The Hopes and Dreams of Libby Quinn

by Freya Kennedy

  And that, she told Noah, as they walked up to the grounds of the university, strolled through the gardens and back to the shop again, was why she would do everything in her power to make sure the shop was a success.

  19

  Les Liaisons Dangereuses

  Noah had been a good listener, which had surprised Libby. He’d let her cry and never once looked uncomfortable in the presence of her tears.

  ‘God, I’ve a headache now,’ she told him, as she thanked him for listening and handing her a tissue when she needed it.

  ‘The amount of women who have said that to me,’ Noah deadpanned, and she laughed.

  She had started to relax around him, which was a good thing considering she had just offloaded her deepest secrets in his direction.

  ‘Do you often give women headaches? To be honest, after spending all that time listening to you drone on in Belfast, I could tell you did.’

  ‘Ha ha, very funny,’ Noah said. ‘Stick to selling books and leave the stand-up to the real comedians!’

  Libby shrugged, rubbing her temples.

  ‘You know, you are probably dehydrated – and I just happen to know of this lovely pub that provides liquid refreshment. And food too, come to think of it.’

  Libby looked around. The tradesmen were all content in their tasks for the day and her dad, who had called in that morning, had said everything was on schedule. She shouldn’t really take the rest of the afternoon off, but she felt so drained, she knew it might just do her some good.

  ‘That is tempting,’ she said.

  ‘Let me tempt you some more. Now, what would a woman like you drink? It’s a bit too warm for red wine. I don’t see you as a beer drinker. But on a hot day like this, I’d recommend a cool cider in the beer garden, lots of ice?’

  ‘Sounds perfect,’ she said, already thinking of the condensation forming and trickling down the outside of the glass and that first, refreshing sip. ‘I’ll let the boys know where I’m going and give them keys to lock up and I’ll be over.’

  Noah feigned shock – put his hand to his chest, raised his eyebrows. ‘Bookshop Libby leaving the shop before 6 p.m.? What madness is this?’

  ‘A necessary one,’ she said. ‘Give me ten minutes and have that cider waiting,’ she said with a smile. ‘Oh, and maybe a toastie, ham and cheese?’

  ‘All these demands,’ he said with a wink. ‘And Jo will be delighted to see you too. She’s off shift soon – I’d say she’d be easily persuaded to join you if you wanted company?’

  Libby felt something – something uncomfortable – twist in the pit of her stomach. This was crazy, she thought. She liked Jo. Jo was as nice as nice could be. She’d confessed her love of books earlier in the week and the pair had talked for a full hour about whether Pride and Prejudice or Sense and Sensibility was Jane Austen’s finest work. She should be happy to know Jo was going to be off and she might have some company. She was happy. But there was a little, teeny, tiny part of her that was also just a bit jealous that Jo had the one thing she’d never have. Noah’s devotion.

  She shook herself. This was stupid. She didn’t need Noah Simpson’s attention. She just wanted his friendship and a feeling of belonging. So far Ivy Lane was delivering that in spades.

  She called to Terry and Gerry that she was finishing up for the day, to which they responded by turning their radio up even louder. While she packed up her bag, she also glanced at her phone. When she saw there were no notifications, she didn’t let it bother her. She was fine. She didn’t need them.

  * * *

  As promised, when she crossed over to the pub a few minutes later, there was a bottle of cider on the bar and a glass loaded with ice beside it. Noah nodded towards it and shouted that he’d have her food with her shortly. She reached into her bag for her purse to pay, to which he shook his head.

  ‘You have to let me pay sometime!’ she called.

  ‘Of course,’ he said as he walked over. ‘Don’t think I won’t. Actually, I might start a tab for you right now. And add my counselling consultancy fees this afternoon too? Two hundred pounds an hour sound about right?’

  ‘You’d be lucky,’ she laughed, ‘but I get it – free coffee when I open? And a book of your choice – one with pictures if that’s easier for you? And the next round is on me?’

  He laughed and she heard a voice from beside her say: ‘I’ll hold you to that!’

