Chapter 11
ELEVEN
LUCY
Lucy put the books back into the crate. She got to her feet, brushing her hands as she mulled over her thoughts. If the book left for Esther was banned, did that mean Margot had continued to sell them? What a risk to take. But she wasn’t surprised: Mémé had had the same indomitable spirit.
Just then, she heard someone knock on the door. She was sure she’d turned the sign to closed. She left the storeroom and made her way down the length of the shop, and spotted them at once.
There were about half a dozen middle-aged men and women, who Lucy had seen at the party last night. They were waving at her, and looked so cheerful that she didn’t have the heart to send them away.
She unlocked the front door with its large, brass key and stood back to let them in.
‘The shop’s not open at the moment, but come on in anyway,’ she said warmly. She swept her arm wide in welcome.
‘Arielle’s Army, here to welcome our new bookseller!
’ announced a tall, bearded man at the front of the group.
He turned to address a woman in a brightly printed summer dress, who was looking around the little shop with a smile.
‘Chantal, do you remember when we taught the cats to climb the Christmas tree Arielle put in the window? Every day for a week, those cats brought the tree down!’
Lucy cringed. She wasn’t the ‘new bookseller’; she couldn’t carry on with the shop. But she’d never heard of Arielle’s Army before, and was curious.
Chantal laughed and nodded. ‘Madame Pascal – Arielle – never lost her temper,’ she reminisced.
‘I don’t know how – we ran her ragged. We used to come to storytime in the shop.
If we struggled to read at school, she helped us.
She was a such a lovely lady. We still meet up and have reunions here in the shop. Isn’t that so, Bertrand?’
Bertrand, the man with the beard who had led the way, gave a keen nod.
‘And Arielle’s mother had her own little army of children before her.
After school, the village children would rush down here for her stories and games.
This place is the heart of Cordeval.’ He put one hand on the counter and told Lucy with a cheeky wink, ‘And now the bookshop is in safe hands!’
Every face in front of her was beaming. ‘Ah, well, you see…’ Lucy began, but the words petered out.
‘We were so relieved when you came to the party last night,’ said a woman with short grey hair, wearing a stripy Breton top. ‘We were worried about who’d run the shop after Arielle passed away, then you walked in. We all said, there she is, Arielle’s girl, she’ll keep the bookshop going!’
Some of the group had broken away and were looking along the shelves of books. A man with blond hair streaked with grey had gone down to the children’s section, and was on his way back with a toddler’s board-book telling the story of The Little Prince.
‘We’ll have to have a shop-warming party for you!’ said Bertrand. ‘It’ll be a great excuse for us all to eat Sébastien’s cooking.’
‘Oh, that’s so sweet of you!’ Lucy said, embarrassed.
‘I’ll get this one for my grandson,’ the man with the Little Prince book said, as he laid it down on the counter.
He produced his wallet from his pocket and smiled expectantly at Lucy. She realised she was about to make her first sale – in a shop she couldn’t keep.
‘Oh, isn’t that a lovely edition?’ she said to him, admiring the illustrations and the cursive style of the lettering on the cover. She had always loved books, both as places to find stories and as beautifully designed objects.
She rang it through the till and counted out the change.
It was strange, handling the very same coins that had been carefully counted into each compartment of the till drawer by Mémé before she passed away.
Her hand trembled as she slipped the book into a paper bag with Les Pages d’Espoir printed on it.
As Lucy handed the book to him, she realised she had a queue.
Arielle’s Army had chosen their books and, one by one, she served them, tapping at the till, the bell ringing merrily as if Mémé was back behind the counter again.
Although it felt utterly surreal to have suddenly become a bookseller, Lucy found she had something to say about every book they chose.
She recommended another book by the same author, or commented that she hadn’t read that one yet and would have to add it to her list.
Once the last book had been sold, Lucy came out from behind the counter.
‘We’ll be back soon!’ the lady in the Breton top promised. She kissed Lucy, first on one cheek, then the other. Lucy smiled, but she didn’t deserve their affection, because she wasn’t going to step into Arielle’s shoes.
One by one, Arielle’s Army kissed Lucy goodbye and headed out of the shop. Lucy closed the door behind them, her shoulders heavy.
She was going to disappoint so many people, especially if the bookshop was bought by someone who decided to turn it into something else entirely. She had to start the selling process soon, get it over with and return to her old life and her new job.
But if she turned her back on Cordeval now, she’d never find out what secrets from the past were hidden within the bookshop’s walls, just waiting for her to find them.