46
Aweek or so later, Darby was out with Lola for a walk. It was a very long walk with the intention that it would tire her out. Reason? She was going out on a very special date with Archie. After strolling along the laneway with the wind in her hair and full of the joys of spring, she was more than happy with her decision to let Archie back into her life. When she was with him, she felt as if all was right with her world. Not that she needed him to fix her or complete her, or any of that old hogwash. Of course not. It just felt nice to be with someone, to have someone listen, to get a message from someone at the end of the day.
Crossing the road, she walked beside a small stream alongside a locally known property, The Boat House, and panned her phone around at the lovely old building and its backdrop of the sea. For a minute, she stood, filmed and looked at the building and then focused back on the stream running beside her. The trickling sounded lovely and Lola was having a whale of a time. On a bit of a roll, Darby flipped the camera. 'I’m on a little walk with Lola down a small road near some beautiful old buildings that I thought you might like to see. There’s a gorgeous stream, seaplanes come in and out here, and I thoughtI'd show you how gorgeous it is in the little coastal town that I live in when the sun is out. It's breathtakingly beautiful where I live, whatever time of the year and I do feel very lucky to live here. It’s been one of my better moves in life.'
As she walked and attempted to ramble on about not much at all, the wind whipped around and made her eyes water. Walking slowly along, trying to frame herself against the backdrop of Pretty Beach doing its morning shuffle, Darby smiled. Behind her, the laneway full of its flowers, fluttering bunting and pastel shops looked just right, all pale pastels, blues and centuries of life by the sea. For sure, her hunch that people would be interested in a life in Pretty Beach had not been wrong.
'This is why I love living here and why I encourage you, if you feel like leaving the rat race and taking the plunge, to just do it, you won’t look back. I know what you might be thinking, oh, yes, I do, because I’ve been there. Another failed forty-year-old who's upped sticks and moved to a new life by the sea and now thinks she's discovered the secret to eternal life and happiness. Yeah, on one front, you'd probably be right. However, the latter part of that? Not quite my friends. I'm not sure I have discovered secrets yet. I'm still looking, to be honest and I’m okay with that.'
Darby peered down the laneway at the same time as trying to balance and talk into her phone. It wasn’t an easy task. Strolling past Pretty Beach Fish and Chips, the fanciest fish and chip shop she’d ever partaken in, she angled her camera to show the bakery, which had a line coming out the door. 'That's the bakery. It's gorgeous and a lovely little hub of the town. The ladies in there were the first to welcome us here when we moved. One of my girls worked there on Saturdays...'
A woman in a waxed jacket, nice jeans tucked into boots and a big scarf emerged from the bakery carrying a paper bag. The woman nodded and smiled as she passed. ‘Darbs.’
Darby smiled back. ‘Hi.’
Pausing outside the bookshop, Darby focused on the window display. ‘I've shown you this place before. Honestly, it’s like a dream and has firmly put Pretty Beach on the bookworm map. Everything about it is understated, a very uncarefully but carefully contrived frontage hints at the fact that you might well lose yourself for a few hours if you allow yourself to lurk within. This is where people come to take pictures of themselves taking pictures for Instagram.'
Continuing to walk along, Darby balanced Lola’s lead and the camera. Chatting away as if she were conversing with an old friend, she pointed out all the lovely things about what was ultimately one of her daily walks with Lola.
'The thing about living somewhere like this is that people know who you are and what you get up to, which I do quite like. Where I used to live, that didn't happen. There, where I lived before, I was quite anonymous. You can have a complete breakdown on a train and nobody will even look up from their phone. Here, if you so much as buy the wrong type of milk in the shop, it's front-page news by teatime.'
A woman in expensive activewear jogged past, ponytail swishing rhythmically, looking like she'd never had an unplanned thought in her life. The sort of woman who probably meal-prepped on Sundays and had a five-year plan written on a laminated card. Darby watched her disappear around the corner and felt the familiar pang of inadequacy.
