Chapter Fifteen
Effie was busy chatting to Lola’s friend and barista, Freya, when Jake returned. She was enjoying connecting with someone her own age, someone who’d also moved to Polcarrow after a disastrous end to her life in London.
‘That’s absolutely amazing,’ Effie gasped in response to Freya telling her how she’d fled down to Cornwall to escape a failed relationship and how Polcarrow, and a little help from Lola and Angelo, had helped her resurrect a completely dead artistic career.
‘I know! Sometimes I pinch myself.’ Freya took a sip of her drink. ‘I had been selling my work in a gallery in St Ives but I want more creative control. Angelo and I are planning on opening a mini gallery. There’s some space behind Lola’s café. No idea how successful it’ll be, but I need to try.’
‘I’m sure it’ll work out. It makes me feel better about the bookshop if there’s other businesses for people to visit. Polcarrow is lovely, so I can see why Clive wanted to open a shop here, but . . .’
‘It’s the arse end of nowhere,’ Freya quipped.
Effie couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I might have put it a bit more eloquently.’
Freya shrugged. ‘But it’s true. However, there’s some magic here.
People seem to be drawn here. Lola came because of a note in her grandmother’s recipe book, Tristan because he was burned out, Angelo because he was fleeing his entire life.
I think this is a place people come to heal,’ Freya said philosophically.
‘Things here have a habit of working out. Hey, has Lola been all smug about your friendship with Jake?’
Effie blushed. ‘Maybe a little.’
‘Don’t mind her, she loves to matchmake, although it took her and Tristan forever to realise they were meant to be together.’ Freya rolled her eyes. ‘Do you like him?’
‘Jake?’ Effie startled.
‘Umm hmm. Sorry, you don’t need to answer that, it’s none of my business.’
‘That’s OK . . . I . . . he took photos of me swimming because he thought I was a seal,’ Effie said, ‘and I shouted at him. He was very annoying but . . . also apologetic and he’s been helping with the shop.
I don’t know,’ she admitted, knowing full well that her head had been whipping around every time the door opened, her heart plummeting when she didn’t see Jake.
Freya accepted this as an answer. ‘But here’s a warning, the villagers love a good gossip. Be careful. He’s back.’ She winked and gave Effie a little nudge.
Effie’s heart leapt as Jake slipped into the hall, a rather expensive-looking camera hanging around his neck.
She swallowed a gulp of warm cider as she watched him scan the crowd, his brow a little furrowed until the sight of her smoothed it out.
With a smile cracking like dawn across his face, Jake made his way across the hall towards Effie.
‘I’ll leave you to it.’ Freya gave her arm a squeeze. ‘Pop up to Bayview any time, I’ll show you my work. Or we can go to the pub or something.’
‘That would be lovely,’ Effie said, knowing she meant it. The gentle way all the social invitations had been extended to her had felt genuine. The idea of putting down roots in the village was becoming less daunting.
‘All set?’ she asked Jake as he pulled up beside her.
‘Yep, let me just take a few test shots. Say cheese.’
‘I’m not saying cheese!’ Effie laughed as he snapped away.
Jake peered into the screen, flicked through the photos. ‘Looking good. Do you want to see?’ He held the camera out to her. ‘I can delete them if you like.’
Effie flicked through them. She never usually liked photos other people took of her. They always managed to make her face look wonky but somehow Jake made her look ethereal and beautiful. ‘Definitely won’t mistake me for a seal in those,’ she said as she stepped back, draining her glass of cider.
Jake grinned. ‘You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?’
‘Nope, because it’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. A seal!’
‘I was half asleep from travelling!’
Effie raised an eyebrow at him. ‘No excuse.’
Before Jake could protest any more. Tristan stepped onto the small stage and leaned into the microphone.
‘Erm, can we have a moment please?’ The hubbub of the hall died down as the crowd turned towards him.
‘Thank you, everyone, for coming today, it’s a pleasure to celebrate such a milestone in Alf’s life.
Ninety years old, or should that be young?
’ Tristan paused as whoops, cheers and applause thundered around the hall.
‘I think it’s a marvellous age to reach and it’s safe to say that, Alf, you are the heart and soul of this community.
