Father Knows Best
Father Knows Best
Name: Falafel
Title: Father Knows Best
Synopsis: Pre-crash story set in London, England. When Desmond goes missing after being expelled from University, Penny suspects her father of deliberately trying to break up their relationship. While searching the city for her lost lover, Penny has a strange encounter with a teenage Charlie Pace who has come to London looking for his real father...who he believes to be Charles Widmore.
Characters: Penelope, Charlie, Liam and Widmore (Penny POV).
Disclaimer: I don't own Lost.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3133
Warnings: None.
Author's Note: This fic is very AU and features several non-canon elements. I ask readers to please accept my alternative canon for the purposes of this story.
The black limousine was parked outside the entrance to Widmore Industries. Penny sat in the back seat, kneading her hands, waiting for her father, Charles Widmore, to join her. She heard a scuffle going on outside the car. She lowered the passenger window and peered out over the pavement.
Her father’s progress from the building to the limo had been halted by a teenage boy with an acoustic guitar strapped over his shoulder. He had an impish face and a mop of dirty blonde hair. At present the lad was moving eagerly towards her father while being shunted back by the two security guards.
“Excuse me!” the boy began. He was a northerner judging by his accent. “Would you please listen for a moment, sir? I’ve been waiting out here a long time to see you. It’s important!”
“On your way, lad,” said one of the doormen, pushing him aside.
“Piss off would you!” the boy said hotly. He darted around the suited man and stood blocking the limo door. “Please, Mr Widmore! Let me explain. You don’t know me, but you know my mother…Megan…”
Widmore frowned, seeming perplexed and mildly intrigued.
“Alright then, you have my attention,” he said, folding his arms. “Kindly get to the point, boy. What is it that you want?”
The kid took a deep breath as though gathering up his courage.
“I’m…I’m your son…” he said, haltingly.
Widmore looked the irksome youth up and down, clearly struggling with the notion that he might have spawned him. He snorted contemptuously and laughed. He waved his hand in a vague signal that told his security he was done with this little distraction. The boy was still pleading and protesting as he was marched away. Penny’s view of him was obscured as her father climbed into the car and instructed his chauffer to drive them to the resteraunt.
“Did you hear that?" said Widmore, still laughing. "The boy was claiming to be my son. I ask you! What will these little beggars come up with next?”
Penny frowned, her curiosity stirring. “Why would he think that? Do you know this Megan woman he spoke about? His mother?”
“For goodness sake, Penelope!” Widmore snapped. “Why must you take everything so seriously? It was just a young street ruffian, probably on drugs, thinking that he could chisel some money out of me. Forget him. I thought there were other matters you wished to discuss over luncheon?”
Penny was meeting with her father for the first time in months to discuss what had happened to Desmond, her classmate and boyfriend of the past three years. They had been studying English together at university. Last week, in their final term, Desmond had been inexplicably expelled from their course. Shortly afterwards he was evicted from his flat. Now he had disappeared entirely.
Penny had contacted her father and begged him for help, saying that she feared some conspiracy against Desmond. Her father had promised to locate him and make sure that he was safe. Over their lunch, he told her what he had discovered. It seems that following his expulsion Desmond had enrolled in the Royal Scots Regiment. Her father said that this would be good for him - that it would make a man out of him. Besides he needed to do something to pay off his student debts after failing his degree. Her father encouraged Penny to concentrate on her own studies and forget about Desmond.
“Perhaps he isn't the man for you after all,” Widmore suggested to Penny as he dropped her off at her flat in Knightsbridge.
Penny spent the rest of the afternoon in tears. She felt certain now that her father was lying to her. Judging by his final words to her in the car, he did not consider Desmond to be a suitable match for his only daughter. It seemed very likely that it was he himself who was conspiring against Desmond and doing everything in his power to keep the two of them apart. In the process he was ruining Desmond's life...and all because Desmond didn’t meet his precious standards! Penny wept long and hard. Through her tears she began to feel certain of something else. Desmond would not leave her without saying goodbye. She imagined he was still in London. He was probably trying to make contact with her and being prevented. Penny left her flat to search for him. She didn’t know where to begin her search, but she couldn’t stay indoors doing nothing but cry over their separation.
