Page 78 of The Resistance Book Club

FIFTY-FIVE

LUCY

2025

Lucy and Sébastien were nearly at the village. They had to carry on through the tunnels, but Lucy was dreading what they would discover. She tried not to cry and kept wiping away tears that were stubbornly rising.

She wasn’t sure how the bookshop could’ve survived such an explosion, and Sébastien’s business could’ve been blown to pieces too. And with it, so much history that hadn’t yet been told. Beatrice could’ve sat down and gone through her memories with them, but the artefacts – the photographs, the buildings themselves – they might be destroyed.

They reached the door into the bookshop’s cellar and Lucy’s stomach was in knots as she opened it and reached for the light switch. She couldn’t see clearly through her tears, but as she wiped them away again she realised that everything was in its place.

‘Sébastien…do you think…? Is it all right after all?’ she asked.

Feeling braver now, she led the way up the stairs. Shesighed deeply with relief when the door opened without a hitch.

‘It’s all right!’ She beamed at him and, without thinking, joyfully flung her arms round him. As she did, a heavy knock sounded at the door.

‘Who’s in there?’ a voice barked.

Lucy’s insides turned to water. It was as if the SS were on the other side of the door.

She told herself not to be so ridiculous, and released Sébastien from her embrace to open the back door into the garden. She peered outside through the gap.

‘Hello,’ she said to a man dressed head to toe in bombproof armour. ‘I live here.’

‘And you were evacuated, along with the rest of the village,’ he replied sternly. He looked Sébastien up and down and said, ‘So were you. How did you get back into the building?’

‘She led me astray.’ Sébastien laughed. ‘Her family have a history of it.’

‘We heard the explosion while we were—’ Lucy decided not to mention the tunnels. She went on, ‘And I was worried about the house and everything – is it safe now?’

He nodded. ‘The device has been made safe. This village must’ve seen a fair bit of action during the war.’

‘Oh, yes, quite a bit,’ Lucy replied, laughing.

She’d already found out so much and could’ve begun to tell the village’s story, but she was sure that she hadn’t discovered Mémé’s secret yet. Somewhere in Lucy’s mind, an idea was beginning to take shape; a baby in a woman’s arms, too vague for her to grasp.

Whatever had happened to Isabelle?

FIFTY-SIX

MARGOT

1941

Margot only had a small torch in her handbag, with a weak glow, but it was enough for Beatrice to lead them. After a few minutes Joséphine had joined them, and the four of them, with Isabelle, hurried through the tunnels. Margot’s feet slipped where the stone was wet, but she didn’t fall. Luck seemed to be with them at last.

Every heartbeat marked a moment passing, and Margot knew that time was tight. She could still hear planes passing overhead, and she wondered where that bomb had hit. It must’ve been somewhere in Cordeval.

She strained her ears to catch any sound of other people’s footsteps. Isabelle had picked up on their anxiety and her grizzling echoed in the tunnels. Margot tried to whisper comforting sounds to her, as quietly as she could.

Eventually, they reached an old door with a rusty bolt. It made a horrible grinding noise as they slid it across. Then, with Margot’s heart in her throat, they pushed open the door.

The beach lay before them, silvered in the moonlight. Thewaves whispered against the expanse of sand, which was gnarled with barbed wire and wooden posts set up by the Germans. A gun turret overlooked the beach, and Margot forced herself to look at it, but it was ominously silent.

Margot saw figures clustered against the shore, staring out to sea. In the sparse light, she realised it was Daniel and the escapees who’d hidden in her cellar. They looked so vulnerable standing there, exhausted but still full of hope as they waited for the boat that would take them to safety.

Margot gazed down at Isabelle in her basket. Her eyes were wide as she cooed up at the night sky. She was quiet now, as if she was fascinated by the stars. It’d been days since she’d last seen them, which was a long time for a baby who was only a few months old.