Chapter 10
D aisy had just finished wiping down the patio furniture outside the cottage; four weathered wooden chairs and a little round table that wobbled if you leant on it too hard.
Someone had left a napkin wedged under one of the legs to stop it from doing exactly that.
Honeysuckle ran along the back fence, ivy crept over a small shed roof and lovely weathered terracotta pots lined up along steps were filled with plants that Daisy needed to give a good watering.
Sitting down at the table, she pulled her flask from her bag and poured the last bit of her coffee into the cup.
The garden was quiet and calm and a nice little sitting spot after her morning of hard graft.
The beds were stripped and remade, the windows were open, bins were empty, the kitchen was spotless and the little welcome pack was sitting neatly in its basket on the table in the kitchen.
Another turnaround clean for Pete, where he got the comfort of knowing someone he trusted had made sure everything was okay and she would be paid handsomely.
What they both referred to as a win-win.
Watching a little bird in a bird bath and wind charms from a neighbouring garden, she rolled her head from left to right and sighed.
Her neck ached, her arms were tired, but it was the good kind of tired that came from doing something useful.
It was her brain that was the most tired though and the school mum worms and their gossip reverberated around her brain as she sat with her coffee.
It wasn’t as if she could just decide not to care.
That was the part that annoyed her the most. It was as if their words had crawled under her skin and set up camp.
But sitting there in her old sweatshirt and the scent of cleaning spray still on her hands, she realised she had a choice; suck it up buttercup, or let it stew and grow arms and legs.
She just had to try and put it to bed and forget about it.
Topping up her coffee, she decided that the Henley sisters would be able to do their usual thing of giving advice.
Annabelle and Maggie were coming over the next evening to catch up, have a bit of a natter, a few glasses of wine and to help with the rest of the kitchen makeover.
They were bringing a few things for the kitchen: more brass hooks, something Annabelle had found in a vintage shop, and some baskets that Maggie had ordered that she’d said would fit on the reclaimed shelf.
Daisy nodded to herself as she pondered the Miles sticking around thing.
She would ask Annabelle and Maggie for their opinion.
They would be full of advice and tell her precisely what was what.
Just as they’d always done all her life.
Her lovely older sisters would have her back and make her see sense, that she knew for free.
Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her hoodie. She took it out, tapped on the screen, fished in her bag for a new packet of wine gums and smiled.
Miles: Any chance the girls could do a sleepover with Susannah or Annabelle one weekend?
I thought we could maybe do a night away, or you could come and stay in the flat with me for the night.
Just us. Nothing fancy because I know you don’t like straying too far from PB. Thought it might be nice. xxx
For a minute, Daisy stared at the screen and didn’t tap straight away.
She just sat there, holding the phone, eyes scanning the words and then looked away from the phone and over the fence.
The neighbour’s hydrangea bush’s heavy flowers were bowing slightly under their own weight and rustling in the breeze.
She read the message again. It was the sort of message that ought to have made her smile.
A night away, just the two of them. He had thought about it and was being nice, but all she could hear were the school mums that had taken up residence in that place she called her brain.
Daisy: Sounds nice. Thanks. I’ll see what I can do. Will ask Maggie or Bells tomorrow evening. x
If he was asking, then that meant he liked her, surely.
Asking someone to go away for the weekend and renting a flat, albeit a temporary one, surely weren't the actions of a man who was about to do a runner. Were they? Six months. For heaven’s sake, he’d kissed her in front of people, wanted to go on a night away and generally all around was giving the vibes that he was in it for the long haul.
How had one overheard, snarky, nasty little bit of grapevine gossip made her question him, her and everything else in between?
Daisy closed her eyes, held her face up to the sun and tried to push away the image of the backs of the heads of the women in the playground.
The spiteful, snipey little nods filled her brain and though she’d not actually seen their eyes roll, she would have laid money on the fact that they’d both done just that.
Looking around at the garden again at the ivy, the floppy heads of the hydrangea and the lopsided table, she put her flask back together and shook her head.
Really, she wasn’t going to worry about it.
All she had to do was take the Miles thing one step at a time.
She’d for sure survived without anyone up until this point in her life, and if push came to shove, she’d be able to do it again.
Nodding, she decided to put her head down and get on with it.
