The Hopes and Dreams of Libby Quinn

by Freya Kennedy

  Shifting in the bed, trying not to wake Ant as she did so, Libby sat up and looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows, which provided an enviable vista of the beach and the water of Lough Foyle gently lapping at the shores. She could already feel it was going to be a warm one and that before the morning was out, the beach would be busy with walkers and families on day trips. She might have felt envious of them if she didn’t have the shop to go and work on.

  Quietly, Libby padded down the stairs into Ant’s open-plan kitchen and living area, pulling open the French doors which led to the well-tended (by a gardener) garden outside. She put a pot of coffee on – and decided she would take Ant some breakfast in bed. It was the least she could do after being such poor company last night.

  First, though, she wanted to take a minute just to breathe in the crisp early-morning air, smell the salty tang of the nearby sea, let the warmth of the sun beat down on her face and touch base with what mattered to her most. Those simple pleasures.

  Grandad would have loved it here, Libby thought, with a regretful sigh. He loved walking along the beach, or building sandcastles with her. They’d collect stones and bring them home to make artwork, using plaster to stick them to the outside of jam jars or photo frames. The bigger shells he would hold to her ear and ask if she could hear the sea. Then they’d read The Little Mermaid together. Again. She still had the very book they would read, with its cute Ladybird logo on the front. It was one of her most treasured possessions. Just thinking about it brought a lump to her throat.

  Libby wondered if she would ever be able to think of him again without feeling a huge sense of loss. It had been two years. Surely it should have gotten easier.

  She inhaled deeply again, and vowed she would not cry – not today. Not this weekend. Not when she was working so hard towards achieving their dream.

  ‘Books will always be your friend, Libby,’ he’d said. ‘They will transport you to a thousand different worlds. Different times. Mythical creatures, magical monsters, good and evil, scary and funny. There’s no situation so bad that a book can’t help you feel better, even if just for a little while.’

  Libby wasn’t so sure she believed that – no book in the world had helped her when he was ill, no book provided comfort when he had died. But she wanted to believe it. She really did.

  6

  Love & Friendship

  Even though Libby had made him his favourite breakfast, and then had climbed into bed afterwards and had her wicked way with him, Ant was prickly when she asked him to drop her home.

  ‘It’s Saturday morning,’ he said with a pout – that wasn’t particularly becoming on him. ‘We always spend Saturdays together. Usually in bed. Or walking on the beach or going for a boozy pub lunch, followed by more time in bed.’

  She knew Ant liked their weekends together. They rarely saw each other during the week due to Ant’s crazy work hours, but surely he knew she had to devote as much of her time as possible to the shop now that she had the keys in her hands. She’d also be working to the timetable of the tradespeople, knowing that getting the right people in for the job was vitally important.

  Her relationship with Ant would have to go on the back-burner until it was all under control. She’d hoped he’d understand that, but by the petulant look on his face, it wasn’t something he was happy about.

  ‘We’ve talked about this,’ she said. ‘I know we usually spend the weekends together, but you do understand, don’t you? There’s so much to be done. More than we thought. It will be worth it, though, when it’s all done. The shop and the flat. We’ll be able to make up for lost time.’

  ‘If you say so,’ he said, his voice dejected.

  Libby leant across to kiss him softly on the lips. ‘Don’t be cross, Ant. You know you’re important to me. You know how much I like you.’

  ‘I like you too,’ he replied, kissing her back. ‘That’s why I want to spend so much time with you.’

  ‘We’ll be able to do that. Still. You could always come and help out?’ she asked.

  His face clouded a little. ‘Well, I was thinking, if you’re going to be working, I might as well do the same. I’ve a lot to catch-up on.’

  He was huffing. She knew it.

  Well, she thought, he’d just have to learn to live with their new dynamic.

  Libby nodded, told him it was okay. Kept any hint of disappointment from her voice. ‘It’s not forever,’ she reassured him. ‘But I really should get ready,’ she said as she glanced at the clock. ‘I can get a taxi back if you want to get on with your work,’ she added, in the hope it would appease him a little.

