The Hopes and Dreams of Libby Quinn

by Freya Kennedy

  ‘People will always read books,’ she answered, unable to keep the irritation from her voice. She’d had this same conversation a hundred times since she’d started sharing her plans. Only her parents and Jess really believed in her. Ant, well, he made a good show of it, but she wasn’t overly convinced. ‘It’s going to be something a bit different, anyway,’ she continued. ‘More than “just a bookshop”. A creative space, a place for writers and readers to meet and chat about their work, have a quiet space to work in and get great coffee.’

  'Well, I wish you the very best with it – that old place could do with a bit of love. I always thought it had character – deserved someone to give it a bit of a boost. And anything that gives this street a boost is okay by me,’ he smiled.

  Libby shifted in her seat. ‘Well, that's the plan. As soon as I can get back in, of course.'

  ‘Well, if you need anything – coffee, T-shirts, phones, whatever – feel free to call over. Either Jo or I are generally about most of the time. The other staff aren’t too bad either. I look forward to seeing what you do with it.’

  A call from Jo for Noah to come and help out ended the conversation and Libby couldn’t say she was upset to have him leave and go back to his duties. She lifted the newspaper and returned to hiding behind it while waiting for Jess.

  Jess arrived thirty-five minutes later. Thankfully, she had in her possession a bag complete with change of clothes and a set of spare keys, which she rattled in front of Libby.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been as glad to see you as I am now,’ Libby said as she stood up to kiss her best friend on the cheek.

  ‘I like your T-shirt,’ Jess smiled – as she stood back to admire the black cotton shirt emblazoned with ‘The Ivy Inn’ right across the chest.

  ‘The very height of fashion,’ Libby deadpanned. ‘Now, let’s get out of here before anything else goes wrong.’

  ‘Libby Quinn, we'll see you around!’ she heard Noah call, as they headed for the door.

  All eyes, including those belonging to Jess, turned to look at him, before they looked back at Libby. Libby bundled her friend out of the door and raised her hand to wave a silent goodbye.

  ‘Who, in all that is holy, is that?’ Jess asked, as she peered over Libby’s shoulder and tried to catch a further glimpse of the man with the deep voice.

  ‘Noah. He runs the place. Along with the redhead, Jo. Did you see her?’

  ‘No. I didn’t. They run the place? Together? Are they a thing?’ Jess asked, as if her future happiness depended on a negative answer.

  ‘No idea. Possibly,’ Libby shrugged.

  ‘I bet they are,’ Jess said, even though she had only caught the quickest glance of Noah and no glance at all at Jo. ‘I know my luck when it comes to romance. They’ll be a thing. Probably married. Probably one of those couples who can’t keep their hands off each other and call each other “babe”.’ Jess Hutchison, or Dr Jess Hutchison as she was known to her many patients, had become cynical when it came to matters of the heart. Libby knew all her friend really wanted was someone to go home to at the end of the day, but so far any possible happy ever after had eluded her. And while Jess was a successful, strong, independent woman in many ways, she was also not afraid to admit she craved the security of a relationship.

  ‘I'm sorry,’ Libby said. ‘I'm sure Mr Right will make himself known to you sometime soon.’

  ‘I’d be happy with Mr He’ll-Do-For-Now, to be honest,’ Jess said morosely as Libby jiggled the spare key in the door to try and open it. ‘We aren’t all lucky to have Ant O’Neill on our arm. Speaking of which, wasn’t he supposed to be helping out today?’

  ‘Erm, he went back to his to cook a special celebratory dinner for us,’ Libby muttered, embarrassed that he was not with her, sleeves rolled up and mucking in. ‘Actually, I should probably call him,’ she added as she nudged the door with her shoulder as hard as she could. For a door that had closed so easily behind her, it was a nightmare to get open. It was pushing six thirty now and at this rate it would be half past eight at the earliest before she would be able to get to his house. Just as she was running over the logistics in her head, the door gave way. ‘Ta-dah!’ Libby declared as she gestured for Jess to go in.

  In the dullness of a rainy May evening, it looked even more depressing than it had done that morning, despite all of Libby’s hard work on the counter and the windows. The cream cleaner would hide what was going on in the shop, but it didn’t help showcase the potential of the interior at all. An electrician would be out the next day, she’d been assured by her dad. She’d have some form of power at least. Light would help, she hoped.