She’d done her job for the morning, Pete’s holiday cottage was clean, and she was good to go.
There was little to no point in worrying about something that she didn’t even know was true and certainly had no control over.
There was nothing else she needed to do or worry about except making sure things were okay for her and the girls and in the past few months, she’d been exceptional at doing that.
All she had to do was rinse and repeat and make sure she avoided any bumps in the road.
Hopefully there weren't any more coming her way.
As she gathered her things to leave, Daisy noticed something she'd missed during her cleaning routine.
Tucked behind the fruit bowl on the kitchen table was a leather-bound guest book, its corners worn soft with age and handling.
She'd seen it before during previous cleans but had never paid it much attention other than wiping it clean.
It was just part of the cottage's charm that Pete liked to maintain.
Today, though, something made her pause and flip it open.
The pages were filled with handwritten entries from visitors over the years, some in careful script, others in hurried scrawls.
A few holiday snapshots fell out from between the pages; families on the beach, couples walking the coastal path, children building sandcastles.
She found herself reading the most recent entries, smiling at the enthusiasm of city dwellers discovering Pretty Beach for the first time.
Perfect week away from London chaos. The children loved the rock pools and we loved the pace of life. Already planning our return next summer!
Celebrated our 25th anniversary here. Pretty Beach reminded us why we fell in love - with each other and with the simple pleasures in life.
Daisy was about to close the book when an entry near the back caught her eye, dated a few months before.
Came to Pretty Beach for a fresh start after my divorce.
Wasn't sure I'd ever feel hopeful about the future again, but something about this place makes you believe in new beginnings.
The bakery ladies were amazing (Hollie, Zan?) Sometimes strangers understand exactly what you need to hear.
Thank you, Pretty Beach, for reminding me that endings can become beginnings. - Sarah, Manchester.
Daisy stared at the words and her throat tightened as the words made memories flood back.
She remembered sitting in a different cottage, years before, as a desperate young mum who'd taken any work she could find. She’d scrubbed toilets with an aching back, her future uncertain and had wondered how on earth she was going to manage.
She remembered the weight of the early months after the twins were born.
The endless nights when one twin cried while the other slept, then they'd switch just as she'd dozed off.
The panic attacks in supermarkets when she'd calculated the cost of nappies and formula.
The way she'd smiled at health visitors while inside she felt like she was drowning, convinced everyone could see she had no idea what she was doing.
There had been the succession of rented flats, each one temporary, each move another reminder that nothing in her life was permanent.
Packing the twins' belongings into boxes and carrier bags, telling them it was an adventure while her heart broke at their confusion.
The way Margot had clung to her toy rabbit while Evie had asked why they couldn't just stay in one place like their friends did.
Plus, the loneliness. God, the bone-deep loneliness of being responsible for two little lives while feeling like she was barely managing her own.
At the end of each day, it was just her and the twins, and the crushing weight of knowing that everything; their safety, their happiness, their future - rested on her shoulders alone.
Sure, she’d had the Henley women, but at the end of the day, she’d been on her own.
It had all very much been about survival. The idea of love, partnership, or someone choosing to share the chaos and responsibility of her life had seemed not only impossible but laughable . She'd been too focused on getting through each day, each week, each month without everything falling apart.
But somewhere along the way things had improved mostly because of Pete’s suggestion.
The bookshop hadn't just given her financial stability, nope, it had given her identity beyond being a single mother of twins.
She was Daisy who ran the bookshop, Daisy who could recommend the perfect book, Daisy who'd created something beautiful and meaningful in the heart of Pretty Beach.
The realisation hit her like a physical thing.
She was no longer counting pennies and moving from flat to flat anymore.
She was someone who owned a business, who had roots and a future.
The school mums could gossip all they wanted about whether Miles would stick around, but they were commenting on a version of her that no longer existed.
Endings can become beginnings.
Sarah from Manchester had written those words about her own fresh start, but as Daisy scanned them again, they felt appropriate.
Daisy nodded as she closed the guest book and tucked it back behind the fruit bowl where Pete liked it kept.
The cottage was ready for its next guests, but more importantly, she was ready for whatever came next in her own story.
The school mums could keep their predictions and their gossip.
Daisy Henley knew exactly who she was now.
She had, she realised, finally learned the difference between surviving and thriving and she was ready to do more of the latter.