After a few hours wandering the city, Penny found herself back at the threshold of Widmore Industries. She glanced across the road. The teenage boy she had seen from the car window that morning was sitting on the pavement with his back propped against the fence. He was strumming a tune on his guitar and singing softly between yawns. Penny didn’t recognise the song. She supposed he might be playing something he had written himself.
Penny crossed the street and approached him. She didn’t have any spare change in her pockets so she took a twenty pound note from her purse and dropped it into his guitar case. The note fluttered down to land among the pitiful collection of copper coins and gum wrappers that lined his case. The boy halted his strumming and leaned forwards to stare at her donation in confusion.
“Bloody hell, missus!” he said. “It wasn’t that good…”
He took the note and tried to give it back to her.
“Keep it,” she insisted. “Get yourself something to eat.”
The boy flushed, embarrassed by her charity. He folded the note into his pocket and went back to plucking at his strings.
“Have you been playing here all day?” Penny asked him.
“I’ve been playing here for the last three days.”
“Well, if you want a bit of friendly advice, I would suggest that you could make more money busking on the Underground.”
He shifted, uncomfortably. “I’m waiting to see someone.”
“Oh really?” said Penny, breezily, as though she hadn’t known this already. “Who is it that you’re waiting for?”
“My father. Charles Widmore, the head of Widmore Corporations. He owns that building over there if you want to know.”
“I do know,” she retorted. “I’m his daughter.”
The kid blinked at her in surprise. He hurriedly put down his guitar and rose to his feet, smoothing down his clothes. He looked as though he hadn’t showered in a few days. His blonde hair was plastered over his forehead in greasy strips. He smiled nervously, wiped his hand on his jeans and held it out to her.
“My…my name’s Charlie,” he said in a fluster. “Well actually it’s Charles…because I’m named after my dad, you know…Charles Widmore.” He crinkled up his nose. “I can’t really pull off Charles, can I?”
“I suppose not,” said Penny, laughing and shaking his hand. “Charlie suits you though. My name is Penelope.”
Charlie just stared at her, grinning deliriously. Penny found herself smiling back. In a strange way the boy reminded her of Desmond. He had a similar twinkle and nervous energy about him. She felt herself relaxing in his company.
“You know, I was just thinking about dinner myself,” said Penny. “Maybe you would like to join me? I mean…if you really are my long lost brother then I suppose we have a lot of catching up to do.”
Penny took Charlie to an old English pub where she and Desmond had spent many evenings sharing bottles of wine beside the fire. She liked its atmosphere better than the Sushi bars that her father liked to take her to. Being a Sunday, the pub was having a carvery. Penny and Charlie piled their plates with roast meats and vegetables and then stopped off at the bar for drinks.
“Are you old enough?” asked Penny.
“Leave it out,” Charlie muttered.
She bought him a pint anyway. Then they sat down together at a corner table. Penny waited a while and allowed Charlie to tuck into his food. The boy seemed famished. She supposed that he hadn’t been taking many meal breaks during the three day vigil he had kept outside Widmore Industries.
“Where are you from?” Penny asked him at last.
“Manchester,” he replied, speaking with his mouth full.
“Don’t you have any family up in Manchester?”
Charlie fidgeted. “Yeah…I’ve got family in Manchester. I live at home with my mum, my brother Liam and…” He trailed off.
“You’re father?” Penny ventured.
Charlie’s face turned sour. “He’s not my father.”
“And how do you know this?” she inquired.
He propped his elbows on the table, resting his chin in his palms.
“I’ve suspected it for a while now. It was obvious really. The two of us have nothing in common. He is a butcher by trade. The man hacks up meat all day…then he comes home, shouts at us, has a drink and falls asleep in front of TV. I’m nothing like him. I wouldn’t want to be. I’m creative, I’ve got dreams, I’ve got my music…but he is not interested in any of that. He’s not listened to one song that I’ve written. He thinks I’m wasting my time with it. Honestly, we couldn’t be less similar! He doesn’t even look like me, the big balding wanker…”
Charlie’s voice hitched with anger and bitterness. Then he remembered himself.
“Sorry…I didn’t mean to swear…”
Penny nodded. “Well, if this man isn’t your father, then why do you believe yourself to be a Widmore?”
