Chapter 49
FORTY-NINE
LUCY
Lucy hadn’t been to her grandparents’ grave since Mémé’s funeral. The cemetery had been so crowded with people then, and she wanted to visit again and spend a few moments alone with her grandmother. Sébastien had come with her – she was glad of that.
Someone had been tending her grandparents’ resting place; there were fresh flowers in the vase on their grave.
‘Mémé, I don’t think you’re here, not really.
But it’s as good a place as any to talk to you,’ Lucy said quietly as she added her flowers.
‘I was so surprised when I found out that you’d left me the bookshop – but now, I’m just so pleased that you did.
I want to stay. I’ve always been so happy here.
And all those stories you’ve left for me… your mum was so brave!’
She turned to the grave beside Mémé’s. At the funeral, her father had pointed out that Mémé’s parents lay beside her.
There was a small enamel portrait photograph of Margot and Emil on the headstone in profile, gazing at each other.
It must’ve been taken some time in the 1960s, and showed just how much they were in love, even as the years went by.
Mémé had always looked after their resting place, so that the image had never faded.
Lucy laid a rose across the grave. She’d have to get a vase for them, too.
She noticed movement at the corner of her eye. When she looked up from the grave, she thought she was seeing things. A figure was approaching through the marble monuments; a figure who looked very much like her father.
‘Dad?’ she called out.
‘Do you want me to leave you two alone?’ Sébastien asked as her father raised his hand in greeting. He was picking his way through the gravestones, looking every inch the Englishman abroad in his Panama hat, despite having been born in Cordeval.
‘No, I want you to stay and meet him,’ Lucy said. And she hoped he might provide some moral support as well. She waved back at her father. ‘Dad, we were just bringing some flowers for Mémé. I think you might know Sébastien, Beatrice’s grandson? He runs Jojo’s.’
Her father did a double take and said, ‘I swear you were about ten years old last time I saw you. Either that or I’m getting older!’ He held out his hand to Sébastien. ‘Philip Pascal. How’re your mum and dad?’
Sébastien shook his hand. ‘Loving early retirement,’ he said. Galette pottered over to Philip and sniffed his hand, and received a fuss in return. ‘Good to see you again. Galette says hello too.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to visit, Dad?’ Lucy asked her father with a smile, even though she was inwardly bracing herself for a speech about how much she’d lose if she didn’t go back to London with him.
‘Because you’re not the only Pascal who has mad spur-of-the-moment ideas,’ he admitted with a slightly embarrassed smile.
‘Diana and I were thinking about a spot of brunch, but decided that we’d come to France instead.
And Diana’s tucked away at Jojo’s with a coffee and the indefatigable Beatrice right now. ’
Sébastien nodded approvingly. ‘Makes sense to me,’ he said.
‘Especially if you’re going to sample some of Sébastien’s amazing food!’ Lucy chuckled. She decided to face things head-on. ‘I’m glad you’ve come, because I want you to understand why I’m going to stay here.’
Philip looked at Sébastien. It was just a brief glance, but that glance told Lucy that he had his suspicions. He was wrong though; she wasn’t giving everything up for a holiday romance.
‘There’s so much that I need to tell you about…’ She thought of the notebook and the memory box that she wanted to show him. ‘But now you’re here, maybe you could show me the Cordeval that you remember – back when you were a boy?’
He narrowed his eyes, but Lucy could see the affection in his gaze all the same. After a moment he said, ‘You know you’re just like your mother. Come on then; I’ll take you on a tour of the old haunts.’
And so they made their way around Cordeval, Lucy seeing it anew.
She loved visiting the village, but her father had actually lived here.
He remembered characters from Cordeval who’d since passed away – the old woman who’d chased him and his friends with a broom, the other one who lived in a flat on the square and delighted in showering them with bonbons from her balcony.
He showed her the winding alleyways where he and his brother, and their friends from the village school, had played cache-cache – hide-and-seek – behind the piles of nets and lobster pots.
Lucy remembered reading about Margot hiding banned books in exactly the same place.
As they strolled, Galette sometimes rushed ahead, before circling back to walk beside them.
Her father seemed so changed from how he was in London.
This was the French version of him, relaxed and happy, waving to locals who recognised him and stopped him in the street to say hello.
Philip’s stories also connected him with Sébastien, who remembered playing in the same places when he was a child.
They finished their walk around Cordeval by returning to the bookshop through the back alley and going into the garden.
As her father told them about the games they’d played in the garden, Galette was busy sniffing about.
There’d been a rockery in one corner, but over the years a tree had taken root and had pushed the rocks aside.
Mémé hadn’t been much of a gardener, and that corner had been forgotten, although Galette seemed very interested in it.
‘What’s he found over there?’ Lucy wondered aloud. ‘It can’t be rabbits, can it?’
She went over to see. It looked as if the recent storm had disturbed the rockery. She gripped Galette’s collar to draw him back from his treasure. Despite the years of soil and rust, she recognised the shape and knew exactly what it was.
Her heart was hammering with alarm as she pulled the dog further back.
‘Everyone get back!’ she urged, her eyes wide with fear. ‘Galette’s found a bomb!’