The Hopes and Dreams of Libby Quinn

by Freya Kennedy

  ‘Harry, it doesn’t feel like work half the time,’ Libby replied softly. ‘And I really do want to open on schedule. Get at least a little of the summer tourist trade if I can.’

  He nodded. ‘Well, I wish you well. Between you and Noah Simpson up in the pub, you’ll have this street attracting more and more people. It’ll be good for us all.’

  Libby made her coffee and stood at the counter, for once not eager to get back down to the shop. ‘Have you been running this place long, Harry?’

  ‘A lifetime and then some,’ Harry said. ‘Since 1967, when I wasn’t all that long married and we had our two boys both still in nappies. There were none of them disposable ones either – not in our day. Towelling nappies all the way. Mary used to love the sight of them all hanging, bright white on the line. She would help me out in the shop here sometimes – but her hands were full with those boys of ours. Rascals they were.’ Harry chuckled. ‘But, yes, a lifetime – and I’ll be happy to keep going until they carry me out in a box!’

  ‘Well, hopefully not for a long time yet,’ Libby said, glancing at the clock on the wall, which told her she really should be getting back to the shop. She wanted to decide once and for all how many power outlets she would need. She might even venture up to the flat, just to see how bad it looked.

  ‘That’s my plan,’ Harry said, cutting into her thoughts.

  The bell over the door rang and another customer walked in. This was the perfect time for Libby to make her excuses and leave.

  She said her goodbyes, only to be greeted by one of Harry’s offers that simply could not be refused.

  ‘Here, before you go – how do you feel about crisps?’

  Libby couldn’t say she had strong feelings either way, if the truth be told.

  ‘It’s just I’ve a few bags here just about out of date,’ Harry continued. ‘Well, maybe, thinking about it, they are actually out of date… but not by much. Why don’t you take a few bags down to that shop of yours? Feed those big workmen walking in and out every day? Keep them sweet and they’ll do an extra good job for you,’ he said, tapping the side of his nose as if he was imparting the wisdom of the world to her.

  ‘Thanks, Harry,’ she said, smiling as he handed her several multipacks. ‘Have a good day now.’

  ‘You too, Bookshop Libby,’ he said with his trademark dazzling smile.

  Back at the shop, she set to work, planning her comms needs to the final detail. Then she climbed the stairs to the flat, threw open the windows, switched on her digital radio to Magic FM for optimum sing-a-long ability and set to work there. She filled a basin from the temporary tap Billy, the plumber, had fitted with sugar soap and water, put on her rubber gloves and set about scrubbing down the few walls that had not needed stripping back and re-skimming. She was able to lose herself in the repetitive action – get a thrill as she saw the layers of grime lift and a relatively clean surface emerge (one that would still need a healthy dose of a nice neutral colour).

  She worked until her arms ached and she was covered in a not-so-fine layer of sweat. She wiped her brow with the back of her arm and decided she might just treat herself to a packet of Harry’s dodgy crisps when she heard a knock on her door – followed by the shout of ‘Hello! Libby, are you in there?’ from a female voice.

  Pulling off her rubber gloves and pushing her hair back from her now sweaty face, she clambered down the stairs and opened the door to find Jo standing, beaming face, make-up still perfectly done, with a covered plate in her hands.

  ‘We thought you might be hungry – so I’ve brought you some lunch. Just a bit of everything from the carvery.’

  The smell was mouth-watering – and Libby’s tummy groaned loudly in anticipation. This was definitely something more appetising than some out-of-date crisps.

  ‘You shouldn’t have,’ she smiled. ‘I mean, I’m glad you did – but you didn’t need to.’

  ‘Ah, nonsense. I know you’ve limited facilities over here and we couldn’t have you getting too hungry and maybe collapsing on us now, could we?’

  ‘I appreciate the gesture,’ she said, taking the plate from Jo and smiling. ‘Do you want to come in for a bit? I mean, it’s a case of sitting on bare floorboards and the rooms now smell strongly of bleach, but you’re more than welcome.’

