Moving right into the pantry, she started to remove things from the shelves and continued to commentate. About an hour later, her progress had been surprisingly fast, although some of the things she’d found had made her grimace; herbs and spices which she’d actually had in her old house, packets of out-of-date icing sugar, many cans of beans, so many different blends of tea that she’d be able to open a shop and the same in fancy pastes from India. But overall, it had been a case of sorting, clearing, sectioning and cleaning.
'Fenugreek seeds,' she read from one label. 'When did I buy fenugreek seeds? What even is fenugreek? And why do I have three jars of cumin but no coriander?' Laughing, she gestured to a section of the pantry she’d named the Olive Oil Shelf. ‘How many bottles of olive oil does one woman need?’ she laughed to the camera. ‘So far I have counted eleven.’ She popped each olive oil in front of the camera, each one more and more exotic and expensive-looking than the last. ‘The next time anybody ever sees me near an olive oil section of a supermarket or fancy artisan grocers, tell me to step away as quickly as possible. A new bottle of olive oilwill notandcannotchange my life.’
Darby then picked up a couple of jars of chilli oil and held them in front of her phone and waited for the camera to focus. ‘Ditto the chilli oil. Evidently, I am a one-woman chilli-eating machine. Do not ever let me buy chilli if you see me out in the wild.’ Darby laughed again, smiled, and continued to sort through the pantry, wondering whether or not the content would be of interest to anybody or whether it would be next-level boring. It was hardly riveting, but somehow cathartic, and she decided that she loved seeing before-and-afters, and anyway, as with everything with her channel, she didn’t really have a lot to lose. It was mostly a bit of fun that perhaps might turn into something in the future. Mostly, as she continued to makevideos, she was becoming more and more aware that her new hobby had done a very good job of saving her mental health.
Lifting a stack of cream-coloured bowls from a box at her feet, she held them up to the camera, then placed them on the open shelf against the freshly painted wall. 'These are from that pottery place in Stoke-on-Trent that I absolutely should not have gone into but did anyway. They were having a sale, which is dangerous for someone like me who thinks sale prices mean you're actually saving money rather than spending it.'
Next, a collection of vintage glass storage jars was shown to the camera. There was something deeply satisfying about seeing everything laid out properly and creating order from the chaos that had dominated her kitchen for the previous five years. 'These are for pasta and rice and all those things you're supposed to decant but never actually do. Look how lovely they are all lined up like this. Very aspirational. Very much the sort of person who has their life together, which we all know Iabsolutelydo not.'
The magnetic knife strip held her large collection of knives and she added her favourite wooden spoons, some she’d had since before her girls were born and jumbled them into a large Cornishware jug. Hanging a set of copper measuring cups that had been her mum's underneath them, she was well pleased with herself. ‘They look gorgeous hanging there. These used to be my mum’s and whenever I use them, I can hear her talking to me. Gosh, she’s been gone such a long time now. She would have loved this house. I still miss her so much.'
Next came her collection of vintage bread boards. ‘Many of these have also been with me for years. I cannot bear to part with any of them. Do you get attached to things, too? Maybe it’s just me who is weird about things like jugs and wooden spoons.’
Standing back to look at the open shelving that had replaced the horrible pine cupboards, she smiled. It now held plates andbowls accumulated over years of charity shop finds and impulse purchases. Arranged by colour from all the whites to some deep blue plates from a Portuguese market, next to a pile of green bowls from a National Trust shop. Nestled next to them a stack of terracotta dishes from a camping holiday in Spain when the children had been small.
'I know you're supposed to have matching crockery like a proper grown-up, but this is just me and they sort of tie in together.’ She stepped back to survey her work. 'I've never been able to resist a pretty plate, even when I absolutely don't need another one. Each one reminds me of somewhere or something, which is probably a bit daft, but there you are. I love the memories.'
With the camera still running, Darby added her collection of vintage tea towels, arranged her cast iron pans on the shelf, a large wooden bowl for fruit, a marble mortar and pestle that she’d bought in Italy and lugged home in her hand luggage, much to the amusement of security. A blue glass vase that sometimes held flowers but more often held wooden spatulas and whisks.
'The thing about organising is that it makes you feel like you've got control over something, even when everything else feels completely chaotic. Like if I can just get these things lined up properly, somehow the rest of my life might fall into place, too. At least, it sounds good. Tomorrow I'll probably cook something and mess it all up again,' she admitted to the camera. 'But for now, just for this moment, it looks exactly how I always imagined it could look. Which is something, isn't it? Even if it doesn't last.'
As she was peering at her phone, looking at her footage, a message notification flashed up.
Archie:What are you up to?
Darby:Nothing much. I’m just pottering at home.
Archie:Fancy a coffee?
Darby:Love one.
Archie:Half an hour suit?
Darby:Yep.
