Page 29 of Love from Pretty Beach

D arby had plumped to go on the date. After way too much deliberating, musing and contemplating that had included but was not limited to consulting with both Penny and Instagram, Darby had settled on what to wear on the date.

She’d plumped for wide leg jeans with a long-sleeved white shirt, nice hair, good jewellery, underwear that hadn't gone grey.

Her stomach was even feeling flat enough for her to tuck the shirt in.

That in itself was unheard of and worth celebrating.

Said shirt was more of a blouse really and was more suited to a summer evening but she loved it and it made her feel good which was the most important thing when going on your first date in approximately seven and a half years.

The blouse had a pointed collar, balloon sleeves and thick, wide cuffs.

All the way along the button placket, a narrow strip of thick cotton lace matched the same at the wrists.

It was simple, lovely, cut to show off shape rather than add weight to it and Darby had saved up for it after stalking it online for way too long.

Flattering, so very much so, and comfy, too.

With the evening ahead of her and, to be frank, all a pickle, she was very pleased she was in possession of the blouse.

It had been waiting patiently to take her out for dinner and its moment had arrived.

In her underwear in the utility room off the kitchen with the iron board up, she pressed it to within an inch of its life and popped it on.

A few minutes later, she was standing in her bedroom with the shirt tucked into the jeans, wondering whether or not to add a cardigan.

Deciding on no, she quickly fluffed an extra dab of blusher onto her face for good measure, spritzed just about every part of her body with perfume and hoped for the best. Telling herself that what she looked like did not matter, she nodded.

She would not succumb to the idea that women had to look good to be worthy, but a lot of the time, she felt as if that notion was embedded in the far corners of her mind.

The thing about that notion, feminist or not, was that it was all very well to say it on paper.

For sure. It might well be true that her appearance was of no consequence, but unless things changed anytime soon, she was part of it.

Willingly or not. Archie had seen her trapped in a fur coat whilst lying on a charity shop floor, so for sure he had some iota of who she was.

There was something quite astonishing to be said for that.

At least she wouldn’t have to spend the whole night pretending to be something she wasn’t.

He’d already seen the real deal or at least some of it.

Wincing, she wasn’t sure about whether that was a good thing or not.

Grabbing her bag, not her huge daytime basket, but a smaller cross-body bag with the smaller inner bag from her basket deposited inside it, Darby decided that, quite simply, she would go to the pub and not make a big song and dance about it.

She’d have one drink and the Locals Only for dinner and then make her way back.

The pub was close enough for her not to have to worry about getting home safely and in one piece, and all she had to do was try and have a nice evening.

Yet again, she asked herself what she had to lose.

Not more than ten minutes later, she was pushing her way into the inner door of the pub.

Right away, a man, Roy, head of Pretty Beach council, who she knew from dog walking smiled, said hello, and raised his eyebrows.

As she made her way in the direction of the bar, another local, Holly, who owned the bakery, also smiled.

Holly’s mum, Xian, was sitting with an iPad in a gold case, holding it out in front of her.

With headphones on her head and a green jumper, Xian flicked her eyes up in recognition.

Holly beamed. ‘Hello. How are you?’

Darby nodded and smiled. Darby knew Holly from both going into the bakery and work.

It was fair to say that Holly liked her sparkly jewellery.

She about dripped in it. It was also fair to say that the jewels were not fake.

More than once, Darby had calculated that Holly was a walking version of a diamond dealer. ‘I’m good, thanks. You?’

Holly gestured to her mum. ‘Thank you for sorting that stuff out for Mum the other day. I don’t know what happened with all of that.’

‘Not at all! That’s my job.’

Holly nodded in the direction of the bar. ‘In here for the LO this evening?’

Darby nodded. There was no way that she’d be telling Holly who she was having LO with. Not that Holly wouldn't work it out for herself. ‘Yes.’

‘We’ve just ordered. You’d better get in quick.’

‘Will do, thanks.’

‘Have a nice evening.’

Darby continued in the direction of the bar until she found Archie, who was standing with a half-finished pint, chatting to the woman behind.