  Jo shook her head, before jerking it in the direction of The Ivy Inn. ‘Naw, I’d better get back. It’s busy over there today. Can’t be giving Noah something to complain about. But enjoy your lunch – just drop the plate over when you get a chance.’

  She waved a cheery goodbye and crossed the road – leaving Libby to take her dinner upstairs, where she opened a bottle of water, sat on the floor and started eating. It wasn’t the most salubrious of surroundings – not by a long shot – but in that moment she felt happy and content in her own little bubble.

  Looking out the window, she noticed Jo leave the pub with another covered plate and walk up the street towards Harry’s shop. In that moment, she was wowed by the sense of community in her new street – and nothing else mattered.

  16

  Watermelon

  The plate of roast beef – melt-in-the-mouth tender – roast potatoes, carrots, cabbage Yorkshire pudding and a healthy serving of gravy would normally have been enough to send Libby into a food coma for the better part of the afternoon – but, as it happened, it was just what she needed to give her the energy to get through the rest of her afternoon scrubbing and cleaning.

  When six o’clock came, she locked up both the shop and the flat and, after throwing her bag into her car, she carried the plate Jo had left with her back over to the pub. The lunch crowd had thinned out and what was left was a group of jovial drinkers enjoying the embers of the weekend with cold glasses of wine and frosted beer glasses in front of them. Noah was holding court behind the bar – and, to Libby’s dismay, there was no obvious sign of Jo. It would’ve been so much easier if she was there and Libby didn’t have to so much as break breath with Noah. He was simply a complication she didn’t need just now.

  She walked to the bar and sat the plate, along with her freshly washed knife and fork, on the counter top. She cursed the fact she had put her bag in her car as she could have tried to get away with writing a quick thank you note to Jo instead of waiting until Noah was done telling one of his long-winded stories to the delight of his listening fans.

  He glanced over to Libby and raised his hand to gesture that he would be with her in just one minute, so she took a seat and stared longingly at the cold bottles of wine in the fridge that looked oh-so tempting after the day she had put in.

  A long soak, a glass of wine, perhaps even an hour in the garden reading a book – she had the latest Marian Keyes novel and she was dying to get stuck in – was exactly what she needed and she longed for Noah to hurry up so she could thank them for dinner and be on her way.

  She felt a physical swoop of relief when, seconds later, she saw Jo emerge from the office behind the bar and smile in her direction.

  ‘I brought these back,’ Libby said, gesturing to the plate and cutlery on the counter, as Jo walked over. ‘Thank you so much. It was absolutely delicious. Can I settle up?’

  ‘There’s no need,’ Jo said. ‘Consider it a…’

  ‘Welcome to the street?’ Libby laughed. ‘There have been so many welcomes to this street, I need to pay for something!’

  ‘I was going to say a neighbourly gesture. We like to look after each other around here.’

  ‘You do a very good job of it,’ Libby said, as she recalled how she saw Jo taking a plate of food up to Harry.

  ‘I’ll let you into a secret,’ Jo said, leaning over the bar. ‘It’s not me. It’s Noah – he’s very determined that we all do our bit. He’s always wanting to give something back to the community. Sometimes I have to remind him this is a business not a charity. But I can understand why he feels the need to give back too, you know?’

  Libby was about to ask Jo exactly why did Noah feel he owed Ivy L
ane so much, when Paddy wandered out from the back office and jumped up on Jo, demanding cuddles.

  Jo ruffled his fur before smiling back at Libby. ‘I think I’ll have to take this one out for a walk. If you’ll excuse me.’

  ‘Of course,’ Libby said. ‘I just wanted to return your plate and thank you again.’

  ‘I’ll pass that on to Noah,’ Jo said as Paddy started to whimper, desperate to get outside. Jo laughed and told the scruffy dog to calm down. ‘You’re supposed to be Noah’s dog, you know!’ she faux-scolded the dog. ‘But it will be me picking up your poop again today, won’t it?’

