CHAPTER NINETEEN
this is not a love story

( TW: character death )

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

"OH, IT'S HIM!" Kitty squeals excitedly.

     The him in question is Mr. Darcy, from the Pride & Prejudice film Alison had put on for Kitty; romances are her all-time favourite. There was no doubt that Thomas held a fondness for it too (after all, it's the closest thing to his era), and Fanny even joined them on the sofa to watch after claiming she wasn't in the slightest bit interested. As for Effie, she was simply bored, so what was there to lose?

It is almost the end, and Thomas and Kitty are on the edge of their seats as Darcy walks across the misty field to Elizabeth, the score building to a sweeping crescendo of piano and strings.

"Oh, goodness! He's completely unbuttoned," Fanny gasps. "How improper..."

"How handsome," Kitty adds.

Effie tilts her head at the screen, the shot still lingering on Mr. Darcy walking. "It's quite a big field, isn't it?"

"Hush, Effie!" Thomas shushes her, transfixed.

"Couldn't he just run over to Lizzie? Or she could get a move on and meet him in the middle?"

"Shh!"

But in spite of Effie and Fanny's criticisms, all four of them are still glued to the television screen. They listen with bated breath as Mr. Darcy professes his love a second time, after having learned from the first, and finally Elizabeth reveals her own feelings. Even for the most cold-hearted cynics, it is difficult not to feel their hearts swell as the dawn breaks behind their connected foreheads... A few minutes later, with the credits rolling, Effie looks to each side of her. Kitty and Thomas remain in a haze of romanticism, whilst Fanny pouts at the screen suspiciously.

     "Oh good, the film's over..." Alison walks in behind them. Sighing on her way down to crouch, she presses a button on the DVD player to eject the disc. "How did you all find it?"

     "It was marvellous, Alison!" Kitty applauds.

     Meanwhile, Thomas disappears into his own monologue. "Indeed, it transported me back to my previous courtships... this tableau lifted straight from the novel, it did remind me of my brief correspondence with Miss Austen herself. From one artiste to another."

     "Hang on, you wrote to Jane Austen?" Alison perks up.

     "Well... it was a one-sided correspondence. She never responded."

     "Hm. I wonder why," Effie mutters under her breath.

     "You don't sound like much of a romantic, Effie?" asks Alison, as she stands up and puts the DVD case away.

     Effie leans back further into her seat on the sofa, trying to lounge somewhat comfortably but failing. "It isn't quite that, exactly. I do love being showered with all the attention of a romantic gesture, I'm sure it's lovely. And I wouldn't protest if there was the right person. I just think... well, it's a bit of wishful thinking."

     "Is it so wrong to hope that one true love exists somewhere?" Thomas counters.

     "No," she shrugs, "but I think you're just lucky to end up with whoever you enjoy your time with. And I certainly don't believe that there is only one person meant for us all."

     "I didn't expect you to be quite so cynical," Fanny remarks, drawing back from Effie.

     She raises an eyebrow at the older woman. "And you aren't? I would've expected you to be cheering me on, saying that girls like me flirting and frolicking in our youth was wrong—"

     "I know you find me antiquated, but I was young once, too."

     "Were you really?"

     "Effie!"

"What about first love? Surely we all remember that?" Alison reminds the ghosts. "I mean sure, mine ended in tears, but it's a unique experience. That first one..." As she trails off, the others ponder memories of their past, recalling whatever that fuzzy feeling was — or mourning if they never got to experience it.

Effie falls into both camps. She finds herself remembering and mourning. She doesn't realise how long for, until she feels the ghosts and Alison staring at her:

"You seem lost in thought," Thomas remarks.

"I was just trying to remember my first love, as I'm sure we all were," she says defensively.

The poet scoffs. "Trying to remember? What, was it so long ago that you have forgotten?" he asks; not maliciously, but it still rubs Effie the wrong way.

"On the contrary, Thomas, I remember it very well!" Effie huffs. She could relay every painful detail to them if she were asked politely... probably. She feels the story bubbling to the surface with an urgency unlike ever before. So, why fight it now? Effie re-positions herself on the sofa to get comfortable, feeling their attention settle on her like limelight. "Although I warn you, it isn't a sweeping romantic fairytale—"

"Oh, please tell us!" Kitty grins.

Effie takes a deep breath. "Very well. He was a local boy– or man, by the time we were together. His name was Arthur Hoskins."

