Chapter Eight
A loud thump, like a something being dropped from a height, woke Effie with a start. Oh gosh, was someone breaking in? Heart hammering, she bolted upright ears pricked for any more sounds. No, the noise was outside in the street. Huddling under the duvet, she tried to slow her heart rate back down with steady breaths. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was nearly two in the morning. It was probably nothing, she told herself, as she tried to drift back off, only to be woken again by another loud thump. This one was accompanied by an angry voice outside her bedroom window.
‘I’ve come back home, you know where, ugh, don’t, I don’t want to go through this again.’ A man’s voice, fraught with tired emotion carried through the night.
Effie turned over. Waited. Silence. Just as her body began to relax, the voice came again, more urgent, winding up to a full-blown argument. With gritted teeth, Effie waited, hoping the man would move away. Effie listened for another ten minutes as the conversation went round and round in circles, making her blood boil, spoiling the fuzzy, slumbery vibes she’d managed to hang on to.
‘Ugh.’ Effie pushed the duvet off and staggered out of bed towards the window. Pushing it open with more force than intended, she leaned out and shouted, ‘Could you please take your call somewhere private, some of us are trying to sleep!’
The man glanced up, horror flashing across his face as Effie glared down at him. She caught a hint of thick blond hair, a grey hoodie and a look of remorse in his eyes.
‘Sorry, sorry.’ He gave Effie a dismissive wave before turning back to whoever was on the end of the line. ‘Look, let’s talk again in the morning, I’m disturbing the neighbours.’
Effie glowered at him as he ended the call, slipped his phone into his pocket and continued to bump his case up the stairs that led to the flat behind the café. The man glanced back as he reached the door. Caught watching him, Effie retreated, slamming her window to further convey her displeasure, sleep a distant memory.
The following morning Effie stood by the front window, drinking her tea whilst watching the sun come up over the sea. Yawning, she put her mug down and rubbed her tired eyes. Effie had lain awake, alert and annoyed after angrily confronting the man who’d disturbed her sleep. After he’d apologised there’d been the sound of more cases being hefted up the next-door stairs until the door finally closed and silence seeped back through Polcarrow.
Unable to get back to sleep, Effie’s mind had alternated between her ever-growing to-do list and thoughts about banging on her neighbour’s door bright and early, treating him to a taste of his own medicine by giving him a piece of her mind. She’d even begun to plan out what she’d say to him, which didn’t help her already riled up mind calm down.
However, she must have fallen back to sleep because her alarm had bleeped through her dreams, dragging her back into the reality of Tuesday morning. She’d pulled herself out of bed and flicked on the kettle before realising that with the paint not due to arrive until the following morning, she had nothing much to get up for. Effie started to make a proper list of what needed to be done. She loved to tick things off a list, loved the satisfaction that came with completing a job.
As she sat on the sofa compiling her to-do list, her eyes kept straying to the sea. It lapped onto the shore, beckoning her in. The siren call of the swoosh of the waves echoed in her ears. She tried to ignore it, tried to focus her mind on how she’d tackle righting all the wrongs she’d stepped foot into. The unloved flat, the sad-looking shop, the overwhelming task of redecorating.
Her eyes strayed back to where the sun glinted off the waves. Why not go for a swim? Effie loved the embrace of water around her limbs, the cold shock from that first plunge, which always made her gasp. Back home, she had swum occasionally, but had been put off by lugging her stuff to the beach and home, but there was no excuse here, she could cross the street barefoot and within moments be in up to her knees. The temptation was so strong, so why was she trying to resist it?
Effie curled into herself. She was shy, worried what everyone else might think of her, not that anyone else in Polcarrow seemed to have the same qualms. She’d spotted many faces pressed up to the shop window the previous afternoon, trying to peek through the grubby glass to see what she was doing. People had lingered in the café when she’d gone in for her mid-afternoon mocha. Effie could feel their ears straining for gossip as she ordered a fruity flapjack.
Part of her loved this, knew it was good that the locals were craving the big reveal, knew it would be vital for the business’s success. Clive had confirmed the new sign was to be delivered at the end of the following week. Effie sucked in a breath at that. So much to do and only her hands to do it. She knew she should ask for more help but she really didn’t want Clive to think she was incapable or risk anything getting back to Zach, who’d revel in her not coping.