  ‘No. It’s fine,’ he said. ‘I’ll drop you home.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she told him, kissing him gently before she got up and jumped in the shower.

  * * *

  Jess was waiting outside the shop when Libby pulled up. She was leaning against the window, arms crossed, dungarees on and her blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun. For all intents and purposes, she looked like she had just stepped out of a soft drink commercial – and not like her usually perfectly groomed GP persona, rarely seen out of pencil skirts and three-inch heels.

  Against the shop window sat two large shovels, brushes and a bucket containing sponges, cleaning materials and rubber gloves.

  ‘I know you said you had people coming to do a proper clear out, but look, every little helps, doesn’t it? And I’ve brought some dust masks. You never know what moulds and spores might be flying around in there.’

  That was Jess, Libby thought. Always a doctor, even on her time off. Health was her primary concern, but even with her over cautiousness, Libby was so grateful to have her friend by her side.

  Jess continued: ‘I’ve a spare set of clothes in the car, plus a flask of tea and sandwiches. And by “flask of tea”, I actually, on this occasion, mean actual tea and not wine, like that time we went on the train. Although I figured if we got finished up here early enough, we could enjoy a late lunch with your new neighbours across the street.’ She gestured to The Ivy Inn – and Libby cringed.

  ‘I’d rather not,’ she said, the passage of time doing nothing to lessen her embarrassment at having stood on Paddy’s tail, scaring the life out of the poor creature, not to mention turning up looking like something out of a horror movie. The Creature from the Black Lagoon, perhaps.

  ‘It looks like a nice place, and that barman looked like a very nice barman. Please, Libby?’ Jess pleaded.

  Libby felt a little guilty. She knew her friend was dying to get a closer look at Noah, and she also knew she’d have to make an effort to get along with her neighbours as she had plans to be a fixture on Ivy Lane for a long time to come.

  ‘Okay. We’ll see how we go, sure,’ Libby said, before a white van pulled up and a man, who introduced himself as ‘Terry The Spark’ as if it was his actual given name, said hello.

  Libby had no sooner let Terry The Spark in than another van arrived. This time, a short, squat man in jeans and a white T-shirt that didn’t quite cover his rounded belly, arrived. ‘Are you Jim’s girl?’ he asked, without introducing himself.

  ‘I am,’ Libby said.

  ‘Grand so. He asked me to have a look at your pipes,’ the man said.

  Libby heard Jess splutter and laugh behind her.

  ‘You’re the plumber then?’ Libby asked, doing her best to ignore Jess’s wiggling eyebrows.

  ‘Well, what else would I be?’ the man said, sniffing and hoisting up his jeans. ‘I’m Billy O’Kane. Your da’s a good man,’ he said. ‘So anything Jim Quinn wants, Jim Quinn gets.’

  ‘That’s good to hear,’ Libby replied, and she turned to find her father getting out of his own van and walking towards them – his hand outstretched to Billy to shake it.

  ‘Cheers for doing this,’ he said. ‘It’s a big deal to us, you know. Our Libby here, taking on her grandad’s dream.’

  ‘Another good man there,’ Billy said with a nod. ‘Ernie was a character.’

&nb
sp; As a lorry rattled loudly into the street, carrying a large skip, Libby felt a buzz of excitement at the lane coming to life. And all of it was to help her dream become a reality.

  As she turned towards Jess, she saw her friend hastily brush a tear away. ‘This is brilliant,’ Jess said. ‘Really brilliant.’

  ‘You might not think that so much when you see the number of traps the rat catcher left!’ Libby laughed, but she did feel it was pretty special all the same.

  * * *

  She felt it was a little less brilliant several hours later when her T-shirt was damp with sweat, her skin itching with dust and the electrician was outlining his plans to rewire the place.