“Well, I started searching for clues, you know. I started looking for signs. One night I was rooting through some of my mum's old things and I found this little black book of addresses and phone numbers. The date on the cover was 1978 - the year before I was born. There weren’t many numbers in it. Mostly old friends, uncles, cousins, that kind of thing. Charles Widmore was the only name that I didn’t recognise. When I saw his name…that is when it all made sense. Soon as I saw his name I knew! Mum says she named me after Charles Dickens. That’s a load of rubbish because she doesn’t read anything apart from Mills & Boon novels. She must have named me after Charles Widmore. She named me after my real dad!”
Penny was momentarily distracted by the mention of Desmond’s favourite author. It only took some small reference like that to send her thoughts hurtling back to him. She remembered the winter evenings they had spent lying in bed reading Dickens to each other…Desmond cherishing every word and being caught up in the story even though he knew the novels by heart…
“So what do you reckon?” asked Charlie.
Penny sighed. The kid was hunched forward in his seat, seeming eager to hear her response. She had been hoping he might have gathered more substantial evidence to support his claim. From the way he was talking it seemed like this was something he wanted to believe in and was getting carried away.
“My fathers name in an old address book of your mothers…” Penny said slowly, “...that is all you’re basing this on?”
Charlie’s face fell. Penny realised that she had made her tone too cynical. He had opened up to her and she had hurt his feelings.
“Fine! Don’t believe me,” Charlie spat. He got to his feet, drained his pint glass and threw the twenty pound note that she had given him down on the table. “Thanks for dinner,” he muttered as he shouldered his rucksack and his guitar case and stormed out of the pub, huffy and embarrassed.
Penny rushed over to the bar, hurriedly paid their bill and chased him down the street. Charlie was stomping off towards the park. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and his hood was pulled up over his head.
“Wait!” Penny called after him. She winced as her feet throbbed inside her heels. “Charlie, these shoes are crippling me!”
The boy halted and turned around to face her.
“What do you want?” he sighed.
Penny smiled. “Will you take some advice from your big sister?”
Charlie rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to patronise me, you know. Listen I know this is a long shot, but I just want to know for sure. I’ve come all this way! Can you at least get me in to see him?”
“Listen to me, Charlie,” Penny said earnestly. “If what you are looking for is a father who understands you…a father who will support the choices that you make in life…a father who respects you…then Charles Widmore is not the father you want. I promise you. He’s no better than the father you left in Manchester. He might offer you the best that money can buy, but if there is something you love dearly which doesn’t meet his standards then he’ll…he’ll take it away from you.”
Penny felt her voice straining and tears welling up in her eyes. Charlie frowned at her in concern. He reached out and took her hand.
“What did take from you?” he asked.
She sniffled. “Walk with me…”
Penny and Charlie turned into the park, escaping the bustle of the London streets. As they wandered together hand in hand, Penny proceeded to tell him everything. She poured out all her feelings of frustration and betrayal over what her father had taken from her…how she hadn’t wanted to believe it, how she didn’t want a rivalry with the man…but she couldn’t ignore what he was doing any longer. Then she started to tell him about Desmond and how much it pained her that he was being made to suffer for their relationship…how she feared that Desmond was being turned against her and might not trust her anymore…how much she missed her dearest Des…his voice, his humour, his tenderness…how she felt no man could ever replace him in her heart…
Charlie held her hand and listened, tilting his head sympathetically. Then he frowned as though struck by a sudden memory.
“Your feller...” he interrupted. “Is he a Scot by any chance?”
Penny felt her heart clenching. “You’ve seen him?”
Charlie nodded. “There was this Scottish bloke was hanging around the Widmore building yesterday. He got kicked to the curb same as me. I remember him, because he was ranting and raving, waving his arms about, his eyes popping out of his skull. No offence, love, but he looked like a bloody nutter to me.”
“He is a bloody nutter!” Penny laughed. “But I love him.”
Charlie smiled. He had a very affectionate smile.
“Well…if that’s the case then I’d say you’re sure to find him.”
He winked and squeezed her hand. They held each other’s stare. For a moment Penny could almost believe they were siblings.
“Charlie!” a voice cried out.
The two of them startled and their hands fell apart. Penny turned to see a tall young man with sharp blue eyes rushing through the park. When he reached them he grabbed hold of Charlie and hugged him fiercely to his chest.
“Jesus!” he gasped. “Thank God!”