On seeing him, her whole body felt as it turned itself inside out, looked at the world differently for a second, then went back to normal again.

At least, as normal as it could be. She was so far from normal, it wasn’t even funny.

Oh my, was she in trouble? She was. Chuckling to herself, her stomach zoomed.

Truthfully, deep down, she was never going to not attend the dinner.

He was way too special for that and something strange was happening to her around him.

More importantly, she liked the strange feeling.

Oh yes indeed, she did. Who had she been kidding that she might cancel? Pah! No one at all.

Archie looked exquisite, happy, calm and with his you know what together.

Suddenly, she felt ridiculous. Here she was on a date with a younger, very handsome, tall, dark man.

Why in the world would he want to go out with her?

In one fell swoop, the old lack of self-confidence thing reared its putrid head.

She felt certain that in the end, it would be a goose chase.

Even if it went well, she’d soon find things out.

There would be something wrong with him because it was always the same.

At first, he would be fabulous, but it wouldn’t last. It would take her a few months to work out what was wrong with him, by which time she would be thoroughly depressed and over it.

The potential war wounds she would suffer were why she should have cancelled.

Closing her eyes for a second, all sorts went through her brain, mostly that she really could not be faffed to go through it all.

The minutiae and nitty-gritty of the dating world were precisely why she’d been out of it for so long.

It appeared that Archie had no such thoughts running through his head. To the contrary, as he saw her, his whole face lit up. ‘Oh, hey. You look lovely.’

Darby pointed to his pint. ‘Thanks. You got a head start.’

‘I don’t like to be late.’

Darby liked that. ‘How are you?’ Darby felt as if her heart was about to jump out of her chest. She needed to get a grip.

She didn’t need to hear the answer to how he was because she already knew.

Oh my. He looked well enough to her. Like so well, it took her breath, her blood, her brain, her legs away.

A strange occurrence happened to her eyelashes.

They were blinking over and over again so fast that it felt like little flash bulbs were going off in front of her eyes. Darby Lovell had finally lost the plot.

‘I’m good, thanks. What can I get you?’

What can I get you? What can I get you? An easy enough question.

Darby was so in her own head, she couldn't work out the answer. For a second, she felt as if she had left her own body. Her blood seemed to have taken on a life of its own and zoomed around, rushing from one ear to the other. It ran up and down her torso, had a quick visit to her toes and then forged its way back to her head. She blinked a few times and tried to percolate what she’d heard into actual words that made sense.

He was asking what she wanted to drink, yes, that was it.

Quite a reasonable question. Darby coughed.

'Err, yes, sorry. I'll have a glass of white wine, please. '

Settling beside Archie at the bar, Darby tried not to notice how good he looked.

In a proper shirt rather than the work clothes she’d mostly seen him in, she realised that he was so far out of her league it was comical.

She also clocked that he was clearly a fair bit younger, too. How had she not spotted that before?

Archie appeared not to have any clue about what was going on in Darby’s head as he slid a small menu chalkboard along the bar. ‘I’ve reserved a table in the snug by the fire. The Locals Only looks good, but have a look at the menu.'

Glancing at the chalkboard menu, Darby scanned downwards and then looked at another small sign underneath the long line of optics, where on thick brown paper suspended from a roll, the Locals Only dish was written in black pen.

She tried to sound normal and just be concerned with the menu and not the ludicrous things that were going on with her forty-one- year-old body.

‘Slow-cooked lamb with brown onions, thyme and garlic.’

Archie followed her gaze. ‘Do you like lamb?’

‘I do. Gosh, that sounds nice. It must be what I could smell halfway down the road.’

‘James said it’s been slow cooking all day.’

Darby read from the menu. ‘With seasonal vegetables and rosemary potatoes. Oh, and there’s bread and butter pudding made with panettone. I mean, really? Posh bread and butter pudding? How nice must that be?’

'I can hardly deal with the sheer perfection of it all.' Archie joked.

‘I’ll go all in for both of those.’

'I was hoping you'd say that. I’ll get our order in. I heard a whisper that it was on the way to running out. If we don’t act now, we’ll regret it.'