  She turned to see Jo, who was ushering an overheated and panting Paddy behind the counter and into the office. She filled his water bowl and then took out a bottle of beer for herself. ‘Noah told me you were coming over – so I saved us a prime location in the beer garden. I’m afraid that Paddy won’t be joining us. He needs some shade and a sleep. He was not made for this weather.’

  ‘I’ll make sure to keep an eye on him,’ Noah said.

  ‘Anyway, to the beer garden. Our table is one with a good view of all the goings-on – but maybe you’re not as nosy as me?’

  ‘I have my moments,’ Libby said as she followed Jo through to the patioed area to the side of the bar, which was already filling up with cheerful drinkers making the most of the heatwave.

  She hadn’t long sat down when one of the waiting staff appeared with her toastie, which she ate in record time having not realised just how hungry she was.

  ‘I was never sure a beer garden was a great idea – not in Ireland, not with our weather – but for those few days of the year when the weather behaves, it’s worth it, I think,’ Jo said. ‘And this year we’ve been particularly blessed with the weather. I could get used to it. It makes everything seem a little better and brighter, doesn’t it?’

  Libby smiled. ‘Ordinarily I’d agree with you – but I’d like to be a bit less sweaty working on the shop.’ She laughed.

  ‘Ah, don’t talk – I’m as fragrant as a sewer after the day I’ve just put in. Thankfully these seats are downwind of anyone who would mind,’ Jo said as she lifted the bottle of beer she had on the table and raised it to clink against Libby’s. ‘Well, cheers, lovely. We’ll take this as an official welcome to the Ivy Lane family – now that you seem to realise we’re not all weirdos out to assimilate you into our cult – or at least, if we are, it’s a nice cult to be a part of.’

  Libby blushed – had her reticence, her shyness, been so obvious? Had she seemed offhand until now? She supposed she was naturally reserved. Was that her character? She wasn’t one who made friends easily – acquaintances, yes, but not friends. Real friends.

  Was it embarrassing that in her thirties she was excited that she was meeting new people – people she had a good feeling about? People who felt maybe like friends that she should always have had in her life?

  God, she hadn’t had more than a sip of her drink and she wondered if she was already a little drunk? She felt a bit giddy – or maybe it was just a nice high after a few days of feeling so low. Offloading to Noah must have done her more good than she thought.

  Buoyed by her good mood, and the heat of the sun, she downed two ciders – probably a little too quickly. As a result, despite having eaten the toastie, she very quickly found herself feeling squiffy, telling Jo she felt squiffy and then taking a fit of the giggles at just how funny a word squiffy was.

  ‘I definitely don’t get squiffy enough.’ She laughed. ‘Don’t you think we reach a stage of life where everything becomes serious? That we forget to laugh and just have fun? Or is it that things just aren’t fun any more? Or is it me? Did I just stop having fun – or stop being fun? Do you think I’m fun?’

  Jo sat back and looked at her and Libby blushed, suddenly self-conscious again. Had she slipped from squiffy to needy in the space of a couple of sentences?

  ‘Ignore me,’ she muttered. ‘Too much sun and not enough food, and this cider is obviously stronger than I anticipated.’

  ‘Libby, you don’t have to doubt yourself all the time, you know. I’ll tell you this – sometimes we all go through phases when stuff happens and we kind of lose s
ight of who we are or what we want. Or maybe we just don’t really know what we want, so we make some mistakes. We’ve all done it. I’ve made my share. And Noah, God knows he’s made a few clangers in his time, but, you know what, it’s all swings and roundabouts. What’s serious one minute will be fun again the next. If you let it. And mistakes are okay, as long as we learn something from them.’

  ‘I get it,’ Libby said as she narrowed one eye and took in all of Jo and how beautiful she was, although she doubted the other woman realised how attractive she was. Confident but not overly so. Her beauty was in her smile and in the way she put people at ease. A wave of fondness washed over Libby. ‘I get you and Noah. How that works. You make a great couple.’

  Jo’s eyes widened and she choked on the mouthful of beer she had just taken. ‘Couple?’ she spluttered. ‘Oh God, we’re not a couple. Not in any romantic sense. Oh the very thought!’ she grimaced. ‘Noah is my brother! If you want to be picky about it, he’s my foster brother. He came to stay with us when he was fourteen, and, well, he never really left.’

