Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
LUCY
‘I don’t want to give them a bad impression,’ Lucy admitted to Sébastien, as she gestured to the boxes in the cellar. ‘But… it does look authentic.’
She wondered if the book club members would mind that the chairs were old and there were stacks of crates and boxes in the room.
Sébastien stood back and looked around, taking in the boxes of candles and the graffiti on the wall, lost for so long, that their flames would illuminate.
He nodded thoughtfully, then patted the top of the radio the women had used and asked, ‘How have you resisted the temptation to just throw Chevalier into Google and see what comes up?’
Lucy chuckled awkwardly. ‘I admit it, I nearly did the other day. But then I saw the hatbox in the corner of my eye, and I stopped myself. Mémé and Beatrice – and Margot, too – want to tell me the story their way. And whoever’s written about Chevalier online never actually met them – but your grandma did! ’
‘Yeah, I’m finding out some things about her that I didn’t know,’ he admitted. Then he strolled across the cellar to the door that led to the tunnels and inched it open, just enough to peer into the darkness. ‘So the gals are coming through the front door tonight? Or the tunnels?’
‘The tunnels.’ Lucy beamed at him. She was secretly envious that she wouldn’t get to go through the tunnels herself.
‘Just like they did back in the 1940s. Anouk’s arranged it – they’re going to meet in your bar first, and then she’s going to lead the way.
There’s that short tunnel that runs under the road. ’
Lucy went over to the box where she’d found the old, crumbling map of the tunnels and pointed the route out to Sébastien.
‘You’ll miss out on the fun in the tunnels,’ he teased. ‘Unless you fancy nipping under the road right now for a glass of something? On the house, of course, for the book club lady.’
‘Oh, I’d love to!’ Lucy replied. ‘And it’d be good to check that the route’s safe. No SS soldiers lurking down there or anything like that.’
‘Better not be, but I’ll take ’em on just for you if there are.
’ Sébastien laughed. ‘Grab a torch so we don’t end up in the English Channel?
’ As Lucy collected the torch, Sébastien opened the door.
‘It’s wild, isn’t it? They passed that baby back and forth, distributed maps, even talked to England, and the Nazis never knew a thing.
Right under their noses. I reckon one day, there’ll be a book club meeting talking about this book club, because somebody’s got to write it up.
Someone with a background in journalism, maybe? ’ And he raised an insinuating eyebrow.
‘Well, Mémé did ask me to write their story,’ Lucy replied. ‘I’ve already started, but I just hope I can do it justice.’
The smell of salt filled the cellar and the waves sighed in the distance.
She thought of Margot, standing where she was now.
They went into the tunnel, their footsteps echoing, the torch beam picking out the hand-carved walls.
Although they were dark and claustrophobic, a labyrinth for anyone who didn’t know their way, they’d been a lifeline, keeping people safe and connected, hidden from the Germans.
In only a few steps, they reached a junction. The tunnel that went on ahead disappeared into the distance, but a short arm branched off, and Lucy checked the map. It was the passage that went under the road to Jojo’s bar.
Just as she was about to take the turning, she noticed something on the wall in the torchlight.
‘What’s that? Those marks on the wall?’ she asked Sébastien.
Instantly she thought of the sheet of paper she’d found, with a shopping list on the back, where Margot had written about the shooting in the tunnels.
She’d shown it to Sébastien earlier. ‘Some of them look like long scrapes, but the others are holes in the rock. They can’t be— hang on, those are bullet holes! ’
Sébastien peered at the wall, where the beam of the torch illuminated the crumbling holes. After a moment he nodded and said, ‘This must be where they shot at Theo and the others.’ He brushed his fingers over the surface and shuddered.
Lucy wished she hadn’t joked about finding an SS soldier in the tunnels, where their shadows still remained. Embedded in the rock, not far from the bookshop’s cellar, were rusted SS bullets.
‘I can’t imagine how terrifying it must’ve been,’ Lucy said with a shiver, and linked her arm through Sébastien’s.
All those years ago, a small group of women in Cordeval had put their fears aside and come through the tunnels to meet up together and share their love of books.
And tonight, another group of Cordeval women would follow in their footsteps.