  Paddy’s tail wagged furiously. He didn’t seem too bothered about who was going to lift his poop as long as he was getting outside to run about.

  Stopping off at the pub had been a mistake. The loss of momentum caused Libby to feel just how very tired she really was. She said goodbye to Jo and Paddy, gave a quick wave to Noah and left, virtually collapsing into her car.

  * * *

  Libby’s bottom had barely hit the bottom of the bath, her aching muscles just about started to ease in the warm soapy water and her wine glass had not yet even touched her lips, when her phone rang. She knew she should have left it in her bedroom – or, even better, she should have switched it off. But she hadn’t. She had brought it into the bathroom and put it on the little stool beside the bath where her wine glass and book also rested.

  Of course, she wasn’t obliged to answer it. But she knew by the ringtone – ‘Bootylicious’ by Destiny’s Child – that it was Jess calling and she imagined that after last night she would want to chat to her.

  Libby pulled herself up to sitting and reached for her phone, sliding her finger across the screen to answer it. ‘Jess,’ she said, ‘everything okay?’

  There was a slight pause. ‘Well, that’s kind of what I wanted to ask you,’ Jess said. ‘I didn’t see you this morning and you went to bed early last night.’

  ‘It wasn’t that early,’ Libby said, stretching her legs in the water to soothe a knot in her calf muscle. ‘And I needed to get to the shop this morning and you were both out for the count.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Are you cross with me?’ Jess asked.

  Libby wondered if she was cross with Jess. She definitely felt something, but she couldn’t name it. Or maybe she just didn’t want to.

  ‘Why would I be cross with you?’ she asked.

  ‘Did I steal your time with Ant? I know you said I wasn’t being a third wheel, but maybe I was? We wondered if that was why you went to bed early.’

  ‘We?’ Libby said, feeling, once more, a little put out. ‘You and Ant?’

  Another pause. ‘Yes. It’s not that we were talking about you. Not really. Not much. It was just general chat and then you were gone before we got up and I haven’t heard from you all day.’

  ‘I left you both a note,’ Libby said, ‘and I’ve been busy all day. I’m just tired now. All the hard work must be catching up with me.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Jess said, but Libby noticed a hesitancy in her voice.

  ‘I am,’ Libby replied, even if she wasn’t entirely sure. Yes, she trusted Jess implicitly. Probably more than she trusted anyone else. She wasn’t worried that her friend and her boyfriend would get up to anything behind her back, but she did feel out of sorts all the same. Was it simply that, in seeing how well Jess and Ant could get along, how they could talk and laugh and how they enjoyed shared interests, just highlighted how superficial her own relationship with Ant was?

  There was a third, prolonged, pause before Jess spoke again. ‘I really didn’t know until the last minute that the conference wasn’t happening. I hope you believe that. I’d have gone with you if I’d known earlier.’

  Libby bristled a little. This was a different issue and she realised she did feel let down by Jess. And she definitely felt as if Ant’s support for her dream project had waned considerably as soon as it got down to the heavy lifting.

  She realised she didn’t have the emotional or physical energy for trying to unpick this particular issue just now though. ‘Look, Jess, I’m tired. It’s been a long weekend. Can we talk during the week? I’ll send you a WhatsApp as soon as I know how the week is shaping up properly.’

  ‘You’re working too hard,’ Jess said, her voice filled with concern. ‘Ant and I both think so.’

  It was that comment which changed Libby’s mind and made her think that she did, perhaps, have the emotional energy for this conversation after all.

  ‘You both do, do you?’ Libby said and she could hear the harshness in her voice.

  ‘I knew you were annoyed,’ Jess said.

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ she muttered. ‘If you want to know, then yes, I am annoyed. I’m annoyed you and Ant seem to have decided I’m working too hard when you both know I’m pushing a tight deadline. What did you expect would happen? It was always going to be tough-going. And you both talk about how hard I’m working, but you don’t offer to help. Not really. You’ve been to the shop once. Ant barely made it in the front door before he cleared off. Neither of you wanted to come with me to Belfast. Even though I promised a night away and a bit of fun. And I understood that, because you were working. But then I find that you didn’t go to the conference but instead spent the lion’s share of it with Ant, of all people, who himself was supposed to be working. Even when I was there, you two seemed to be lost in your own little bubble, and, to add insult to injury, you decided to talk about me behind my back.’

