Page 34 of Love from Pretty Beach

I t was a few days later and Darby was getting ready for the Pretty Beach Night Markets.

She’d been out with Archie for the coffee and it had gone swimmingly.

Without a kiss, but you know, who needs kisses all the time?

Darby had stopped trying to be cautious, had ceased overthinking things, and she most certainly didn’t think he was a serial killer.

She was so into the fact that it was just going along at its own pace and that she was happy, she didn’t really care about anything else.

The funny thing was that she didn't feel as if it was dating, which perhaps was how it should be. All the times in the past when she’d been on a date, it had, ultimately, felt like some kind of a chore.

Just another thing that she’d had to do.

One of a long list of things: work, be a good mum, keep a house, succeed at life.

The thing with Archie didn’t feel like something on a list at all.

Maybe it was because she was in a different stage and had less to worry about, at least on the surface.

She didn’t really know what it was, and to be frank, she didn’t care either.

Nope, not a care in the world. Darbs was just happy that she was actually enjoying herself for once in her life.

Mostly, she was surprised that she felt happy.

Penny had said the same, too. She hadn’t been deep down, happy for a long time.

Of course, she’d not been unhappy, or destitute or in bad health.

She was well aware that she had three healthy children, a job and a roof over her head.

Now things felt different. As if getting her backside off the sofa and doing things, starting her channel and seeing Archie had changed things.

Almost as if she was going through some kind of awakening. It had been a long time coming.

As the thoughts swirled around her head, she definitely felt a bit bonkers.

She’d even looked up videos on finding a new lease of life and found that Siobhan, the Irish woman, had gone through something similar when she’d finally moved for herself and fulfilled things that she wanted.

All in all, somehow, Darby felt as if she were in a new stage of life.

As if she had entered a different phase.

Amazing what forcing change and getting on with things could do.

Hopefully, it was a new stage where she would be happy, because for sure, she never wanted to go back to the way she had felt on New Year’s Eve.

When she had first picked up the camera and started on what had become her channel, she realised now that she had not been in a good place at all.

It was funny, really, because from the outside, all had looked okay in her world.

A lovely little part-time job in Pretty Beach, a best friend, three healthy daughters, and her own house in a coastal town that wasn’t too shabby.

However, she’d become more and more isolated and more and more lonely.

Pushing all her self-involved thoughts to the side, she vowed not to think about the past or how her mental health had not been great, and decided to concentrate on the fact that she was going to the Pretty Beach Night Markets with Archie.

It really was a turn-up for the books. She was going out with a man.

To be honest, she had not seen going on a date in her future and particularly not an organic kind, but there you go.

Experiences she’d had of dates or suchlike were not pleasant; horrible stories of disgusting, revolting experiences that had made her skin crawl and run for the hills.

It was fair to say that every single one of her outings with men with profiles on dating apps had put her off the things forever.

She’d been on dates where she’d counted thing after thing that had not only disappointed her but had also been out-and-out lies compared to their profiles.

They always referred to themselves as “interesting”, these app men, turns out often their interest being in football or other such sports where people run around after a ball.

“Bright” was often professed and was nearly always debatable.

The worst was that they always had the word “attractive” somewhere on their profile; none had been.

On top of that, there had been the long, tedious, pointless, boring conversations where more often than not, Darby had not been the one doing the talking. Yawn.

Then there’d been a speed dating outing one of the mums at Lily’s school had more or less forced her into.

Darby had known it wasn’t her thing out of the gates.

Although she had reasoned that perhaps knowing you were going to hate someone right from the word go was a good way to do it.

She’d gone along thinking that it wouldn’t be that bad.

It had been worse than bad. She’d not minded the fact that she was being judged in such a short amount of time, at least not that much, anyway.

It was more the cattle-like feel of it. As if she’d been a piece of meat.

Not a fresh piece of meat, either. One that had been left on the back shelf of the supermarket fridge for so long that it had a sticky discount label on it.

However, she had put all that behind her.

Girl was on a mission to take control, get herself back and improve the you know what out of her life.

She would do it if it killed her. She would move heaven and earth not to go back to the place on New Year's Eve.

She would make her house nice, she would work on her mind, she would blast her health and fitness with goodness, she would continue with her channel. She would conquer the world.

After a lovely long bath, whereby Darby moisturised every single part of her that could be moisturised and applied a teeth whitening strip, she was full of herself.

Crazy times. She’d washed and blow-dried her hair and was wearing her favourite pair of jeans with a jacket and scarf.

After googling the weather forecast for the evening, she was pleased to see that the weather had turned, and it was forecast to be a clear, dry night with warmer temperatures.

Hardly floaty linen dress weather, but not having to focus on staying warm, at the same time as going to the markets with a man who made her swoon, worked for her.

Not only was she really looking forward to seeing Archie, she was well up for one of her favourite Pretty Beach events.

It was one of the many things about the little town that made her love living there; magical in its aesthetics, always well attended and basically, she just loved strolling around getting lost in lovely people and lovely things all set with the backdrop of the harbour and the lighthouse.