Polcarrow would not be the place it is without you at the helm. ’
Alf bowed his head in acknowledgement of the accolade. More applause sounded. Scruff barked in agreement.
‘Now, we all know you’re waiting for the cake but before we get to that, we have something else for you, Alf. Now, we all wracked our brains because what do you buy the man who has everything and wants for nothing?’
The crowd murmured in excitement. Effie caught sight of Freya standing at the corner of the stage next to a tall man with long, wild dark hair. Between them they were carrying a large rectangular object which they brought over to Alf and placed on an easel.
‘Is that for me?’ Alf gasped.
‘It’s been a long time since I’ve done portraiture. I did consider a sculpture,’ the man, who Effie realised was Angelo Borelli, renowned artist and Freya’s partner, explained, ‘but I didn’t know how you’d feel about being turned into abstract art.’
Alf gave a shrug. ‘It would make a change from a pair of socks.’
Everyone laughed.
‘Shall I do the honours, or do you want to?’ Angelo asked.
‘You do it, I’m too comfy here,’ Alf said giving the arm of his chair a pat.
Angelo tugged at the sheet covering the object.
It fell away to reveal a vibrant painting of the old fisherman, sitting regally beside the fishing boat Angelo had helped him restore the previous summer, Scruff at his feet, Polcarrow stretched out behind him.
Timeless and beautiful, it captured the twinkle in the old fisherman’s eye and the essence of Polcarrow, all wrapped up in a golden hour glow.
‘I’m very rarely speechless,’ Alf said after a moment, ‘but this, well, can you believe it? An Angelo Borelli original of me! What do you make of that, boy, hey?’ He scratched Scruff’s ears, his voice thick with emotion.
‘Do you like it?’ Angelo asked, uncertainty flashing across his face.
‘Like it? I love it! Although I think I might need to take some time to really give it a good look.’ Alf beckoned Angelo over and pulled him in for a tight hug. Effie’s eyes welled at the sight of the old man and the artist, the strength of the bonds that kept the community together.
Angelo pulled himself up, and glancing around caught Tristan’s eye, who leapt to the rescue by saying, ‘Isn’t that the most wonderful painting? We can all admire it later because now I think it’s time for the cake.’
Alf’s face lit up. ‘Just what I’ve been waiting for.’
Effie watched as Lola emerged from the hall kitchen carefully carrying a three-tier cake.
Iced in white fondant, it was decorated with edible lifebuoys, fishing nets and on the top sat a beautifully recreated fishing boat with sugar paste figures of Alf and Scruff seated in it.
Jake slipped forward with his camera, taking photos without getting in anyone’s way or stealing the limelight from Alf, who beamed as everyone launched into a rousing rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’.
A round of cheers and hip, hip, hoorays followed, which set Scruff off barking.
‘Speech!’ someone called.
‘All right, all right.’ Alf pulled himself to his feet as Tristan handed him a microphone. The hall fell silent as everyone waited to hear what the old fisherman would say.
‘Well, ninety, can you believe it? I can’t.
Well, I can, but you know what I mean. Time isn’t guaranteed to any of us, but I am truly blessed to still be here, still in my own home in Polcarrow, still waking up to the sight and sound of the sea every day.
People dream of life over the horizon. That was never for me.
What more do you need other than love and friendship.
I am honoured to be part of such a thriving, caring, kind community.
Now, I don’t have any secrets about how to get to this ripe old age, other than living well, never dwell on anything, enjoy the simple things because really, that is what life is about.
Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m quite keen to have a piece of this cake!
And I’m sure Lola is very keen to put it down. ’
‘Oh Alf, you read my mind!’ Lola said as she carried the cake over to the table.
Alf followed her. He took the knife she offered and sliced into the cake, cutting a large chunk. ‘This is for me—’ he winked at the gathering ‘—and doesn’t it look splendid. Now, I’ll leave it to Lola to serve, she knows more about cutting up cakes than I ever will!’
A round of applause went up and as Effie caught Jake’s eyes, she saw her own emotions reflected back in them.
Jake smiled at her, warm and reassuring.
Along with Alf’s words, it took her breath away.
Polcarrow, it seemed, a place where lost souls found safe harbours, was becoming more and more like home every day.