The Hopes and Dreams of Libby Quinn

by Freya Kennedy

  Despite the long day and how busy she had been, Libby had a spring in her step as she locked up and climbed into her car and headed for home. She was still smiling as she showered and changed into a strappy summer dress, tousled her hair and sprayed it with sea salt spray to give it a relaxed look, and slipped her feet into a pair of bejewelled flip-flops. Spritzing some of her favourite Jo Malone perfume on her wrists and neck, before slicking some gloss across her lips, she looked in the mirror and realised that her smile, her happiness, went right to the heart of her. She could see it shining out of her, could feel it in every pore, and it felt so very good. The worries and stresses of the last few days – God, from the last few years since her Grandad had died – seemed to be fading and for the first time in a long time she could see herself start to emerge again. Only better. Stronger. More confident. Less likely to put up with nonsense.

  She smiled at her reflection, called a cheery goodbye to her parents and jumped in her car, windows down and radio blaring, to drive out to see Ant. She smiled when she thought of his broad shoulders, his toned arms, his sly smile that seemed to be able to set her very core fizzing. She longed to kiss him – to let him feel how happy she was after just one day of making real progress. Imagine how happy she would be when it was all done and she could leave the shop each day knowing that she had enjoyed another great day living her dream?

  She thought of how she had simply been going through the motions in the PR company, writing copy and blog posts that didn’t fire her imagination. Yes, she did them well. She was given free rein – but you could only be so creative when writing about a new product on the supermarket shelves or a new colour of lipstick. If she did her job well – and the company got the coverage online and in the glossies they wanted – it wasn’t even as if she would get to bask in the glory of it. She would simply move on to the next task. After thirteen years, it had become mundane, repetitive – it didn’t ignite the same passion in her that it had when she had first started. When the redundancies had been announced, she had almost been relieved to find that her department was being restructured. Without the push, she was unsure whether she would have had the guts to jump – but it felt, at the time, that it was a sign from her grandad that the timing was right to start to dream big and live big.

  While some people wanted to travel the world, splash the cash on designer bags and shoes, Libby allowed herself to believe that her dream wasn’t unattainable. It had been scary – it was scary and it probably always would be scary – but as she drove along the coast road – the wind whipping her hair and the smell of the sea in her nostrils – she allowed herself to sing at the very top of her lungs, and it felt good.

  She was still singing when she drove up the hill to Ant’s house, treating him to one of her best high notes as she parked the car.

  He smiled broadly when he saw her – standing up from where he was sat at the bistro set at the front of house – perfectly positioned in the luscious green gardens to catch the sun in the evening. Whoever had designed the house had considered the rising and setting of the sun perfectly. The garden was a suntrap and it was blissful to sit there and relax, breathing in the smell of the lavender and jasmine.

  Libby slipped out of the car, pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head and walked to him, allowing him to pull her into a deep embrace before tipping her head back just slightly and kissing her, full and deep, on the lips so that she could barely wait for her body to intertwine with his.

  No one had ever made her body respond the way he did – he knew how to make her giddy with lust with just one brush of his lips, one flick of his tongue, one gentle stroke of his finger on her sun-kissed skin. As he kissed her there, in the garden, she felt herself start to tremble, her heart race, and she knew she wanted him.

  ‘Let’s go inside,’ she breathed and he was only too happy to oblige, leading her by the hand to his room.

  * * *

  ‘If I knew hiring you a skip and a couple of handymen would provoke such a reaction, I would have done it a long time ago.’ Ant laughed as they lay together in his bed afterwards. ‘I mean, most women like flowers or jewellery, but if skips are your thing…’

  ‘Hey, I don’t mind flowers or jewellery either.’

  She sat up and lifted her dress from the floor.

  Ant sat up too and kissed her softly on her shoulder. ‘You freshen up and meet me downstairs. How does a cold beer sound?’