{⋅. ✯ .⋅}

DATE:
MARCH, 1920

ON days where the clouds are grey and obscure the sun, Effie Pritchard really feels the weight of the last few years. Even for a youthful optimist like herself, it is difficult to ignore the toll that the Great War took on people — including her own family, her brother Fred afflicted with a permanent limp and haunting memories of the frontline. Then came the more recent battle, with the Spanish Flu sweeping through the world and affecting even more lives.

     But now, she tells herself, it is the 1920s. An opportunity for a fresh start.

Effie is walking down Broad Street with as much bounce in her step as she can muster. Her mother sent her out to the grocer's with a shopping list. The twenty year-old catches her appearance in the reflection of shop windows — her mousy brown hair is pinned up into a faux bob, the closest imitation of the real thing Effie could manage without angering her parents (she can't wait to get the real thing one day).

     She walks into the grocer's shop, one of the many she is familiar with, as Pritchards Confectioners shares a high street with them. There are three other people in here with her — a young man with his back turned, and a middle-aged couple debating how much cheese to buy. "Good morning," Effie smiles over the counter and hands the grocer the shopping list. He reads it, walking along the shelves to find the items.

     "Excuse me... Effie?" says a voice.

     She turns around. The young man whose face was hidden before now stares at her; his large brown eyes strike her immediately, although it takes Effie a moment to adjust to who they belong to. He clears his throat and starts speaking, slightly breathless with hope. "I, erm...  I hope it's not impertinent to say it, but I believe we know each other. I'm Arthur? Arthur Hoskins?"

     Effie stays quiet and narrows her eyes, rather enjoying his floundering.

     "You might not remember me. Er... we grew up together, on the very same street, in fact. I used to visit your shop every day—"

     She can't torture him any longer. Effie cracks a smile, and once Arthur notices, he realises he's been played for a fool. He releases an embarrassed sigh, but he must recall what she can be like.

     "Don't be daft, Arthur, of course I remember you!" says Effie.

     "Well, I thought I'd ask," Arthur replies. "These days, I'm not always sure I recognise myself, let alone anyone else."

     "Oh, don't you worry, I know you just fine."

Arthur smiles broadly at her; good God, he hasn't changed a bit since they were younger. Except that he perhaps seems maturer, more experienced in life for better or for worse. As her laughter subsides, it is swiftly replaced with an aching relief to see in him person. Their childhood feels so very far away now — all before the Great War began and Arthur moved away. It was impossible to know what happened to him afterwards. At least he's all in one piece, by the looks of it.

"I'm so glad to see you," Effie admits, "I've—"

Then she is pulled back to the counter, realising the grocer is waiting for her. She pays with the money given by her parents and collects the change. To her delight, Arthur is still standing idle when she turns back with a bag of groceries.

     "Would you like to take a walk?" she asks suddenly. "I know it's out-of-the-blue, but we have so much catching up to do."

     Arthur's chest inflates with a delighted breath. "I would like that very much."

     "I just need to drop these off at home..."

     "Here, let me help you," he swoops in and takes the bag off her hands. How gentlemanly, she thinks coyly.

     Together, they take the short walk back to Pritchard's Confectioners. You can start smelling the sea before you get to the door — then when you walk inside, the aromas mix with those of the sweet treats in glass jars. They are the two smells that have permeated Effie's life so far. Her father is at the counter, and recognises Arthur quickly. Effie leaves the pair to catch up downstairs whilst she carries the shopping through. Then she climbs upstairs to her bedroom, checking her hair in the mirror and re-packing her handbag.

     When she comes back down, Effie and Arthur set off for their walk. They stroll slowly down the street and towards the pier, surrounded by the water and the grey naval buildings dotted along the beaches. She finds herself reminded of the zeppelin attack on their town a few years ago, and recounts to him what he missed.

     Then it gets them talking about the war. Arthur tells her that he enlisted in 1916, once he was old enough to. He doesn't tell her what it was like on the front line — none of those who went ever do. But she can make an educated guess based on how much older he feels. Effie tells him about their side too, when her brother Fred used his growth spurt to his advantage, by enlisting underage to fight. They had heard of other boys who did the same.

     By the time they end up at Victoria Pier, sat on the edge with their legs dangling over the edge, they are filled with bittersweet memories. They stare over at the beach where they used to play rounders with their friends; boys and girls from their neighbourhood, smiling and laughing. Many of the boys went off to war eventually, and not all of them came back.

