He dropped Paddy’s lead and the dog padded over to Libby and rubbed his head against her leg, his tail wagging furiously.
‘He remembers you!’ Noah said. ‘And I think he’s forgiven you for stepping on his tail.’
Libby blushed. She didn’t want Craig to hear about that entire sorry episode. ‘Well, it wasn’t my fault…’ she began before Noah laughed.
‘I’m only teasing. Honest. But he does like you.’
Libby looked down into Paddy’s big brown eyes. She imagined that dog could get anything he wanted with just a glance. She reached out and patted him, tickling him under his chin.
‘Noah! It’s you!’ Craig said. ‘How’s it going?’
‘It’s going well, mate. Can’t complain anyway. I saw your van outside and wondered if it was you or one of the other fellas. How’s things?’
‘Busy, you know. But that’s not a complaint,’ Craig said. Libby gave Paddy another pet and then looked pointedly at Noah, hoping that he would leave and she could get on with chatting things through with Craig.
It seemed Noah had other ideas. ‘We’re looking to do a little work to the rear bar area and beer garden and I’d been meaning to give you a call. I hope you’re not too busy to have a look at it for us.’
Libby wanted to say that, yes, actually, Craig was too busy because he was here with her, talking about her shop and he didn’t have time to discuss an upgrade to The Ivy Inn just now. She didn’t though, much to her chagrin. She needed to be more assertive.
‘I’m sure we can work something out,’ Craig said. ‘Might be six weeks or so though. With summer coming, that mightn’t suit you.’
Noah nodded. ‘I see what you mean. I suppose when we have a full idea of what we’re looking at we can make a proper decision. Let me know when you’re free to call over.’
‘Well, I’m in the neighbourhood now,’ Craig said, ‘so how about I pop round when I’m done here. We can get the ball rolling at least.’
‘Great,’ Noah said, enthusiastically. ‘Perfect.’
Libby expected that to be the end of the conversation. It was not. She anticipated that Noah, and Paddy, would leave the shop and she and Craig could go back to their discussion and preliminary sketches, but this did not happen.
Noah just changed the topic of conversation. ‘Are those your ideas for here?’ he asked, nodding at the notebooks on the counter. As if they could be anything else, Libby thought.
‘Yes. Early stages, you know,’ she said.
‘Do you mind if I have a look?’ Noah asked as he edged closer to the counter.
She fought every instinct to pull the papers to her chest. Was it churlish that she felt so protective over her plans? Especially at a stage when they were a mess of ideas and perhaps half-baked dreams? Would he think it all very twee? Her little writer nooks? Her ideas for fairy lights and copper framed terrariums, funky prints and vintage coffee cups? Her plan to use repurposed shelving units and vintage desks – creating a book lover’s haven?
Noah turned the notepads towards himself, and glanced at the open Pinterest board on her laptop. She blushed as he took it all in.
‘These are for writers?’ he asked, pointing to the four dedicated workspace areas she had planned.
She nodded. ‘A desk-for-hire kind of thing – a place to work among the books, with their own desks, coffee on call, et cetera.’
‘For hire? But if any writer can just lift their laptop, go to Starbucks or any coffee shop, plug in and write among the coffee beans for the price of a latte – why would they pay to hire a desk here?’
‘Well, it’s a bookshop. It will have its own ambiance. A creative vibe.’
‘The noise of customers coming in from outside? Will you have a radio playing? Will the coffee machine bubble and fizz? Will people look over their shoulders as they sit there writing? Could it take on a zoo-like feel? I mean, I’m sure you’ve considered all this, but…’
It was Craig’s turn to cough uncomfortably while Libby felt her anger growing, and more than that, she was shocked to feel tears prick at her eyes.
‘The spaces will be quite secluded, behind shelves, but with natural light from the windows. The hire charges will be minimal – with the chance to have their work featured on our social media pages and promoted through our mailing lists. I’ve been talking to a few literary magazines about accepting submissions or coming to the shop for events. The same with published authors. I have thought this through – you know. I’ve done my research. I’m not clueless. It’s about building a community.’ She was annoyed at herself when she felt a small tremor in her voice. Who was he to hint that her plans hadn’t been fully thought out? Clearly he underestimated her.
‘Oh God, I’m not suggesting you’re clueless. Sorry! Shit. I just know how brutal it can be setting up on your own. We had a false start when we took over The Ivy Inn. Pitched it wrong,’ he said, looking apologetic. ‘We had to make big changes, fast. Costly changes. Sorry, I must sound like an arrogant asshole.’
Libby choked out a small laugh. ‘Well…’
‘Sorry, I worked in financial management in a previous life. Proper rat race stuff in London. I swear I still have PTSD from it.’ He laughed a little, but there was something in his expression that told her he wasn’t that far off the mark. ‘I have profit margins drilled into me and sometimes they come out again. You’ve your head screwed on if you’re already thinking about community though. I think that’s what makes or breaks a new business these days. And it’s what really matters.’
Libby flushed, with pride this time. Actually, she felt a little dizzy from the roller-coaster of emotions she’d been through in the last ten minutes alone.
‘If I could offer one suggestion, and you can feel free to tell me to get stuffed, but from the pub, I know people do like privacy,’ Noah said, clearly not wanting to extract his nose entirely from her business. ‘I imagine that’s even more the case when writing than when drinking in a pub. We created our nooks just for that – with Craig’s help to design them. When we were going over ideas, we looked at curved stone walls – about four feet high – tonnes of character. Do you remember that, Craig?’
Craig nodded. ‘Yes, I think I still have some pictures of where it was done elsewhere… hang on,’ he said, logging into his iPad and scanning through. ‘That’s a cracking idea actually – just the right amount of privacy – maybe not stonework here, but something – reclaimed wooden cladding? It wouldn’t add much to your budget, but it would be quite effective.’
When Craig showed her the pictures, Libby couldn’t help but think that Noah may just be onto something. She knew, despite her bravado about having done her research, it would still be a battle to give the spaces the edge – especially for impoverished writers. All the marketing in the world couldn’t change basic economics. This would make the spaces extra cosy – secluded – away from distractions but close to a creative buzz.
‘Actually, that’s not the worst idea,’ she said. ‘Thanks.’
‘No worries, Libby. Sure, we’re all in this together, aren’t we? Trying to keep our businesses going? Trying to make Ivy Lane a place people want to visit and be a part of? It’s in our mutual best interests to work well together – all of us traders.’