Page 8 of Love from Pretty Beach
Sipping her drink, she felt the weight of people who belonged all around her; couples, little units, busy lives, people still in the thick of it.
Elise passed around a phone to show a video of her dog chasing bubbles.
The screen glowed as it passed from hand to hand.
Penny’s husband, Jack, turned to Darby and lowered his voice.
'Seriously, you should start a little online thing. Just you chatting about your week. Books, meals, that sort of thing. I bet loads of people would watch it. You’ve got a lovely voice.
Come on, we’ve always poked fun at you that you sound like the walking version of Radio Four. '
Darby smiled and joked. Little did Jack know that she had lists of lists of topics to vlog about. 'I think I’d need a better face than this one.'
Jack laughed, not unkindly. 'They’d love you. People are obsessed with real-life stuff. Just talk about your lovely life in Pretty Beach, your garden and what about all the books you read?’
Penny joined in. ‘Darbs, you know I’d watch it.'
Jack chuckled. ‘Me too.’
Darby shook her head. ‘Nah.’ Rolling her eyes, she pretended to think the idea was preposterous.
It was strange, though, how it had come up in conversation.
Was the universe telling her something, or at least trying to?
She took another sip of wine and wondered how they’d unknowingly picked up on something she was considering.
How funny they all thought it was. How she didn’t think it was funny. How she was desperate.
Lucinda chimed in again with a look on her face that made Darby want to smother her with a sofa cushion. 'Yes, you've got that voice, you know. Very soothing.'
Dan pointed his wine glass at her. 'Radio Four voice. That's what we always say about you, isn't it, Pen? Very calming. People love that sort of thing.'
Penny nodded vigorously. 'They would and you've got such interesting things to say about books and all that. Plus, you've got the house and all that potential for before and after content. People are obsessed with renovation stories.'
Darby thought about the peach rose wallpaper that had been staring at her for five years, the threadbare carpet, the bathroom that needed love.
If people were obsessed with renovation stories, there was one thing for sure: she had a lot of potential content at her disposal.
She attempted to deflect. 'I don't think anyone wants to watch me fail to choose paint colours for another five years.
' Thinking about the notebook full of ideas sitting at home on her kitchen table, Darby inhaled.
Pages covered with her thoughts about house renovation and cooking for one and the particular loneliness of three failed relationships with three corresponding children and a move to the coast. 'The thing is.
I wouldn't have the first clue about the technical side.
Filming, editing, all that. I can barely manage to take a decent photo on my phone. '
‘Just go for it. Look at me and the oast house. I started that from nothing. You'll be a proper little business before you know it.'
Darby had to laugh. She’d be lucky if she ever found the courage to actually record herself, let alone make money someday.
She'd been thinking about it as a way to force herself to finally tackle things and to give her something to do to drag herself by her earlobes out of the doldrums. The idea that strangers might pay attention to her ramblings and that it might be a business was nothing short of absurd. Bonkers.
'You would get subscribers if you did proper content, that is. None of this double-dancing in tiny outfits nonsense. Just someone real, talking about real things.'
Daisy swallowed as the conversation dipped and turned and moved on to other topics as people refreshed their drinks and someone mentioned the weather forecast for the weekend.
Only half-listening, her mind was spinning with possibilities.
She thought about her notebook, about the hours she'd spent watching other women document their lives, about the strange loneliness of her days and the way time seemed to stretch endlessly without purpose or direction.
Later, as she helped Penny clear plates and load the dishwasher, Penny brought it up again.
Penny rinsed wine glasses under the hot tap. 'You should do it, you know. The channel thing. You've got something to say and you're funny. Plus, you need something, Darbs. Something that's yours.'
The words stung a little bit, mostly because they were so blooming well true.
Darby did need something that was hers. Work paid the bills but didn't feed her soul, the house needed attention but felt overwhelming, and her days had taken on a very bland, soul-destroying sameness that made her feel like she was sleepwalking through her own life. 'Nah.'
Penny passed her a tea towel. 'Just do it and send it to me. I’ll be your lone subscriber...'
‘Yeah, whatever.’
An hour or so later, Darby was driving home through dark lanes, making her way back to Pretty Beach.
All around was quiet except for the hum of the heater and the occasional hoot of an owl.
As she drove, she thought about the evening and mused her ideas and the strange notion that her ordinary life might actually be interesting to other people.
Back at the house, in her pine-clad kitchen, she made herself a cup of tea and sat at the kitchen table with the notebook open in front of her.
It would be funny to give it a go. Or maybe not.
Looking at the honey-coloured pine cupboards that had dominated the space and her mind for five years, she shook her head.
Every single thing was pine; the cupboards, the pelmet above, the spice rack, even the extractor fan housing that jutted out into the room.
Closing her eyes, Darby pictured the kitchen as she wanted it to be.
Cream painted units with their doors removed, an airy, open feeling, a beautiful range cooker in sage green or cream with space around it to breathe.
Open shelving styled with her favourite pieces, a few trailing plants, her cookbooks, herbs. Calm, soothing, her.
Nodding, she squinted and imagined herself yanking the cupboards off the wall. Yes, she was going to do it. She would film herself, too, as she jumped in and took the plunge. Small steps were the key. One small step at a time until she felt better about her life.
Flipping a page in her notebook, she wrote a title at the top and underlined it with a wavy squiggle. Say hello, world, to Love from Pretty Beach .