    "It's strange to think of the boys not being here," Arthur reminisces. "Harry, Charlie, Jim... but Paul and Frank made it through the war, I heard."

     "They did, yes," Effie nods. "But do you remember Ivy, the milkman's daughter? We lost her in the second wave of that dreadful flu."

     He physically flinches at the thought; clearly, he hadn't heard about that. "God, how awful. I liked Ivy. She was a good sport."

     "She was. I used to play hoops with her in the playground at school."

     For a long, silent moment, it all feels so heavy. Effie has moments like that where it hits her, the friends they have lost along the way. But at least this time she has Arthur next to her. But life goes on — the seagulls screech above them and the waves churn beneath their feet.

"I've had this feeling for a while now," Effie says decisively, "that I need to seize life while I can. What these last few years have taught me, is that life is short. So I should live it. I shouldn't be wasting my time with worrying about the rules of the olden days, trying to please others by doing what is told to be suitable."

"Not that you ever did that in the first place," Arthur interjects with a grin.

She returns it. "That's true... but do you understand what I'm saying? I can't stay in this place forever. I want to see the world, make something of myself. The world is changing, Arthur, and I want to be certain I can keep up with it!" Effie's voice catches on her last exclamation; something she doesn't say out loud, is how she feels she has a responsibility to enjoy what the world has to offer. For all the friends who couldn't be here to see it, and for her brother who can't quite see it the same way.

Somehow, Arthur seems to read all of it. "I understand," he says softly.

Effie swallows thickly and blinks into the distance. She can blame any teary eyes on the coastal winds.

"So, are you just visiting, or are you back in town for a while?" Effie asks him, eager to shift the subject to lighter matters.

"I'm afraid you'll be seeing a lot more of me. I thought I would come home and help my uncle, in the cobbler's shop. He's been struggling on his own since his partner had to step back."

"That's very generous of you."

"Yes, I suppose... are you feeling peckish?"

The abruptness of the question puzzles Effie at first. Arthur reaches into his pocket, a large one deep in his long jacket, and retrieves something closed inside his fist. He extends it to her, opening out his palm — and then she laughs. It's a peppermint rock. Not just any peppermint, but ones they sell in their shop. They are the very same ones Arthur used to come in and buy when he was a little boy, all the way through to his departure from their hometown.

"Did you just buy that?" she asks.

"Perhaps I did," he shrugs with a smile. "Old habits die hard."

"You know I could just pinch one from the jar for myself if I wanted to?"

"Taking from your own stock? Is that even allowed?"

"Shhh!" Effie teases, plucking the peppermint rock from his palm before he can change his mind. The wrapper crinkles between her fingers as she removes it and pops the sweet into her mouth. Arthur does the same with his own peppermint. For a moment, she thinks she can travel in time, back to when things were simpler — or is this forwards, to something new?

{⋅. ✯ .⋅}

THE senses linger with Effie even today. That day smelled like sea foam, tasted like peppermint, felt like something new and exciting.

"It was remarkable, actually," she tells the other ghosts. "He was just the annoying boy I used to play with after school for so many years. But we felt this spark when we reunited that day... I don't know, you could chalk it down to young naivety, or—"

"Or love!" Kitty beams.

"Yes, if you like. But hold your horses, Kitty, we've barely even started!"

Effie looks around at the other ghosts, and Alison. It feels strange to have them all riveted by her story — usually she loves having people's undivided attention, but this time she squirms under the spotlight. They are all so excited to hear more. Alison leans forward with an eager smile.

"So, did you start spending time together?" Alison asks.

"Oh, yes, quite a lot..."

"... And?"

"Is this an interrogation?" Effie protests.

"No! We just– well, it sounds sweet, doesn't it?" Alison turns to the other ghosts, who nod in agreement. "But if you'd rather not tell it..."

"No, no, I can tell it... I came to count on Arthur a lot in the months followed. He became not just a friend, but a true confidante. And there was something so endearing about him, something you couldn't help go towards."

{⋅. ✯ .⋅}

DATE:
OCTOBER, 1920

"QUICK, up here..." Effie's hushed whisper entices Arthur, to follow her up the tight stairwell in their local theatre. It had been built a little over a decade ago and had since brought plays, musicals, pantomimes and more to their doorstep.

     She is taking him to the best seats in the house — little does he know, Effie never takes anyone else up here.

