Chapter Five
As they turned off the main road into the narrower streets of Polcarrow, Effie turned the music down.
‘That used to be your favourite,’ Brian said, puzzled, as Led Zepplin’s ‘Whole Lotta Love’ receded from thumping anthem into background music.
‘It still is, but I’m not sure how much the residents of Polcarrow will appreciate it,’ Effie replied, secretly hoping they could just slip into the flat unnoticed by the neighbours. She didn’t want to draw too much attention to herself just yet. What if the locals weren’t the welcoming kind?
Wide eyed, Effie took in the charming traditional, whitewashed fisherman’s cottages, which almost tumbled down the narrow streets towards the sea. Hanging baskets swung in the breeze, waiting to be filled with spring blooms. Front doors were painted cheerful, primary colours and the tiny gardens were filled with an assortment of miniature palm trees, fishing buoys and weathered benches. The closeness of the buildings gave Effie an image of a community that was nestled all together. How would she fit in?
As they wound their way down the sloping streets towards the harbour, Effie caught tantalising glimpses of the sea glinting like a mirror through the gaps in the houses. The church tower stood proud like a beacon, its clock ticking away the quiet afternoon. There was a sense of slowness to the village, of a place tucked away from the modern world. Effie saw very few people. Was Clive mad having a go at opening a bookshop somewhere so tiny, so off the beaten track?
However, she couldn’t deny that the village was delightful, and Effie couldn’t help but fall in love at first sight. It was everything anyone would imagine a Cornish fishing village to be, like somewhere straight from a romance novel. In her mind, she cast herself as the heroine forced to flee her staid city life, running headlong towards the sea in search of romance and adventure. She’d devoured numerous books filled with these stories and never grew tired of them.
Once they’d passed the church, Brian turned the car onto the harbour road, slowing down as they passed a row of ice-cream-coloured fisherman’s cottages. Pink, yellow, blue, white and green. Effie instantly fell in love with the pale pink one, it was perfect for a romance lover. She imagined living there, transforming the house into a perfect refuge from the world, filling it with brightly coloured furnishings and rows of bookshelves. With her scant budget, Effie knew that dream would have to remain firmly tucked inside her heart.
They trundled along the seafront, the satnav taking them towards an adorable looking vintage-style café, which was sadly closed for the day. ‘Lola’s’ read the sign above the door. Effie couldn’t wait to try it. She was pleased when they pulled to a stop at the building next door where a shiny red sports car was parked at an obnoxious angle.
Pushing open the car door, Effie stepped out. Hands on hips, she surveyed the quaint harbour, excitement flickering in her belly that she was going to be living so close to the sea, in a cute Cornish village. A smile spread across her face. People dreamed of this. Crossing the road, Effie peered down onto the beach. The sea was out, and a young couple was walking a dog along the shallows whilst some children played football. There was something untouched about Polcarrow, which reassured her.
‘Excuse me.’ A voice broke into her reverie.
Effie turned around to see that a smart-suited young man had emerged from the red car. ‘Yes?’ She crossed back over the road towards him.
‘Are you Effie Lovell?’
Taken aback that he knew her name, she stammered, ‘Yes, who are you?’
‘Greg Davey, estate agent, here to give you the keys. Was expecting you twenty minutes ago, I nearly drove off.’ He gave a shallow laugh and made a big show of checking his chunky, designer watch.
Effie narrowed her eyes at him. ‘We got held up,’ was all she said.
Greg glanced from her to Brian. ‘Right, well, shall I give you the keys and let you in? Follow me.’
Effie and Brian exchanged a look before following him around the back of the property, only half listening as Greg explained that the stairs were private, only she’d be using them, and they only led up to the flat. Effie studied the nondescript white door as Greg fumbled with the keys. It was plastic, so she wouldn’t be able to paint it in a more exciting colour.
Greg eventually found the right key to unlock the flat, pushing open the door and going, ‘Ta-da,’ like he was some sort of magician.
Brian rolled his eyes as he signalled for Effie to go inside. Glancing between the two men, she took a breath. This was it, the start of her new life. She stepped over the threshold and glanced around. Her earlier excitement fizzled. Effie didn’t know what she’d been expecting but the photos she’d seen in Clive’s paperwork had clearly been taken at a complimentary angle. They had implied a beautiful flat, neatly finished and flooded with sunlight.
What she found was . . . fine. Serviceable, unloved. Effie swallowed back her disappointment as she took it in. Blank white walls, still bearing the shadows of the paintings that had been up previously. A tired-looking red sofa was pushed against the wall in front of the window. Effie went over to it. When she knelt on it to push the window open, the springs creaked in protest. At least the sea view was a bonus.
From her position on the sofa, she glanced around the living space, taking it all in. A tiny, dated kitchen, a table with two mismatched chairs, an empty plastic fruit bowl. It was OK. It would have to be. Reminding herself that Clive was footing the bill, she bit her tongue against voicing any complaints, not wanting to sound ungrateful.
Hauling herself up, Effie made her way towards the back of the flat. She heard her dad opening and closing cupboards, the impatient sound of Greg tossing his keys and tapping his foot. She pushed open the bedroom door to find a stark white wooden bed frame and matching wardrobe. At least the bed looked brand new, and the mattress was still in its plastic wrapper, but the bookshelf was wonky and the room, like the rest of the flat, looked like it hadn’t been cared for in a very long time.
Steeling herself she headed towards the bathroom. It was stark, white and blue, functional, but it needed a really good scrub. As Effie caught her reflection in the mirror, she tried to replace the shocked look with a smile. It wobbled across her lips. This was fine, she told herself, it was far better than she’d ever be able to afford by herself. A sea view was basically gold dust unless you had a small fortune to spend. Plus, she had her cleaning equipment and all her soft furnishings, she’d have it looking homely in no time.
When she emerged from the bathroom she caught her dad’s concerned eye. He’d known her long enough to realise her silence was her way of processing her feelings, hiding her disappointment. Greg was loudly chewing gum and tapping away at his phone, clearly desperate to get away. Part of her couldn’t blame him.
‘And the shop?’ Effie asked hopefully.
Greg glanced up. ‘Oh, it’s the red fob. I’d show you in but, you know, you were late and I have places to go, people to see.’
Brian threw him a withering look. Effie actually couldn’t wait to have him out of her sight. Crossing over to him, she held out her hand for the keys.
‘All OK?’ he asked but was obviously hoping she wasn’t going to raise any concerns.
Tight lipped, Effie nodded. ‘What was the shop before?’