The young man then held Charlie at arms length and started yelling at him furiously. “What the bloody hell are you playing at, you little sod?!”
“I left a note, Liam,” Charlie murmured.
“You what?! Don’t give me that bollocks! You disappear in middle of the night, leaving a bit of paper saying ‘Gone to London’ stuck to the fridge! You’re in for it when you get home, sunshine. Dad is on the war path. You were supposed to be working in the shop this Saturday, weren’t you? Mum’s been worrying herself sick. She wanted to call the police. They sent me down here to find you. Buggered up my plans, let me tell you! I’m the one who misbehaves on the weekends, baby brother. They don’t expect this sort of thing from you.”
“Liam, I was in middle of talking to someone.”
Charlie gestured to Penny. Liam seemed to notice her for the first time. He took her in and then pointed an angry finger at Charlie.
“You better not have been scrounging money off her! Listen darling, I’m sorry about all this…he's my little brother and…”
“It’s perfectly alright,” said Penny. “He’s my little brother too.”
Liam frowned at her as though he sensed something very sinister and unwholesome about her intentions. He slung an arm around Charlie’s shoulder and drew him away from her side. “Come on, Charlie boy…if we hurry then we can catch the last bus back up to Manchester…”
“Just a moment,” said Penny. “I’d very much like to…”
“I’m in no bloody mood, missus!” Liam hissed, his eyes wide and threatening. Penny looked to Charlie, who was hanging his head. He had suddenly become very meek in the presence of his older brother.
Penny watched sadly as they walked away towards the park gate and beyond her sight. She had wanted to give Charlie her number. Penny had been hoping that they could piece together this little mystery and make sense of the connection between her father and his mother. Penny liked solving mysteries. It was something she was good at. She had always been Sherlockian by nature. He could have been her Watson. But now she doubted she would ever see Charlie again…
…besides, there was someone else she was searching for.
Penny turned to see the sun setting over the lake. If Desmond were here now then the two of them would be sitting together on the bank, watching the light and the colours slowly changing in the sky and quenching themselves on how beautiful it was. Happiness and contentment came so easily when Penny was with Desmond. She knew she would never settle for another. Maybe Charlie was right…as long as she loved him, nothing could keep them apart forever.
The End
Name: Falafel
Title: Father Knows Best
Synopsis: Pre-crash story set in London, England. When Desmond goes missing after being expelled from University, Penny suspects her father of deliberately trying to break up their relationship. While searching the city for her lost lover, Penny has a strange encounter with a teenage Charlie Pace who has come to London looking for his real father...who he believes to be Charles Widmore.
Characters: Penelope, Charlie, Liam and Widmore (Penny POV).
Disclaimer: I don't own Lost.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3133
Warnings: None.
Author's Note: This fic is very AU and features several non-canon elements. I ask readers to please accept my alternative canon for the purposes of this story.
The black limousine was parked outside the entrance to Widmore Industries. Penny sat in the back seat, kneading her hands, waiting for her father, Charles Widmore, to join her. She heard a scuffle going on outside the car. She lowered the passenger window and peered out over the pavement.
Her father’s progress from the building to the limo had been halted by a teenage boy with an acoustic guitar strapped over his shoulder. He had an impish face and a mop of dirty blonde hair. At present the lad was moving eagerly towards her father while being shunted back by the two security guards.
“Excuse me!” the boy began. He was a northerner judging by his accent. “Would you please listen for a moment, sir? I’ve been waiting out here a long time to see you. It’s important!”
“On your way, lad,” said one of the doormen, pushing him aside.
“Piss off would you!” the boy said hotly. He darted around the suited man and stood blocking the limo door. “Please, Mr Widmore! Let me explain. You don’t know me, but you know my mother…Megan…”
Widmore frowned, seeming perplexed and mildly intrigued.
“Alright then, you have my attention,” he said, folding his arms. “Kindly get to the point, boy. What is it that you want?”
The kid took a deep breath as though gathering up his courage.
“I’m…I’m your son…” he said, haltingly.
Widmore looked the irksome youth up and down, clearly struggling with the notion that he might have spawned him. He snorted contemptuously and laughed. He waved his hand in a vague signal that told his security he was done with this little distraction. The boy was still pleading and protesting as he was marched away. Penny’s view of him was obscured as her father climbed into the car and instructed his chauffer to drive them to the resteraunt.