Arthur has been a constant in her life since he came back to Portsmouth. She has re-traced the meaning of his presence. A long time ago, he was a young boy who glowed with jovial mischief. Now, he is a man, one who has made her feel something new that stirs deep inside. It startles Effie every now and then. It makes her care more than she thinks she ought to.

     They arrive at Effie's intended spot. While they are masked from the bright spotlights shining onto the stage, none of the play below is hidden from them. They sit down on the floorboards, amongst the ropes and the equipment lying behind them, racks displaying glittering costumes swallowing the backs of their heads. Below them, a musical comedy is playing out, the actors dressed in garish Victorian costumes as they prance about the stage.

     "Isn't it marvellous?" she whispers, her eyes fixed on the performers; though she does hope Arthur is looking at her.

     There is a pause. "You want to be down there, don't you? You want to perform," suggests Arthur.

Effie's eyes twinkle with wonder at the thought. "It seems so exciting. Imagine this was your job, to perform every night and let yourself go on a grand stage."

"I'm not sure I can."

"Well, of course you can't, you can scarcely clap along to a beat," she teases. "I just meant that I have always found a thrill in performance."

"Dancing, in particular," he notes, "I remember you were always obsessed with that woman, what's her name? The one who wafted about barefoot—"

"Isadora Duncan — and she is not some wafting woman," Effie rebukes passionately. "She is a pioneer. I simply adore how free she makes dancing look... anyway, although I'm not sure what I would do onstage, there is something so enticing about it." Then she shoots Arthur a sideways glance, with bated breath. "You... don't think I'm silly, do you?"

Arthur's face flushes apologetically. "Oh, no! Never... I– I think you're wonderful."

Now it is Effie's turn to burn from the flattery. She stares hopefully at Arthur as he looks down again, resting his arms on the railings. The subtle toning of his arms flexes through his sleeves.

"Mind you, I'd rather not wear face paint and dance a jig onstage... but sometimes I find myself wanting more," Arthur confesses, staring pensively down at the singers below. "Well, more than what life's offering for me right now. I don't know what it is yet. Which is hardly helpful, I can't go anywhere if I don't know where I'm going."

"Of course you can," Effie replies.

"What?"

"Well... I think it's about stumbling along, trying new things, always keeping doors open for whatever's next. The war is over... a whole new world is waiting for us out there, Arthur. I've told you this before, but I think we should—"

"— Seize the moment, I know..."

His gaze flutters like a feather down to her lips. Effie swears she feels her heart catapult to the sides of her ribcage. It suddenly feels impossible to ignore the intricacies about Arthur — the depth his chestnut eyes always regard her with, the outline of his jaw she could trace if she dared to. And it's not just that. They make each other life, they can cry with each other, in a way that is difficult with anyone else. When all of those factors blur together...

Well, it was going to happen sooner or later, wasn't it?

Arthur leans in, like a question, and Effie answers him by meeting his lips in the middle. There is only the slightest apprehension in her at first — this is not what she was told courtships should be like, but then again, that was before the world got shaken up. This is the closest to a boy Effie could ever have dreamed of being.

Another part of her feels confident; knows what she wants, and is ready to take it.

Still buzzing when they break apart, they hold onto one another in awe. For both of them, there had been no feeling quite like it until now...

{⋅. ✯ .⋅}

"WHAT'S going in here?" asks the Captain. He stands in the doorway with his chin jutted out, demanding more knowledge. Pat and Julian loom behind him, sticking their noses in with curiosity.

Effie sighs. She is starting to realise how Thomas must have felt, when they all begged to hear the tale of his death. "Will Robin and Mary be joining us? Or anyone else, for that matter?" she asks pointedly.

The sarcasm is lost on Pat, who cheerily responds, "Oh, no, Robin and Mary are off doing something else. We just thought we'd pop in, we could hear you lot chatting and we got curious!"

"We're talking about long lost love," Alison informs them.

For some reason, the Captain swallows thickly and flinches. "Oh– you are?" he murmurs. Effie feels a quiet pang of recognition, having a feeling she knows why he reacted that way.

"Don't worry, it's Effie's turn right now. And you interrupted at the good bit, so sit down."

     The Captain, Julian and Pat take their seats, all paying attention with varying degrees of interest. Once she is sure they are listening, Effie continues with her story: "Our courtship really began then," she says, feeling a rush of warmth and butterflies like a lovestruck young adult again. "We were going against the old-fashioned ways our parents used to court..."

     At this, she shoots a pointed look at Fanny, who is already up in arms.

