Lucy’s Book Club for the Lost and Found: A heart-warming feel-good romance novel

by Emma Davies

  It was so sad – and utterly senseless. Sixty or so years had passed; nearly a whole lifetime of love lost because another set of parents had made a decision without consultation, compassion, or understanding. They had been steadfast in their conviction that they knew best, but Oscar and Mary, and now Oscar alone, were proof that they had been wrong.

  Lucy sat with the ticking of the kitchen clock behind her, tears pouring down her face, not just in sadness for everything she had heard, but in shame at her own actions. She had thought that if she helped Oscar to talk about things it might help him, but he’d spent a whole lifetime keeping his feelings under wraps and all Lucy had done was bring them to the surface once more. She wiped at her tears angrily. From now on she would keep her mouth shut – she’d done enough harm.

  * * *

  It was later than Hattie had planned by the time they got home and Poppy was beginning to get tired and hungry. Hattie had scarcely noticed, though, as she sailed down the lanes with her daughter on a tide of wellbeing, which had lasted through the preparations for their tea and Poppy’s bath time, right up until the point when they were snuggled up on the sofa reading the Hairy Maclary book they had borrowed from the library earlier.

  Usually Hattie’s favourite time of day, even the comforting smell of Poppy’s freshly washed hair under her chin couldn’t dispel the first stirrings of panic. It was the right thing to do, of that she was sure. After all, why had she given Lia the dress if not to persuade her to take up dancing?

  It had been so easy to get caught up in the excitement of the moment. When Gwen had popped up the stairs to check what all the commotion had been about and found her and Lia twirling each other in circles, Lia looking stunning in that dress, she offered on the spot to look after Lia’s mum while Lia went dancing. So, the only thing left to consider had been who might be able to accompany her. After all, there was no way she would want to go along on her own, not when she’d hardly been out of the house in years and didn’t know anybody. It had seemed the easiest thing in the world for Hattie to offer to go with her – and she wanted to, she really did, it was just that now, as her daughter sat on her lap, it was beginning to sink in what that really meant.

  Once upon a time and really not that long ago, Hattie had worn that same dress. She had had the kind of life that necessitated such stunning clothes; she’d lived in a beautiful house with a beautiful man who loved her so much he had whisked her away to a desert island, and there, against a backdrop of azure sea, on sand so pale it was almost white, he had dropped to one knee and asked her to marry him. For a long time she had felt beautiful too.

  He wanted a party, he’d said, to show her off to all his friends and family, a lavish celebration of what was to be the start of their fairy-tale life together. And, because he thought the world of her, he’d wanted her to plan it all and style it in the way only she could; the epitome of good taste and design. He’d bought her a single diamond to wear on her finger for all the world to see and she had known immediately the kind of dress she wanted to wear with it for the big occasion. As she’d sat down to sew she had dreamed about her future and the kind of life that had just been promised to her.

  There were over a hundred guests at the party, and on entering the hotel’s ballroom, hired especially for the night, her hand was on her fiancé’s arm as applause rang out across the room. Amidst the whistles, claps and calls she had truly known what it was like to feel a million dollars. They had danced the night away, her dress whirling around her, the champagne flushing her cheeks a delicate pink to match her dress. And, as evening had turned to early morning, she had slipped upstairs to their room to retrieve a pair of soft ballet pumps, so that she might keep on dancing. There, against the pale damask wallpaper, she found her husband to be, his trousers around his knees, pumping hard into another woman he had pressed against the wall.

  Turning on her heel, Hattie had run back to the ballroom only to realise that everyone already knew. She could see it on their faces; what she had taken for admiration and joy, she now saw was merely a polite form of pity.

  Two weeks later she had found out that she was pregnant.