  It was Libby’s turn to widen her eyes. ‘But I thought… I mean, dancing around the flat together. Shared responsibility for Paddy? Just how you speak to each other?’

  ‘Nothing more than a brother-and-sister relationship, and friendship of course. I was twelve when he came to live with us, all angry and moody. I thought he was the coolest person on the planet. He thought I was an annoyance. He’d bat me away, hide in his room. But I won him round in the end – and he became my best friend. My true brother. I love him with every part of my heart, but there is no way I would ever or could ever think of him in a romantic way.’ Jo shuddered, then laughed. ‘Actually there was one time, I think I was twenty, so Noah was twenty-two, we wondered if there was something more between us. We were a bit pissed and had a snog in the back of a taxi that immediately felt every kind of wrong. We were never meant to work in that way.’

  Libby could hardly believe what she had heard. She had been so sure they were a couple, but now, after Jo had explained it, she realised it was perfectly believable they were like brother and sister. Something pulled at her heartstrings though. Fourteen-year-old Noah, who found himself in foster care. Noah who always spoke about community and family and his grandparents. Who seemed almost indefatigable in his positivity. She was shocked to believe something so catastrophic had happened in his past.

  She was just about to ask Jo a bit more about Noah’s background when the man himself, accompanied by a re-energised Paddy, approached them and sat down. Paddy immediately jumped up on Jo for a cuddle before making his way around to Libby, laying his head on her lap and looking up at her with his deep brown eyes.

  ‘You definitely have a fan there,’ Noah said. ‘We might have to stop inviting you over. Can’t have Paddy switching loyalties!’

  Libby laughed and ruffled the fur around Paddy’s collar, who, once satisfied, padded back over to his master and lay down at his feet. ‘I don’t think you’ve anything to worry about,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, Noah, you’ll never believe this,’ Jo said, and Libby felt herself cringe. She knew what was coming next. ‘Libby here thought you and I were a couple!’

  ‘Oh God, no, perish the thought.’ Noah grimaced and Jo swiped at him with the drinks menu she had been using as a makeshift fan.

  ‘You’d never get that lucky,’ Jo teased and Libby watched as they descended once again into their usual banter – jokes and fake insults flying back and forth between them. It seemed so obvious now, she wasn’t sure how she hadn’t seen it. But then, she hadn’t been looking. She reminded herself that, honestly, Noah Simpson was not of any romantic interest to her and that she’d only been checking out his relationship status for Jess. Jess, who she hadn’t spoken to in four whole days. Her mood dipped and she stared into the bottom of her glass.

  Jo excused herself to go to the bathroom and after a minute of fairly awkward silence, Noah spoke. ‘So, you thought Jo and I were an item?’ he asked, a slight hint of amusement in his voice.

  Libby shrugged her shoulders. ‘You seemed… I don’t know… close.’

  ‘We are. As I’ve said, she’s my best friend. But nothing more.’ He pulled a face, and laughed. ‘She must have told you about the worst snog in the world ever? It was like snogging my granny. Just plain wrong. Actually, you’re the only coupled-up one among us three. And you’ve still not managed to drag your boyfriend in here yet.’

  Libby’s mood dropped further. ‘No. Well… it’s complicated,’ she said.

  ‘It’s none of my business,’ Noah said. ‘But if you want to talk, Jo and I make for good listeners. Even Paddy here is a good man for sounding off to. And he never judges. Nor do Jo or I, for that matter.’

  ‘Ant works hard. He’s very busy at the moment,’ she said, knowing, of course, that was only the tiniest part of the problems they were facing.

  Noah nodded. ‘You really don’t need to explain anything to me, Bookshop Libby,’ he said, his voice soft and his gaze warm. ‘But sometimes you have to look at where you stand in a person’s life. I’m an all-or-nothing person when it comes to relationships and nothing in the world comes before my friends or family, never mind any prospective partner.’

  Libby nodded, unable to speak. So much came before her in Ant’s life, and, if she was honest to herself, Ant was quite far down her list of priorities too. But two bottles of cider in, she didn’t want to think about serious things. She was delighted to see Jo walk over to them with another round of drinks.

