Chapter 62
SIXTY-TWO
MARGOT
Margot had longed for the day that they would return to France.
Although she’d been made so welcome in England with Theo and Arielle, it had never entirely felt like home.
She knew Cordeval had suffered on D-Day, when the Germans had taken up positions in buildings along the harbour only to be blasted into submission by the Allies.
But Joséphine had assured her that most of the town had come through relatively unscathed, including the bookshop.
On the journey across the Channel, Margot and Theo clutched the railings at the bow of the ship, anxiously staring across the blank waves for their first sight of France.
Arielle stood between them, their arms protectively round her shoulders.
It was the little girl who spotted their home first; a grey, misty shape on the horizon that grew more distinct as the miles past.
Tears rose in Margot’s eyes, and she glanced up at Theo. They could build a life together now, even though she had to call him by a different name.
They hired a car to take them from the port at Cherbourg to Cordeval. The busy port town had been battered by war, but everywhere Margot looked she saw scaffolding and cranes. It refused to be crushed by the years of occupation and the bombs and bullets of D-Day.
The drive to Cordeval seemed to take for ever, along country roads flanked by trees that were already turning gold at the first touch of autumn.
Margot clutched her hands in her lap, her head turning at each remembered landmark on the road; an inn, half blown to bits but still open; a church tower pockmarked with bullet holes; a farmhouse left in ruins.
When they arrived in Cordeval, baskets of early apples were piled up outside the shops, and the village was humming with the sound of hammers and saws. It looked like an enormous building site and Theo carefully piloted their borrowed Citroen past ladders, cement mixers and piles of bricks.
If only they were going to be meeting Daniel today.
If only Arielle, now a round-cheeked four-year-old in her prettiest dress, was going to see her father again.
Margot and Theo had brought her up on stories about her parents, and Arielle was excited and curious about returning to the country of her birth; a country she couldn’t remember as she’d been so young when they’d had to leave.
But it was too late. Daniel had survived for years, through the occupation, and had sabotaged the Germans wherever he could.
But the onslaught of the Allied landings and the viciousness of the German response had been too much.
Just as the Germans were being pushed back, away from the Normandy coast, Daniel had died a hero, securing France’s freedom, and liberty for his little girl.
Their return was bitter-sweet, but Margot smiled as they turned the corner into her old road and saw the bookshop up ahead.
‘Are we here?’ Arielle asked from the back seat as Theo drove slowly towards the shop. He glanced at the little girl in the rear-view mirror and smiled when she said, ‘Mama, is this home?’
‘Yes, it’s home,’ Margot told her, and reached behind to affectionately ruffle Arielle’s hair. Then, as Theo pulled up outside her bookshop, she dared herself to look.
There it was, at last, waiting for her like an old friend: Les Pages d’Espoir.
Some of the gold had flaked off the lettering, but the bookshop’s name was still there, proudly written across the front of the building.
Books, Maps, Etc., it still said. With a smile, Margot thought, Banned books and maps for the resistance.
A little bit of plaster had flaked off here and there, but there were signs of fresh paint on the wall, and red geraniums burst from the window boxes.
Someone had been busy, tidying the place up for their arrival.
There was a display in the window of books that Margot recognised at once; books that could’ve meant the end of the shop if she’d been found with them. A banner proudly declared: the books they banned – the books we read!
The little family climbed out of the car, Margot taking care as her bump was making it difficult to move around.
‘We’re going to live above a bookshop,’ she told Arielle, ‘with your little brother or sister.’ She smiled at Theo, and, as she placed her hand on her stomach, she felt the baby shift inside her. He kissed her cheek softly, and then Arielle was between them, taking Emil and Margot’s hands in hers.
‘And Papa will play piano,’ Arielle said decisively, beaming up at the man she knew wasn’t her father, but had come to fill that role over the years. Then she said in wonder, ‘And I’ll meet Bea.’
They’d sent a photograph of Arielle to Joséphine and Beatrice as soon as letters could flow into France again from England.
They’d wanted to show them how much the little girl they’d last seen as a baby had grown.
And they’d been sent one in return of Joséphine and Beatrice at the harbour with the rest of the book club.
It had been taken not long after liberation, and they beamed as they waved little tricolour flags.
As Arielle said that, the door of the shop opened and two figures emerged. Joséphine hadn’t changed so much in the few years, but Beatrice had grown from a little girl into a teenager. For a moment the two groups looked at one another, then Beatrice let out a cry of, ‘My little sister’s home!’
With that, she flew towards Arielle, who dropped Margot’s and Emil’s hands to readily accept Beatrice’s embrace.
‘It’s so good to see you again, Jo!’ Margot said, hugging her friend. They kissed each other on the cheek. ‘And we’re just so pleased to be back in Cordeval. It’s been years… Bea is almost a young woman, and the shop looks amazing – and so do you! We’ve missed you all so much!’
‘Welcome home,’ Joséphine said, wiping away her tears. ‘Monsieur and Madame Hoffman, we’ve all missed you so much. And you’re in just in time, because the book club meets tonight.’
‘Thank you for keeping it going, and the shop, too. I feel guilty that we had to run off and leave you,’ Margot admitted.
She and Theo had been so happy in Yorkshire, so safe, that the guilt had gnawed at her each time she remembered everyone back in Cordeval.
She glanced at Arielle, and added, ‘But you know we didn’t have any choice.
We’ll make it up to you. And I can’t wait to see everyone at the book club tonight! ’
As the season turned, Margot and her family settled back into Cordeval.
There were no soldiers marching the streets now, just the echoes of the friends they had lost, and the stories they must never forget.
She sold whatever books she chose at Les Pages d’Espoir, and she hoped that her children would come to love books as much as she did.
As the golden leaves blew across the cobbles outside, the shop filled again: lamplight glowed in the windows, the polished shelves shone, and the pages rustled. The brightly coloured door was never still for long.
* * *
Did Margot and Lucy’s unforgettable story break your heart before piecing it back together?