  ‘It sounds blissful, but I’m driving,’ she said. ‘No sleepovers on school nights, remember?’ she said, quoting his own ‘rule’ back at him. He worked such long hours normally that it was never really an issue.

  ‘Sometimes I hate myself,’ Ant said, and laughed. ‘A soft drink it is then.’

  Libby noted that he hadn’t suggested an exception that night.

  * * *

  By the time she met him downstairs, he had prepared a Caesar salad served with slices of a fresh tiger loaf for them both. He held a cold beer in his hand, while a glass of fizzy water with a slice of lime sat beside Libby’s plate.

  ‘Today went well then,’ he said, as she sat down and lifted her fork to eat. She was suddenly ravenous.

  ‘Better than well,’ she said. ‘Oh, Ant, I know there is a lot of work to be done, but I can see it all coming together. It’s going to be so good. Craig, the shopfitter, has some amazing ideas. He suggested I go and hunt through a vintage market this weekend, source some of the items I want for the shop. He said they normally have some really great pieces – you know, desks and the like for the writing nooks. Once I get some, I’ll really be able to imagine what it will look like when it’s done.’

  ‘This weekend?’ Ant said, his smile faded.

  ‘Yes, it’s only an occasional thing. So thank God I found out about it. The next one mightn’t be for months.’ Libby could see that Ant wasn’t sharing her enthusiasm on this one, but she had a card up her sleeve she was yet to play. ‘I was thinking you could come with me,’ she said, giving him her best puppy dog eyes and using every trick Paddy had taught her. ‘It’s up near Belfast, so we could maybe even make a night of it. I thought we could book into the Merchant or somewhere else a bit quirky like that?’

  ‘A night out buying old furniture?’ If his eyebrows raised any further, they were in danger of popping off the top of his head.

  ‘Well, no…’ she said, trying to stop the feeling of deflation. ‘The day would be spent buying old furniture. The night could be spent doing whatever we wanted to do.’ She said the last five words slowly, for emphasis.

  ‘I’m not sure a day walking between the musty smells and woodworm would get me in the mood,’ he said. ‘I was kind of hoping we could just hole up here. You know, one of those blissful weekends we used to have where we spent at least ninety per cent of our time in bed and only ventured out for food, or drink?’

  Remembering what Jess had said about Ant being a clean freak, she softened, but just a little. ‘I know, but things are different now. We’ve had that conversation, Ant,’ she said. ‘How about we drive up together. You relax in the hotel and I’ll do the market myself, meet you in the hotel afterwards? We can get room service if you want?’

  It was less than ideal, but she was trying to compromise, even though she was pulled that he didn’t want to help her look for the furniture she needed. It seemed very much like the only thing he was really interested in was getting her into bed, and keeping her there.

  ‘It’s not the same. And, sure, what would I do with myself for an afternoon in Belfast? I’d be bored stupid,’ he said, and Libby heard a hint of spoiled brattishness in his voice.

  ‘Ant,’ she said, after she had taken a deep breath, ‘you know I have my deadline for the shop – and that it’s going to be intense. You’ve known that all along. This market is only held every few months. I need to go to it. I need to be free at the weekends for the next while at the very least. I don’t have time to spend a weekend doing nothing.’

  ‘It’s not doing no
thing,’ he said. ‘It’s doing me!’ He flashed her his best smile – the smile that normally made her feel funny inside. Now, it just made her cross.

  She put her fork down. It was safe to say her appetite had all but disappeared.

  ‘Doing you,’ she said calmly, ‘no matter how much fun – is not going to get the shop open.’

  ‘But I helped. I sent you some heavy lifters? Surely that has given you a day or two in credit? A day you could devote to us?’

  ‘Didn’t I break our not during the week rule and drive down here tonight – just to see you?’

  ‘It’s not the same.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, but if she was honest, she wasn’t really sorry at all.

  ‘I get that this means a lot to you. An awful lot – but it feels as if I don’t mean anything to you at all at the moment,’ he said.