Thinking that she’d lay a bet on the fact that the woman had goals and strategies and a pension plan that made sense, Darby chuckled. Heading back in the direction of her house, she thought about her channel and all that had come with it. Really, even though it was going strong, it was little more than a hobby. There was no way her small corner of the internet would make her any money, but really, that wasn’t the point. The point had been that she’d had a go and the result had improved herlife immensely. In actual fact, it wasn’t even the channel, her subscribers, comments or views themselves. It was more that it had given her the oomph to see her own life for what it was. It had made her grow and feel gratitude for what was at her fingertips.
Wanting to voice her thoughts, she sat on a bench near the ferry wharf and as the ferry came in and out, she turned her camera on, chatted away and mentioned how far she’d come.
'Whatever happens next, I can say I tried something. At least I can point out that I stopped hiding. I wanted to pull myself out of a hole and grow. Have I done that? I’m a work in progress. Sometimes, I guess, you just keep showing up, even when you don't know what you're doing and see what comes next. It looks to me as if that might be working….'
Getting up, she put her phone away and realised that something important had shifted. She was no longer getting smaller and more isolated. She was expanding, growing, enjoying her life. That was worth putting herself out there for.
47
Darby, it had to be said, looked absolutely spectacular. More than spectacular. She glowed and she wowed and she shone. It was blooming well fantastic. Her body had been soaked, primped and pumped, not pumped by a man but by very good moisturising cream complete with iridescent sparkles. Her make-up was most definitely there, but didn’t look like it; instead just improved what she’d been blessed with. Her hair was blow-dried in a soft wave, her eyes sparkled, and her outfit was fabulous. A beautiful, soft black dress with an even softer floral print, it swished and made her feel fabulous. With a flowing skirt, ruffles throughout, a deep cut to the sleeve and a bow tie neck, it cut, fell and worked with everything she’d been born with. Amazing.
On her way through Pretty Beach, she was walking to meet Archie for dinner. They were going to a Pretty Beach institution, not a restaurant, but a supper club event. These were events that were held all around Pretty Beach in sometimes secret locations, run by local business wonder Lottie and her stepdad, Dimitri. The events were highly coveted, very hard to get tickets for, and secretly, Darby had wanted to attend one for a very long time.
When Darby heard her phone buzz from her bag, she had a sinking feeling that, though she was dressed to kill and felt better than she had for years, things were going to go south. She wasn’t wrong.
Archie:I’ve been delayed. Problem with Rafferty.
Darby wanted to scream. She didn’t.
Darby:What sort of delay?
Archie:I am so sorry. I will be at least half an hour late or more. Do you want to go on your own? Sorry. Or I’ll cancel and then come to you.
Darby had been to enough events on her own. It didn’t make a lot of difference to her. She might have known she shouldn’t have counted her chickens. She felt stupid to be dressed up and walking through Pretty Beach on her own.
Darby:It’s fine. Just send me the details.
After following the details, Darby frowned as she took a side alley at the top of the laneway, bringing her to a narrow lane running behind the bakery and various other shops. Not sure where she was going or that she was pleased about going on her own, she decided that she would go and have a nice drink and before she knew it, Archie would arrive. She might even be able to get some footage for her channel. Following the directions, she picked her way along the lane until she saw fairy lights at the back of one of the shops. The next thing she knew, she’d given her name at a gate, walked through a yard and realised as she stepped in that she was at the back of the bookshop.
On entering, she gasped. Talk about dazzling. The supper club was in the bookshop, no less. Darby was so pleased she’d decided to attend. The aesthetics alone were worth it. She’d be able to sit and drool all night long. Who wouldn’t enjoy small bistro tables tucked into every corner of vintage floor-to-ceiling bookshelves?
As Darby said hello to a few people and watched Suntanned Pete weaving between the tables with a tray of wine glasses, nodding and grinning at everyone like he was personally hosting the entire evening, she gasped as she stepped properly into the transformed shop. The whole place looked absolutely magical; the usual table displays, retail signs and reading chairs had been moved aside to make room for small round tables, each one dotted with small lamps. A makeshift bar across the front door had been set up using stacks of vintage books as supports for a long plank of reclaimed wood; it groaned under bottles of wine, platters of cheese and charcuterie and what looked like enough homemade shortbread to feed half of Pretty Beach.
Just as Darby was looking around, Daisy bustled past with a huge smile on her face. 'Darby! Goodness me, look at you! You look incredible. Where on earth did you get that dress? You look absolutely stunning!'
