FLAPPER GIRL | ❝All those people, all those lives, where are they now?❞
In all her ninety-something years of death, all Effie Connolly wishes for is some excitement in Button House... from anyone other than the fellow ghosts she's stuck in purg...
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CHAPTER ELEVEN a day in the life... or death
⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰
DATE: A DAY AT THE SEASIDE IN MAY, 1914...
"COME ON, EFFIE, it's your turn!"
The fourteen year-old listens to her calling. Stepping up to the spot of sand, Effie takes her place with the bat. The sea breeze wildly rustles her turrets of mousy brown hair that fall down her back, and colouring her dimpled cheeks ruddy as she grins. Effie's slip gingham dress flaps like a boat's sail around her ankles, as she squats and poses with the bat, elbows poking out and her gaze focused.
Bowling this time is that local boy — Arthur Hoskins. He is the one who called her up, like a challenge. She sees him now and again, always appearing in her family's shop to buy peppermints (rightly so, Effie thinks... she'll be damned if her family don't sell the best sweets in all of Portsmouth). Inside the shop, there is courtesy and politeness between them, just like the rest of the community. But in a game of rounders at the beach, it's time to be ruthless. Their families all ventured outside of town to find a sandy beach to relax on, since the narrow shingles beaches covered in pebbles at home will never do for such game... so the parents sit back, and the children play without a care in the world.
"What's taking you so long, Eff? Or perhaps you'd rather let Fred take the shot," Arthur teases her cheekily, nodding to Effie's younger brother queued behind her; a squeaky thirteen year-old always with a speck of dirt on his face.
"I'm waiting for you to stop chatting, so I can take the bloody shot," Effie retorts with a smug grin.
The boys and girls surrounding them all whoop and chide them in unison, breaking out into laughter. She only responds by digging her heels into the sand, keeping her eyes on the ball. Shaking his head slightly, Arthur starts practicing his swing, while Effie locks her eyes on the ball. Why is he like this? Trying to distract her with that... smile. He might think it works a charm, but when he tosses the tough leather ball...
BAM!
Effie takes her shot, making the ball ricochet off the bat and far beyond the posts, sending the fielders into disarray. There is only one thing left to do — run. She drops the bat amidst all the shouting and applause and starts sprinting around the pitch, hitting each post as she does.
