Page 19 of Love from Pretty Beach

D arby hovered her finger over the little publish button. It might as well have been a detonator as far as she was concerned. Lola had long since grown bored of her dithering and was now curled in a neat, disdainful loaf under the kitchen table.

‘Right, Lola. We’ve got this far, no point backing out now.’

Click. A spinning “processing” wheel appeared, the video told her it was “uploading”, and a progress bar inching forward from left to right made Darby gulp.

Taking a long sip of tea, her eyes flicked on the video processing to the window.

The garden was a good distraction; little spots of pale sunlight were catching on the line of pots on the back fence and the willow tree in the corner rippled in a breeze coming in off the sea.

When she looked back at her phone screen, the video was done.

The thumbnail, a still of her mid-laugh and dusted in flour, sat there staring up at her.

Clicking before she could change her mind, she about threw her phone across the kitchen with her heart racing in her chest. There was something oddly final about uploading a video.

The first time she’d done it, she hadn’t realised it had gone live.

Now, that actually felt as if it might be a better way.

With another video going up, she now felt as though she’d just posted a notice announcing her eccentricities for the whole country to see.

Pouring another cup of tea, she blew on it, let the steam rise into her face and wondered why she was even thinking about following this path.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she could almost hear Penny’s voice telling her it was the right thing to do, to keep going, to ride this odd little wave she’d accidentally created.

Another voice told her to run for the hills and quickly.

A few minutes later, with curiosity gnawing, she picked up the phone. Two likes. A comment, Loved your first video, can’t wait to watch this one! Then another. The numbers ticked up slowly, then a bit faster, like a snowball gathering speed.

Darby felt a rush of goodness knows what.

Probably adrenaline, but whatever it was, it was a jittery, fluttery sensation that made her feel alive.

It was ridiculous to feel anything over a handful of strangers tapping hearts on a screen, but after months of feeling like she was moving through life in a kind of fog, it was actually basically very nice.

She was being heard and she didn’t feel quite as invisible. Had her purpose come back?

Taking her tea to the kitchen doorway, she leaned against the frame and watched a couple of birds on the fence and mused what was happening.

Somewhere between the tea, the comments, and the quiet in the kitchen, she felt the tiniest shift inside herself.

Deciding that there was no way she was going to waste hours of her life watching how the video went, she put her phone on charge beside the kettle and went upstairs to change her bed and get her housework done.

She might now be an international superstar, but it was her day off and that meant someone had to wave a magic wand so the house got cleaned.

She, in fact, was not only a superstar but also a cleaning fairy. Funny that.

A few hours later, her phone rang with its jangly old-fashioned ringtone trilling from by the kettle.

Darby had resisted going anywhere near it as she’d stripped her bed, ironed clean sheets, dusted, hoovered and cleaned her room to death, blitzed the bathrooms, mopped the hallway and put on two loads of washing.

Flicking on the kettle as she pulled the cable out of the bottom of her phone, she balanced it against her shoulder while she wiped her hands on a dishcloth.

Penny sounded excited. ‘Well, you’ve done it again. That vlog!’

Darby winced. ‘Oh, don’t. I haven’t looked. I feel slightly sick. I’ve spent the last hour pretending that I’m not bothered about it.’

‘Darbs, it’s climbing. People are watching and the comments, oh my God!’ Penny sighed theatrically. ‘They’re already filling up. There’s a woman from Canada who says she’s binge-watching your channel while snowed in. I’m not sure how someone can binge-watch two videos, but still.’

Darby leaned against the worktop, glancing at Lola, who was squashed onto one of the kitchen chairs, one paw draped over the arm. ‘That’s very nice.’

‘Very nice? It’s brilliant. Honestly, you’ve got a knack for this. You’re warm and real and people are clearly starved for that. None of this staged nonsense. Have I or have I not been telling you for years, as in since we were at school, that you have a presenter's voice? Yeah, you’re so natural.’

Darby laughed. ‘Natural and real translates as couldn’t be bothered to move the laundry before filming and doesn’t care about an orange pine kitchen. That’s about the long and the short of it.’

‘Exactly! That’s why they love you. So, what's next? A weekly upload? Twice a week? You need to grab this opportunity.’

Darby shook her head. ‘I’ve only just put up that one. I don’t even know what I’m doing with tomorrow, let alone a schedule. It’s all very odd. A nice odd, but still odd.’

‘Darbs, maybe that’s the point. You don’t have to have it all mapped out. Just keep telling the truth, in that kitchen of yours. People clearly want to see where you go with this and they’re interested in what you say.’

Darby nodded. She was, in fact, enjoying it underneath the dread that she was a laughing stock. There was something about it that was cathartic: the sitting down, the talking, the sending it out into the ether, that had stirred something. Made her feel less stale. ‘We’ll see.’

Penny made a pleased little hum. ‘That’s my girl. I’m so pleased for you about this.’

Darby was pleased, too. It felt nice to have success with something. It was nothing in the grand scheme of things and she was under no illusion that the views and comments would continue, but it felt as if she had done something right. She no longer felt quite as much of a failure.

‘I think you should start thinking about the next one. You need to have a strategy or something.’

‘Nah, that’s the whole point. I’m not doing that. I’ll just do it if and when I fancy it. I’m enjoying it somewhat. I think it’s best it stays that way. I don’t need to make it a stress in my life, you know?’

‘Yes, you’re probably right.’

‘It’s not as if you need it. You said you have nothing to lose and you don’t.’

There it was, that comment again. ‘No. Right, I need to go. Thanks for calling.’

‘Me too. Get another vlog going.’

‘Will do.’

When they hung up, Darby got her work stuff ready and forced herself not to keep checking her phone.

Somewhere deep inside, beneath the nerves and the mild horror of being watched by strangers, something had begun to take root.

She had no idea what at first and then the more she thought about it as she shoved a load of her underwear into the tumble dryer, it came to her.

She realised that the thing taking root was actually her. That felt nice.