Chapter Text
“Oomph. “Charlotte sank onto the kitchen chair, cradling her huge belly. “I feel like a walrus.”
“Don’t worry, my love,” Sidney said, leaning forward to tenderly kiss the tip of her nose. “You are the cutest walrus I’ve ever seen.”
They were about to move on to a more explicit expression of their mutual love and affection when an angry protest broke out behind Sidney’s back.
“No, no, no, no!” Hollie Grace stomped her foot and vigorously shook her head. “That’s not what you are supposed to say, Daddy! You cannot tell Mummy that she looks like a walrus!”
Sidney turned and raised an eyebrow at this daughter. “But she said so herself, Squirrel. And I added cute.”
Hollie Grace Parker, nine years old now and a seasoned expert in romance, put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes at her father’s apparent and appalling ignorance. “Mummy called herself a walrus so that you could correct her and tell her that to your eyes, she always looks like a beautiful butterfly.”
“More like the very hungry caterpillar,” Charlotte sighed, peeling a banana from the fruit bowl on the kitchen table.
“But you are beautiful, Mummy,” Hollie Grace insisted.
Charlotte stopped peeling the banana and opened her arms to give her little girl a hug – that is, as much of a hug as her belly allowed. “Thank you, Honeybee. That is very sweet of you. – And you look very fancy yourself, if I may say so.” Hollie Grace did indeed, wearing a red knee-length dress, green woollen tights, patent leather Mary Janes and no less than three hair clips in her short brown bob: a reindeer, a snowman, and, of course, her signature squirrel.
“Well, it’s Christmas Eve, and we are invited to a Christmas cocktail party,” she explained. “It’s a perfect occasion to make a bit of an effort, isn’t it?”
“It is, absolutely,” Charlotte agreed, looking forward to the days when she would fit into something other than a tent again.
“We don’t have to go, you know,” Sidney now said. “I can call Tom and….”
“We will go,” Charlotte calmly said, gently pressing her palm against the scarred side of his face. “I’m having a baby, Mr Parker, not heart surgery. It’s only Christmas cocktails at your brother’s, and Little P is not due until after the new year. I’ll sit on a comfortable chair all evening and hold tight to my water glass, I promise.”
Sidney bent his head, hiding his smile. “You’re far too kind, Charlotte. Most people would jump at a reason that would keep them from having Christmas cocktails with Tom.”
“But then it’s also about having Christmas cocktails with Mary, Arthur, Babington, and Esther,” Charlotte reminded him. “And about Hollie Grace seeing her cousins. – I hate to break it to you, Sidney, but once Little P has arrived, both our social calls and our topics of conversation will be shockingly limited.”
“And yet,” he said, taking her hand as he dived deep into her gaze, “I’ll be the happiest man in the world.” –
“Ahem,” someone behind them said – Hollie Grace, already in her coat and a green beret. It is safe to assume that she knew that gleam in her parents’ eyes and that, if she allowed them to move ahead with any further expression of their mutual affection, she and her hairclips would never get anywhere close to a Christmas party that night.
“You win, squirrel,” Sidney sighed, helping Charlotte to stand up. Outside on the window ledge, a very old herring gull was flapping its wings as if to applaud.
Three minutes later, they were all bundled inside the car. Another two minutes later, they were finally on their way to the Tom Parker family home in Denham crescent. The two minutes delay was caused by a short discussion about whether Becky would be allowed to join the Christmas party. Needless to say, Hollie Grace and Becky won the argument. As every sensible person knew, few things in the world were as helpful in any situation as a plush crocodile flashing a friendly felt teeth smile plus – due to the Christmas occasion – a shiny red satin bow.
As Sidney steered the car from their cottage into Sanditon town, Charlotte could not help but cast enamoured sideway glances at him. She was so proud of him and so happy that with Little P, he would finally experience fatherhood in a way he never had the chance to experience with Hollie Grace. That included, of course, being a bit over-worried about Charlotte’s and Little P’s wellbeing – but it also included extensive massages for her swollen feet and many hours of cuddling up and sharing their hopes and dreams for their little family. And it included Sidney facing and fighting a few of his demons.
After the accident nine years ago, he had stopped driving, but with his new-found family, a seaside cottage home on the outskirts of Sanditon, and a baby on the way, he had been forced to return behind the wheel. He needn’t have worried; he was a safe and responsible driver. Charlotte rested one hand on her belly and the other on Sidney’s arm, catching his loving smile.
Behind them, Hollie Grace started singing, “God rest you merry gentlemen”, using Becky as a baton and covering her inability to hit the correct tone with a generous portion of enthusiasm. As they knew was expected of them, her parents duly accompanied her through the refrain. “Oh tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy, oh tidings of comfort and joy…,” Sidney’s baritone and Charlotte’s soprano announced, and the Parker family choir carried them right through to Denham Crescent.
“Now it really feels like Christmas Eve,” Hollie Grace happily said, re-arranging Becky’s shiny red satin bow while her father helped Charlotte out of the car.
“You’ll soon need a forklift to move me,” she chuckled.