27
It was a few days later and Darby was getting ready for the Pretty Beach Night Markets. She’d been out with Archie for the coffee and it had gone swimmingly. Without a kiss, but you know, who needs kisses all the time? Darby had stopped trying to be cautious, had ceased overthinking things, and she most certainly didn’t think he was a serial killer. She was so into the fact that it was just going along at its own pace and that she was happy, she didn’t really care about anything else.
The funny thing was that she didn't feel as if it was dating, which perhaps was how it should be. All the times in the past when she’d been on a date, it had, ultimately, felt like some kind of a chore. Just another thing that she’d had to do. One of a long list of things: work, be a good mum, keep a house, succeed at life. The thing with Archie didn’t feel like something on a list at all. Maybe it was because she was in a different stage and had less to worry about, at least on the surface. She didn’t really know what it was, and to be frank, she didn’t care either. Nope, not a care in the world. Darbs was just happy that she was actually enjoying herself for once in her life.
Mostly, she was surprised that she felt happy. Penny had said the same, too. She hadn’t been deep down, happy for a longtime. Of course, she’d not beenunhappy, or destitute or in bad health.She was well awarethat she had three healthy children, a job and a roof over her head. Now things felt different. As if getting her backside off the sofa and doing things, starting her channel and seeing Archie had changed things. Almost as if she was going through some kind of awakening. It had been a long time coming.
As the thoughts swirled around her head, she definitely felt a bit bonkers. She’d even looked up videos on finding a new lease of life and found that Siobhan, the Irish woman, had gone through something similar when she’d finally moved for herself and fulfilled things that she wanted. All in all, somehow, Darby felt as if she were in a new stage of life. As if she had entered a different phase. Amazing what forcing change and getting on with things could do. Hopefully, it was a new stage where she would be happy, because for sure, she never wanted to go back to the way she had felt on New Year’s Eve.
When she had first picked up the camera and started on what had become her channel, she realised now that she had not been in a good place at all. It was funny, really, because from the outside, all had looked okay in her world. A lovely little part-time job in Pretty Beach, a best friend, three healthy daughters, and her own house in a coastal town that wasn’t too shabby. However, she’d become more and more isolated and more and more lonely.
Pushing all her self-involved thoughts to the side, she vowed not to think about the past or how her mental health had not been great, and decided to concentrate on the fact that she was going to the Pretty Beach Night Markets with Archie. It really was a turn-up for the books. She was going out with a man. To be honest, she had not seen going on a date in her future and particularly not an organic kind, but there you go.
Experiences she’d had of dates or suchlike were not pleasant; horrible stories of disgusting, revolting experiences that had made her skin crawl and run for the hills. It was fair to say that every single one of her outings with men with profiles on dating apps had put her off the things forever. She’d been on dates where she’d counted thing after thing that had not only disappointed her but had also been out-and-out lies compared to their profiles. They always referred to themselves as “interesting”, these app men, turns out often their interest being in football or other such sports where people run around after a ball. “Bright” was often professed and was nearly always debatable. The worst was that they always had the word “attractive” somewhere on their profile; nonehadbeen. On top of that, there had been the long, tedious, pointless, boring conversations where more often than not, Darby had not been the one doing the talking. Yawn.
Then there’d been a speed dating outing one of the mums at Lily’s school had more or less forced her into. Darby had known it wasn’t her thing out of the gates. Although she had reasoned that perhaps knowing you were going to hate someone right from the word go was a good way to do it. She’d gone along thinking that it wouldn’t be that bad. It had been worse than bad. She’d not minded the fact that she was being judged in such a short amount of time, at least not that much, anyway. It was more the cattle-like feel of it. As if she’d been a piece of meat. Not a fresh piece of meat, either. One that had been left on the back shelf of the supermarket fridge for so long that it had a sticky discount label on it.
However, she had put all that behind her. Girl was on a mission to take control, get herself back and improve the you know what out of her life. She would do it if it killed her. She would move heaven and earth not to go back to the place on New Year's Eve. She would make her house nice, she would work onher mind, she would blast her health and fitness with goodness, she would continue with her channel. She would conquer the world.
After a lovely long bath, whereby Darby moisturised every single part of her that could be moisturised and applied a teeth whitening strip, she was full of herself. Crazy times. She’d washed and blow-dried her hair and was wearing her favourite pair of jeans with a jacket and scarf. After googling the weather forecast for the evening, she was pleased to see that the weather had turned, and it was forecast to be a clear, dry night with warmer temperatures. Hardly floaty linen dress weather, but not having to focus on staying warm, at the same time as going to the markets with a man who made her swoon, worked for her.
Not only was she really looking forward to seeing Archie, she was well up for one of her favourite Pretty Beach events. It was one of the many things about the little town that made her love living there; magical in its aesthetics, always well attended and basically, she just loved strolling around getting lost in lovely people and lovely things all set with the backdrop of the harbour and the lighthouse.
