Chapter 4 #2
Adding a couple of pretty things to the table, she took a large vintage jug from the cupboard, sliced a lemon and grabbed some mint from a tub by the back door and swirled it all around in a lovely little calm and happy clink.
Taking another walk around the room, as if checking it from every angle might somehow magic it into something else, Daisy continued to ascertain its potential.
The floor tiles had hope that they could brush up well, even if there was a chip in one that looked like a dog’s face if you squinted in the right light.
As she mused, she noted that whatever the state of the kitchen, it had done its job.
She’d made a hundred cups of tea in it since moving in, she’d cried into the washing-up when she’d thought Miles had ghosted her, she’d wrapped birthday presents at the table when the girls were asleep and even once had sat under the open window on the phone to Maggie with a hot water bottle under her jumper, trying to feel something other than utterly exhausted.
Uncle Dennis’s kitchen had heard her talking to herself, to her girls, to the kettle, to the walls and wondering more than once if the move had been the right thing.
If the kitchen had been missing life since Uncle Dennis had passed away, Daisy Henley had certainly brought it back with a bang and then some.
Now she was going to give it not only life but Daisy-fy it to the max.
She spoke to one of the old cupboards on the wall as if it were a person. ‘Yep, we’ll fix you up. Bit by bit.’
The bell from the front dinged just as she was wiping the handle of the fridge; it stopped her spiralling further into a Pinterest fantasy whereby she was the owner of a Nigella-esque kitchen, all cost-of-a-car fridges and shiny mortgage-level pans.
Passing through the bookshop, it glowed: the fairy lights were on, the armchairs looked inviting, and the whole place smelled of books, lavender, Annabelle’s candle and calm.
Daisy thought again how good old-fashioned lucky she was.
Not in a smug, grand, dramatic look-at-me-and-my-bookshop kind of way, but in a quiet, thank goodness sort of everyday way.
A sense of having created something out of the mess of her life.
As if she’d pushed and swum and gulped her way up from being underwater and found the air.
Sliding back the old-fashioned inner cage security gate, she unlocked the door and opened it with a smile.
Miles stood there, balancing a large brown paper carrier in one hand and a smaller bag tucked under his arm.
Wearing jeans and a soft-looking jumper, Daisy secretly swooned as she felt the lucky feeling multiply by a billion trillion. Oh, yeah, baby.
Right away, she bantered as if she didn’t have a care in the world, as inside she felt like saying a prayer to the relationship gods. ‘You didn’t have to bring enough food for a wedding party. It’s only the two of us!’
Miles kissed her cheek as he passed. ‘I know how much you like leftovers, so I ordered anything I liked the look of. I have found it’s a very good strategy for knowing what is for dinner for the rest of the week.’
Loving that he was right, Daisy shut the door behind him and followed him through to the kitchen, watching as he took in the tealights, the clean table, and the flowers in the jug.
‘Well, this is very charming. Have I walked into an actual supper club?’
Daisy laughed. ‘Don’t get used to it. It’s a one-night-only event. I was avoiding my inbox and I went down a Pinterest well. I now have plans for this kitchen that involve painting, Suntanned Pete and hard work.’
Miles started to take the food containers out of the bag. ‘Oh, right, does this hard work involve my skills? Am I lucky to be included? You’d be surprised to know that I know my way around a power drill and wall plugs.’
Daisy passed him a glass of wine. ‘You’re lucky every day, Miles. Don’t you forget it.’
He lifted the glass in a mock toast. ‘To takeaway and low lighting.’
‘The best kind of date night.’
Miles sat down at the little table and looked around as Daisy put the takeaway containers in the oven. He peered past her at the far cupboards. ‘You’ve done something here, already, have you? It looks different.’
‘No, I haven’t. I’ve just tidied up and cleaned. It’s all a bit tired, don’t you think?’
Miles looked around. ‘Tired maybe, but it’s still you. It’s got charm or at least it’s lurking somewhere...’