“Should we head back, perhaps?” Sidney suggested. “We can still have a cuddly family night by the fire.” But Charlotte just laughed his reluctance away.
“In your dreams, Sidney Parker. We’ll behave like social people tonight, so come tomorrow, we can turn into hermit crabs and remain home in good conscience until Little P is born.”
“Excellent plan,” Sidney grinned, squeezing her hand.
Behind them on the pavement, Hollie Grace had met someone. “Merry Christmas, Mr Robinson!”
Fred Robinson, lugging a large Christmas tree behind him, doffed his cap. “Merry Christmas, Miss Parker. – Charlotte, Sidney.”
“What are you doing here?” Charlotte asked her co-worker from Stringer’s Garden Paradise. Fred scratched his head, blushing.
“Bit of a tree situation, I’ve been told,” he mumbled.
The front door of number eight, Denham Crescent, was flung open, and out popped Parkers of all ages and sizes. In the general confusion of family members hugging and kissing each other, it was probably only Charlotte’s sharp eye that noticed Fred snogging Mary Parker a little longer and more intensively than strictly necessary for a co-worker delivering a last-minute Christmas tree to a colleague.
“Come in, come in,” Tom Parker ordered, too busy being Tom Parker to notice any snogging going on. “Excellent… all the family together. The tree goes right into the lounge, Mr Robinson… Henry, stop poking your tongue at Hollie Grace. Alicia, do look after your brother.”
“Henry, stop pinching mince pies!” Alicia immediately said, turning into elder sister mode.
“My little brother is going to be much better behaved,” Hollie Grace informed Henry’s father, regally rolling her eyes at her cousin’s antics.
“Why do you need a last-minute Christmas tree?” Charlotte asked Mary, who had disentangled herself from Fred’s enthusiastic embrace.
“Because the one Tom bought was bone-dry this morning and had lost all needles by noon,” her sister-in-law explained. “I don’t mind, though. Redecorating it will hopefully keep us busy all night and stop our family’s very own Spielberg from bragging.”
Charlotte squeezed Mary’s hand. Filming the adaptation of the Sanditon novel her sister had ghost-written for Tom Parker would start in February. Everyone was excited about it, but no one as much as Tom Parker, who was engaged as a local advisor. Charlotte knew little about filming, but she – and everyone else in Sanditon - had learned quickly that if there was one person on which the success of the project depended, it was the local advisor, aka Tom Parker.
In the lounge, Fred was already busy setting up the new tree – a task made more demanding by Tom’s valuable input – and Arthur was manning the bar, beaming when he saw Charlotte. “How are you, my dear? How is our darling boy?”
“Both fine,” Charlotte assured her favourite brother-in-law before being sat down by him in the most comfortable chair in the house.
“Phew, the fuss they make,” she murmured to herself. By her side, Esther Babington laughed.
“Men make that fuss about pregnant women because they hope it distracts from the fact that they don’t have to carry our burden,” she explained. “When I had the twins, Babington fainted three times in the labour ward. While he was seeing stars, I was giving life to two human beings. That puts everything into perspective, doesn’t it?”
“I heard that, my darling,” Babington called from the other side of the tree, good-humoured as always.
Tom left Fred and the tree alone and returned to his duties as host. “Now, Charlotte, Sidney, what can I get you to drink?”
“Just water, please,” Charlotte said, and “An apple juice would be fine,” Sidney added.
“Apple juice?” Tom pulled a dramatic face. “Sidney, it’s Christmas cocktails, not a meeting of teetotallers.”
“I’m driving.”
“But a tiny swig of champagne… to celebrate you becoming a father for the first time….”
“I have been a father for nine years, Tom,” Sidney said, his voice as cold and cutting as a steel blade. The silence that followed was icy and absolute. It was a well-known – yet never discussed – fact in the Parker family that Tom would never accept the full extent of the drama that had scarred his middle brother in more than one sense and deprived him of seven years with Charlotte and Hollie Grace.
“Ahem,” Babington said into the arctic air surrounding them. “Have you all seen that photo Crowe sent around? Playing tourist guide for Georgie and Ellie in the Caribbean seems to suit him.”
“Diana and Adrian also send their regards,” Arthur quickly chimed in. “It’s quite inspiring, don’t you think? Opening their own yoga resort in Sri Lanka. I cannot wait to visit them.”
“While we are forever stuck in dreary old Sanditon where nothing ever happens,” Esther mumbled next to Charlotte.
“I’m glad you’re here tonight.”
“Yes, but only because Babington spent a fortune to bribe his sister into babysitting the twins. – And for what? To listen to Tom Parker bragging about Tom Parker?”
That very same Tom Parker had now managed to fix a glass of water and another one with apple juice and served them his brother and his sister-in-law as a peace offering. He looked around himself. “Where’s Mary?”
“I think she wanted to settle the payment for the tree with Fred downstairs in the kitchen,” Sidney said.
“Hope she’s not paying him in kind,” Esther whispered. Charlotte snorted into her water glass, the laughter sending a short sharp pain through her back.