Effie studied the sea. Smooth, good conditions, the sun had risen gently over the horizon, promising a glorious spring day. She stretched her arms above her. Gosh, she ached from cleaning all the shelves the previous day in an attempt to get them ready to paint. A swim would do her the world of good, it’d ease her muscles, it’d invigorate her.
Without giving it another thought, she put her mug in the sink and headed into her bedroom, where she wiggled into her wetsuit, dug out her flip-flops and threw on her dry robe. Effie was crossing the road, cramming her wild hair into her swim cap before she fully realised what she was doing.
Before she lost her nerve, Effie made her way down the stone steps. Pulling off her flip-flops, she sank her toes into the cool golden sand, this part of the beach not yet warmed by the sun. It oozed between her toes like the memory of childhood holidays. Making her way towards the sea, she paused at the halfway point and turned around to survey Polcarrow. From the beach she could see it was even quainter than she’d first realised. Effie felt that if she stretched her arms out wide enough, she could gather the whole village to her in an embrace.
With her back to the sea, the village stretched from the headland on her right to the pub, perched on the edge of the harbour, on her left. The rest of Polcarrow was charmingly stacked up the hill, watching over her, windows glinting like eyes waiting to see what her next step would be.
Effie made her way across the damp sand, the briny early-morning aroma of the sea awakening her senses. The waves lapped against the shore with a beckoning swish that she was unable to ignore. The March sun wasn’t at its full potency, but she knew that on a hot summer’s day, the beach would be a haven for families.
Standing toe to toe with the sea, the waves lapped at Effie’s feet as if pleased to welcome her home. She breathed in and out, dragging the clean sea air deep into her lungs, feeling it buzz through her body. Effie shrugged off her dry robe, dumped it on the sand, confident that no one in Polcarrow would pinch her stuff, and strode into the waves. She winced as the cold sea rushed over her toes, her feet, up her ankles, as if to swallow her up.
As the surf engulfed her, all her worries started to ebb away. Swimming had always been how she processed complicated feelings. As an anxious teenager, she’d splashed around trying to calm her nerves before her exams. At university, finding the local pool had been a much-needed balm, an escape from the student life she didn’t naturally fit into. She was much happier doing lengths than downing shots. She’d swum every day, early mornings, late nights, turning over in her head the complicated essay questions she needed to answer aboutKing Lear, or ruminating over whether the guy in the student union coffee shop was flirting with her. There had never been a problem she couldn’t solve with a swim.
Effie waded deeper into the waves until she was far enough out to bob down beneath them. The shock chill of the water alighted down her spine, the thrill sparking along her nerves. She began to swim, slowly at first, finding her way through an unfamiliar sea, wondering how far she should go. Probably not too far. After all, there was no one about to help if she got into trouble.
As Effie swam, she mulled over the realities of what opening a new shop entailed. Had she been blinded by the excitement of being as close to her own bookshop dream as she’d likely get? Should she have viewed the shop before accepting the role? Had Clive really considered the amount of work that was needed to get it up and running? Effie realised hindsight really was a beautiful thing and would’ve stopped her from getting lumbered with a project she was completely unprepared for. She knew if she called her dad he’d be straight down at the weekend with a set of paintbrushes and a classic rock playlist, but, although this was a fun, comforting thought, she knew this wasn’t Brian’s problem to solve.
Effie had to make the bookshop work. Clive trusted her, she didn’t want to let him down either. Painting shelves and walls might be a long, boring task, but how hard could it be? She had her audiobooks to help her through.
Plus, there was a steady stream of delicious baked goods next door at Lola’s to reward herself with. Her mouth watered at the thought of the scones and triple chocolate brownies. Effie could never resist anything chocolate based. She thought about grabbing a hot chocolate with marshmallows, her favourite post-swim treat, once she was out of the sea.
Realising she’d swum a lot further than she’d planned, Effie turned and made her way back towards the shore. Her limbs ached in a good way, her soul invigorated from having challenged her body, and her mind clearer. Everything felt much more manageable. The sea always put everything into perspective. As she reached the point where she could stand up, Effie scanned the beach, shock reverberating through her when she saw a man standing watching, a professional camera trained on her.
All the good vibes the sea had given her fizzled away at the sight of him. How dare he take photos of her? Grabbing her discarded robe and flip-flops, Effie marched up the beach towards him.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ she demanded, signalling to the camera.
Shocked, the man lowered the camera, horror flashing across his face. ‘I thought . . . I thought . . . you were . . . a . . .’ he spluttered, embarrassed.