“Did you hear that?" said Widmore, still laughing. "The boy was claiming to be my son. I ask you! What will these little beggars come up with next?”
Penny frowned, her curiosity stirring. “Why would he think that? Do you know this Megan woman he spoke about? His mother?”
“For goodness sake, Penelope!” Widmore snapped. “Why must you take everything so seriously? It was just a young street ruffian, probably on drugs, thinking that he could chisel some money out of me. Forget him. I thought there were other matters you wished to discuss over luncheon?”
Penny was meeting with her father for the first time in months to discuss what had happened to Desmond, her classmate and boyfriend of the past three years. They had been studying English together at university. Last week, in their final term, Desmond had been inexplicably expelled from their course. Shortly afterwards he was evicted from his flat. Now he had disappeared entirely.
Penny had contacted her father and begged him for help, saying that she feared some conspiracy against Desmond. Her father had promised to locate him and make sure that he was safe. Over their lunch, he told her what he had discovered. It seems that following his expulsion Desmond had enrolled in the Royal Scots Regiment. Her father said that this would be good for him - that it would make a man out of him. Besides he needed to do something to pay off his student debts after failing his degree. Her father encouraged Penny to concentrate on her own studies and forget about Desmond.
“Perhaps he isn't the man for you after all,” Widmore suggested to Penny as he dropped her off at her flat in Knightsbridge.
Penny spent the rest of the afternoon in tears. She felt certain now that her father was lying to her. Judging by his final words to her in the car, he did not consider Desmond to be a suitable match for his only daughter. It seemed very likely that it was he himself who was conspiring against Desmond and doing everything in his power to keep the two of them apart. In the process he was ruining Desmond's life...and all because Desmond didn’t meet his precious standards! Penny wept long and hard. Through her tears she began to feel certain of something else. Desmond would not leave her without saying goodbye. She imagined he was still in London. He was probably trying to make contact with her and being prevented. Penny left her flat to search for him. She didn’t know where to begin her search, but she couldn’t stay indoors doing nothing but cry over their separation.
After a few hours wandering the city, Penny found herself back at the threshold of Widmore Industries. She glanced across the road. The teenage boy she had seen from the car window that morning was sitting on the pavement with his back propped against the fence. He was strumming a tune on his guitar and singing softly between yawns. Penny didn’t recognise the song. She supposed he might be playing something he had written himself.
Penny crossed the street and approached him. She didn’t have any spare change in her pockets so she took a twenty pound note from her purse and dropped it into his guitar case. The note fluttered down to land among the pitiful collection of copper coins and gum wrappers that lined his case. The boy halted his strumming and leaned forwards to stare at her donation in confusion.
“Bloody hell, missus!” he said. “It wasn’t that good…”
He took the note and tried to give it back to her.
“Keep it,” she insisted. “Get yourself something to eat.”
The boy flushed, embarrassed by her charity. He folded the note into his pocket and went back to plucking at his strings.
“Have you been playing here all day?” Penny asked him.
“I’ve been playing here for the last three days.”
“Well, if you want a bit of friendly advice, I would suggest that you could make more money busking on the Underground.”
He shifted, uncomfortably. “I’m waiting to see someone.”
“Oh really?” said Penny, breezily, as though she hadn’t known this already. “Who is it that you’re waiting for?”
“My father. Charles Widmore, the head of Widmore Corporations. He owns that building over there if you want to know.”
“I do know,” she retorted. “I’m his daughter.”
The kid blinked at her in surprise. He hurriedly put down his guitar and rose to his feet, smoothing down his clothes. He looked as though he hadn’t showered in a few days. His blonde hair was plastered over his forehead in greasy strips. He smiled nervously, wiped his hand on his jeans and held it out to her.
“My…my name’s Charlie,” he said in a fluster. “Well actually it’s Charles…because I’m named after my dad, you know…Charles Widmore.” He crinkled up his nose. “I can’t really pull off Charles, can I?”
“I suppose not,” said Penny, laughing and shaking his hand. “Charlie suits you though. My name is Penelope.”
Charlie just stared at her, grinning deliriously. Penny found herself smiling back. In a strange way the boy reminded her of Desmond. He had a similar twinkle and nervous energy about him. She felt herself relaxing in his company.
