Chapter Four
‘Are you ready, love?’ Brian called up the stairs.
Effie’s dad had been waiting patiently by the front door for the past fifteen minutes whilst she ran up and down the stairs, faffed around checking, then rechecking her bags.
She could hear him singing to himself as she frantically ran her eyes over her bookshelves.
A bag of books rested at her feet, packed slightly haphazardly as she’d squeezed in her favourites next to a stack of unread titles.
Did she have enough books to last her? It seemed ironic packing books when she was going to open a bookshop, but Books by the Sea didn’t sell the sort of bodice-ripping books Effie devoured.
Of course, she’d read every Cornish-based romance to ever grace its shelves, took it as one of her duties, so that she was ever ready to recommend a new swooning love story to a holidaymaker, or local, looking for an extra spark in their life.
Effie knew it was slightly overdramatic to say so, but romance novels had practically saved her life when she’d been overwhelmed and lost by the vastness and unfriendliness of her university years.
At the time her student loan hadn’t stretched to being able to purchase her own books, so Effie had wandered into the local library, signed up for membership and proceeded to work her way through the racks of bodice rippers at such an alarming rate that she’d struck up a friendship with Edna, the librarian, who happily stamped the books she took out and asked her all sorts of questions when she returned them.
Edna, it turned out, was a prolific romance reader herself, but had no one to share her joy with until Effie stumbled up to the desk, arms full of books.
Edna had taken one look at all the dukes and shook her head.
‘The Vikings are sexier,’ she’d said as she checked them out.
That was how Effie discovered Vikings. Yes, they were much, much sexier. She couldn’t get enough of them – powerfully swooping in with their long hair and icy eyes, rugged and broodingly handsome. Why couldn’t someone like that ever turn up in Effie’s life?
Reaching onto her bookshelf, Effie grabbed another book, despite having her e-reader tucked into her backpack.
A Kindle that she’d once calculated had over four years’ worth of reading on it.
Well, better safe than sorry. Like most bookworms, she preferred a paperback, the smell of the ink, the feel of the pages in her hands.
She adored second-hand books, their covers and spines scarred by previous readers, the pages yellowed with age, the smell of other people’s lives lingering between them.
Her e-reader, however, had got her out of a tricky book-free situation on many occasions and was easier to carry around.
Plus, Effie really had no idea how much space there’d be in the flat, as the photos had been rather small.
‘Effie?’ her mum called. ‘You’re only going half an hour away, we can bring anything you’ve left next weekend.’
‘OK! Coming.’ Effie shrugged her backpack on, picked up the bag of books in one hand and her bag of knitting in the other and made her way downstairs.
Seeing her parents lingering by the doorway brought a lump to her throat.
It was far too reminiscent of when she’d headed off to university.
She’d been bouncing joyfully, her eighteen-year-old head full of excitement at what experiences awaited her.
Hours of studying, her mind being challenged, her thoughts encouraged, groups of friends to drink red wine with into the early hours, someone she’d fall head over heels in love with; they’d be inseparable, and everyone would marvel at how deep and true their romance was.
None of it had materialised. All that she’d got from her three years in London was a mountain of debt, a bruised heart and an aversion to jacket potatoes with baked beans, this having been one of the only meals she could afford to cook regularly. Even her degree result had been middling.
London had knocked her, so much, that she’d returned to Penzance in a completely different shape, the shine rubbed off, her spark missing.
Slowly, she’d rebuilt herself, but all her friends who’d stayed behind, or studied more locally, didn’t want to hear the truth about Effie’s grand adventure.
After extolling how amazing her life was going to be, when she returned, tail between her legs, Effie had been reluctant to tell them the truth.
She’d rather just forget London ever happened.
‘Come here, love.’ Rosemary held her arms out. Effie put her bags down and allowed her mum to pull her in tightly. ‘I’m very proud of you for taking this opportunity, I really am. I think it’ll be good for you.’
‘Thanks, Mum,’ Effie mumbled into her shoulder, biting her lip to stop the tears coming. It’s only thirty minutes’ journey, she reminded herself. At least technology and social media had moved on since she was at university.
‘Dad’s just packing up the car. I’d come with you, but I’m not sure there’s space.’
‘No, it’s fine, really. I’ll be fine,’ Effie promised her, her voice surer than she felt.
‘All ready?’ Brian stuck his head round the door. ‘shall I take them?’ He nodded at the extra bags Effie had brought down.
Effie followed him out, watching as he squeezed the bags onto the back seat.
The boot was full of new bedding, a selection of Effie’s clothes and some food to keep her going.
A frisson of excitement fizzed through her as she thought of making the flat homely and opening up her own shop by the sea.
Effie’s excitement at the task ahead of her managed to smother any fears she had about starting a new life.
Her emotions had been all over the place as she’d packed her belongings and made plans to move.
Surely Polcarrow would be far friendlier than London had been.
Effie took one last glance at the house, her mum standing in the doorway, cardigan pulled tightly, her hair long and wild, whereas Effie tamed hers into a French braid, before slipping into the passenger seat and flashing her dad a smile.
They’d regularly gone on road trips when she’d been younger and her mum had had to work.
Fishing trips, scrambling over ruins, paddling in the sea followed by ice creams.
‘Ready?’ he asked as she started the car.
Effie nodded. ‘Yes.’ As she said it, she realised she meant it.