As she got ready, she realised that she had plenty of time and decided that the market would be really good content for her channel and that her subscribers would love the whole kit and kaboodle.

With that thought in mind, she decided to leave early and walking in the direction of the harbour, she smiled at the lights everywhere.

As was usual in Pretty Beach, everything was exceptionally well done.

So far from some dodgy market selling counterfeit goods, it wasn't even funny. White canvas old-school tents were aligned along the harbour, with regulation Pretty Beach bunting in its blue and white colours. From just about everywhere, there was a smell of lovely cooking in the air, and a few people had started to gather. Everything about it made for a good setup. The backdrop wasn’t bad either; boats bobbed around in the harbour, also strung with lights, the lighthouse beamed up on the cliff and lamps from houses in windows glowed.

All in all, it was just very visually appealing, very nice and very Pretty Beach.

Using her phone, Darby turned it around and tried to capture how glorious everything looked.

Then, as she started to walk along by the water, she flicked the screen so that it recorded her and informed her viewers just why she loved the Pretty Beach markets and what they meant to her and the community.

Holding her phone at arm's length, trying to capture both herself and the harbour scene behind her, Darby chatted away as if she’d been speaking to a phone camera her whole life.

It was actually quite unbelievable how easy she found it to commentate on her existence.

'I'm at the Pretty Beach night markets, which honestly has to be one of the most gorgeous settings you could ask for on a clear, bright evening. '

Turning the camera back towards the market, she panned slowly across the white canvas tents that lined the harbour wall. Really, it was breathtaking; each stall was lit with strings of warm white lights reflecting off the dark water and the lighthouse glinted.

'Look at this. These old-school canvas tents are very traditional and charming, nothing flashy or modern, not at all. Just good, honest market stalls selling local produce and handmade goods. Gosh, I really do love it. It’s been a while since I’ve been.'

Wind coming off the sea smelt of wood smoke, hot chocolate and roasted chestnuts mingling with the salt air from the sea.

Darby inhaled deeply and smiled at the camera.

'The smell alone is worth coming for. There's something about outdoor markets in the evening that makes everything feel more special than it actually is.

Though to be fair, Pretty Beach does know how to put on a show when it wants to. '

Providing a running commentary on the various stalls that were set up for the evening, Darby was enjoying herself.

A cheese vendor had arranged wheels of local farmhouse varieties on rustic wooden boards, a stall from the bakery in the laneway displayed nothing but cinnamon buns and sourdough loaves and a local boutique flower farmer’s stall looked as if someone had painted it with watercolour paints, it was that pretty.

'This is what I love about living here.' Darby paused in front of a stall selling preserves and chutneys in jars with fabric hats and hand-written labels.

'Everything's local, everything's made by people who actually care about what they're producing. You can't get this sort of thing in a lot of places these days, can you? This is the real deal, made by people who probably know the names of the cows that provided the milk or the exact field where the vegetables were grown. I mean, most of our town centres of old have actually closed up shops and hoardings these days! Really? These places used to be the backbone of our beautiful country. How sad is it that the places of old have gone to the dogs? Don’t even get me started. I went back to the town I grew up in a few years ago and I didn’t recognise it.

It was absolutely shocking, in actual fact, and so sad, too.

Someone somewhere in Whitehall has a lot to answer for. '

At the far end of the market, an old-fashioned beer tent looked like it had been transported directly from a nineteenth-century country fair.

Cream-coloured canvas was supported by wooden poles and the beautifully decorated entrance, complete with garlands of flowers, and Pretty Beach's traditional blue and white bunting, did not disappoint.

'This is what I call commitment to the atmosphere. Look at that beautiful traditional beer tent. Just like the good old days, eh?'

Through the open flaps of the tent, long wooden trestle tables had been arranged in lines and fairy lights were strung around the interior poles.

Darby zoomed in on a chalkboard menu that promised ales from breweries within a twenty-mile radius.

'Pretty Beach doesn't do anything by halves when it comes to supporting local businesses.

If you can't grow it, brew it, or make it within cycling distance of the place, they're probably not interested in selling it at the night market. I love that. Like I really love it.'

Continuing her slow circuit of the market, documenting the preparations and commenting on the attention to detail that had gone into creating the setting, Darby was thoroughly enjoying herself.

Every stall seemed to have been arranged with care, from the positioning of the lights to the way products were displayed. Appealing it most certainly was.

'You know what strikes me most about all this?

It's the sense of community. These aren't just random vendors who've bought cheap tat wholesale online and rocked up to sell stuff to tourists. These are people who live here, who’ve grown up here, who know each other and who've probably been coming to these markets for years.

You can see it in the way they're helping each other set up, the way they're chatting whilst they arrange their displays.

And the setting doesn't hurt either.' She laughed and gestured towards the harbour.

'I mean, how many places can you buy artisanal cheese and locally brewed ale whilst looking out at boats bobbing in a picture-perfect harbour?

Do I need to even mention the lighthouse?

It's almost ridiculously lovely, isn't it? '

Ending the recording, she slipped her phone back into her pocket, took a moment to simply enjoy the scene and nodded to herself. Darbs was back. It felt good.