“You know, I was just thinking about dinner myself,” said Penny. “Maybe you would like to join me? I mean…if you really are my long lost brother then I suppose we have a lot of catching up to do.”
Penny took Charlie to an old English pub where she and Desmond had spent many evenings sharing bottles of wine beside the fire. She liked its atmosphere better than the Sushi bars that her father liked to take her to. Being a Sunday, the pub was having a carvery. Penny and Charlie piled their plates with roast meats and vegetables and then stopped off at the bar for drinks.
“Are you old enough?” asked Penny.
“Leave it out,” Charlie muttered.
She bought him a pint anyway. Then they sat down together at a corner table. Penny waited a while and allowed Charlie to tuck into his food. The boy seemed famished. She supposed that he hadn’t been taking many meal breaks during the three day vigil he had kept outside Widmore Industries.
“Where are you from?” Penny asked him at last.
“Manchester,” he replied, speaking with his mouth full.
“Don’t you have any family up in Manchester?”
Charlie fidgeted. “Yeah…I’ve got family in Manchester. I live at home with my mum, my brother Liam and…” He trailed off.
“You’re father?” Penny ventured.
Charlie’s face turned sour. “He’s not my father.”
“And how do you know this?” she inquired.
He propped his elbows on the table, resting his chin in his palms.
“I’ve suspected it for a while now. It was obvious really. The two of us have nothing in common. He is a butcher by trade. The man hacks up meat all day…then he comes home, shouts at us, has a drink and falls asleep in front of TV. I’m nothing like him. I wouldn’t want to be. I’m creative, I’ve got dreams, I’ve got my music…but he is not interested in any of that. He’s not listened to one song that I’ve written. He thinks I’m wasting my time with it. Honestly, we couldn’t be less similar! He doesn’t even look like me, the big balding wanker…”
Charlie’s voice hitched with anger and bitterness. Then he remembered himself.
“Sorry…I didn’t mean to swear…”
Penny nodded. “Well, if this man isn’t your father, then why do you believe yourself to be a Widmore?”
“Well, I started searching for clues, you know. I started looking for signs. One night I was rooting through some of my mum's old things and I found this little black book of addresses and phone numbers. The date on the cover was 1978 - the year before I was born. There weren’t many numbers in it. Mostly old friends, uncles, cousins, that kind of thing. Charles Widmore was the only name that I didn’t recognise. When I saw his name…that is when it all made sense. Soon as I saw his name I knew! Mum says she named me after Charles Dickens. That’s a load of rubbish because she doesn’t read anything apart from Mills & Boon novels. She must have named me after Charles Widmore. She named me after my real dad!”
Penny was momentarily distracted by the mention of Desmond’s favourite author. It only took some small reference like that to send her thoughts hurtling back to him. She remembered the winter evenings they had spent lying in bed reading Dickens to each other…Desmond cherishing every word and being caught up in the story even though he knew the novels by heart…
“So what do you reckon?” asked Charlie.
Penny sighed. The kid was hunched forward in his seat, seeming eager to hear her response. She had been hoping he might have gathered more substantial evidence to support his claim. From the way he was talking it seemed like this was something he wanted to believe in and was getting carried away.
“My fathers name in an old address book of your mothers…” Penny said slowly, “...that is all you’re basing this on?”
Charlie’s face fell. Penny realised that she had made her tone too cynical. He had opened up to her and she had hurt his feelings.
“Fine! Don’t believe me,” Charlie spat. He got to his feet, drained his pint glass and threw the twenty pound note that she had given him down on the table. “Thanks for dinner,” he muttered as he shouldered his rucksack and his guitar case and stormed out of the pub, huffy and embarrassed.
Penny rushed over to the bar, hurriedly paid their bill and chased him down the street. Charlie was stomping off towards the park. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and his hood was pulled up over his head.
“Wait!” Penny called after him. She winced as her feet throbbed inside her heels. “Charlie, these shoes are crippling me!”
The boy halted and turned around to face her.
“What do you want?” he sighed.
Penny smiled. “Will you take some advice from your big sister?”
Charlie rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to patronise me, you know. Listen I know this is a long shot, but I just want to know for sure. I’ve come all this way! Can you at least get me in to see him?”