     "This sounds like a recipe for disaster," the older woman complains. "Cosying up to a young man, unwed and unchaperoned? Oh, no, that would never have been allowed in my day! There are sensible ways to go about this—"

     "Alright, alright, I hear you!" Effie snaps. "And it's not like we never discussed the future, or kept the possibility of commitment in mind. I mean, it had to come to a head at some point... and it did."

When she remembers it, Effie cannot help but feel her heart plummet, like a pebble sinking into the dark abyss of the sea.

{⋅. ✯ .⋅}

DATE:
MARCH, 1921

THEY had arranged to meet on the pier at one o'clock. It was about time, really. Arthur had been the one to organise it — he dropped a note by the confectionery shop, in a spot where he knew only Effie would see it. She made an excuse to her parents for needing some fresh air, and left the house briskly walking towards the beach.

She soon spies Arthur waiting on the pier for her. He is walking along the edge as if it were a tightrope act. Below him, the waves lap against the wooden beams holding up the ground he stands on. It is a little too reckless even for her liking. When Effie has almost reached him, Arthur suddenly wobbles; he has to outstretch his arms rapidly and grip on the railings to stop his fall.

"Oh! Arthur, be careful—" Effie feels a gasp catch in her throat. "One of these days, you'll get caught out doing that."

"I'm alright, I'm alright..." Arthur assures her. Once he steadies his balance, he settles his gaze on his beloved, and flashes her a warm smile. "I'm glad you came here today."

"I can't turn down an invitation, can I?" she teases, although tinged with nervousness.

The two lovers walk to meet in the middle, intertwining their hands. Effie is always amazed at the symmetry of such a simple gesture — how her palm perfectly fits in his. "Please, sit," Arthur urges her, and they lower themselves to sit with their legs dangling above the waves. Effie nestles her head into the crook of his neck. It's just the kind of public display of affection that would not have been encouraged years ago. Now, the youth in the dating scene are exploring and making their own rules.

"I've missed you," says Arthur, after a while.

"I've missed you too," Effie sighs guiltily. In truth, there has been a couple of weeks between their last proper meeting — a long time when you're young and in love — but she had her reasons. She stayed away because she had been overwhelmed... things had gone much further than either of them had expected. While she cannot say she regretted it, there is still a whirlwind of emotions that keeps Effie from being at ease.

"I suppose I wasn't sure what to say afterwards. That night, when we... it was... well, it was wonderful. Truly, I won't deny it."

Relieved to hear it, Arthur squeezes her hands in agreement.

"But... I'm not sure what happens now," adds Effie, with by a shaky chuckle.

Arthur gives her a funny look; like he knows something she doesn't. It keeps her curious. "I've been wondering the same for a few days now," he says. "And I think, at last, I've come up with an answer."

She waits, patiently anticipating his words.

"Marry me."

... But not those words.

"W– what?" Effie stammers. It isn't often she is left speechless.

Arthur has turned to face her completely now, overflowing with tenderness. "Effie, I love you. This last year of my life has been transformed thanks to having you back in it. So, if you don't mind, I'd like to have you around for as long as I can manage. I just thought– it's like you said to me, life is short. We have to hold onto the things we want."

Her mouth hangs open in awe. It isn't often that Effie Pritchard is left speechless, but there is a first time for everything.

"Oh, Arthur... I..."

"I apologise if I'm springing it upon you."

"I'm flattered, truly, I just..." Effie struggles to find the words.

"You don't want to get married?" Arthur tries to guess; and trying his best not to sound dejected.

"No– I just– I don't know what I want," she confesses.

Effie feels there is so much to consider — she loves Arthur, she doesn't doubt that in the slightest. But what she doubts is whether she's ready for marriage yet. Can she love him now like a wife can? What if she said yes, and ended up missing out on another opportunity? Or what if she said no, and instead missed out on something beautiful with Arthur? The trouble is, Effie isn't sure she trusts herself to choose any of these on the spot.

"I'll have to think about it," she tells him, but completely focused on him. She wants Arthur to know he isn't being ruled out of the running.

Luckily for her, Arthur is optimistic. "I can wait. I would wait, for you."

Effie isn't sure that makes her feel better. But when Arthur takes her face in his hands, the coastal breeze brushing past her cheeks to counter the warm rush his gives her, that does the trick. It is so easy to get swept away in a moment like this. However, Effie can't help but feel that she should think more responsibly than usual about this. And it doesn't help that she woke up feeling rather nauseous today; hardly the right mood to accept proposals in...

