‘I highly doubt that, Daise. I have never seen you looking a state, let alone a right one.’
‘Trust me, I did not look good last night. If I go viral, at least have me looking the part. I’m wearing a cardigan with jam on the sleeve, those old leggings with the rip in the knee and that oversized flannel gardening shirt I stole from Mum. That wasn’t supposed to be marketing; it was just me hiding from the twins after I put them to bed.’
Maggie giggled, flicked her hand and put on an over-the-top posh voice. ‘Authenticity sells, darling. That’s what they’re saying these days.’
‘Authenticity is messy in my real world...’
‘So’s life. People love that sort of thing. It’s aspirational now to look like you’re only half managing. There was a post about it on Reddit the other day. People don’t want perfect, they want real. The days of highly curated, picture-perfect lives set to twinkly music on social media are over. There’s a Real Movement and everything.’
‘Ha! Don’t make me laugh. Well, then, I must be an absolute icon for this new up-and-coming movement. In fact, I could be its leader.’
‘You’re joking. This place is so nice, people want to actually live here.’
Daisy smiled and glanced over at the corner, where the wingback chairs sat. ‘I mean, it still needs a lot of work, but it’s getting there. Slowly but surely, I am getting it how I want it.’
‘You’re making this happen, Daise and don’t forget that. You are doingsowell. So well.’
Daisy nodded. ‘Thanks.’
‘Right,’ Maggie said as she hopped off the counter. ‘I’ve got to run. I’ll leave you to decipher the vital stuff on your socials. I have the joys of Pilates, which I have to change for, then a clientcall. I just thought I’d drop by, bring you coffee, inform you of your internet fame and see how the girls are.’
Daisy smiled as her sister kissed her on the cheek and breezed out the door, a waft of perfume and linen left in her wake. She looked around her little shop, at the books stacked neatly, the fairy lights winking gently along the shelves, the scent of Annabelle’s fancy candle mingling with the ever-present cinnamon. Actually, it did look quite impressive, even if she said it herself. She took out her phone and tapped to see the account that had tagged her.
A swish of notifications pinged as Daisy tapped and scrolled. At the top of her feed, there it was; a post from a dreamy lifestyle account with pastel borders, delicate handwritten captions and more followers than Daisy could quite comprehend. She couldn’t believe it, but there was her bookshop, her little snug with the fairy lights twinkling, a glow from the lamp in the corner, and the hand-me-down wingback chair, now looking as if it had always been meant to reside in a cosy little bookshop by the sea. Daisy smiled and shook her head as she read the caption, which told her that the account owner wanted to teleport herself to the bookshop every day. That it was a perfect little reading nook in a coastal bookshop in Pretty Beach. “Books, tea, peace — what more does a person need?” the caption read.
Daisy blinked at the screen and read the post a few times just to be sure. Then she scrolled through the comments and shook her head at the enthusiasm. One commenter mentioned that she needed to go to the bookshop as soon as possible, another said they were adding it to their dream trip list and another commented how real and warm it felt, not staged, just cosy. Daisy chuckled to herself. It was real alright. Real, all-consuming and a lot of hard work.
She felt a bit overwhelmed as she read more comments, more hearts and more tags. People asked about opening hours, others wondered if Daisy ever hosted book club brunches and a few wanted to know if she was open in the evening for wine and book events.
Letting the phone drop into her lap, she stared across the shop. It was odd, the way her life felt as if it had turned itself inside out from what it had been. Not that long before, she’d been stuck at a very horrible, very dead end and treading water every day, trying to make ends meet and not enjoying the process. She’d spent way too much time smiling for the girls on the outside and crying behind the kitchen cupboards when they were asleep. Now things had changed and dramatically, all because she’d taken a chance, got her head down and put in some exceedingly hard work.
The bookshop had been a wild idea, a desperate one really, all stemming from a few words and a little nudge from Suntanned Pete that had set her on her way. A last-grasp decision when the alternative had been moving again or having to take charity from well-meaning family. Neither of which she had wanted as an option.
Truth be told, she’d been terrified and physically sick with worry half the time, but she’d decided to have a go at the bookshop idea. Fear of failure had been huge and she’d genuinely thought that no one would even enter the bookshop, let alone love it. She’d had to fight off images in her head of her as just some silly woman with a pipe dream and absolutely no idea how to run a business and fear that she’d made the wrong decision had been very real. She’d thought that again, she’d be the Henley who would fail.
However, now, here she was actually running a business. It was far from perfect, and she still worried about bills most, if not all, of the time. She still double-checked her banking app everynight, still avoided spending on anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary, still lay awake sometimes wondering if she’d done the right thing of dragging the girls into the building and a little business by the sea. But people were talking about the shop as if it were somewhere special and, more importantly, she felt like she had a role in life. Daisy Henley now felt as if she was actually someone who was achieving something. Hoo-blooming-ray.
The truth was, when you looked around and really took it in, what she’d created was quite special, not because of the fairy lights and the good paint colours, although they were exponentially well chosen and exceedingly nice. It was not because she’d managed to fill the shop with second-hand bits and bobs on a wing and a prayer or even because the chairs were good for Instagram. It was special to her because she’d got herself together, worked her bottom off and had a go. With her own hands, her own graft, and the help of her sisters and mum, she’d made something out of more or less nothing and started again. That felt, bottom line, just so very good. Accomplished even.
Smiling, Daisy looked across the shelves full of books and loved how far she’d come. The girls were settled in their new place, they loved walking to school a few times a week and Daisy wasn’t holding her breath all the time waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under her. Most days, she could get through a whole morning without feeling like she was on the edge of a panic attack. Most nights, she even managed to sleep all the way through without any drama.
She looked back at her phone at the post. It had been saved many times and it appeared that people actually liked what she’d created. How very weird, very nice and very strange. Smiling, her eyes suddenly prickled. She swallowed them away and tapped a reply to the post:
Thank you for your kind words on my little bookshop.
I’ll pop the kettle on. Anyone for tea?
Sliding her phone in her pocket, she started to tidy up the main counter and restocked the comfort reads on the middle table. Nodding as she got the vacuum cleaner out of the understairs cupboard and started to push it back and forth over the rug under the wingback chairs, she pondered her new job, her new life, her new existence. The bookshop by the sea really was her life now. It wasn’t a pipe dream, nor a someday out there in the future. Nope, she’d only gone and blooming well made it a reality. Daisy Henley, via grit, hard work, and not giving up, had made it happen. It was real, solid, absolutely gorgeous, ticking a lot of her boxes and most importantly: hers. Just how she’d wanted it to be.
2
Just as Daisy had clicked the vacuum cleaner off, wound the lead back up and chosen a yellow wine gum, her phone buzzed in her cardigan. Tugging it out, she glanced at the screen. A message from the other new, good thing in her life. Her heart did a little flip and a big, old, kill-me-now flop.
Miles:Hey. Just wondering if the girls are at Annabelle’s tonight?
Daisy stared at the message for a second and her stomach gave a flutter that she immediately told to calm down. The Miles and Daisy story had continued and was doing well. Oh-so-very well. After the initial uppity part where Miles had vanished and Daisy had thought she’d been played, their relationship had zoomed along at a very fast pace. Dare she think it, but they were well and truly an item.
After deciding he’d not only fallen in love with Daisy but also Pretty Beach and who could blame him, Miles had rented a small flat in Pretty Beach to see how he’d get on. He now spent a lot of time going up and down to London on the fast train and juggling his time between the city and the beach. Some might say not a bad life to lead.
