Page 28 of Love from Pretty Beach

Lying on the floor with the soles of her feet together to try and release what she’d learnt via a pair of YouTube physios from Boston was a tight psoas muscle, she wiggled her hips.

She wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to get up again, but it was worth a go.

With the latest novel from a supposedly brilliant author in her hands, she tried to read as she waited for the muscle to do its thing.

Very glad that she’d got the book out of the library and not bought it because it was dreadful in every way, she attempted to read it while her inner thighs stretched away from each other.

Holding the book in front of her, she turned a couple of pages, read another paragraph, skipped a few more pages and then gave up, let the book drop to her side, and stared up at the ceiling.

It had to be said that the ceiling was a whole lot more interesting than the book.

Looking at the visible ceiling beams, she wondered what year they were from.

A mix of a traditional English beam and the Arts and Crafts era, they were another thing in the house on her list to paint.

The bulb from the light was in her eyes as she stared up at the ceiling and her mind wandered. Inevitably, her brain went to Archie.

The more she thought about the dinner date, the more she decided that she was going to cancel.

It was just too much bother. Despite telling herself she would not fuss, she’d already fretted over such ridiculous things that it was all too much like hard work.

She pondered what she was going to wear, what baggage he came with, why he had asked her to dinner in the first place and everything else in between.

With the divine insight of experience, she’d come to the conclusion that it was simply not worth it.

Many other thoughts had gone through her mind as she’d lain awake in the night thinking about it.

A lot of them had concerned her previous disastrous relationships and how this one would only head the same way.

Meaning that there was little to no point in her going to dinner in the first place.

The drinks had been fine and Archie seemed nice enough on the surface, but her track record with men was worse than terrible.

She would be better off cutting her losses and getting out while she was still ahead.

Even if the dinner was okay in the long run, it would probably all go wrong anyway, so it wasn’t even worth it.

On top of that, she had nothing to wear, her hair really needed some help and she wasn’t currently flush with money.

Having mulled it over, she decided that she would definitely send him a text and cancel, making up some excuse about one of her children being ill or something.

She'd not run it past Penny or anything. She’d just send him a quick message to cancel, then maybe block his number, and that would be the end of it. Yes, simple as that.

It was a few hours later and Darby’s psoas muscle and her decision about Archie were unchanged.

Her location, however, had. She was no longer staring up at a ceiling, but out on a long walk with Lola, enjoying the fresh air.

It had been a week of rain in Pretty Beach and now the sky was blue.

To her left, the swell and waves were huge beside her, as rolling waves hit the sand and the beach.

Visitors who had come for the day or week were standing with flasks, looking out at the sea rolling in and out, over and over again.

Taking a massive inhale of the coastal air, Darby watched as a couple of day-trippers, with their trousers rolled up, dodged waves and howled with laughter.

Deciding that the glorious sunshine would be great as a segment in one of her videos, she pulled out her phone and started to narrate the scene.

Mildly embarrassed that she was talking to her phone, but really, not caring, she carried on regardless.

She was way past caring what people thought about her and wasn’t particularly bothered if anyone saw her rambling away into her phone, anyway.

As she’d thought and been told enough times, she had nothing to lose.

As she spoke to her phone screen as if she was addressing an old friend, she then turned the camera around, wondering whether the microphone had picked up her voice with the deafening sound of the waves.

Filming for a few minutes, the thoughts about the Archie thing continued.

In the end, she’d decided not to do anything rash and sit on it for a day.

She owed him nothing, and if she really didn’t want to go, she’d just let him down on the day.

Continuing with the filming, the hem of her coat flicked about in the wind as she made her way up the path by the sea.

Pretty Beach was showing off with a beautiful day.

A brisk, blue-sky afternoon that made it look like a windswept, blustery, pastel-filled postcard.

The sky was a soft, pale blue and the waves enormous.

Huge crash-and-thunder, foamy-topped ones that rolled in hard and fast, then frothed up the shoreline.

A soaking wet dog skittered past, full of glee, its owner jogging behind with a lead in one hand and a takeaway coffee in the other.

Darby smiled to herself and carried on, stepping aside to let a couple of walkers with walking sticks, wax jackets, and bright cheeks pass by.

A blast away the cobwebs sort of a day that doubled as video content. A good thing.

As she followed Lola’s lead while she stopped every few minutes to sniff, she pondered all sorts of things as they arrived at the ferry wharf.

Leaning over the railing for a bit, she watched one ferry coming in and another chugging out.

Looking down into the water, she sighed and spoke to herself. ‘It’s just dinner.’

But it wasn’t just dinner. To Darby, it felt big.

For one, Archie was way out of her league; he had his act together, restored beautiful old buildings for a living and quite frankly looked like a god.

He was calm and precise and bottom line just seemed capable.

She felt far from capable. She hadn't dated in years, she was the owner of a house half stuck in the 80s, she felt as if she was always chasing her tail and truth be told she had lost just about every shred of confidence she’d ever had.

With the sea slapping against old weathered timber below, a fine spray settled on her jacket and she took a deep breath, filled her lungs with the salty air and let the sound of the sea thud through her.

She was going to have to cancel. All the dithering and thinking and her lack of confidence told her that.

But, on the other hand, if she went, it might be lovely.

The thing was, if she didn't try, she wouldn't know. Her mum had always told her that. Not that her mum had been in her life for a long time. Darby nodded; she’d go for it for no other reason than that sometimes things worked out.