  Still reeling from the shock of having her relationship blown apart in front of her, she’d been struck down with violent morning sickness that gripped her from morning till night. She couldn’t eat or sleep as her hormones raged through her, tangling her emotions until she couldn’t tell which end was up. If it hadn’t been for her family she thought she might have gone mad. Her mum, like any tiger whose cub is threatened, bared her claws, protecting her from the pathetic excuses of her grovelling ex-fiancé and her so-called friends, who had suspected his appalling behaviour all along but done nothing to alert her to it. Her dad, usually so quiet and against confrontation of any sort, had also gently protected her from anything he thought might upset her. Hattie was alone, bereft, but at least safe in her family’s caring arms. Then, a few months into her pregnancy, her grandma had died. It had been a dreadful time – understandably for her mum most of all, who had been felled by grief and consumed by anger. Now, looking back, Hattie realised that that was when things began to change.

  At first she’d thought her pregnancy-addled brain was imagining it – the odd hurtful comment here, a pithy remark there, but nothing that seemed to have any cause. Hattie put things down to the stress of the last few months but her mum had refused to discuss it, saying that Hattie was overreacting or just being sensitive. But as time passed it continued, and slowly but surely the closeness they had once shared evaporated and she and her mum had grown further and further apart. Although Hattie had alluded to this when she spoke to Lia in the park the other day, the truth of it was that she rarely saw her mum and dad any longer. Only her sister came to babysit now and it was a constant source of upset to Hattie that to this day she didn’t understand what had gone wrong.

  She had tried to keep positive about the future, after all, think how much worse things would have been if she had actually married her scumbag fiancé. At times when it felt like her heart really would break in two she knew that she had also been set free. Somewhere, some day, she would find a decent man, one who truly loved her, who would remain faithful to her as a lover and a friend and be a father to the growing bump inside her. She would never have to live a lie again. Mercifully, after her morning sickness departed as suddenly as it had arrived, the rest of her pregnancy had been a dream and Hattie had never felt so vital, so alive. When Poppy was finally born, her life, while in no way easy, felt like it had a purpose again.

  For the first couple of years, looking after Poppy had consumed her days, and most of her nights too. She’d hardly had time – or the inclination, to be honest – to dwell on the state of her relationship with her mum. Motherhood may have taken her by surprise, but she was astonished by the wellspring of love she felt for her daughter and had been content to let the time go by and simply enjoy being with her. Yet as Poppy grew older and more independent, vague doubts had begun to creep into Hattie’s mind. What would she do when Poppy no longer needed her every minute of the day? What would happen to her when Poppy started school? Without her family she had nothing and no-one around her, and the thought began to scare her. She’d started trying to make amends with her mother, but the wall that had been built over the years had proved hard to dismantle.

  Today, for the first time in a long time, Hattie hadn’t felt quite so alone. She had even felt a flicker of hope that things might be beginning to change for her. The joy on Lia’s face as she had twirled around the room in her dress was all the confirmation she needed that her plan was a good one. But that dress held nothing but bad memories for her, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to remember them just yet. Tonight, once Poppy was in bed, she would take out her sister’s wedding gown to work on. Perhaps if she sewed all her love into this new dress, to make it as magical as she could, some of that magic might spill over and create some happier memories for their family.

  Chapter Ten

/>   It was a vile evening and one which perfectly mirrored Lucy’s mood. She usually loved being in the library at this time of night; when it was quiet and contemplative she felt more at one with the books and the stories around her than at any other time of the week. Sometimes, if it was really quiet and her work was up to date, she would simply sit at one of the tables with a book she had chosen at random from the shelves. She’d run her finger along the spines and stop wherever her heart decided. Many of her favourites had been found in this way, but tonight not even this would settle her.

  The wind had been steadily rising all day and now the rain had joined in, battering the windows, blowing into every corner it could find, hurling in sheets across the car park. Lucy peered out the window and then back down at her watch. If it didn’t stop in the next twenty minutes she was going to get absolutely soaked on her way home. The only good thing about it was that she could then legitimately run a bath, spend a good couple of hours in there and slink off to bed early with her latest read.

