Chapter Six
With a brave face, Effie waved her dad off, having reassured him for the hundredth time that she was going to be fine.
As his car disappeared around the corner, Effie sagged against the peeling red shop door and sighed, another job for the never-ending list, she thought, as she peeled off some of the flakes.
She pulled the keys out of her pocket and locked the shop.
Sorting that out could wait until the morning.
Trudging upstairs to the flat, Effie stood, hands on hips, surveying the mess.
Her belongings were piled up in the middle of the living room waiting to be distributed into her new home.
But would this slightly sorry-looking flat ever feel like home?
she wondered, as she glanced around. Well, there was only one way to find out.
Effie pulled her phone out of her pocket, selected her favourite Taylor Swift playlist, rolled up her sleeves and set about giving the flat a thorough clean.
She found an ancient vacuum cleaner stashed in a cupboard full of odds and ends, which wheezed its way across the floor but at least it seemed to make the carpets look slightly better.
Effie started in the bedroom, moving from the sad, slightly threadbare grey carpet to the wardrobe and windowsill.
The room looked much brighter once she’d cleaned the window, which only had a view of the back of the shop and the café next door.
She quickly moved on to making up her bed, cheered by the brightly coloured floral bedding she’d bought new.
Smoothing down the pillows, the excitement of making the flat her own returned.
That was the difference between here and her university halls of residence.
They’d been tiny, uniform, grey and no matter how much she’d tried to make it look homely with posters, books and cute cushions, her room had always felt like a temporary location for her.
Once all her clothes were hung in the wardrobe, some of her books stacked on the shelves in the corner, she studied the end result.
Seeing the empty room transformed into a pretty bedroom made her smile.
A little bounce on the bed to test the mattress and she was ready to turn her attention to the bathroom.
At least there was a bath, she consoled herself as she pulled on her rubber gloves and began to spray the surfaces liberally with bathroom cleaner.
She loved lounging in the tub, candles flickering, an audiobook on the go.
Effie had banned herself from reading paperbacks in the bath after one too many had met a soggy end.
Once she’d got the bathroom gleaming, she took pleasure in lining up her lotions and potions and made a note to buy a new shower curtain and some fresh candles.
A wave of tiredness caused her enthusiasm to ebb then.
Perched on the edge of the bath, she removed her rubber gloves and pushed her hair out of her face.
The notion of leaving the rest of the flat until tomorrow was tempting but with the shop also being uninhabitable, she resolved to get her living space put right that evening.
At least then she’d feel like she’d tackled half the problem.
Pausing to make a cup of tea and crack open a packet of custard creams, Effie surveyed the rest of the mess.
More bags of books, her knitting supplies and some kitchen equipment.
However, opening the cupboards revealed that a few saucepans and a mismatched set of crockery had been left behind.
Finishing her tea, Effie wiped out the cupboards and began to stack her collection of novelty mugs and put away the food supplies and equipment she’d brought with her.
With the kitchen gleaming, Effie faced the saggy red sofa, her eyes snagging on the sea view that would make all this work feel worth it.
The sun was lowering in the sky and golden rays were streaming into the flat.
Effie quickly snapped a photo to post on social media.
As the photo uploaded, she resolved to try and make the best out of a situation that was teetering on being very bad.
Effie sent the photo to her parents. Rosemary had sent numerous messages checking in on her, fretting, worrying.
To reassure her, Effie took photos of her bedroom as proof she was settling in, then turned her attention to making the little living space feel cosy.
Once she’d vacuumed the sofa, turning out a selection of coins and a plastic keyring from its depths, Effie plumped up her cushions and draped her heart print blanket over one of the arms. There wasn’t much space for her books, but she did the best she could with the bookshelf in the living room, cramming it tightly.
Her knitting, however, would have to remain in the jute bag she’d carried it in.
Effie added buying a basket to store her knitting to her mental list.
As the sun began to lower towards the horizon, she took in the transformation.
The flat might not be perfect, the paintwork scuffed and faded, but with her belongings filling out the spaces it was transformed.
Giving herself a satisfied round of applause, Effie suddenly felt less daunted by the prospect of sorting out the shop.
She could do it. All it would take was a little bit of elbow grease and determination.
Flopping down onto the sofa, Effie wasn’t sure what to do with herself next.
Turning her face towards the window, the evening sun streaming through, she decided to go and have a look around the village.
After pulling on her shoes and jacket, Effie stuffed her keys in her pocket and made her way down towards the beach.
The tide was slowly coming in, trickling lazily across the glistening sand.
Effie inhaled the fresh sea air, obliterating the scent of the cleaning products she’d used.
The flat might have needed an overhaul and the shop was practically a disaster zone, but this, this view, the wide horizon, was enough to fill Effie up.
Turning around she took in the sorry-looking exterior of the shop.
Clive had been right about one thing, it was in a prime location.
The café next to it was all closed up for the night but its folded back awning and sign reading ‘Lola’s’ gave Effie hope.
A bookshop and a cute café, it was exactly what readers wanted.
But was it enough? Polcarrow was tiny. Effie could take in its entirety with one sweep of her eyes.
The church tower, a large art deco house perched at the top of the hill, the pub at the other end of the bay.
Would people come here? Could she make it a success?
Making her way off the beach, Effie wandered along the harbour road, past the ice-cream-coloured fisherman’s cottages, wondering who was lucky enough to be tucked up in them on a Sunday evening.
She made her way up the main street, past the tiny local shop and the chippy to the church.
Effie found churches fascinating. She wasn’t religious herself, but the fact that the buildings had been the centre of the community for hundreds of years amazed her.
Effie tried the door but it was locked. A vague memory surfaced, an article about a mural, had it been in Polcarrow?
Clive had mentioned Cornish Life magazine and she seemed to remember her mum talking about it.
She ran her fingers over the seashells pressed into the mortar around the door.
They almost shimmered in the evening light.
She took a photo before making her way out of the churchyard and up the winding streets, passing the cottages they’d driven past, wondering how the locals would feel about a bookshop opening.
Would they like it? Who didn’t like a bookshop?
Would they welcome her? Or see her as an incomer to the village?
Stomach rumbling, Effie made her way back to her flat. Her flat! She’d never had somewhere to call her own before. It would all be fine. She’d meet new people, she’d make a success of the shop, everyone would envy the life she’d set up by the sea.
However, that first night, with the flat scrubbed clean, dinner eaten and night descending over the beautiful seascape she’d admired during the golden hour, Polcarrow felt bleak and dark, miles from civilisation. But Effie knew she had two choices: sink or swim.