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-fledged 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.