  ‘You have to imagine how it will look,’ she said to Jess. ‘And, you know, how it will smell. It will definitely smell better than this. And imagine the sun shining in the windows and the aroma of coffee and baked goods.’

  Jess put her hand to her chest and for a moment Libby wondered if her friend was actually going to be sick. She watched as Jess looked around her, shook her head, her hand still clutched at her chest. She felt her optimism falter yet again.

  ‘Oh Libby,’ Jess said. ‘It’s going to be amazing. Grandad Ernie would’ve loved it. I can just see him now, smiling down. I mean, he’d also be telling you what books to order and to make sure no one bent the spines, but he would be smiling. He’d be so proud. I’m so proud,’ Jess said, pulling her friend close and hugging her.

  This was just the reaction Libby had needed her friend to have, and she hugged her back tightly. ‘He would love it, wouldn’t he? And you know full well he’d already have at least one book order in. Multiple copies of Great Expectations.’ Libby wiped tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘I can’t think of a name for it yet,’ she said. ‘I want it to honour him in some way, but not in a super cheesy way. I want people to take me seriously.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ Jess said, looking around. ‘I’ll get my thinking cap on. But if you’re hoping to launch in ten weeks, we don’t have much time. You’ll want to get your branding right.’

  Libby knew that. Ideally, she’d already have the shop name sorted, but trying to choose made her head and heart hurt. ‘I’ll do it this week,’ she said, and nodded as if to reassure herself that she was absolutely in control.

  ‘Good woman,’ Jess said. ‘Now, show me around – I can already see this place has bags of potential. Where will you put the writing nooks? And the coffee station? And will you have little wrought iron bistro sets out on the front street in the nicer weather? Have you thought of a colour scheme?’

  Libby was only too happy to oblige her friend with answers. Both for the shop and the flat upstairs. After changing out of her wet jeans into the dry pair Jess had brought with her, Libby gave Jess the full tour. Thankfully, her friend managed to be positive about everything, even the flat, despite the fallen ceiling and the general air of decay.

  ‘The main thing is that the space is good. It’s all there. And even the yard to the rear could be useful,’ Jess enthused.

  At the moment, the yard to the rear looked as if it was moonlighting as a landfill site.

  ‘The skips arrive tomorrow. And the plumber, and spark. And a joiner too. Dad is getting a full survey done as well.’

  ‘Hurrah for your dad!’ Jess said with a smile. She was almost as fond of Jim Quinn as Libby herself was – having spent a great deal of time in her teenage years in the Quinn household. The Hutchison home had been warm and friendly but overpopulated and always noisy and Jess quite frequently escaped to her friend’s house to study, or watch TV, or help Linda bake, or listen to music. Sometimes she just escaped there because spending another five minutes in a house with six younger brothers and sisters might have resulted in murder.

  Libby looked at her watch and swore.

  ‘What is it?’ Jess asked.

  ‘I told Ant I’d be with him for half eight. I still need to get home and get my car. And get freshened up. And changed.’

  ‘How about I drop y
ou off and you grab a shower there. You have a change of clothes at his, don’t you?’ Jess asked.

  ‘Just spare underwear, and I’m not sure this inviting ensemble I’m currently sporting will endear him to me,’ Libby said, gesturing to her clean but well-worn jeans and Ivy Inn T-shirt.

  Jess bit her lip before her eyes brightened. ‘New frock!’ she squealed.

  Libby rolled her eyes. ‘If we don’t have time to drive back home and pick up clean clothes, we’ll hardly have time to indulge in a little late-night shopping.’

  ‘No. You eejit. I have a new frock. In the boot. It will be lovely on you. I bought it in the spring sale, but it didn’t suit me. I was going to charity shop it, but, looking at you, it’s obvious. It would be lovely with your colouring. Actually, it would be perfect for you. I don’t know why I didn’t think of you before.’

  ‘Dr Jess Hutchison,’ Libby said, ‘I love you.’

  ‘You can love me even more when I tell you I have my emergency make-up kit in my handbag. You can give yourself a quick transformation.’