  The bill was staggering, and that was without any bespoke work in the shop such as extra outlets and wiring in her new lighting. It was just to make sure the power (which was on, to be fair to him) was up to code, safe to go for the foreseeable, and both her shop and her home would be future-proofed.

  ‘I mean, it’s not the worst I’ve seen,’ Terry The Spark had said. ‘You’d get away with less, but it’s only a matter of time before the whole lot needs rewiring. You’re better doing it now when you’re ripping the bones of the place out anyway.’

  He was right, of course. As was the joiner, who priced replacing some rotting joists and the rotten window frames and hanging fireproof doors. And the plumber, who said there was little of her current arrangement that was salvageable and she’d be better updating the pipes as well as the fixings.

  Libby tried to remain positive throughout, but her smile became more and more of a rictus grin as the morning wore on. Finally, when her father talked of re-rendering the shopfront, after tackling several patches of rising damp that had eaten away at the plaster, she allowed a small moment of panic. She was doing the sums for the project internally, and it was starting to scare her. Her contingency fund was going to need a contingency fund all of its own.

  ‘Sweetheart,’ her father said, ‘this is the big cost bit. The scary bit. Yes, we hoped it would be better inside than it is. But it could’ve been worse. And these guys, they’re giving you a good rate – and I can stand over the quality of each and every one of them. It’s best to do it right first time.’

  Libby nodded. Her dad was right. Just as he always was.

  ‘And, darling, you’re not to stress out. Your mum and I, well, we have some money put by. We’d be happy to invest in making this dream come true for you.’

  Libby felt a lump form in her throat and she couldn’t speak. All she could do was shake her head. She didn’t want her parents dipping into their savings.

  ‘I don’t want an argument, young lady,’ her father said. ‘You forget that you’re our little girl even though you’re a grown woman, and we want you to be happy. We believe in you and this shop. And,’ he added, his voice cracking, ‘he was my father. I want to do this for him too.’

  Libby pulled her father into a hug, and could feel the slight tremor of emotion in his frame. They both missed Ernie Quinn terribly, but her parents had already given up so much. Her grandfather’s money had gone to her, with her parents’ blessing, to follow her dream. Asking for more wasn’t fair, but then it was almost as if she could hear Grandad Ernie in her ear whispering, ‘You didn’t ask. Your dad offered.’

  * * *

  By early afternoon, Libby felt calmer. She at least knew what she was facing and her father had assured her that while her ten-week turnaround would be tight, it wasn’t impossible.

  Ant had even texted to say he was sorry for being grumpy, and had arranged for a specialist team to arrive first thing on Monday morning to clear out the yard and help strip out the flat and dispose of all the waste. It was his ‘treat’ to her, he said, and after a morning of pulling up damp and rotting carpet, she was too tired to argue with him or refuse his generous offer.

  ‘I could murder a cup of tea,’ Jess said, pulling her dust mask down. ‘I think it might be time for a break.’

  ‘I say we grab that picnic of yours and walk up to the lawns at the university. We can pretend we are living the uncomplicated lives of students and soak in a little sun too,’ Libby said.

  ‘Not to mention dodging whatever deadly diseases lurk in here. No offence,’ Jess said.

  ‘None taken,’ Libby replied, knowing that not only would she wash her hands thanks to the reconnected water supply, but she’d also make liberal use of the medical-grade hand sanitiser Jess always carried with her.

  They left the shop, Libby thankfully remembering her keys this time, and chatted as they walked up the hill towards the Magee Campus of Ulster University.

  ‘So, how was your evening with Ant?’ Jess asked.

  ‘Quiet! Thankfully. I was so tired. He was really lovely, you know. Made a great dinner, didn’t mind when I went to bed early, alone,’ Libby replied. ‘He was a bit funny with me this morning though. He seemed annoyed that I’m at the shop, even though I’ve only just got the keys and there’s so much to be done. I’d sort of hoped he’d want to come in and help, but no.’ She noticed the look of concern on Jess’s face. ‘But he did text me to say he was sending some people on Monday to help with the clear out. I know Dad’s friends have already made a start, but many hands make light work and all that…’

  ‘That’s nice of him,’ Jess said. ‘To arrange that.’