  ‘You’re being silly,’ she said, wrong-footed by his sudden neediness. It wasn’t his form – not at all. They weren’t a needy couple. If anything, their relationship still had a sort of casual feel to it, which had suited them both just fine. Or so Libby had thought.

  ‘Ant,’ she said, ‘since we started talking about this shop, we knew it was going to take most of my time. That was always a given. You can’t keep making me feel bad about it.’

  Her tone was probably a little harsher than she intended, but Libby was trying – really trying – not to be disappointed in him. Disappointed that it seemed as if all his big talk of the last few months, all his encouragement that she was doing the right thing, was not what she actually thought it to be. It had existed only when the idea of how it would eat into their time together was abstract – simply a notion. Once reality had hit, Ant had very quickly become nothing more than a child, annoyed that his access to his favourite toy was being rationed.

  ‘I’m not trying to make you feel bad about it,’ he replied.

  ‘So you will come with me, to Belfast, on Saturday and we’ll have a nice time?’

  He shook his head. ‘If I’m not going to get you to myself, I might as well stay here and get some work done. You know vintage isn’t my style – and musty old markets even less so. Why not ask Jess? Get some bonding time in? Seems the only person you see less than me is her.’

  So now he was not only having a go at her for how little time she spent with him – but also with Jess? The afterglow of their lovemaking was now well and truly gone.

  ‘Look,’ Libby said, ‘I didn’t come here to fight or justify myself. We’ve been having a lovely evening. God, not that long ago, we were having the best evening! Maybe just think about Belfast for a bit?’ she asked him, and he nodded, but they limped through another half hour of stilted conversation before the sun started to drop in the garden and Libby felt a shiver run through her that was from more than the cold. ‘I’d better be getting back,’ she said, faux smile on her face.

  ‘I suppose you have an early start in the morning?’

  ‘I do. The glazer is coming to look at the windows, see what can be salvaged. He’ll be there first thing.’

  Ant nodded but didn’t say anything.

  Awkwardly, Libby kissed him on the cheek, lifted her keys and told him they would talk later in the week. ‘Think about the weekend,’ she said. ‘It could be fun. Different, but still fun.’

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ he said as she climbed into the front seat of her car, switched on the engine and was temporarily deafened by the loudness of the radio. Turning it down, she nodded in Ant’s direction and drove off – not quite sure what to think any more.

  10

  Love Story

  Libby Quinn had been blissfully single – well, perhaps not blissfully, but single all the same – when on a night out with Jess, she bumped into the proverbial (and actual) tall, dark and handsome stranger at the bar. From the moment he looked down at her, his eyes hungry, he made her feel delicate, dainty and utterly edible. She was powerless to resist him. And by the time Ant whisked her back to his house in a taxi later that night, unable to keep his hands off her, she didn’t want to.

  This was the electricity charge people spoke of. The air around them fizzed and crackled and Libby had never felt anything like it before and she gave in to it.

  They fell into a pattern – a relationship based on great sex, a good laugh at times and minimum commitment, which suited Libby completely. She wanted to concentrate on getting her new life up and running and she had neither the physical nor emotional energy for anything more.

  Libby had wondered if she should feel more for Ant – knowing that on paper he was the perfect match. Handsome. Self-sufficient. With a house by the sea, a good and secure job, the ability to make her weak at the knees. But she didn’t feel more for him – she cared for him, she liked having him in her life, but she didn’t love him. He didn’t love her either – not in the way people thought she should be loved. She liked how he made her feel like the sexiest woman alive and for a long time that was enough. It was more than enough. They had a comfortable arrangement where each got what they needed from the other and had fun in the process. That was exactly why it worked – and it suited them both. Not that Libby had ever, ever in her life imagined she would find herself in a friends-with-benefits kind of a relationship.