“Very well,” Tom said. “However, I shall raise my glass to the Parker family, to all our upcoming adventures, and especially to… what is it, Jenny?”
“Can we sing God Rest You Merry Gentlemen, Daddy?” Jenny asked. “It’s Hollie Grace’s favourite.”
“Well, of course, we can sing, dear, but later. Right now, I’m holding a speech. – The Parker family, all our upcoming adventures, and especially the great challenge….”
“I don’t want Merry Gentlemen!” Henry stomped his foot. “It’s silly.”
“No, it’s not!” Hollie Grace cried.
“It is!” Henry insisted.
“No, it’s not! You are silly, Henry Parker because you don’t recognise a fine Christmas song, even when you get hit over the head with it.” Hollie Grace was wielding Becky, and it looked very much as if Henry was going to be hit over the head if not with a song, then with a plush crocodile.
“Hollie Grace!” Charlotte warned, trying to find a more comfortable position on the chair. “Your Uncle Tom was holding a speech, and it is very unkind to interrupt him like that.”
Hollie Grace squinted at Tom, who was not exactly her favourite uncle. “I apologise, Uncle Tom. I didn’t notice. But… but now that I’ve interrupted you anyway, we can sing first, before you continue, right?” – and before Tom could so much as catch his breath, she was singing, “God rest you merry gentlemen…” – “Let nothing you dismay,” Arthur and Babington joined in. When they reached “Tidings of comfort and joy” for the first time, everyone was singing (apart from Henry, who was grimacing and holding his hands over his ears).
“That was very nice,” Hollie Grace said, nodding grandly when they’d finished all verses and spread lots of comfort and joy throughout the lounge. “Now it really feels like it’s Christmas.”
“I shall resume my speech,” Tom announced. “I was talking about the upcoming adventures for the Parker family, especially the great challenge… - that’s taking Mary quite long to settle the finances with Robinson, don’t you think?” he interrupted himself, turning to Sidney. Sidney merely shrugged his shoulders.
“I suppose he’s just making sure she’s satisfied…with the tree. Before she pays.”
Next to Charlotte, Esther suffered an evil attack of choking coughs while Babington quickly suggested, “Maybe we sing another carol?”
“No!” Henry howled, and, “Yes!” Hollie Grace cheered.
“I’ll finish my speech first,” Tom decided. “The great challenge, the major changes that are about to come upon our lives… - ah, Mary, there you are. I hope Robinson didn’t wear you out? He can be quite tiring with his equality talk.”
“I’m fine,” Mary said, the faint blush on her cheeks only visible to those who wanted to see it.
“Excellent. – Now, I was saying… the major changes that are about to come upon our lives….”
“Good Lord.” Esther was no longer choking but rolling her eyes effectively. “Charlotte is only having a baby; it’s not as if we will all have to start walking backwards.”
“I wasn’t referring to the baby,” Tom said haughtily. “Which is a very happy event, of course,” he hastily added. “Absolutely splendid… but I was actually talking about Sanditon’s future as a hub for the British film industry.”
“One mini-series, Tom,” Sidney corrected. “One adaptation, with some beach scenes filmed here, but the main part produced in the studio.”
“You are very negative, Sidney. One might assume you’re holding a grudge against the project.”
“I’m not holding a grudge against the project – but I might be unhappy that you are selling out Sanditon and cashing in as the author when we both know that all you added to the work were the words Chapter One.”
“I provided the idea!” Tom cried.
“Shall we sing another carol?” Babington quickly suggested and, “Children, how about we decorate the new Christmas tree?” Mary said.
Within moments, Tom’s speech was forgotten. Apart from Charlotte in her very comfortable chair, everyone was suddenly busy: fairy lights had to be fixed on the twigs of the new tree, baubles and tinsel had to be added (with some of the tinsel miraculously landing in Henry’s hair). Mary reverently opened the box that held the Christmas pendants collected by the Parker family throughout the centuries. “Look!” Hollie Grace cried. “Mummy, look!” – It was a small wooden gull she’d picked up, not bigger than her thumb, carved by a coarse blade, but: a gull, without a doubt.
“Very nice, Honeybee,” Charlotte said, shifting in her seat. The most comfortable chair in the Parker household was (if she was perfectly honest) rather uncomfortable.
“Now we can sing, right?” Jenny asked. No one objected, so they sang through the whole canon of Christmas carols while decorating the tree, spreading even more comfort and joy across Sanditon.
“I say,” Tom finally said, leaning back and evaluating their work. “This is a splendid tree. Elegant and majestic. It’s… what is that on the top? Is that…” He stepped closer, squinting, gasping for air. “Is that…”
“Looks like a plush crocodile to me,” Esther said next to him.
“Becky appreciates a good view,” Hollie Grace explained. “She’s an excellent ornament to top a Christmas tree.”
Tom opened his mouth to protest. But this was also the moment in which Charlotte realised she could no longer stay silent. Or ignore the signals her body was sending her: all the twitches and tweaks and the discomfort of sitting on the most comfortable chair in the house.
“I think the baby is coming,” she said.
🐊🎄