  ‘What would I do without you, Jess?’ Libby asked, grateful for her exceptionally organised and equally generous friend.

  ‘It works both ways,’ Jess said, squeezing her pal’s arm. ‘We keep each other right, don’t we? Now, let’s get going or you’ll be late anyway.’

  Libby smiled as she climbed into the passenger side of her friend’s yellow Mini Cooper, allowing herself a flush of pride and excitement at finally owning her very own bookshop, even if it didn’t yet have books, electricity or even a name.

  5

  Sleeping Beauty

  By the time they reached Ant's house, which overlooked the golden sands of Lisfannon Beach, just ten minutes across the border from Derry into Donegal, the muscles in Libby's body had started to seize up. Her arms had taken on the feel of lead weights and there was a crick in her neck that would take some serious quantities of Deep Heat to relieve. In addition, she felt exhaustion descend on her, as if the journey in the car had allowed her to relax for the first time that day. She also realised she was hungry, and that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. This never happened. Libby Quinn had never missed a meal in her life.

  She hoped against hope Ant would have the dinner he'd promised her almost ready for serving. He’d texted her earlier to say he was making his signature dish – slow-cooked stroganoff. Her mouth was watering at the very thought – creamy, rich sauce, tender strips of melt-in-the-mouth beef, served on a bed of rice with tender stem broccoli. She was so hungry, she’d have to keep a real check on her manners so she didn't make a show of herself by shovelling the food into her mouth and licking the plate after.

  ‘Here you go, my love,’ Jess said as they pulled up the gravel drive to Ant's house, a modern build on the hill, with floor-to-ceiling windows enough to give the lucky residents unmatched views of the waves crashing to shore. It was minimalist and pristine, and Libby didn’t even want to think about how much it had cost him to build it.

  ‘You're a total star,’ Libby told her friend, who, she realised, would be driving home to her riverfront apartment, where she’d eat her dinner – no doubt something healthy and full of superfoods which she didn’t really like, but felt compelled to eat – alone in front of re-runs of Sex and The City. Hardly the ideal way to spend a Friday night in your thirties. She felt a wave of guilt wash over her that while she was about to enjoy a lovingly prepared home-cooked, delicious feast washed down with a couple of glasses of wine, her friend was not. The joys of an Irish Catholic upbringing – there was always a dose of guilt on offer, even for things which were in no way your fault.

  ‘Why don't you come in and join us? You know Ant – always makes way too much food, even for my appetite. And there's never a shortage of wine. I’m sure he wouldn't mind.’ Okay, so actually Libby was sure Ant would mind, but he would be polite enough not to say anything.

  ‘I don’t think so. I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel,’ Jess said, but there was a hint of a waver in her voice.

  ‘You’d hardly be a third wheel and you’ve been a lifesaver today. You two are very important to me, you know.’ Libby meant every word and it pained her that Ant and Jess had barely gotten to know each other over the last eight months.

  Jess raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. ‘You’re very important to me too, sweetheart. But I’d feel awkward. I’m sure Ant has plans for you both. Plans that most definitely don’t involve me and, quite frankly, I’m okay about that.’

  Libby laughed. ‘Oh God, the way I'm feeling now, there will be no shenanigans tonight. I ache all over and am wrecked,’ she said, hoping Ant would understand why her libido was out of order for the evening.

  ‘Well, sure,’ she said, making a ‘shoo’ movement with her hands. ‘Get out of my car and into his dreams or some other such muddled clichéd nonsense.’

  Libby looked at her friend, still uneasy at leaving her, but she could hardly put a gun to her head and force her. And the more time passed, the more she realised just how much she needed a shower and a glass of wine.

  ‘You’re sure?’ she said.

  ‘I am,’ Jess replied, a hint of frustration in her voice. ‘Don’t forget the dress from the boot. I'll catch up with you tomorrow. I’d love to come and help out. I can be there first thing.’

  Libby reached over and kissed Jess on the cheek, told her she loved her and then resisted the urge to groan loudly as she stood up. She took the dress from the boot of the car and started to walk towards the house in time to see Ant open the door – looking fresh as a daisy (a very manly daisy, of course) and grinning at her.

  ‘I'd advise you not to inhale too close to me,’ she said. ‘I’m not at my most fragrant.’

