Page 12 of Love from Pretty Beach

W ith her mind pondering as she walked away, Darby watched the bunting fluttering above and a few seagulls soaring overhead as she made her way along the laneway.

Her yet-to-exist channel popped into her head as she thought about the bookshop.

It was inspirational to see how someone like Daisy had used social media to grow her business, but really, it was a highly unusual success story.

From what Darby had gathered from her years of watching vlogs, doing well with a channel was very difficult.

Not many people succeeded and she’d heard that it was a hard nut to crack.

Despite all that, Darby had continued to dabble with the channel idea mostly because she didn’t really care if it was a success or not.

The focus behind it was to give her hope and a purpose.

It had moved on from just an idea. It had a name, she’d made a banner for it, she’d talked to all three of her daughters about it and Penny was up to speed.

She'd put herself through a crash course in video editing and had even learnt how to add music for an intro.

She’d messed around with her first video, Lola had unwittingly made a cameo appearance and she’d even managed to film a very lovely section of local scenery where she’d walked along by the coast in Pretty Beach, filming the sea and cliffs.

She’d videoed some of the ferry coming in and out and taken her camera down to the area where seaplanes took off, and all in all, for a first attempt, she’d been fairly pleased with herself for a few reasons.

Mostly that she’d been motivated enough to do it, secondly, that she’d enjoyed opening her mind and learning new things and thirdly, that even if the video never saw the light of day or depths of the internet, it had started the ball rolling of her getting back her life.

Somehow and she wasn’t quite sure why, making the video had given our Darby a good old-fashioned kick up the behind.

That is precisely what it had done. It had made her look at herself, her life, where she lived and more importantly, the opportunities that abounded every which way she looked.

It had made her see that she wasn’t doing it too tough.

Yes, she was lonely, yes, she was a bit blue, yes, possibly a bit sad, too.

Also, yes, she needed to yank herself out of the doldrums. Yes, to reclaiming her life.

Once home, Darby had put the man, whoever he was, well and truly out of her mind.

The fridge groaned, the heating clicked away to itself and after their walk, Lola let herself be known that she was shattered and snored away in her little bed by the back door.

Her snoring was about the only thing going on in the Lovell household and as Darby padded across the timber kitchen floor in thick socks, she picked up her phone.

No new messages. No missed calls. No voice notes.

Nothing from any of her children. She unlocked it, stared at the empty screen for a second, then opened the weather app, closed it again, opened Notes, then closed that too.

Wandering back to the sink, she popped the kettle on, made a pot of tea and started to unload the dishwasher as the house around her and indeed her life felt so quiet.

It wasn’t even that she had nothing to do.

Shaking her head as the nothingness reverberated around her, she loaded mugs into a pine cupboard and ran the tap on a pan that wasn’t quite clean.

The irony was that she distinctly remembered at many points in her life lusting after a bit of silence and wishing to death the noise would just stop for a second.

For the past two decades, her life had been a revolving door of babies, useless partners, lunch boxes, dirty socks, whiny teenagers and mismatched school forms. Three children, three different fathers, three sets of everything.

One big, messy life, filled with a shed load of noise.

Now it was gone, and it felt vast, enormous, and so very lonely.

Pondering her channel again, she watched her first video and wondered as she observed, who was looking back at her.

She had spent so long being Mum and trying to keep her head above water that she’d forgotten how to be Darby.

Although who even was Darby? She certainly was not the version of herself she’d been before she’d been engulfed by motherhood.

The fun one, the bookish one, the one who’d worn too much eyeliner and had gone through a vintage blouse phase.

That Darby was dead and buried under the patio.

Where and who was the actual nowadays Darby?

That was the question. The one who liked Sundays, who knew how to make a decent chilli, who once had a dream about becoming a writer but never got around to doing it.

The one who loved reading and tiramisu, who was interested in furniture and houses and museums. The one who’d had a gutful of real life and wanted to romanticise just about the inside measurement of her inner thigh.