  ‘Yes. It is. And it makes up for yesterday and him bailing on me at the first sign of doing any actual heavy lifting himself.’

  ‘You should have known he’d not be up for that. Have you not noticed he’s a clean freak? I’ve never so much as seen a hair out of place on his head, and his car isn’t filled with empty Diet Coke cans and crumpled receipts like ours are. In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen it dirty on the outside, never mind on the inside. And his house? He’s a man who lives alone and his house is show-home perfect. No Xbox controller. No toothpaste residue on the sink. How many single men do you know who live like that?’

  Jess had a point, Libby acknowledged, although she hadn’t really given Ant’s fastidious attention to detail and cleanliness much thought. No doubt Jess was doing her Dr Jess routine again and was almost ready to jump in with an OCD diagnosis.

  ‘You’ve got a good one there, Libby. He’s not perfect, but he’s far from the worst. Unlike any man who seems to show an interest in me.’ She sighed and Libby looked at her. It was unlike Jess to get downhearted about anything – let alone her love life, but lately something had changed. She seemed more fragile, more in need of someone to love than she ever had before.

  She’d had her share of relationships – some of them long term – but they had pretty much all been on her terms and she had been the one to break them off. She seemed to relish her independent life. But, thinking of it now, it had been a while since she had been out with anyone for more than one or two dates and she had frequently called Libby after to talk about how disastrous they’d been. After her mention of looking for Mr Right outside the pub, Libby wondered had she not been clued in to how her friend was really feeling.

  ‘Oh, sweetheart. I thought you were happy on your own. For now anyway.’

  Jess sighed. ‘So did I, but I don’t think I’m happy with it any more. Maybe it’s just us getting older – everyone is settling down. God, Libby, some of our friends are on baby number two and I’ve not even met anyone who I could ever see myself sharing my Netflix password with. The older I get, the smaller the pool of available options is. I’m afraid I’ll become one of those older women who gets increasingly outrageous in her behaviour trying to bag a younger man. The signs are already there. I mean, there’s this twenty-nine-year-old male nurse started at the practice and he’s, you know… God, he’s gorgeous. I found myself wearing a slightly shorter skirt when I knew I would be working the clinic with him. Now, I’ve control of it all for the moment – but I’m afraid of what I could do.’

  She looked so serious that Libby felt a little guilty for stifling a giggle at the thought of her friend becoming a fully-fledge
d man-eater. Nothing could be more unlike Jess.

  ‘We need to find you someone nice then,’ she said, ‘before you get a reputation as a Dr Feel-Good.’

  ‘If you could, that would be great. Although I’m starting to think there’s a definite lack of hot, available men about. They don’t call this the Maiden City for nothing.’

  And she was right. Derry had long since earned the title of the Maiden City. While the official explanation was something to do with the city’s walls not being breached during the Siege of Derry in the 1600s, it was often said it was now more likely to be because the female population outnumbered the male population by a ridiculous (and quite possibly false) amount.

  Libby laughed, but at the same time she tried to think. The two women knew a lot of the same people and that didn’t help. ‘Maybe when the shop opens there will be a steady stream of single, available and attractive men coming through the door. I can offer a discount if they take you out.’

  ‘It’s books you’ll be selling, I’d say you’re more likely to get a steady stream of old ladies, and mums looking for something for their teething toddlers to slobber over.’

  ‘Now now,’ said Libby. ‘Readers come in all shapes and sizes, and ages and marital statuses! And don’t forget the writing nooks,’ Libby added, defensively. ’We might get a real arty type in, all poetic and beardy and ridey.’

  It was Jess’s turn to stifle a laugh. ‘Knowing my luck, if you got one like that he would have some unsavoury habits, like writing sci-fi erotica, or not washing or something.’