Page 22 of Love from Pretty Beach

D arby looked in the mirror in the pub toilet and gasped at what looked back at her.

In her old painting dungarees with a striped long-sleeved T-shirt underneath and a pair of battered boots she used to do the gardening, she was hardly looking her most scrubbed up.

In a way, though, she liked that, because for sure she was real and the only way was up from where she was standing.

To be frank, too, it was quite nice just to be makeup-free, comfy, a bit of a mess and totally and utterly herself.

Anyway, it wasn’t as if she was on a date or anything.

Archie had only asked her for a drink because he’d probably realised that to get his job done would involve him having to liaise with her about the listed wall.

Technically, with the right of way and everything, not having her onside would be a pain in his backside.

Noting to herself that, yes, he was just trying to butter her up, she washed her hands and then pinched her cheeks in an attempt at making her look less corpse-like.

Nodding, she tutted. Yes, of course, that was the reason he’d asked her to go for a drink, duh: to keep her sweet in case he needed to keep her on side.

A few minutes later, and slightly deflated, she was standing at the bar where a small half of beer was on the side and Archie had a pint in front of him. He pointed to the small half glass. ‘Locals Only. Works for me.’

‘Lovely, thank you.’

Archie gestured to a chalkboard on the far side of the bar. ‘I don’t know about you, but I am ravenous. Do you fancy anything?’ He lowered his voice. ’The Locals Only chips are incredible.’

I fancy one thing for sure: you.

Darby also lowered her voice. ‘What makes them Locals Only?’ Locals Only was a peculiar Pretty Beach custom whereby certain produce in pubs, cafés and shops was specially made for residents and those who lived in Pretty Beach.

Darby was well aware of its merits and had sampled Locals Only food all over Pretty Beach over the years. It never, ever let you down.

Archie laughed. ‘Well, I imagine they will be like nothing you’ve ever tasted.’

James, the barman, who had just finished serving another customer, overheard. He lowered his voice. ‘The potatoes are from the allotments and the vinegar is one of Lottie’s specials. Honestly, best ever.’

Darby nodded. She knew of Lottie, who ran a catering company in Pretty Beach and whose food and wares were often part of the Locals Only scene. If Lottie was involved, there was no need to contemplate further. ‘I’m in.’

Archie nodded and grinned. ‘Me too.’

James laughed. ‘You two aren’t stupid. When Lottie’s associated with anything, you know you’re going to be in for a treat and your taste buds will explode.’

‘Exactly,’ Archie agreed. ‘That thought just ran through my mind.’

James lowered his voice. ‘So, it’s a portion of Locals Only to share, is that right?’

Archie nodded. ’Yes, that would be great.’

About twenty minutes later, a weathered rustic-style board topped with greaseproof paper arrived between them on the bar.

A small glass jug held a serving of vinegar and a pile of steaming hot chips sat in the middle of the greaseproof paper.

Beside the small white jug, a little slab of salt had a small grater beside it. The smell alone was mouth-watering.

Darby inhaled. ‘Oh my gosh, they smell amazing.’

Archie picked up the small glass jug. ‘This is a first for me. Lottie now makes vinegar.’

Darby chuckled as Archie splashed the vinegar on the chips. He then picked up the small slab of pink salt, held it up with his eyebrows raised and chuckled. ‘I’ve never seen salt like this. Only in Pretty Beach, am I right?’

Darby laughed. ‘I know.’ Popping a chip in her mouth, she closed her eyes. ‘Oh my God, these are amazing. I don’t know who grew the potatoes; they taste better than anything. It’s always the way in Pretty Beach, isn’t it? You have a humble chip and wonder why and how they taste so good.’

‘Agree.’

‘I know, it’s happened to me so many times too.’

‘Yeah, me too.’

‘So, you’ve lived here a while, have you?’ Darby asked, her eyebrows raised.

‘I wouldn’t say I am a True Blue, as it were, but I lived here when I was younger and then we moved to the UAE for a while with my dad’s job. Then we came back here and I’ve been here ever since. So yeah, I suppose I’ve been here a long time, really.’

Darby tried to make herself sound breezy, casual, interested, not keen. She had to quell her desire to find out everything about him. Like every single detail. ‘And you’ve always been into Grade II listed walls?’ Darby joked.

‘I did economics at university, and I can tell you now, I did not enjoy it and I sort of fell into this when I was labouring while I was trying to work out what to do with my life, and I’ve been doing it ever since.’

‘Sounds good to me.’