That one. The same one who was flat, still, quiet, and so very bored with her own company.

For heaven’s sake, she was bored with being bored. That was saying something.

Reaching for her laptop, which was plugged in on the corner of the worktop, the screen lit up as she lifted the lid.

Opening a new tab, she typed, very slowly, ‘starting a YouTube channel at 41’.

The results were mostly American women with overly white teeth, taut cheeks and immaculate homes who shouted about anti-ageing serums and collagen supplements.

One with an immaculate blonde bob, shiny face and who was so very enthusiastic made Darby physically wince as she pontificated about her exercise regime.

Where were the real women? This one had certainly never forgotten to put the bins out or had a hair on her chin.

Holding up her phone and switching it to selfie mode, she held it up in front of her face, smiled and had another go at introducing herself.

‘Hello. My name’s Darby. I’m 41, I’ve got three grown-up children, and absolutely no idea what I’m doing now they’ve all left home and I think I’m going to start a YouTube channel. ’

The fridge hummed again, a bird landed on the fence outside and hopped along it, indifferent to the threat to the British Broadcasting Corporation going on inside.

‘Books, food, life, interiors, feelings. Early-40s female living, up close and far too personal. In this lifestyle vlog, you’ll get a bird’s eye view of my love of pottering at home, books, food, interiors, literature and maybe a nod at beauty stuff, but really that means what can I put on my face to make it look a bit better.

To be honest, I have a lot to do in my house and my life and I thought that documenting it might make me actually get off my behind and, you know, do it.

Who knows? Let me take you with me on my journey to getting back me. ’

Chuckling to herself, Daisy shook her head.

It was strange, but she sort of quite liked talking into her phone.

Who would have thought? Yes, she was going to carry on with Love from Pretty Beach if only for Penny to have a laugh.

Goodness knows what, but something about it felt good and strangely exactly right.

Dropping herself onto the old feather-stuffed sofa, Darby put a mug of tea on the coffee table and looked left and right at what she was sitting on.

The sofa was yet another thing in the house that needed replacing or some love.

One of the arms had collapsed slightly and the middle cushion had a suspiciously fraying patch from where someone, probably Lily, though she’d never admitted it, had tried to iron a school badge on it in Year Nine.

Putting her feet up and sipping her tea, she realised that there were a lot of things in the room that weren’t quite right.

The curtain pole sloped noticeably to the left.

The carpet had a threadbare patch by the fire.

The fireplace itself had been beautiful once, but now the tiles were cracked and the brass was green around the edges.

She had meant to polish it. She had meant to do a lot of things.

On the coffee table, a magazine sat open.

She’d meant to finish an article about hormone-friendly breakfasts, but had ended up scrolling on her phone instead.

Something about slow-release oats had sent her down a rabbit hole, another one informed her about the joys of tinted eyebrow serum reviews and she’d never gone back.

Reaching for her laptop, her phone buzzed.

Lily on FaceTime. Her daughter who now lived in a very clean flat in Brighton with two friends who grew indoor plants and referred to almond milk a lot of the time.

Darby accepted the call, tilted the phone so it didn’t capture her entire forehead and tried not to grimace at how bad she looked.

Adjusting her cardigan, Darby smiled. ‘Hey, darling. Is everything okay with you? What are you up to?’

Lily appeared in a sheet mask with little eye holes. She held up a wine glass and grinned. ‘Wednesday wine and collagen. You know how it is.’

Darby smiled. ‘I do now. I might have to take your lead. For sure, I could do with some help. Collagen or anything, really.’

‘Aww, rubbish, you know how everyone is always saying you look amazing and they can’t believe you have us three. Which, to be fair, I can’t either. You’re still so young, Mum.’

‘Yes, I wish I actually felt that way. Young is not how I feel.’

Lily tapped the mask. ‘It’s Korean. It’s meant to help with texture and make you glow.’

‘Yes, I hear Polyfilla is quite good at that too. Probably a whole lot cheaper,’ Darby joked.

