‘Good woman,’ Jess said. ‘Now, show me around – I can already see this place has bags of potential. Where will you put the writing nooks? And the coffee station? And will you have little wrought iron bistro sets out on the front street in the nicer weather? Have you thought of a colour scheme?’
Libby was only too happy to oblige her friend with answers. Both for the shop and the flat upstairs. After changing out of her wet jeans into the dry pair Jess had brought with her, Libby gave Jess the full tour. Thankfully, her friend managed to be positive about everything, even the flat, despite the fallen ceiling and the general air of decay.
‘The main thing is that the space is good. It’s all there. And even the yard to the rear could be useful,’ Jess enthused.
At the moment, the yard to the rear looked as if it was moonlighting as a landfill site.
‘The skips arrive tomorrow. And the plumber, and spark. And a joiner too. Dad is getting a full survey done as well.’
‘Hurrah for your dad!’ Jess said with a smile. She was almost as fond of Jim Quinn as Libby herself was – having spent a great deal of time in her teenage years in the Quinn household. The Hutchison home had been warm and friendly but overpopulated and always noisy and Jess quite frequently escaped to her friend’s house to study, or watch TV, or help Linda bake, or listen to music. Sometimes she just escaped there because spending another five minutes in a house with six younger brothers and sisters might have resulted in murder.
Libby looked at her watch and swore.
‘What is it?’ Jess asked.
‘I told Ant I’d be with him for half eight. I still need to get home and get my car. And get freshened up. And changed.’
‘How about I drop you off and you grab a shower there. You have a change of clothes at his, don’t you?’ Jess asked.
‘Just spare underwear, and I’m not sure this inviting ensemble I’m currently sporting will endear him to me,’ Libby said, gesturing to her clean but well-worn jeans and Ivy Inn T-shirt.
Jess bit her lip before her eyes brightened. ‘New frock!’ she squealed.
Libby rolled her eyes. ‘If we don’t have time to drive back home and pick up clean clothes, we’ll hardly have time to indulge in a little late-night shopping.’
‘No. You eejit. I have a new frock. In the boot. It will be lovely on you. I bought it in the spring sale, but it didn’t suit me. I was going to charity shop it, but, looking at you, it’s obvious. It would be lovely with your colouring. Actually, it would be perfect for you. I don’t know why I didn’t think of you before.’
‘Dr Jess Hutchison,’ Libby said, ‘I love you.’
‘You can love me even more when I tell you I have my emergency make-up kit in my handbag. You can give yourself a quick transformation.’
‘What would I do without you, Jess?’ Libby asked, grateful for her exceptionally organised and equally generous friend.
‘It works both ways,’ Jess said, squeezing her pal’s arm. ‘We keep each other right, don’t we? Now, let’s get going or you’ll be late anyway.’
Libby smiled as she climbed into the passenger side of her friend’s yellow Mini Cooper, allowing herself a flush of pride and excitement at finally owning her very own bookshop, even if it didn’t yet have books, electricity or even a name.
5
Sleeping Beauty
By the time they reached Ant's house, which overlooked the golden sands of Lisfannon Beach, just ten minutes across the border from Derry into Donegal, the muscles in Libby's body had started to seize up. Her arms had taken on the feel of lead weights and there was a crick in her neck that would take some serious quantities of Deep Heat to relieve. In addition, she felt exhaustion descend on her, as if the journey in the car had allowed her to relax for the first time that day. She also realised she was hungry, and that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. This never happened. Libby Quinn had never missed a meal in her life.
She hoped against hope Ant would have the dinner he'd promised her almost ready for serving. He’d texted her earlier to say he was making his signature dish – slow-cooked stroganoff. Her mouth was watering at the very thought – creamy, rich sauce, tender strips of melt-in-the-mouth beef, served on a bed of rice with tender stem broccoli. She was so hungry, she’d have to keep a real check on her manners so she didn't make a show of herself by shovelling the food into her mouth and licking the plate after.
‘Here you go, my love,’ Jess said as they pulled up the gravel drive to Ant's house, a modern build on the hill, with floor-to-ceiling windows enough to give the lucky residents unmatched views of the waves crashing to shore. It was minimalist and pristine, and Libby didn’t even want to think about how much it had cost him to build it.
‘You're a total star,’ Libby told her friend, who, she realised, would be driving home to her riverfront apartment, where she’d eat her dinner – no doubt something healthy and full of superfoods which she didn’t really like, but felt compelled to eat – alone in front of re-runs of Sex and The City. Hardly the ideal way to spend a Friday night in your thirties. She felt a wave of guilt wash over her that while she was about to enjoy a lovingly prepared home-cooked, delicious feast washed down with a couple of glasses of wine, her friend was not. The joys of an Irish Catholic upbringing – there was always a dose of guilt on offer, even for things which were in no way your fault.
‘Why don't you come in and join us? You know Ant – always makes way too much food, even for my appetite. And there's never a shortage of wine. I’m sure he wouldn't mind.’ Okay, so actually Libby was sure Ant would mind, but he would be polite enough not to say anything.
‘I don’t think so. I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel,’ Jess said, but there was a hint of a waver in her voice.
‘You’d hardly be a third wheel and you’ve been a lifesaver today. You two are very important to me, you know.’ Libby meant every word and it pained her that Ant and Jess had barely gotten to know each other over the last eight months.
Jess raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. ‘You’re very important to me too, sweetheart. But I’d feel awkward. I’m sure Ant has plans for you both. Plans that most definitely don’t involve me and, quite frankly, I’m okay about that.’
Libby laughed. ‘Oh God, the way I'm feeling now, there will be no shenanigans tonight. I ache all over and am wrecked,’ she said, hoping Ant would understand why her libido was out of order for the evening.
‘Well, sure,’ she said, making a ‘shoo’ movement with her hands. ‘Get out of my car and into his dreams or some other such muddled clichéd nonsense.’
Libby looked at her friend, still uneasy at leaving her, but she could hardly put a gun to her head and force her. And the more time passed, the more she realised just how much she needed a shower and a glass of wine.
‘You’re sure?’ she said.
‘I am,’ Jess replied, a hint of frustration in her voice. ‘Don’t forget the dress from the boot. I'll catch up with you tomorrow. I’d love to come and help out. I can be there first thing.’