‘Cool. Let’s pack up for the day. I’ve washed everything. Are you ready to go?’
Effie nodded. She’d tidied everything up whilst he’d been in the kitchen. She picked up her bag and headed towards the door, holding it open whilst Jake switched the radio and lights off. Once outside, with the door locked, Effie suddenly felt nervous around him. Should she offer to buy him a drink? Would he want to spend any more time with her? Jake was smiling at her in a way that discombobulated her normally ordered mind.
Before she could broach the subject, Jake’s mobile rang. He pulled it out of his back pocket. Effie noticed the name Tara flash up on the screen. His ex. It was a sobering reminder of the type of woman he usually spent time with.
‘Sorry, Effie, I’ve got to take this.’ He gave an apologetic wince. ‘See you tomorrow.’
Before she could say anything, he was already walking away, leaving her paint-stained, exhausted and feeling forgotten in the doorway.
Chapter Thirteen
‘Which one do you prefer?’ Effie held up a blue floral and a pink striped dress to her laptop. Maddie was on the other end of a video call, eating a large tub of strawberry yoghurt and casting a critical eye over all the outfits Effie had chosen. ‘Or maybe I should just go for jeans?’
‘Uh-uh, nope.’ Maddie shook her head. ‘It’s a lovely spring day, it’s a birthday party in a church hall, you can’t rock up in jeans.’
Effie sank onto her bed. ‘Yes, I can. I have a nice top I can wear with them,’ she said half-heartedly. She was embarrassed to admit to herself that she wanted to make an effort for Jake, show him she scrubbed up well. The call he’d taken from his ex had been a reality check. He dated influencers, not bookshop assistants. Ugh. Why was she even thinking about dating him? She shouldn’t be so easily won over by a charming smile and paintbrush-wielding expertise.
Effie reached for a pretty floral blouse with a lace collar. It was cute. It was more her style. The dresses had sat in her wardrobe since last spring. She’d packed them thinking they might be useful for the shop opening, not expecting a party invite.
‘I’d feel better in jeans,’ Effie said, more to convince herself than Maddie. ‘I don’t want to draw attention to myself.’
‘Any more than you already have with your morning swims, opening a new shop and getting one of the locals to help you decorate. Tell me, is this guy who’s been helping you going to the party?’
Effie’s face flamed. ‘Maybe, but it’s not like that. He’s just bored and likes decorating. What? Why are you shaking your head.’
‘You wouldn’t be ringing me for clothing advice if this guy meant nothing.’
Effie opened her mouth to protest but quickly closed it. Maybe she did fancy Jake a bit? The thought made her even more flustered. A glance at the clock revealed she had twenty minutes before they were meant to meet. ‘Shit, Maddie, I have to go, I’m running out of time. Have a good afternoon.’
Maddie peered at the time on her laptop. ‘Shucks, me too, lunchbreak nearly over. Wear the dress. I prefer the pink one. Love you.’
Effie watched as the screen went blank before flopping back against her pillows clutching the two dresses. They were both really pretty but the only way she was going to feel comfortable was in her jeans and the blouse. It felt far too early in the year for a cute summer dress. Anyway, she was only planning on popping along for half an hour. Parties, especially ones full of people she didn’t know, put the fear in her.
Once her makeup was done, her hair plaited in a coronet around her head, a few wispy tendrils escaping around her face, Effie pulled on her jeans and the blouse. It looked cute. It felt safe. Her eyes strayed to the dresses. No, it was too late to get changed and her nerves were already jangling. Instead, Effie hung the dresses back up and checked the contents of her bag for the fourth time. Lipstick, phone, purse, could she slip in a book? No, that would be rude. Carrying a book with her had always been her comfort, so she compromised and tucked her Kindle inside.
After closing her bedroom door, Effie made her way into the living room, slipping her feet into a pair of bright yellow Converse. Her heart raced as she thought about walking into the church hall, all the locals turning to stare at her, questions in their eyes. Questions they’d no doubt find a way of asking. In the bookshop she felt safe. If anyone turned up to see what was going on, they were on her turf. They never lingered long either when they saw she was busy. But a party, oh gosh, there’d be no way out. People would try and twist her arm and get her to stay.
Panic began to rise in her chest at the thought of everyone turning to gawp at her as she stepped foot in the hall. Effie tried to calm her breathing, but it felt as if her heart was trying to clamour its way out through her throat. She froze as a battle raged inside her between picking up her bag and leaving the flat and just cancelling. She could claim she was sick. The air around her was thick, suffocating, and somewhere through the smog of it, a loud knock came at the door.
It sounded again. Effie caught the time on the kitchen clock. Ten past three. The plan had been to meet Jake outside at three. Swallowing down her fear, she crossed over to the door and with shaking fingers unlocked it.
‘Effie, are you OK?’ Concern flashed across Jake’s face.
‘I can’t go,’ she said desperately, ‘I can’t do this.’
‘What?’
‘The party,’ her voice came out high pitched, panicked. ‘I can’t go and see all those people.’
Jake took her in, realised what was happening. ‘Effie, listen to me. Look at me.’ When she did, he placed his hands on her shoulders and calm instantly descended through her. He made her feel tethered. ‘Deep breath. In for four, hold, out for four. And again.’
Effie did as instructed. Jake matched her shaky breaths with his own smooth ones. His eyes never left hers. Slowly, she felt the panic in her limbs begin to dissipate, felt herself drawn back into the room, into the present.
‘What’s up, Effie?’
She squirmed slightly before admitting, ‘I don’t like big crowds or parties or clubbing. I get anxious at social gatherings. I tend to avoid them. I know that makes me sound boring.’ People had always called her boring at university and it had stuck, wedged itself in the gaps where her confidence had been chipped away. ‘I’m much happier with my books.’
‘Effie, that is perfectly OK, you don’t need to like parties. Or clubbing. I couldn’t say for sure, but I don’t think Alf is the clubbing type. Scruff, however . . .’