  ‘One for the road?’ Jo asked with a smile. ‘You’ll not be driving anyway, so you might as well make the most of this lovely weather and our dazzling company and have one more.’

  Libby nodded and Jo doled out the drinks, including a bottle of beer for Noah. She’d definitely go home after this. No question about it. It was too risky to sit here while her emotions were spinning, and, more than that, it was definitely too risky to stay here when everything she heard or learned about Noah was making her see him in a whole new light.

  She could feel the headache that had been nagging at her all week come back. And the cider didn’t taste as sweet as it had before. Her little Ant-free bubble had been burst and she couldn’t shake the thought of him, or of Jess, from her mind.

  And all the while, every time Libby looked at Noah, at his warm smile, the dark hairs on his arms against his tanned skin, the strength evident in his hands, she felt herself pulled towards him. This handsome man, with some sort of tragedy in his past, who loved his community, and rescued his dog, and who was looking at her with a very quizzical expression on his face.

  ‘Are you okay there, Libby?’

  She jolted to attention. ‘Yes. Of course, yes.’

  ‘You seemed to zone out there for a bit,’ he said. ‘And you look a little pale.’

  Did she? She didn’t know. But, yes, she was distracted. And her head was actually verging on really sore now, and her throat felt scratchy. Probably hay fever, she thought. That would teach her for sitting out in the beer garden. She swallowed the last of her drink.

  ‘Actually, I just think I need to go home now,’ she said. ‘I do feel a little out of sorts.’

  ‘Noah will call you a taxi,’ Jo said, her expression soft and warm. ‘I think an early night and a good sleep will do you the power of good.’

  Libby nodded. An early night sounded blissful. As did a long sleep. She could escape all her worries when she was dreaming.

  20

  Girl, Interrupted

  Libby was feeling slightly nauseated by the time the taxi reached home. The sweaty driver, who reeked of cigarette smoke, had insisted that she keep the windows up through the entire journey, despite the blistering heat, and that he didn’t need to put the air con on, as, according to him, it wasn’t that warm.

  Libby sat feeling progressively worse, while she felt sweat roll down her back and between her boobs, making her feel like a horrible, smelly, sticky mess.

  H
er legs were even a little shaky as she walked up the front path and put her key in the front door. She felt more than a little light-headed as she made her way to the kitchen and filled a pint glass with tap water and added some ice. She stood for a moment, letting water from the cold tap run over her wrists in an effort to help her cool down quickly. She lifted the pint glass, now slick with condensation, held it first to her forehead and then to the back of her neck, before downing half of it without so much as taking a breath. Still feeling wobbly, she made her way to the kitchen table and sat down, stretched her arms out in front of her and lay her head on them.

  She drifted off within seconds, waking a short time later to the gentle nudge of her mother. ‘Libby, pet. Are you okay?’

  She lifted her head – which felt heavy and thick with the need to have a proper sleep – and blinked at her mother.

  ‘Are you sick? Your eyes are all red and you’re an awful colour,’ her mother said, and placed her cool hand on Libby’s forehead just as she used to do when she was a child. She looked concerned. ‘You’re a bit warm.’

  Libby found she didn’t have the energy to tell her mother it was probably because she had spent the best part of half an hour in the sauna-like environment of the smelliest taxi in the world.

  ‘Pet, why don’t you go on up to bed. I’ll bring you some iced water and some paracetamol. I knew this would happen. I was only saying to your dad I was worried you’ve been working too hard. Not just now, but with all the prep, and you’re not looking after yourself.’

  ‘I’m not sick, Mum,’ Libby muttered, a wave of nausea leaving her feeling a little unsure herself. ‘But I think I will go to bed.’

  ‘I’ll bring a basin up too – just in case,’ her mother clucked. ‘And maybe the fan from the living room in case you feel too hot.’

  Slowly, as if her limbs were stuck to the very furniture around her, Libby extracted herself from her seat at the table and used every last ounce of energy she could find to traipse up the stairs. Just as she reached the landing, the creeping nausea that had been nagging at her from the moment she got in the taxi turned into a tidal wave. She made it to the bathroom just in time before she was sick.