Chapter 55
FIFTY-FIVE
LUCY
Lucy and Sébastien were nearly at the village. They had to carry on through the tunnels, but Lucy was dreading what they would discover. She tried not to cry and kept wiping away tears that were stubbornly rising.
She wasn’t sure how the bookshop could’ve survived such an explosion, and Sébastien’s business could’ve been blown to pieces too.
And with it, so much history that hadn’t yet been told.
Beatrice could’ve sat down and gone through her memories with them, but the artefacts – the photographs, the buildings themselves – they might be destroyed.
They reached the door into the bookshop’s cellar and Lucy’s stomach was in knots as she opened it and reached for the light switch. She couldn’t see clearly through her tears, but as she wiped them away again she realised that everything was in its place.
‘Sébastien… do you think…? Is it all right after all?’ she asked.
Feeling braver now, she led the way up the stairs. She sighed deeply with relief when the door opened without a hitch.
‘It’s all right!’ She beamed at him and, without thinking, joyfully flung her arms round him. As she did, a heavy knock sounded at the door.
‘Who’s in there?’ a voice barked.
Lucy’s insides turned to water. It was as if the SS were on the other side of the door.
She told herself not to be so ridiculous, and released Sébastien from her embrace to open the back door into the garden. She peered outside through the gap.
‘Hello,’ she said to a man dressed head to toe in bombproof armour. ‘I live here.’
‘And you were evacuated, along with the rest of the village,’ he replied sternly. He looked Sébastien up and down and said, ‘So were you. How did you get back into the building?’
‘She led me astray.’ Sébastien laughed. ‘Her family have a history of it.’
‘We heard the explosion while we were—’ Lucy decided not to mention the tunnels. She went on, ‘And I was worried about the house and everything – is it safe now?’
He nodded. ‘The device has been made safe. This village must’ve seen a fair bit of action during the war.’
‘Oh, yes, quite a bit,’ Lucy replied, laughing.
She’d already found out so much and could’ve begun to tell the village’s story, but she was sure that she hadn’t discovered Mémé’s secret yet. Somewhere in Lucy’s mind, an idea was beginning to take shape; a baby in a woman’s arms, too vague for her to grasp.
Whatever had happened to Isabelle?