  She picked up a couple more books and wandered down the length of the bookcase nearest to her, straightening the spines in a desultory fashion. Not surprisingly the space was quiet; a couple of college students writing essays, a gentleman browsing the crime section and Callum on the computer. Even as she glanced about, the students began to collect their things together; it was nearly seven o’clock and they had far more interesting things to do with their evening.

  The table at the far end by the children’s section was also empty, as it had been for most of the day – and yesterday too, when it should have been occupied, for the morning at least, by Oscar, but he had never appeared. It was the first time for as long as she could remember that he had missed a day, and as she straightened the chairs underneath the table her hand lingered on its surface for a moment as if trying to feel the words they had shared over it a few days before. But there was nothing, and Lucy could only hope that tomorrow he would return; she so desperately wanted to know how he was.

  Lost in her thoughts, it took a moment for her to realise that someone was speaking to her.

  ‘I’m sorry, Callum, I was miles away. What did you say?’

  He held out a set of keys. ‘I think Phoebe must have left these behind earlier. I didn’t notice when she left.’

  Lucy looked down at his hand, frowning.

  ‘At least one of them looks like a door key,’ he added. ‘Although she left just under an hour ago. If she hadn’t been able to get in I’m sure she would have noticed by now and come back.’

  ‘Unless she didn’t go straight back home, of course.’

  ‘Oh.’ Callum bit his lip. ‘I didn’t think of that. Shouldn’t we try and get them back to her? I don’t mind going, but I don’t know where she lives.’

  Neither did Lucy, but that was easily remedied. She was about to suggest that Callum wait a moment while she checked Phoebe’s details when a thought came to her.

  ‘I tell you what, let me have the keys, and I’ll make sure she gets them back. I can just as easily pop by on my way home and if she’s not in then I can keep them safe for her until tomorrow. She’s bound to realise where she left them.’

  There was a flicker of a smile across Callum’s face but then his mouth straightened. ‘In this weather?’ he said.

  His words confused Lucy for a moment. ‘I’m sorry, I…’

  ‘You’re seriously going to go round in this weather?’

  Lucy looked towards the window. ‘Well—’

  ‘On foot, when I’ve got a car? You don’t even know where she lives – it might be right across the other side of town.’ He was staring at her and he didn’t look happy.

  ‘Callum, I’m sorry, but I can’t just give you Phoebe’s address. It’s against all the regulations. Data protection and all that.’ She gave him a hesitant smile. ‘It’s probably better if I go.’

  His fingers curled back over the keys. ‘Jeez, what do you think I’m going to do to her? You’re as bad as my brothers.’

  Lucy’s heart sank. ‘It’s nothing like that,’ she said carefully. ‘Of course it isn’t, but it could put you in a really awkward position, and I’d hate for that to happen.’

  ‘I’m not hitting on her, if that’s what you think. I’ve been helping her plan her wedding for days – do you not think I’ve registered that she’s getting married? In my book that means something.’

  ‘Callum,’ Lucy started, but he had already placed the keys down on the table and turned away. She could kick herself. That wasn’t what she’d meant at all – well it sort of was, but not in the way he had taken it. She really did have a duty of care to all the library users, and it had never occurred to her for one moment that Callum’s motives had been anything less than pure, but she couldn’t give out addresses willy-nilly. Callum was a nice lad; there must be a way around this. She had to think quickly or he would be gone.

  She followed him back to the computer room, where, as she had suspected, he was already shoving his notebook back into his bag.

  ‘Callum,’ she said rather more loudly than she had intended to. ‘Listen, I can’t give you Phoebe’s address, but she can.’

  His chair swung back around towards her.

  ‘Wait here a minute, please, don’t go – I’ll give her a ring. You can either speak to her yourself, or if she’s happy about it I can get the address.’

  There was a minute shrug but Callum turned back to the computer. Lucy gave another glance at her watch, praying that Phoebe would be in. A few minutes later as she dialled the number, she saw Callum saunter over to the counter. She spoke a few words to Phoebe before handing the receiver to Callum with a smile. It was time to start closing up the library.

