The Hopes and Dreams of Libby Quinn

by Freya Kennedy

  Libby blushed beetroot and shook her head. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say other than, ‘Let me just grab my bag and keys then.’

  She turned to run up the stairs.

  ‘Don’t forget to give your face and hands a quick wash!’ Jo called, and as soon as Libby walked into her newly installed bathroom and looked in the mirror Craig had fitted, she saw why. A large blob of white paint was streaked across her face. Her face was freckled with fine white dots, which only served to highlight the dark circles under her eyes, no doubt brought on by her hangover.

  ‘Shit!’ she swore as she did her best to scrub the paint away. ‘Shit! Shit and double shit!’

  * * *

  Sitting beside Noah in his van, the silence was deafening. Any progress, any friendship they had built up over the last few weeks seemed gone. There was an awkwardness there. She didn’t know what to say to him that wouldn’t make things worse, and clearly he really didn’t want to be there.

  ‘I’ve always loved going to DIY stores. I know that’s a bit sad, but I love it. I love choosing paint colours, and looking at the kitchen and bathroom displays. Not to mention the garden centre. I love that. Noah normally hates it when I suggest going,’ Jo enthused. ‘Don’t you, Noah?’

  ‘Yep,’ Noah said. His voice wasn’t exactly grumpy but he didn’t seem excited either. He was firmly in neutral.

  ‘Do you know exactly what you need to get?’ Jo asked. ‘Or are you still open to ideas?’

  ‘At the moment I just need white emulsion and gloss. And wallpaper paste. I haven’t decided on all the colours yet, but I did get a lovely paper for a feature wall.’

  ‘I love a good feature wall,’ Jo said. ‘Don’t I, Noah?’

  ‘Yep,’ Noah replied.

  This was moving beyond awkward into excruciating.

  ‘I can’t believe it’s all getting so close to your big opening,’ Jo continued. ‘You must be really excited? You’ve worked miracles in that shop. I always loved the look of it, but I’ll be honest, I thought it was beyond saving, but you’ve done it.’

  ‘Well,’ Libby said, ‘it’s been a big job, but even when we open, it’s not done yet. I’m so proud of what’s been done, but I’ve always known that opening is only half the battle. Staying open is the other half. So many people have told me I’m taking a big risk. A bookshop in this day and age? Sure, who goes into an actual bookshop any more? But, you know, I have to try and I’ve sunk every last penny in it to give it the best chance.’

  ‘Why?’ Jo said. ‘Not dissing your dream. I love the sound of a bookshop. I still love to shop in a place where I can hold an actual book in my hands and spend time looking at all the covers and all. But why is it so important to you?’

  ‘My grandfather,’ Libby said. ‘It was his dream – and I suppose I’m trying to do it for him. In his memory.’

  ‘Well, that’s very admirable,’ she said, softly. ‘I’m sure you are doing him proud. Don’t you think so, Noah? Don’t you think it’s a lovely thing to do? Take a risk like this to try and make someone else’s lost dream a reality?’

  ‘I do,’ Noah said, staring straight ahead. ‘I think it’s incredible. The mark of a person.’

  Libby felt her heart constrict at his words and all her emotions started to bubble dangerously close to the top. ‘That’s very nice of you to say,’ Libby said. ‘It’s terrifying too. I can’t stand the thought of it failing and me letting him down.’

  ‘We’ll do whatever we can to help ensure you won’t fail,’ Noah said, his eyes still facing forward, which was a good thing, because it allowed Libby to brush away a hasty tear without being noticed.

  * * *

  Somewhere between the trade-sized buckets of emulsion and the wallpaper displays, Libby noticed a text from Jess which read:

  OMG, you will never believe what has happened! Call me!

  Try as she might, she couldn’t get a signal to call Jess, who, as far as she was aware, was in the middle of a team-building exercise in the middle of Donegal. She cursed at her phone and then slipped it back into her bag, vowing to call as soon as they were done, which didn’t actually take all that long.

  Libby could feel herself decompress at the thought of being back at the flat and on her own again soon. Jo, of course, had other ideas and insisted they all stop in a nearby café for coffee and cake.