Daisy raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s a nice way of saying it looks like I’ve been too busy to do anything since I moved in. Which is accurate. I feel as if the ghost of Uncle Dennis is peering out at me from the cupboard doors.’
‘Well, it smells good in here. It always smells good in here.’
Daisy handed him a glass of water, tucking one leg underneath her. ‘I think it’s the candles.’ She pointed to a row of wall cupboards. ‘I’m going to take the cupboard doors off and go for that open shelving look.’
Miles paused. ‘On purpose?’
Daisy showed him her list and joked. ‘Yup. Open shelving, then I can hang mugs from hooks and do those baskets where people keep their veg as if they’re running a smallholding.’
Miles squinted at the row of overhead cupboards on the other side of the kitchen. ‘You could pull it off with a bit of work.’
‘You think?’
‘Definitely, very umm, slow living. Though I draw the line at chickens outside the back door.’
Daisy chuckled. ‘Ha. They’re next on my list.’
Tucking in, the kitchen glowed softly, the tealights flickered in their little jars and lanterns, and the sound of Pretty Beach quietening outside settled around them.
Daisy felt her shoulders drop as she ate.
It had been a busy day; the chaos of the school run, the bakery admin, cleaning and sorting the shop, the forever list of things that needed doing, but all of it had faded with that lovely, comfy feeling of an evening not doing anything much.
No performing or trying too hard. Just eating dinner with someone she, gulp, was in love with. Yikes.
Daisy gestured around. ‘There’s something about a battered old kitchen, though. The good thing is that no one expects it to be perfect. No one minds if the tea towels don’t match or if the mugs have chips. There’s no pressure. It just is what it is; I kind of like that.’
Miles nodded. ‘Exactly. I hate all that showing off house interiors crap. It’s not trying to impress anyone.’
Daisy hooted. ‘Bit like me, then.’
‘Nope, you got that bit wrong.’ Miles shook his head. ‘You’re very impressive. You just don’t realise it. I’ve told you that already and that’s why you had me at the ice cream throwing event.’
Daisy rolled her eyes. ‘You’re very charming tonight.’
‘Thai curry brings out my best side.’
Daisy laughed at the little fortune cookies that had come with the Thai. ‘Oh, this is the first time I have seen these!’ She read from the piece of paper that had come out of hers. ‘You are tired. Rest.’
Miles frowned. ‘That’s a strange one.’
Daisy binned the wrapper. ‘Strange but also very accurate in my case.’
Miles got up and started to clear away the dishes. ‘You go and sit down. I’ll do the rest and pack up the leftovers. I’ll make a cup of tea and bring it in. Even a biscuit is telling you that you need to take some time off; I think we both need to take heed.’
Daisy hesitated for a second, but then nodded and wandered into the bookshop.
The light was gorgeous, the fairy lights still on, the snug corner with its armchair and stack of books waiting for her like a lovely little hug.
She pulled the blind down so that no one could really see in, but she could still see out, plopped down into the chair and tucked her feet beneath her.
From the kitchen, she could hear Miles rinsing something under the tap, the sound of the cutlery drawer, the scrape of the stool as he pushed it in.
All so normal and lovely and sort of unfamiliar, too, to have someone doing something for her.
Sorely overdue and very much appreciated.
She turned her head and looked through the doorway, glimpsing Miles a few times moving around as if he belonged there.
Like they’d been doing the same routine for years, instead of the fact that, in reality, it wasn't that long at all. As Daisy listened to the sound of Miles putting the tea into the pot, she rested her head back and closed her eyes for a minute. Something nice had happened in her life. There hadn’t been a big announcement or anything fancy, far from it. Everything felt right, though.
Sometimes it was all about a takeaway in a tired kitchen, someone else offering to do the washing up, and a list of hooks to buy for your mugs.
Really, all of that felt just right. It had been a long time coming in her life.
Hopefully, with a bit of luck, things were only going to get better. Little did she know.