'Oh, all sorts really. Thrillers, romcoms, novels, biographies of people I've never heard of. I love reading about people who have lived completely different lives from me. It stops me fromwondering what I'm doing with my life, whether I've made terrible decisions, that sort of thing.'
‘Ha, right.’
A couple of other people joined the conversation and as Darby sipped her wine and chatted, she was glad she’d made the effort. However, it was clear that the Archie thing was going nowhere. He was jovial enough, but she’d obviously built up the drink in the pub to be something it wasn’t. A little bit jaded, she kept a smile on her face and chatted.
About half an hour later, still in the same little group of people, Darby was pondering whether or not to get another drink when Maggie approached, jingling her car keys. 'Right then, Darby, ready when you are.’
Maggie had mentioned when they’d been chatting before the talk had begun that she’d give Darby a lift. Darby smiled. ‘Thanks, yep I’m ready.’
Smiling Maggie raised her eyebrows at Archie. ‘Hey! How's that job you're doing coming along? Mum said your lot are lined up to sort out the wall at the back of her place there.'
'Slowly, but surely. We have months booked out for there and the lads have a big job down in Cornwall. Yeah, then my other crew are coming to your mum’s.'
'Lovely. These old places take time, don't they? But they're worth it in the end.'
Darby pulled her enormous coat around herself and picked up her handbag. The mulled wine had left her feeling warm and she was somewhat reluctant to leave, but the offer of the lift up the hill was too much to refuse. The shop felt magical in the candlelight, with its bookshop smell and lovely community, but her sofa was looking attractive, too.
Maggie turned her head in the direction of the back of the shop. ‘I’ll just go and say goodbye to Miles properly. I’ll be back in a sec.’
Archie put his drink on a table. 'I should get going, too. I’ve got a super early start tomorrow.’
Darby smiled. ‘I bet it will be chilly in the morning.’
‘Actually, I was wondering if you might fancy dinner?’
Talk about floored. Darby was taken aback. Not only had it been a long time since anyone had asked her out, but she’d convinced herself he wasn’t interested. She could barely get three words out. 'I'd love that.'
'Brilliant. I’m away this weekend with my boys. How about next Saturday evening?’
‘Yes, that would be great.’
‘Where do you fancy going?’
Anywhere.‘How about the pub again? I love it there.’
‘Done, I could pick you up around seven? I’ll message you anyway.'
‘No, no. I’ll just see you in there. It’s literally a two-minute walk for me.’
‘Okay, no dramas.’
'Perfect.’
'See you next Saturday, then, if not before. I’ll message you.'
'Looking forward to it.'
21
Afew days later, Darby had done nothing much other than spend endless time on the phone about a range cooker she’d ordered, which had got lost in transit, she’d done a double shift at work and she had planned videos for her channel. There had been one confirmation message from Archie and that was it.
Darby was sitting at the kitchen table with her enormous basket bag slumped beside her chair. Her intention was to film herself delving into the contents of her bag because she loved it when she watched her favourite online friends going through the stuff they carted around with them all day long. It had to be said that the light was very dull, but with her favourite candle on, a cup of tea by her side and all her little kitchen lamps switched on, it was fairly easy to forget about real life and, you know, record a video for your fledgling online channel.
It was funny, really; her channel and the planning of its content were making her feel more fulfilled than she had been for a very long time. As if somehow the anticipation of it, where it might go and what it might give her, was like a special new friend, one she had to nurture and make her own. Her outlook on life felt better, too. Maybe that was already beginning to show.
The weather was definitely leaning towards the grey end of the spectrum, which seemed appropriate given that she was about to excavate the contents of the basket and film it for all the world to see. Truth be told it had become less handbag, more archaeological site and the fact that she hadn’t had a good old sort out for ages was more than evident. Darby had always felt the need to cart the kitchen sink around with her, which had meant that she had to regularly declutter all and any of her bags or not, as the case may well be. Having stuff with her was a habit from her baby change bag days when she’d like to have all sorts of occasions covered and didn’t her right shoulder know about it. These days, she hardly needed to have a huge bag with her on her walk to work, but she always carried it with her like a security blanket anyway.
The irony wasn't lost on her that she was about to film herself in a kitchen that needed help whilst talking about the contents of a bag also needing help. She loved the bag, though, it sort of felt like a part of her body. Carrying it around with her through her dealings with the world as she went about doing her thing helped her so very much.