  There was silence, then a sniff. ‘You asked me to stay. You both did. I would’ve got a taxi home. I hadn’t planned to be there.’

  ‘Was I really going to be that bitch? The person that told you to go on home to your lonely flat while I sat there and drank the rest of the bottle of wine you opened?’

  ‘My lonely flat?’ Jess said, her voice now stern. ‘I’m very good at keeping my own company. God knows I need to be, since I’m so far down your list of priorities these days. I wouldn’t be surprised if you saw your dentist more than you saw me.’

  Libby felt her face redden. She knew she had neglected Jess over the last few months. Ever since she had been seeing Ant, if truth be told. Ever since Jess had seen the shop up for sale and the project had consumed her.

  Jess was in her stride now though. ‘But, look, I’m okay to be there when you’re feeling sad,’ she continued. ‘Or stressed or whining about how terrible it is that you don’t know whether or not you’re in love. Or you want someone to go to Belfast with you. As a second choice, Libby, for God’s sake. I wasn’t even your first thought! Don’t throw in a “but it would have been fun”. This wasn’t about me and you. It was just about you.’

  Libby felt stung. Everything Jess said hit her hard. She couldn’t argue against any of it. Shame rose in her.

  ‘I know you’ve had a tough time,’ Jess said, her words cutting through, ‘but almost everything about the course of the last two years has been about you. How you feel. What you want. What you’re getting, or not getting, from your relationship, or fling, or whatever the hell it is with Ant. And that bloody stupid bookshop!’ Jess stopped talking then, as if she knew she had gone too far.

  Libby just sat, frozen. Her shame gave way to something altogether more toxic. She was angry and bruised. She could not believe what her friend had said. It wouldn’t have hurt more if she had punched her right in the gut.

  That bloody stupid bookshop.

  She didn’t trust herself to speak. Instead, she stared, blinking, at her phone for a moment or two and then ended the call. Having placed the phone back on the footstool, she immersed herself, head and all, under the water, where she wondered what the hell had just happened, until she couldn’t last one more second without a breath.

  17

  Fight Club

  Libby Quinn did not fall out with people. In fact, she normally went very much out of her way to make sure that no one ever thought badly of her. She had been born a p
eople-pleaser and she was pretty sure she would die a people-pleaser.

  It was quite extraordinary – the lengths she would go to just to make sure she kept those around her happy, frequently tying herself up in all sorts of knots to be there for everyone. Even if it meant saying yes to things she absolutely wanted to say no to. Even if it meant smiling sweetly and turning the metaphorical cheek if someone was overtly mean to her. Even if it meant not correcting someone when they got her name wrong for the forty-seventh time in case it embarrassed them. For the full three years of her university career, she was called Elaine by the girl who lived across the hall from her and she never once corrected her.

  Libby was the sort of person who would apologise to people when they walked into her. She had even been known to apologise to inanimate objects. If she thought she had annoyed someone, she would genuinely lose sleep over it.

  So, if she absolutely did not fall out with people she barely knew, then falling out with people she considered as close as her own family was definitely not something she had much experience of.

  Falling out with Jess knocked her for six. It gave her a constant dull feeling, which pulled her down and filled her with doubt and self-loathing.

  First of all, she knew there had been real hurt in Jess’s voice. And truth in her words. Maybe Libby was not as much of a people-pleaser as she thought.

  The thought that Jess had made some valid points hit her in waves of differing strengths throughout the day. She had neglected her friend. And she had been focused on the shop, and all the preparation that had brought her to this point. But she needed to focus on the shop. It was important. Probably the most important thing she had ever done in her life. Surely Jess understood that. And she would have been there for Jess if she needed her. In a heartbeat. She’d have dropped everything and come running.