I've got time, Effie reminds herself. We have all time in the world.

{⋅. ✯ .⋅}

EFFIE doesn't realise she has trailed off until she notices all the ghosts staring at her — even the Captain and Julian, who are feigning disinterest.

"I left it for a few days, as I wasn't sure what my answer would be. It was quite unlike me. But I just wanted to be sure of what I was doing..." Effie mumbles. There is a lifeless tone in her voice that she cannot mask. She feels the guilt and regret creeping back from the grave.

     "What did you decide? Surely you said yes!" Kitty pleads.

A knock on the door. Her mother opening it, to reveal their neighbour stood there.

     "It didn't matter in the end," Effie shrugs, "because I never got to tell him."

They weep and ask Mrs. Pritchard if they have heard the news about Arthur.

     Pat furrows his eyebrows. "Why?"

     This is the part she had been dreading. A century later, she can't pretend it doesn't still hurt. Effie sucks in a breath and decides to get it over with:

     "Because a week later, he was dead."

Effie had her eyes closed the whole time she said it. Now, she dares to open them; the shock on the ghosts' faces is just as palpable as she had imagined. Kitty's smile drops in the blink of an eye, Alison clasps a hand over her mouth. Fanny's judgemental stare softens into shocked sympathy, and Thomas hangs his head mournfully. Pat's moustache droops with a frown, while the Captain swallows thickly and grips his swagger stick tighter. Even Julian looks taken aback by this information.

She should probably elaborate.

"Arthur often went for strolls along the water by himself. Even during the nighttime. It was the same when he was a little boy, he just didn't think anything would happen. But one night, about a week after he proposed to me, he got caught out by the bad weather, and fell in... so..." Effie pauses, swallowing the lump in her throat.

There is another dreadful silence.

     "Oh God, Effie..." Alison whispers. "I– I'm so sorry, we had no idea. We wouldn't have pressed you if we knew..."

"How were you to know? Besides, most of the time before that moment was heavenly," Effie smiles sadly. Upon reflection, she is happy she shared the story. She looks back with fondness and, yes, grief for what could have been. But she also remembers her time with Arthur for what it was.

She looks over and sees Kitty's eyes watering — oh no, she thinks, we don't want any of that. She gets ready to attempt a change in subject or some lighter topic, when Pat suddenly blurts out:

"And to think, how different your life could've been if not for that single moment..." he mourns.

Effie scoffs quietly. "More than you know..." she mutters, only to herself; but Fanny picks up on it and gives her a strange look. Now Effie really has to change the subject — she isn't ready to share the extra detail, even if it is arguably the most important one. "So, do you see? This is not a love story with some fairytale ending. I'm not sure I believe in such things. You're just lucky to go through life with someone by your side, whose company you enjoy."

For good measure, she gives the other ghosts a smile. She wants them to know that she's alright. She would rather not dwell for too long on the painful part of the story, instead rather enjoying the happiness that came before it.

Then she turns in her seat and swivels to her left, where Fanny lurches in fear of being targeted. "Right! I think it's Fanny's turn," Effie smirks. "Go on, any romantic escapades worth our time? And don't leave out any details!"

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

AUTHOR'S NOTE !

( date: 14th december, 2024 )

AGHHH this chapter gave me such writer's block, most of all because it wasn't meeting my own standards, so i hope it wasn't sup-par... it is slightly unedited, but i've spent so long on this chapter that i just wanted to get it out there.

how are we all feeling?? 🥺 in some ways, this chapter was a little heavier than usual, but there weren't really too many areas for comic relief. arthur was effie's first love, fleeting and very special at the time. it has stayed with her but she hasn't taken the time to reminisce as much until very recently. (btw: i imagined arthur to be played by jonathan bailey! see his role in "testament of youth" and that's kinda how i pictured arthur, looks-wise)

i hope it didn't feel too rushed or choppy, although it was slightly intentional too, because there was an element of "not enough time" when it came to effie and arthur. and there is more to it... what do you think was the extra detail effie hid from the ghosts?

anyway, two chapters left of act one!! going to try and finish them by christmas, so keep your eyes peeled for more updates in the next week or two.

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horrible histories
icon of today:
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[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

( for some reason, this is one
of the HH skits i remember most
from watching as a kid! )

have a good day/evening,
— IMOGEN ♡