  So this new, possessive side of Ant surprised her a little and she couldn’t really understand where it was coming from or why things had to change. Why did he have to make her feel guilty about work? She never ever made him feel guilty if he had to travel for his job, or work extra hours, or if he had to cancel one of their ‘sacred’ weekends at the last minute.

  And until now, he had been equally as relaxed with her.

  Was it that he sensed things were changing? That she was growing stronger and taking back control of her life – all her planning now becoming a reality. Was it possible that what had worked for so long simply would not keep working for much longer? Could he sense that too?

  She stopped at the garage to fill her car up with petrol when her phone pinged. It was a message from Ant. He hadn’t even taken five minutes of his time to consider her proposal and decide against it. It read:

  Look, just ask Jess to go with you. This weekend isn’t for me. No hard feelings

  Dejected, confused and a little pissed off, Libby paid for her fuel and then drove her car towards the riverfront and Jess’s apartment. She needed to curl up on her best friend’s sofa and share her worries with her.

  When Jess answered the door, she was already in her pyjamas – and her blonde hair was pulled into a messy ponytail at the top of her head.

  ‘I was just putting on a cup of tea,’ Jess said, hugging her friend. ‘Do you want one?’

  Libby nodded and followed Jess through to her pristine, glossy white kitchen. Libby was always impressed with how shiny and clean her friend’s kitchen was – especially as Jess loved cooking. Even though she lived alone, she always cooked from scratch. Both she and Ant shared a love of the culinary, while Libby was more of a Marks & Sparks ready meal kind of a girl.

  ‘You don’t mind me calling over?’ she asked as Jess shook the kettle before topping it up with water and switching it on.

  ‘Of course not – it’s nice to have a bit of company. I was just going to watch 90 Day Fiancé and paint my toenails or something equally thrilling.’ Jess dropped teabags into two mugs and took milk from the fridge while the kettle bubbled and hissed. ‘Is everything okay? I thought you were seeing Ant tonight.’

  ‘Erm… I was. But it didn’t go the best, to be honest.’

  ‘Oh?’ Jess asked as she handed over a mug of perfectly made tea to her friend.

  Libby walked through to the living room and sat down while she explained to Jess what had happened over dinner, and her deeper concerns about her changing dynamic with Ant.

  Libby took a breath, one thought having landed in her head while she had been offloading. ‘I think… I think maybe Ant and I are coming to the end of our relationship,’ she told Jess, who, for th
e shortest time, seemed shocked into silence.

  ‘Do you not just think, maybe, that he needs time to adjust to your new reality? And you too? This a big period of change. With some work, do you think things could settle down, improve?’

  ‘You know what, Jess – I’m not sure it’s worth the effort,’ Libby said, and it was only as she said the words that she realised she meant it. Ant had never been a long-term prospect. She guessed she’d always known that, even if she’d never admitted it to herself completely before, but now that she had opened that box in her head, she didn’t think she’d be able to close it again.

  She couldn’t help but see the confusion on her friend’s face.

  ‘But, I thought things were going well. You were having fun?’ Jess said.

  ‘We were – God, we still do, when we want to. But, you know, Jess, he was never going to be the big love of my life. Does that sound awful? I know – maybe it does. But if it’s going to take time and effort for him to adjust, when I don’t think either of us really sees a long-term future in our relationship, I’m not sure it’s worth the heartache?’

  Jess sat her mug on the floor and turned to look Libby head-on. ‘I know things have always been on the casual side with you two. But, still, I have to ask you, honestly, why is he not the one? I always assumed you were just being closed off because, you know, you were grieving and one day you would open up and, I don’t know, walk in here and tell me you were madly in love.’

  Libby shrugged. ‘Maybe I thought that would happen too, but I don’t think it will and it’s not just because I’m annoyed at him for not coming away with me, or not doing more to help with the shop. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is. But that feeling that we couldn’t possibly live without each other for the rest of our lives? It just isn’t there. We have fun – but on a very superficial level. But I think that’s it.’