  ‘I like your T-shirt,’ he said, glancing at The Ivy Inn logo. She was suddenly acutely aware that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and felt the need to cross her arms. ‘Pretty sure that wasn’t what you were wearing when I left you,’ he said.

  ‘Long story,’ she said with a grimace, ‘but it can wait until I’m clean, sat at the table and sipping some lovely red wine. Would you mind if I jump in the shower?’

  ‘Actually, I would,’ he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. Her heart sank. Please let him not want to have sex – not now anyway, she thought. ‘Because I have run you a big bubble bath and I've poured a glass of wine. I’ve even been a good metrosexual and lit some candles for you because I thought you might like them. So, if madam would like to climb into the tub, I'm sure I could help you relax.’

  She was so grateful, she could cry, and climbed the stairs wearily, stripped off, pulled the bandana from her hair and slipped beneath the bubbles in the claw foot tub. The soft warmth of the water made her muscles start to relax and she exhaled loudly as she closed her eyes and inhaled the musky scent of the bath oils Ant had used.

  She smiled at him when he pushed the door to the bathroom open and walked in carrying two glasses of wine – handing one to her and sipping from the other as he perched on the chair beside the bath. This room was one of Libby’s favourites. It was luxurious and at least double the size of her bedroom, never mind her bathroom. The height of the house on the hill allowed Ant privacy enough to install clear glass windows so Libby could stare out at the evening sky while she let her troubles melt away.

  ‘Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes – do you think that’s enough time to get yourself suitably relaxed,’ Ant spoke, cutting through her thoughts.

  ‘Hmmm,’ she purred contentedly as she sipped from her wine glass. ‘It just might.’

  He stood up and moved closer to her. ‘I might not be the best at mopping floors and scrubbing windows, but if you hand me that soft sponge, I'll help soap you down?’

  In her newly relaxed state, Libby found it easy to acquiesce to his wishes so she sat forward, pulling her knees to her chest as he knelt beside the bath and sponged her back, before tenderly washing her hair. She groaned with pleasure as he massaged the shampoo into her scal
p. She could get used to this – to feeling pampered and cherished. The fact that he didn’t even try to cop a feel once during the process earned him extra brownie points.

  By the time she was dried and dressed in the very pretty floaty summer dress Jess had given her, her dark hair brushed, tousled and hanging damp around her shoulders, she felt like a new woman.

  Libby padded into the kitchen, where the aroma of cooking smells made her tummy gurgle in anticipation.

  ‘I hope you're hungry,’ Ant said, putting food enough for four on the table.

  ‘I told Jess you always cook too much and invited her to join us,’ Libby quipped as she sat down and watched Ant refill her glass.

  ‘She didn't want to stay?’ Ant asked.

  ‘Didn't want to be a gooseberry.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ Ant answered. ‘Probably a good thing. I prefer when it's just the two of us.’

  He smiled as he served up dinner – but was unusually quiet while he ate. If she had been less tired, Libby might have asked what was on his mind, but she was so exhausted that her brain was struggling to form coherent sentences – plus, she was so hungry she didn’t want to stop eating. Not even for a few seconds. She simply wanted her dinner and an early night – which she hoped didn’t clash with Ant’s plans too much.

  As it happened, when she said she really just needed to sleep, he nodded that he understood and wished her sweet dreams. It felt strange to climb the stairs to his bedroom on her own – stranger still to curl into his king-sized bed without him. She was sure, however, that being a light sleeper, she would wake when he came up to bed and they could at least indulge in some light spooning.

  She was shocked, therefore, to find the sun was streaming in through the windows when she woke.

  Libby turned over to see Ant, fast asleep and snoring softly, in the bed with her. Even in his sleep, he had the look of an Adonis about him, dark lashes brushing his gently sun-kissed cheeks, a five o’clock shadow giving his strong features an even more manly look. She took a moment to enjoy just looking at him, before she turned back over and grabbed her phone from the bedside table. It was shortly after seven and if she was to be at Ivy Lane in time for the spark and the plumber to arrive, she didn’t have too much time to waste. Especially as she still didn’t have her car and needed to rely on Ant to drop her home before she could go to the shop.