Page 63 of The Resistance Book Club

‘Oh, I have, yes,’ Lucy replied. ‘And I’ve got some other news to tell you as well.’

She found them a table in the cool interior of the bar and Galette sat beside her as she took her seat. She was fizzing with excitement.

There was another reason to be excited too, and he was heading her way, bringing steaming bowls to their table. ‘White wine for the book club queen,’ Anouk said, grinning as she brought two glasses over too. ‘All that’s missing here is a romantic red rose!’

‘I didn’t know you wanted a new job,’ Sébastien replied dryly, but Lucy was sure she caught the faintest hint of a blush. ‘You’ll never make it as a comedian, Anouk!’

She stuck out her tongue, then wandered back to the bar to continue preparing for the bustling evening crowd.

Lucy wasn’t sure what to say. She hadn’t wanted to acknowledge what had been simmering inside her, but somehow Anouk had seen it. Sébastien was a very handsome man and a talented chef; the bowls of soup he’d brought to the table smelt divine. He must’ve had a queue of women a mile long wanting to go out with him.

And besides, Lucy tried very hard to remind herself, she’d gone off men.

‘I wanted to tell you that I’ve changed my mind,’ she said. She hoped that he hadn’t set his heart on owning Les Pagesd’Espoir. ‘I’m not selling the bookshop; I want to stay in Cordeval.’

‘Oh, that’s interesting,’ Sébastien murmured thoughtfully. ‘And good news for a couple of reasons.’

‘And why’s that?’ Lucy was relieved that he thought it was good news. She took a spoonful of the vichyssoise soup and paused for a moment to enjoy the flavours. ‘I hadn’t wanted to disappoint you, not if you were really looking forward to taking on the bookshop.’

He nodded. ‘Well, your gran wanted you to have it. So wherever she is, she’s happy.’ He smiled. ‘And if I was buying your shop, I wouldn’t feel right asking you out. But I’m not, so…do you fancy doing something this weekend?’

Lucy nearly dropped her spoon in surprise. ‘I’d love to.’ She was surprised by her words, but she knew it was the right reply. She felt so happy when she was with him, and when she wasn’t she felt warmth and contentment just thinking about him. Maybe it was too soon after Andrew, but why not? She grinned at him and asked, ‘Does this mean that this is sort of a date too? A code-cracking first date?’

Sébastien laughed, then rapped his knuckles on the table. ‘Get to it, soldier. What does it say?’

Lucy angled the music and the paper overlaying it so they could both see it, then referred back to Margot’s letter. There had to be some meaning in it, some message that the combination of dots and notes would reveal. It was confusing to begin with, and she wished Theo was sitting at their table too, explaining how it worked. He was the musician, after all; he must’ve known. But then, finally, it clicked, and Lucy jabbed her finger at the paper.

‘It says, “Liberté, égalité, fraternité”!’ The national motto of France. She beamed at Sébastien. ‘It’s as if Theo’s spoken straight to us.’

‘Hidden in a lullaby,’ Sébastien murmured, looking down atthe notes. ‘And what about our scat jazz? What does that one say?’

Lucy turned over the piece of paper. The music wasn’t as neat and tidy as Theo’s, as if it’d been written by someone who wasn’t as familiar with notes and staves. Now that she’d worked out how to decipher the code, it didn’t take long for her to pull out a string of letters. But she had no idea what it meant and wondered if she’d made a mistake somewhere.

‘Margot Zichrona Livracha…?’ Lucy took a sip of her wine as she ran the words through her mind. ‘I don’t know, but I feel like I should know what it means…’

Sébastien reached into his pocket and took out his phone. Once Lucy had spelled out the words, he said, ‘It’s Hebrew.’ Then he turned the screen round for her to see. ‘“May her memory be a blessing.” That must be a message for Margot.’ He frowned. ‘Why would someone leave a blessing in code for Margot?’

Lucy stared at the words, then met Sébastien’s gaze. She was so glad that he was as fascinated by Cordeval’s secret histories as she was; so much bound them together. ‘I wonder who wrote that? Maybe Daniel, because Margot faced all that risk to care for his baby? Did she ever see it?’

‘This story needs to be told,’ Sébastien said decisively. ‘By the woman who runs the new Resistance Book Club.’

Lucy smiled. There was something in his gaze, in those dark, twinkling eyes. And it looked very much like a spark that promised more.

FORTY-TWO

MARGOT

1941

Margot walked through Cordeval the next day, wrapped in her warm coat and scarf. Although the day was chilly, the strong breeze had blown away the clouds, and the low autumn sun shone down on Cordeval.

She couldn’t help the smile that kept creeping onto her lips. She shouldn’t be happy – Isabelle would soon be escaping with her father, and she’d miss the little girl dreadfully. And life under the thumb of the SS was one nightmare after another; she couldn’t face even the thought of walking through the square. But she held on to her one thread of happiness, Theo.

She was collecting supplies for the escaped internees who would flee alongside Isabelle and Daniel. They would only have the clothes they stood up in, so Margot was visiting her book club friends for whatever they could spare; clean clothes, even if they were a little worn or darned, food, medicine. As Margot passed some SS troops, who paid her only the briefest attention, she knew she looked like an ordinary woman with just an innocent shopping basket over her arm.

One of the troops glanced towards her, then turned to his colleagues and murmured something in German. They laughed and looked her up and down.

They must’ve seen her in the square with Theo, the man who’d declared he was a good German in the face of his brother’s brutality.