Page 12 of The Resistance Book Club

She wasn’t the sort of person to suddenly break off plans, but it would’ve been unbearable to meet her colleagues from other magazines, who knew about the wedding and would inevitably have asked her about it. And if she’d sat next to that catwalk in Paris, she wouldn’t have seen the models or the clothes they were wearing. She wouldn’t have been awestruck by the boldness of the designs and colours on display. She would have seen only indistinct figures moving through tears that she couldn’t let herself shed.

And now she not only had a bookshop to escape into, but the story of the book club they’d held during the occupation, a story full of secrets that Mémé wanted her to discover.

Lucy was still wearing her engagement ring, a platinum band with a square diamond. She’d grown so used to it that, with everything that had happened the day before, it hadn’t crossed her mind to take it off. She gritted her teeth as she pulled the ring off her finger, then held it up to the light that was coming into the room around the dark pink chintz curtains. It was as if, somewhere in the diamond’s heart, she could see herself with Andrew, dancing in his arms.

She wasn’t sure what to do with the ring. Give it back? Throw it into the sea? Instead, she pushed it down into the bottom of her suitcase where she wouldn’t have to see it.

She’d left her phone charging while she’d slept. It wassitting on the bedside table showing the time: 9.41. How had she managed to oversleep?

The phone reception had dropped out, which wasn’t surprising, but Jojo’s Wifi had connected, albeit without many bars. There was at least enough signal to make some phone calls.

She plumped up the pillows and leaned back against them, checking her phone to see if anyone had tried to get in touch. When she swiped her phone’s screen, her heart sank: it was full of unread messages. While waiting in the queue to board her plane yesterday, she’d sent her dad a quick text, and a message to the chat group she’d set up with her bridesmaids, her fingers moving stiffly to tap out just a short few sentences to tell them the wedding was off.But not why.

And when she’d landed, there were three missed calls and a voicemail that she knew would be from Andrew, but there was only one message. It said simply,It was a mistake. I love you, call when you land. X.

Lucy’s reply, sent from the back of the taxi as she headed to Cordeval, had been short and to the point as she’d bitten back the flames of her anger:I don’t want to speak to you. I certainly don’t want to marry you.

She still needed to tell her dad, and explain to her boss.

First of all, she decided to ring her dad. A ball of rage and sadness swelled inside her as she waited for him to answer. He’d been so proud of her, and had paid for her dress and put down a deposit for the reception. He’d been so looking forward to the wedding – she was his only child, after all. She really didn’t want to have to tell him such awful news.

‘Dad, it’s me,’ Lucy said when he picked up. She could hear noise in the background that sounded like a station and she pictured her father at home in London, amid the bustle and life that she had left behind.

‘Hello Lulu, what’s up?’ Philip said brightly. ‘You’ve caughtme on my way to meet Di; she’s forcing me to accompany her to the blasted ballet this evening!’

‘I’ve got bad news,’ she admitted. ‘It’s the wedding…I’ve got to call it off. It’s Andrew, he’s…’ She gulped back the tears that were threatening to fall. ‘He’s been having an affair. I only found out yesterday. I’m in Cordeval. I’ve got some time off, and there’s the bookshop to sort out…’

‘He’s what?’ Philip asked, surprised. ‘Darling, what’s happened? You’re— you shouldn’t be on your own. Come home!’

‘It’s okay, Dad, really,’ Lucy said. ‘I’ve met Mémé’s friend Beatrice and her grandson. They run the hotel where I’m staying. They’re such lovely people – just the kind I need to be around at the moment. You’ll never guess – when I arrived, they were holding a party to celebrate Mémé’s birthday!’

‘Come home,’ he reiterated. ‘I’m going to phone Andrew and find out what the hell he thinks he’s up to.’

‘Dad, it’s all right, really,’ Lucy said, hearing her voice feeding back as the signal struggled. ‘And you don’t need to worry about Andrew, I’ll—’ But before she could finish her sentence, the signal dropped out and she lost the call. She hadn’t even had time to tell him about the promotion she’d been offered, or the letter from Mémé that had been waiting for her under the counter.

Then she rang Polly, who ran the magazine group and had offered her the coveted role of editor. She needed to apologise for not attending the fashion show, and, as she waited for Polly to answer, she worried that it could’ve cost her the promotion.

‘Lucy!’ Polly exclaimed in her Cheltenham drawl. ‘Darling!’

‘Hi, Polly!’ Lucy replied. ‘I just want to apologise; I missed the show in Paris yesterday. Something happened on the way to the airport…it’s not easy to say this, but Ifound out my fiancé’s been having an affair. I just couldn’t go to Paris after that. I’m really sorry.’

She knew that didn’t sound like her usual slick and professional self, and she cringed as she waited for Polly’s reply.

‘Hm.’ Polly was silent for a moment after that non-committal sound of acknowledgement. Then she said, ‘I wish you’d let me know, Lucy, so I could’ve sent one of the other girls. It was a pretty big deal and we won’t have any on-the-spot coverage.’ She gave a sigh and Lucy pictured her closing her mascara-heavy eyes in annoyance. ‘Sorry about the fiancé. Men really are absolute hounds sometimes.’

‘I’m not going through with the wedding after that,’ Lucy told her. She could hear her voice rising in pitch as she held back her tears. Polly was on the guest list. That was something she’d have to sort out – with a sinking feeling, Lucy thought of all those people to contact. ‘I’ve got my two weeks’ leave, though. I still want to take it if that’s okay. Just to sort things out…clear my head. I need to sort out some things that my grandma’s left behind for me in France as well.’

‘Darling, no,’ chuckled Polly. ‘Marry the swine, then take him for everything in the divorce. I can recommend an absolute bastard of a lawyer. He’ll scalp the bugger!’ She gave a laugh before telling Lucy, ‘I picked out the most stunning bits and bobs from the wedding list but you can keep them. It’s all on the expenses, after all!’ There was a sound like tapping, as Polly’s lacquered nails worked at her keyboard. ‘I’ll let the girls in the office know if you like. You take your two weeks, get roaring drunk, shag a good-looking local boy with muscles to die for and come home refreshed. Promotion awaits!’

Lucy’s tears had melted away. She chuckled. ‘Thanks, Polly – you’ve really cheered me up! And don’t worry, I’m having a good think about the promotion. I’ll let you know ASAP.’

Lucy ended the call and took a deep breath before opening her wedding group chat. She’d called it Lucy’s Glitzy Gals, andfor months it’d been full of excited messages about the big day. There were photos of shoes – lots of shoes – photos from their day trying on wedding dresses and bridesmaids’ dresses while drinking champagne, photos from Lucy’s hen night. Smiles, laughter, joy.

And then, like a bucket of ice-cold water, there was her message from the day before, calling off the wedding.

Lucy tried to ignore the tears rising in her eyes, and blinked them away. Her dad had always said it wasn’t worth wasting energy on tears.

What the actual? Trying to call you. Pick up, gorgeous! Xxx