Page 51 of Love from Pretty Beach

D arby was standing in the garden with a mug of tea, watching the light creep across the white gravel she'd jet-washed the day before.

The air in Pretty Beach was crisp and clean and there was the gorgeous scent of hyacinths blooming in their terracotta pots.

Pretty Beach was waking up by the sounds of it.

There was the distant hum of the early ferry and seagulls wheeling in the air.

Walking down the side path, she surveyed the courtyard.

Everything looked exactly as it had the previous morning, but things inside were very different.

The same bunting fluttered between the porch and the corner tree, the same cast iron table sat in the corner, the same lavender pots sat grouped by the front wall.

Darby didn't feel the same at all. Having a man in her bed that had not been occupied with anyone rather than herself for a long, long time tended to make one feel on the different side.

After the gin and the pub, Archie had come back under the guise of tasting the tiramisu.

That had turned into a deep bath for two.

That had migrated to the bedroom. That had been nice.

The knowledge of Archie being up in her bed made Darby feel strange.

She'd crept out early, needing air and space and tea before she could even begin to process what had happened.

The forty-pound tiramisu had been extraordinary, but it wasn't the dessert that had had her feeling like a teenager who'd been kissed behind the bike sheds.

Sipping her tea, she tried to make sense of the tangle of emotions churning through her. Relief, happiness and good old-fashioned nerves. What if this was just temporary? What if he changed his mind again? What if she'd been an idiot to let him back in so easily? It was worth it.

Her phone buzzed against the garden table.

Penny: Morning sunshine. Did you end up going to the pub? How’s the courtyard looking?

Darby smiled despite herself.

Darby: I had an interesting evening in the end.

Three dots appeared immediately, then stopped, then appeared again. Darby could practically hear Penny's brain whirring.

Penny: Define interesting. Does this involve He Who Must Not Be Named?

Darby: He came into the pub.

Penny: AND?!

Darby: He apologised again. We ended up back here.

Penny: He stayed?????

Darby: Yes.

Penny: OH MY GOD FINALLY. How do you feel?

Darby looked up at her bedroom window, where the curtains were still drawn.

How did she feel? Like she'd remembered what it was like to be wanted, to have a nice long deep bath and chat to someone who wasn’t a phone or a wall, to laugh until her sides ached and then fall asleep next to someone who made her feel like her again.

Despite all that, she tried not to think that she was setting herself up for another spectacular disappointment.

Darby: I feel I'm glowing from the inside out.

Penny: Good. Just run with it.

Darby: Easy for you to say. I have a track record of spectacularly poor decisions in this department.

Penny: This isn't the same as the others. I can tell just from how you talk about him.

Darby laughed. A bird landed on the edge of one of the terracotta pots and cocked its head at her curiously.

Darby: I hope I'm not being stupid.

Penny: You're not. You deserve to be happy and if he messes it up again, I'll drive down there and show him what for.

Darby: LOL, thank you.

Darby put her phone down, finished her tea, listened to the sounds of Pretty Beach and wondered how it was all going to turn out.

She'd earned this, hadn't she? She wasn't just the woman who'd cried in her car on New Year's Eve or who ate toast for dinner because she couldn't be bothered to cook for one.

She wasn't just a failed relationship statistic or a woman whose best years were supposedly behind her.

She was still Darby, underneath it all - the one who'd had the courage to start over, to put herself online for the world to see, to fight her way back from rock bottom and build something new.

About half an hour later, she was still sitting outside when Archie appeared, leaning on the back door. 'Any chance of tea?'

'I’ll put the kettle on.’

'What time is it?'

'Nearly eight.' Heading past him for the kitchen as she filled the kettle, Darby caught sight of herself in the window reflection. Her hair was everywhere, she was in floral pyjamas, but she looked as if she was glowing and happy. Properly, genuinely happy for the first time in longer than she could remember. She’d started a new chapter and it was going well. She’d made herself get better.

Expensive tiramisu from a man who'd swallowed his pride had helped.

She could certainly handle a bit more of that.