“Listen to me, Charlie,” Penny said earnestly. “If what you are looking for is a father who understands you…a father who will support the choices that you make in life…a father who respects you…then Charles Widmore is not the father you want. I promise you. He’s no better than the father you left in Manchester. He might offer you the best that money can buy, but if there is something you love dearly which doesn’t meet his standards then he’ll…he’ll take it away from you.”
Penny felt her voice straining and tears welling up in her eyes. Charlie frowned at her in concern. He reached out and took her hand.
“What did take from you?” he asked.
She sniffled. “Walk with me…”
Penny and Charlie turned into the park, escaping the bustle of the London streets. As they wandered together hand in hand, Penny proceeded to tell him everything. She poured out all her feelings of frustration and betrayal over what her father had taken from her…how she hadn’t wanted to believe it, how she didn’t want a rivalry with the man…but she couldn’t ignore what he was doing any longer. Then she started to tell him about Desmond and how much it pained her that he was being made to suffer for their relationship…how she feared that Desmond was being turned against her and might not trust her anymore…how much she missed her dearest Des…his voice, his humour, his tenderness…how she felt no man could ever replace him in her heart…
Charlie held her hand and listened, tilting his head sympathetically. Then he frowned as though struck by a sudden memory.
“Your feller...” he interrupted. “Is he a Scot by any chance?”
Penny felt her heart clenching. “You’ve seen him?”
Charlie nodded. “There was this Scottish bloke was hanging around the Widmore building yesterday. He got kicked to the curb same as me. I remember him, because he was ranting and raving, waving his arms about, his eyes popping out of his skull. No offence, love, but he looked like a bloody nutter to me.”
“He is a bloody nutter!” Penny laughed. “But I love him.”
Charlie smiled. He had a very affectionate smile.
“Well…if that’s the case then I’d say you’re sure to find him.”
He winked and squeezed her hand. They held each other’s stare. For a moment Penny could almost believe they were siblings.
“Charlie!” a voice cried out.
The two of them startled and their hands fell apart. Penny turned to see a tall young man with sharp blue eyes rushing through the park. When he reached them he grabbed hold of Charlie and hugged him fiercely to his chest.
“Jesus!” he gasped. “Thank God!”
The young man then held Charlie at arms length and started yelling at him furiously. “What the bloody hell are you playing at, you little sod?!”
“I left a note, Liam,” Charlie murmured.
“You what?! Don’t give me that bollocks! You disappear in middle of the night, leaving a bit of paper saying ‘Gone to London’ stuck to the fridge! You’re in for it when you get home, sunshine. Dad is on the war path. You were supposed to be working in the shop this Saturday, weren’t you? Mum’s been worrying herself sick. She wanted to call the police. They sent me down here to find you. Buggered up my plans, let me tell you! I’m the one who misbehaves on the weekends, baby brother. They don’t expect this sort of thing from you.”
“Liam, I was in middle of talking to someone.”
Charlie gestured to Penny. Liam seemed to notice her for the first time. He took her in and then pointed an angry finger at Charlie.
“You better not have been scrounging money off her! Listen darling, I’m sorry about all this…he's my little brother and…”
“It’s perfectly alright,” said Penny. “He’s my little brother too.”
Liam frowned at her as though he sensed something very sinister and unwholesome about her intentions. He slung an arm around Charlie’s shoulder and drew him away from her side. “Come on, Charlie boy…if we hurry then we can catch the last bus back up to Manchester…”
“Just a moment,” said Penny. “I’d very much like to…”
“I’m in no bloody mood, missus!” Liam hissed, his eyes wide and threatening. Penny looked to Charlie, who was hanging his head. He had suddenly become very meek in the presence of his older brother.
Penny watched sadly as they walked away towards the park gate and beyond her sight. She had wanted to give Charlie her number. Penny had been hoping that they could piece together this little mystery and make sense of the connection between her father and his mother. Penny liked solving mysteries. It was something she was good at. She had always been Sherlockian by nature. He could have been her Watson. But now she doubted she would ever see Charlie again…
…besides, there was someone else she was searching for.
Penny turned to see the sun setting over the lake. If Desmond were here now then the two of them would be sitting together on the bank, watching the light and the colours slowly changing in the sky and quenching themselves on how beautiful it was. Happiness and contentment came so easily when Penny was with Desmond. She knew she would never settle for another. Maybe Charlie was right…as long as she loved him, nothing could keep them apart forever.
The End