  * * *

  After just a few minutes, and with his coffee untouched, Noah excused himself to go out to his van to make some phone calls. He had no sooner walked out of the door before Jo sidled up closer.

  ‘What gives?’ she asked.

  ‘What gives with what?’

  ‘You and Noah? There is a very weird vibe between the two of you. I didn’t tell him, you know. That you like him. If that’s what you’re thinking. But, if you ask me, he knows. And, if you ask me, he feels something too. Noah Simpson is only ever off with people for one of two reasons. He either loves them, or hates them. And I know that he mostly certainly does not hate you.’

  Libby looked at her cup, lifted her spoon and started stirring her coffee, even though she hadn’t added any sugar. ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘Things are always complicated,’ Jo said. ‘Think of every big situation in your life. Have any of them ever not been complicated?’

  Libby paused. Jo had a point. Nothing she’d ever wanted deeply had ever come easy.

  ‘Look, okay. I do like him. It wasn’t just the drink talking. But it doesn’t matter whether I like him, or whether he likes me back. It’s totally not the right time.’

  ‘When is it ever the right time?’ Jo asked, her eyebrow raised. ‘I mean, if we waited for the right time to do everything, well, we’d never do anything.’

  ‘I know that, I do. And I agree, for the most part, but sometimes it really is just the wrong time. I just split up with my boyfriend to concentrate on the business. Getting involved with someone when I have to put my heart and soul into making sure this business works wouldn’t be fair on him. That’s if he even wants me. I can’t give him what he needs because I can’t afford to get distracted.’

  ‘You seem to think that the two can’t exist together – hard-working you and romantic you,’ Jo said, her face more serious now. ‘That’s a shame. In the right relationship, the two can feed each other. You’ve much more to gain than you have to lose.’ She darted a look at the door, just as Noah walked back in.

  Libby’s heart leapt.

  * * *

  When she got into the van, Libby remembered the text from Jess. Pulling her phone out of her bag, she wondered would it be exceptionally rude to call Jess back there and then while in the company of others. It wasn’t as if there was half a chance of getting any privacy in the confines of a van. She sent a message instead.

  Can’t talk just now. Couldn’t get signal before. What’s up? Tell me! A scandal at the team building?

  The reply from Jess came just two minutes later.

  OMG, I’ve been hanging on for your message. Still stuck at the team building of doom. Paintballing, for the love of God! Almost done. But we need to talk. Guess who I saw here? On his own paintballing nightmare? Ant! He asked me to go for coffee, but I won’t if it would be too weird for you. Chat tonight?

  Jess seemed so excited, Libby couldn’t help but feel excited for her. Even if it was a bit weird. She’d get over it. And it was only coffee. It wasn’t like it was a proposal of marriage. If any relationship bloomed between them, Libby guessed she’d have time to adjust.

  She did feel something else though too. Jealousy. She couldn’t fight it. It wasn’t that she still wanted Ant, far from it. It was more that Jess seemed happy and full of hope for her love life while Libby felt so torn between heart and head.

  She sent a quick text back to Jess, telling her she would call her as soon as she was able but that she should absolutely say yes to coffee.

  The three of them sat in silence again for the rest of the journey through the city centre and on to
Ivy Lane. But when they turned into the street, everything changed in an instant. They were greeted with the flashing blue lights of an ambulance and a small crowd gathered outside Harry’s Shop.

  ‘Stop the van!’ Libby heard herself shout, but Noah had already pulled into the nearest parking space and had opened his door and was rushing out.

  ‘Oh Harry, what have you done?’ Jo whispered.

  30

  The Fault in Our Stars

  Libby followed hot on Noah’s heels to the shop, with Jo just a step or two behind her. Mrs Doherty from two doors down was stood just inside the door – her hand to her face.

  ‘Harry!’ Libby called, as she looked past Mrs Doherty and saw two feet poking out from the behind the counter, while one paramedic stood talking into a radio, another disembodied voice from behind the counter asking for meds, shouting figures and medical terms.