‘I’m actually fully qualified now. I can tell you a thing or two about listed buildings.’

‘Good to know,’ Darby bantered.

‘What about you?’ Archie asked. ‘Did you say you’d lived here for about five years?’

‘Yes, yes,’ Darby nodded.

‘On your own?’ Archie asked.

Darby suddenly felt weird telling this man that she lived on her own, although it was a bit late now. He probably already knew anyway. He’d been in her house twice and had seen her flat on her back on the floor of a charity shop. Her vibes told her he was safe and more than okay. ‘Yes, I do.’

‘You’re not married or anything?’ Archie asked. ‘Oh, God, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I hate it when people say that to me.’

‘No, no, it’s fine. Currently, no.’

‘Currently?’ Archie chuckled.

‘I don’t know why I said that. Sorry. I have been married, but it didn’t last very long. I don’t think marriage is for me, to be quite honest.’ The three different fathers of her three children flashed through Darby’s mind. ‘Let’s just say I’m good at failed relationships.’

Archie chuckled, picked up his glass and tapped it against Darby’s. ‘That makes two of us then.’

‘You’re not married?’ Darby attempted to sound casual, as if she hadn’t totally studied his ring finger and examined it for tan lines. Not that a ring meant anything, but still.

Archie rolled his eyes. ‘It’s complicated.’

Darby felt her stomach do a strange thing. What the heck? He was married! ‘What does that mean then? So, is that a yes? Are you married?’

‘No, no, no! It’s definitely not a yes. I have been in a few relationships. None of them, err, worked out. Truth be told, I think I’m better with buildings and walls than weddings.’

‘Same for me, actually,’ Darby chuckled as she drained her drink and popped in another chip, and found herself telling him way too much information.

‘Three different fathers for my three children, all of whom I had when I was too young to even know what I was doing. I spent, oh, about twenty years trying to work out what was what and now, well, now it’s pretty much all over anyway. ’

‘Right, wow, sounds, umm, busy.’ Archie nodded. ‘Sorry, what do they live with their dads?’

‘No, no, they’ve all left home now. Well, technically, but they’re back and forth. Yes, I had them when I was a ten-year-old,’ Darby joked.

‘Wow, that’s some doing. Three children in four years, is that right?’

‘Yes. How about you? Do you have children?’

‘Two, though they’re not quite as old. They are teenagers and they do have the same mother, so that’s a bonus,’ he chuckled, and Darby laughed.

‘Yes, I suppose it is. They’re in Pretty Beach?’

‘No. They’re in Newport Reef, so yes, I have a lot to do with them. Thank goodness.’

‘And your ex?’

Archie smiled. ‘Yeah, all good there. Amicable and friendly. It was just never meant to be with us, really.’

‘I know how that is.’

’Tell me about it.’ Archie gestured toward their empty glasses. ‘Another round?’

Darby had to stop herself from jumping down his throat. She pretended to look at the time on her phone as if she might have had something to get back for. The only thing on her calendar was watching other people’s lives online. ‘Go on then. You twisted my arm.’

Surprised that she was genuinely enjoying herself, Darby couldn’t quite wipe the smile off her face.

She was very much up for another drink and wanted to stay longer despite her paint-splattered appearance and the fact that she’d already shared more personal information than she’d intended.

‘I should probably warn you that I’m not used to drinking on a school night. ’

‘I’ll take my chances.’

As Archie ordered, Darby tried to process the fact that she was having a rather lovely time with a man she barely knew, whilst dressed like someone who’d been dragged through a building site backwards. It was all very out of the blue and all very lovely.

They talked for another hour, the conversation flowed and Darby relaxed.

The alcohol may have helped as she heard herself chatting away and talking about all sorts.

As they debated whether to order another portion of chips, Darby caught sight of herself in the mirror behind the bar and felt a moment of pure astonishment.

There she was, sitting in a pub in paint-stained dungarees and a stripy T-shirt, having a lovely time with a man who made her stomach do acrobatics.

Not that long before, she’d been seriously considering whether she was destined to spend the rest of her life alone, wondering if she should brave the horrors of online dating just to have someone to talk to besides Lola.

Now here she was, completely unprepared and looking absolutely dreadful, having exactly the sort of conversation she’d thought was no longer possible at her age with her circumstances.

Oh, the blooming irony. She’d been asked to the pub whilst covered in kitchen dust and loitering in a woodstore.

The thing she knew: she loved it and would happily loiter with Archie any day of the week.