  She had placed Phoebe’s keys back down on the counter beside the telephone while Callum was talking and watched his fingers curl over them, but by the time she had spoken to the last customer to let him know they were closing, Callum had gone. She felt a little disappointed that she didn’t actually see him leave.

  Perhaps it was for the best that she didn’t get involved. Callum might say that he wasn’t interested in Phoebe but there was something about her that was attracting him. Lucy had thought endlessly about how she might help him out, but that didn’t include encouraging a relationship that was wrong on every level; much better to let him make his own mistakes than make any more herself. She still felt terribly guilty about Oscar, and her attempt at helping him, too, had obviously backfired. Perhaps she needed to realise that not everything could be fixed after all.

  Once outside the library she stood under the small porch for a moment, making sure that her jacket was zipped up to the top. The rain was coming down in torrents, great swathes of it moving across the car park, and it didn’t look like it was going to let up any time soon. Her coat wasn’t going to offer her a great deal of protection, and with no hood the rain would drip down the back of her neck in no time, but it was better than nothing, and she couldn’t stay here all night. She adjusted the grip on her bag, psyching herself up to move out into the squall.

  She was halfway across the car park when a sudden flare of headlights startled her. She registered the noise of a car engine starting up, and tried to pick her way over to one side as best she could, avoiding the worst of the puddles. The entrance to the car park was only narrow and unless she was happy to risk being drenched with water it would be safer if the car went first.

  Water dripped off her fringe and onto her cheek and she shook her head to clear it away, wishing whoever was in the car would get a move on. She was soaked already. It was hard to hear against the roar of the wind and she almost jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She spun around as a dark shape loomed at her.

  ‘For God’s sake Lucy, get in the car!’

  She stared in surprise, noticing the dark curls of the figure in front of her.

  ‘I’ve been yelling at you for ages!’ Callum grinned. ‘Come on!’ He jerked his thumb back towards his car, alrea
dy racing for cover. Lucy followed suit.

  She flung herself into the passenger seat as quickly as she could, slamming the door closed. Callum was holding up his arms helplessly, laughing at the sight of the water dripping off the sodden material. His shirt was wet through.

  ‘Think I should have worn my coat,’ he said, grinning.

  Lucy looked down at her own sleeves which, along with the rest of her, were dripping water everywhere. She blew a raindrop off the end of her nose.

  ‘Look what I’ve done to your car,’ she said, horrified, but Callum just grinned even harder.

  ‘Bit wet, isn’t it? Never mind.’

  ‘But will it be okay?’

  ‘Sure,’ he said, reaching into the pocket of his jeans and fishing out a hanky. ‘Bit damp, but it’s clean.’ He handed it to her. ‘I never knew you had curly hair,’ he added. ‘It suits you.’

  Lucy took the hanky and groaned inwardly as she mopped at her face, trying to stem the water that was dripping off her fringe. Every morning she washed and straightened her hair. Even her own family had probably forgotten that it was curly, but soaked as it was now she knew that it had sprung into a mass of ringlets. She pulled a face.

  ‘No – I mean it, I like it.’

  Lucy shrugged; there was nothing more she could say.

  ‘Anyway, I’m sorry,’ said Callum, ‘for acting like a two-year-old back there. I jumped to the wrong conclusion, I think.’

  Lucy turned to look at him, and smiled gently. ‘Your brothers give you a lot of grief, do they?’

  Callum winced. ‘And some,’ he said. ‘But you were only doing your job, and for all you know I might be a serial axe-murdering rapist.’

  It was Lucy’s turn to wince. ‘Callum—’

  He held out his hand towards her. ‘I was just kidding,’ he said. ‘I know I have a huge chip on my shoulder, but there are four of them and only one of me. I get fed up with it at times… most of the time.’ He smiled. ‘Sorry.’