  ‘I came up to check in on him – he looked a bit peaky this morning – that’s how I found him,’ Mrs Doherty sobbed, while Jo put her arm around her shoulder and told her she would get her a cup of tea for the shock. ‘I told him,’ Mrs Doherty said, ‘I told him he needed to slow down. That he wasn’t getting any younger and, sure, there were any number of young ones who would do a few hours in the shop. Stubborn old goat,’ she sobbed.

  Noah walked forward towards the counter, but the female paramedic, who had been speaking into the radio, told him she needed him to stay back and give them space to work.

  ‘What’s happened to him?’ Noah asked.

  The paramedic looked at him sympathetically. ‘It looks like a cardiac episode,’ she said. ‘We’re doing everything we can. We have a second unit on the way.’

  ‘He wasn’t breathing,’ Mrs Doherty sobbed. ‘I did my best. I was calling for help, but there was no one about the street. I tried to do CPR… I don’t know if I did it right.’

  Noah just stood in the middle of the shop looking helpless and lost, while Libby found herself unable to move. Frozen to the spot just outside of the shop – memories of the day her grandad took seriously ill flooded back. That was a cardiac episode too. One he didn’t come back from. She remembered crying as the doctors tried to explain what had happened and that they had done everything they could. But he was gone. And he wasn’t coming back. It was the first time she had seen her father cry, rocking back and forth while her mother had tried to comfort him, desperately trying to hide her own shock and grief. ‘He was fine this morning. Wasn’t he, Libby? He was fine when you went on that walk together,’ her mother had asked.

  She’d wanted to tell her he had complained of being tired and she had wondered whether they should just have gone home early. Would that have stopped it? Had she been partly responsible?

  Her breath grew shallow, standing there, outside the shop with Harry prone on the floor, his life appearing to hang in the balance. Was there anything she could have done? He had seemed fine when she’d spoken to him the day before, or had she been too distracted by her own hangover to really notice?

  ‘Is there anyone we should contact?’ the female paramedic asked, cutting into her thoughts. ‘Family? Are you guys family?’

  ‘No… no, we’re his neighbours. He’s like family… but no… He has no one, no one local anyway,’ Noah stuttered.

  ‘But his wife, Mary,’ Libby said. ‘We should let her know.’

  Noah turned and looked at her, confusion all over his face. ‘But Mary’s dead, Libby. She died five years ago, he’s on his own. His children live in England – I don’t have a contact for them…’ he said, turning back to the paramedic. ‘We usually just watch out for him here on the street. He’s one of us.’

  Libby couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. That couldn’t be the case. Oh God, poor Harry. ‘But he always talks about her. He didn’t say she was dead…’ Libby said.

  Jo sniffed and took her hand. ‘Oh, pet, he would never tell anyone – not directly. Not a lie as such, but he liked to talk about her as if she was still here. They were so in love, he just couldn’t stand the thought of being without her. That’s why he spent so much time in the shop. He hated being at home alone. Oh Harry…’ Jo said, her voice breaking.

  Libby could barely take it in. Her heart was breaking, for Harry and Mary, for her grandad and for herself. It was she who was the lonely one now, she realised.

  ‘We’ve got a pulse!’ the female paramedic shouted, just as two more paramedics arrived and pushed their way into the shop.

  ‘Folks, if you could all move back a bit, we need room to work,’ one said, and slowly, in shock and reluctant to leave Harry alone with people who he’d never met before, they all moved out of the way of the paramedics. Libby was trying to make sense of it all, her fear overwhelming.

  ‘I’ll go with him to the hospital,’ she heard Noah say. ‘He shouldn’t be alone. If they let me, I’ll go in the ambulance.’

  ‘I’ll follow in my car,’ Libby said.

  ‘Good, good,’ Noah said, but his eyes were never far from the door of the shop.

  ‘I’ll stay and get the shop locked up. Make sure Mrs Doherty is okay. What an awful shock for her.’

  ‘She kept him going until the paramedics got here. She’s a legend,’ Noah said.

