blinked, the accusation hitting her like a physical blow. 'I... I do not know what that means,' she admitted. It was true, she did not know what it meant, but it sounded terrible, and she could tell that she had stumbled upon a most unfortunate misunderstanding. 'But I know that I love you dearly and would never mean to cause you any offence,' she pleaded her apology.

For a moment, there was a tense, heavy silence between them. Then, slowly, Georgiana's gaze softened, the tension in her posture easing slightly.

'Never mind,' she murmured, her voice gentler now. 'I know you're not that kind of person. We would hardly be friends if you were. I'm just irritated because it's so hot. And you're right, the heatwave has brought lots of tourists to Sanditon.'

'Tourists?' Charlotte repeated, the word foreign on her tongue. Nothing about this place seemed right, not even the language they were using. The very air seemed thick with something intangible, something that made her feel distinct and separated from all else.

However, Georgiana had not heard her. Instead, she was beaming with satisfaction. 'It is great, isn't it?' she enthused. 'There's a whole community of mixed races here now, really multi-cultural. You should meet them; they're wonderful. You know, I connected with some of them on Instagram and we went for coffee.'

'You met them through who?'

Georgiana snorted, 'Not who! It's a place—well, sort of. We'll get you set up with an account, and you'll see what I mean. If you give me your phone later, I'll sort it. Is it an Apple or an Android you've got, I forget?'

Charlotte titled her head. 'I do not know, but I had berries at breakfast.'

Georgiana studied her friend for a moment, then nodded as if coming to a decision. Charlotte's odd behaviour, the way she kept talking about things being strange—it must be the heat getting to her. Perhaps she was suffering from heatstroke and needed to get indoors at once. Her suspicions were confirmed when Charlotte suddenly lifted a hand to her head and winced in pain.

'Hey-hey,' she said in a soothing voice, 'Everything will be fine,' Georgiana reassured her, rubbing her arm, and as she felt her friend tremble, she grew concerned.

At that moment, a loud roar filled the air, making Charlotte jump. Her hands flew to her chest as she whirled around, searching for the source of the noise. It was coming from a sleek, black carriage with no horses attached to it, but it was still moving. How was it moving?

'Watch out for the car!' Georgiana shouted, grabbing Charlotte's arm and pulling her back just as the strange vehicle whooshed past them.

'A car?' Charlotte echoed. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and the world was spinning once more. The dissonance between what she knew to be true and what she was experiencing was too great, and her mind could no longer reconcile the two.

She needed to sit down, to rest, to escape the confusion and the noise. But more than anything, she needed something—anything—that made sense. As she turned back to Georgiana, her eyes pleaded with her to explain. To make it all right.

Charlotte could no longer hold back the tears that had been brewing behind her brave façade.

'Oh, boy,' Georgiana sighed. 'Poor you! You look like a deer caught in headlights.'

Charlotte stared back at her, her bottom lip wobbling.

'You're going to ask me what that means now, aren't you?'

Charlotte's lip sagged altogether. 'I know what a deer is,' she blubbed

Georgina drew her arms around her and clasped her close. Dear Charlotte. Perhaps she was feeling ill. Perhaps she ought to go to hospital, but, for now, maybe a rest out of the sun was all she needed. She had been too busy with all her plans and preparations, that was it, that was all. A quiet afternoon with friends would soon set her right.

'Come on,' Georgiana said, gesturing for Charlotte to follow her, and she linked their arms in that close, companionable way she used to. 'Let's go back to my house. We can talk there. I think you need a sit-down and a big glass of wine. Besides, you look positively peculiar in those old-fashioned clothes. I'm almost embarrassed to be seen with you.'

Charlotte looked down at her dress, the modest muslin she had worn so many times before, and for the first time, she felt a pang of self-consciousness. The dress felt like a relic. She suddenly felt as if she were a ghost from a bygone era, stranded in a world that had moved on without her.

'I…,' she started, clutching her arm, her voice trailing off. 'Georgiana,' she said, still looking at the carriages with no horses, 'I mean GG,' she amended quickly, 'I do not feel myself.'

'Don't worry!' her friend assured her. 'We will soon have you feeling like your old self in no time,' she promised.

Charlotte allowed herself to be led away from the street. She followed her friend blindly, feeling as though she was being pulled along by the tide. As they continued on their way, every step felt like she was sinking deeper into this unfathomable, new reality. She didn't know what was happening, or why the world had turned upside down, or that is, why her world had turned upside down. Nevertheless, amidst the chaos, Charlotte knew one thing for certain: Georgiana was still her friend. And somehow, together, they would make sense of this strange, new Sanditon.