Chapter 57
FIFTY-SEVEN
LUCY
Philip had heard the explosion and had come straight back to the village in his car, bringing Diana and Beatrice with him. Lucy knew she’d terrified her father, and she dreaded to think of what’d gone through his mind when he’d heard the bomb go off.
They all went up to what had once been Mémé’s flat and Lucy, trying to soothe everyone’s nerves, made coffee for them in Mémé’s favourite mugs.
‘Sorry, Dad,’ she said, affectionately rumpling his hair as she gave him his coffee.
‘Don’t ever give me a fright like that again,’ Philip warned. Then he turned to his wife and said, ‘Have you got our presents in your bag, Di? I feel like we ought to hand them over here in the shop.’
‘Yes, I do,’ Diana said with a smile, and opened her roomy Hermès bag. She produced a parcel wrapped in pretty, floral paper and passed it to Philip. ‘He’s been talking about these ever since we decided to come over and pay you a visit!’
‘Mémé left the shop to you,’ Philip said as he held out the parcel. ‘But she left you these too. Years ago, she asked me to give them to you after her death. They’ve seen the whole world and brought me a lot of luck, but it’s time they came home.’
Lucy took the parcel. She was puzzled. She tore open the wrapping paper, and gasped as she saw them.
A little knitted goose and a small teddy bear wearing a tartan bowtie: Isabelle’s toys.
She tenderly lifted them and held them to her face, picturing the helpless little girl who’d snuggled them as she lay in a Moses basket in this very room.
Tears began to rise in Lucy’s eyes. Margot must’ve saved them for Mémé when she was small, and once again Lucy wondered what had happened to Isabelle.
By now, she’d been through every last item in the memory box. She’d sorted them, typed them up, and fitted them into the framework of Mémé and Beatrice’s notebook. But there were some secrets that the memory box couldn’t reveal.
Beatrice smiled gently. ‘You’re nearly at the end of your story,’ she told Lucy and Philip. Then she turned to Sébastien. ‘Will you bring my photo albums over later?’ she asked. He nodded as she added, ‘It’s time.’
Lucy wondered what the photo albums would tell them, and was sure her father would’ve seen the pictures before. But then she remembered that there was one last thing she hadn’t looked at, which had been waiting for her in the shop on the day she’d arrived.
‘Bea,’ Lucy asked her. ‘What about Esther’s book, the one under the counter? I didn’t want to unwrap it because it feels like such a piece of history like that. But do you think Mémé would’ve minded if I did look inside?’
Beatrice wrinkled her nose thoughtfully, then shook her head. ‘I don’t think Arielle would mind at all.’ She reached out and took Lucy’s hand. ‘The book belongs to you now.’