  * * *

  An hour later, they were sitting on blue plastic seats in the overly warm waiting room of the Emergency Department at Altnagelvin Hospital.

  The place was busy, with everyone from young children with badly cut fingers to adults slightly the worse for wear who may have done themselves an injury while under the influence. A TV high on the wall was showing the BBC News channel; no sound, mind, just subtitles that were on a slight delay and didn’t always make sense.

  Noah stared into a half-empty cup of dark brown liquid that was allegedly tea, while Libby sat not knowing what to say at all. Harry, the last they heard, was still in Resus. Jo had at least been able to track down contact details for Harry’s two sons and had called them to deliver the news that their father was unwell.

  Libby’s mind was in a whirl. Not only because of the echoes of what had happened to her grandfather but the revelation that Mary was dead and had been all this time. All these conversations she had shared with Harry when he had spoken about her in the present tense. She had assumed that come the end of the day at the shop he was going home to her, to a dinner on the table and the company of the love of his life for the evening.

  Poor Harry. Was it any wonder that once he got to chatting he was reluctant to stop? She felt guilty for cutting her conversation short with him the day before; selfishly longing to get back to the flat to carb load and try to rid herself of her hangover. He had never been anything but good to her; making sure she was well fed with ‘just a wee bit out of date’ biscuits, crisps and even, on occasion, a block of cheese that he assured her had a good week in it at least, despite the mould.

  Each time the door from the treatment area opened, she would look up, hoping against hope it would be a doctor to tell her Harry was going to be okay. She was aware that neither she nor Noah were family. Well, not in the biological sense anyway.

  A tear slid down her cheek and, as she tried to wipe it away, she felt a hand reach out to hers and hold it.

  ‘He’ll be okay, you know,’ Noah said, his voice soft and low. ‘He’s made of strong stuff. And we’ll make sure he’s well looked after.’

  Libby nodded. She wanted to believe him so much. ‘I can’t believe that Mary is gone. That poor man going home alone each night.’

  ‘Oh, he didn’t. Not every night anyway. I meant it when I said that Ivy Lane people watch out for each other. A few of the neighbours have him round for tea a couple of nights a week. Mrs Doherty is a fierce one for dropping casseroles to him. You know, you might think you’re special, Bookshop Libby, but I have it on authority, Mrs Doherty gets first picks of the out-of-date treats!’

  Libby managed a weak watery smile back in his direction.

  ‘Some of the lads take him to the pub
a couple of nights a week. Not the Ivy, mind. He tells me that place is “for people with notions” even though he has yet to turn down a free dinner, or a free pint for that matter. No, they go to what he calls a “proper pub” with sticky carpets, a dartboard and the vague smell of smoke about the place despite the smoking ban being years old.’ Noah squeezed her hand. ‘We do look after each other,’ he said. ‘And we’ll look after Harry. I’ll have to get a rota done up. People who can help at the shop until he’s back on his feet.’

  Libby admired his optimism and wished she shared it, but she knew from bitter experience that no amount of wishing or hoping would make a difference if Harry’s heart had simply decided it had had enough. Still, for now, until they knew otherwise, she would play along because it felt nice and was comforting.

  ‘I’ll help out. Just let me know how.’

  ‘Ah, you’ve enough on your hands with that shop of yours to get up and running,’ Noah said. ‘I’m sure we can give you special dispensation.’

  Libby shook her head and looked Noah directly in the eyes. ‘No, I mean it. I’ll do my bit. We watch out for each other. Us Ivy Lane ones. Isn’t that how it works? If my shop takes a little longer to open, it takes a little longer to open. Some things are more important.’ There was a look of admiration on his face, or affection, it was hard to tell, but she drank it in.

  Even sitting tired, the strain of the last hour written all over his face, she saw a face that made her feel funny inside. A face that, if she took a chance, she knew she could love. A face, she realised, she wanted to take a chance on.

  She was just about to open her mouth to tell him they really needed to talk, when the door to the treatment area opened and a rather sombre-looking doctor gestured in their direction to come through. She held on to Noah’s hand even tighter as they stood up and walked towards the double doors.