Lily laughed and leaned closer to the screen. ‘How’s the house? How are you ? You look brighter.’

Darby paused. It was clear to her that her girls had been communicating that she was not okay and needed check-ins. ‘I’m fine. It's cold in the house and I was just thinking about what to do for supper. Other than work, I haven’t got a lot going on.’

‘Yes, it’s really chilly, still. I thought the worst of the cold weather had passed. You should make one of your nice soups. Or make something weird and film it. Is the channel thing happening?’

Darby had told all three of her girls about her channel idea and all three of them had been more than enthusiastic.

She picked at the sleeve of her jumper. In a way, she wished she hadn’t said anything because it would be another thing she failed at.

She didn’t want to say that, though, because Lily was already concerned about Darby.

Plastering on a smile, she pretended to be casual and breezy.

‘Yeah and no. I’m still mulling it over. ’

‘You love that kind of thing. Books, interiors, random opinions about throws and olive oil. You’re basically a lifestyle channel already and you have the Radio 4 voice. Penny always says that. She said you had it at school, even.’

‘That’s not the same as actually filming yourself and putting it online for people to watch while they’re in bed with AirPods. It’s quite confronting. I’ve started a few videos, but I need to learn how to do everything. I’m going to upload them, but keep them private. You and Penny can watch them.’

‘That would be a good start. I think you’d be brilliant at it.’

‘I’ve thought of a name.’

‘What?’

‘Love from Pretty Beach.’

Lily clapped her hands together. ‘Oh, yes. Brilliant! I really like that, Mum.’

Darby swallowed. Her eyes flicked away for a second. ‘I’d feel a bit nervous about actually publishing it, but yeah, it’s a good start. I quite enjoy talking to the camera.’ There was no way Darby was going to tell Lily that speaking to her phone was a step up from the wall. ‘It’s therapeutic.’

‘I get it.’

Darby was fairly certain that Lily had little to no idea what it felt like to think that talking to a phone was better than having a conversation with a wall. ‘It will be good for me to get on with something. I can learn editing and such. You never know where that might lead.’

Lily softened. ‘Yeah. Just do it for yourself. You’ve got nothing to lose.’

Inside, Daisy felt deflated. Even her own daughter thought she had nothing to lose. Blimey. That was a new low. ‘No. I guess I haven’t.’

The conversation, thankfully, moved swiftly away from putting videos online and they chatted for another few minutes.

Lily talked about a girl in her office who chewed with her mouth open and how Lily had felt like killing her by the end of the day.

Darby laughed along, but really wasn’t able to concentrate much.

When the call ended and the screen went black, she thought about what Lily had said.

Nothing to lose. Nice. Lily was nothing if not honest. Technically, it was true. She had nothing to lose.

Adjusting a pile of books, she propped her phone on top, sat on the edge of the armchair and shifted a cushion. Pulling the neckline of her jumper straight, she swallowed, coughed, smiled and pressed record and had another go at introducing herself. Take three.

‘Hi. I’m Darby. I’m forty-one and this is Love from Pretty Beach.

I live in a slightly falling-down house in Pretty Beach, and I have no idea what I’m doing with my life now that my children have moved out.

So, I thought I’d start a channel, because, well, why not?

As I have just been told. What have I got to lose? ’

She paused, blinked at the lens, then blew out a long breath.

‘I like books. I like tiramisu. I like nail polish and crying over songs from 1997. In an old life, I went to concerts, art galleries and exhibitions. I don’t like marzipan.

I don’t understand people who do. I live alone.

I miss noise, which is incredibly odd when you think about it, because when I had it around me twenty-four-seven, I couldn’t wait to see the back of it.

I’m trying to build something new out of what’s left over. ’

She stopped the recording, watched it back, cringed so hard her face actually hurt and then played it again and hated the sound of her voice.

Pondering what Lily had said, she decided she’d put a vlog together as a way of learning how to use the software and to give her something to do.

Really, as had been so rightly pointed out to her in no uncertain terms, she had nothing but nothing to lose.