Lucy’s Little Village Book Club

A heart-warming feel-good romance novel

Emma Davies

For Mum, whose light still shines

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Epilogue

The Little Cottage on the Hill

A Letter from Emma

Also by Emma Davies

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

It was late-night opening at the library, and Lucy Picklescott had a whole thirty-five minutes to herself before she was due back for the rest of the afternoon shift. She knew from experience that this was just enough time to cut through the churchyard, skirt the corner of the market square and walk the length of the High Street to her favourite teashop where, if he had remembered, Clive would have already plated up a plump custard slice ready for her arrival. It was her regular Thursday treat.

She was slightly out of breath when she arrived at Earl Grey’s, and rather too warm; a slight flush coloured her pale cheeks. The day had morphed from dull and drizzly to blue-skied and autumnal, and Lucy’s yellow raincoat was one layer too many. She shrugged it off as she reached the tearoom and pushed open the door.

Catching Clive’s eye almost immediately, he waved her over towards a free table at the rear of the tearoom. Sometimes when Lucy arrived, Clive was busy in the kitchen and she was happy to wait her turn like everyone else, but if her brother-in-law was around she was treated like royalty and today was no exception. Lucy sat down and within moments tea and cake were placed in front of her. With a smile, she cast her eyes around the room; the view was so much better from the back. She pulled out a notebook and pen from her bag and laid them beside her plate, just in case inspiration struck.

The tea looked strong, exactly how Lucy liked it, and she pushed her hair away from her face before taking her first sip. She always started with her tea, drinking every drop before replacing the cup in the saucer and turning her full attention to the custard slice. This way she could savour the flavour of the pastry without interruption. She closed her eyes for the first mouthful, relishing the taste of the soft vanilla filling with its familiar comforting smell and cool, silky texture. Then came the crisp pastry flakes with their buttery finish, and a sweet hit from the icing, its stickiness lingering in her mouth. Clive was a magician where sugary things were concerned.

Lucy was about to take another bite, when she caught the eye of a young woman who was seated across from her, staring quite openly at her with a look on her face that was enough to make the hairs on the back of Lucy’s neck prickle. The woman dropped her gaze, embarrassed, but not quickly enough to disguise the longing that hovered in the air between them. The face of the young woman remained downcast, eyes settled mournfully on the plate in front of her, which now held only crumbs, and perhaps a hint of regret. Lucy took in her rounded cheeks and sizeable girth and could almost see the copious cups of black coffee the woman had drunk, the breakfasts skipped, the apples eaten without pleasure, and imagine a little what it must feel like to be haunted by the hunger of a serial dieter. The woman may have just eaten a guilty treat, but Lucy guessed she had settled for something a little less sinful, and not the cake she truly desired. The one that Lucy was busy eating.

Lucy straightened, still holding her custard slice, but now it didn’t look so appealing. How could she eat it knowing that another coveted it so much? She stared back down at her plate and felt slightly sick. She pushed a tentative finger against the pastry and sat for a moment lost in thought until a gentle touch on her shoulder made her almost jump out of her skin.

‘Luce?’ Clive’s voice was gentle. ‘Are you okay, love? You look a bit green about the gills.’

Almost immediately Lucy began to feel better. The sound of Clive’s friendly voice brought her back to the familiar, the normality of just another Thursday afternoon. She looked up with a smile.

‘I’m fine… honestly – bit tired, that’s all.’

‘And there was me worried my custard slices weren’t up to the usual standard.’

Lucy glanced back down at her plate. ‘Oh, no, they’re gorgeous as ever,’ she said, and she picked up the slice once more, as if to demonstrate.

Clive was still looking at her a little warily. ‘Shall I bring you some more tea?’ he asked.

‘Only if you let me pay,’ she replied. ‘It’s not fair to let me eat and drink all your profits.’

‘You’re family,’ said Clive with a frown. ‘That’s different. And as it’s my tearoom, I get to make the rules.’

Lucy knew there was no point in arguing and accepted another cup with a glance at her watch. She would need to hurry. She looked again at the pastry and sank her teeth into it. As the creamy vanilla flavour slid over her taste buds, she opened her mouth again and her first bite was swiftly followed by another, and another.

She was almost out of time as she rushed across the churchyard again. The library was still short-staffed and Lucy didn’t want to be late as it would be all hands on deck for another couple of hours yet, with the arrival of the after-school crowd and the planning for tomorrow’s book club meeting still to be done. She took a deep, steadying breath.

‘Oh, thank God you’re back, Lucy. The server’s gone down again, and all the PCs have disconnected.’

She smiled at the harried face of her colleague. ‘Carrie, how many times have I shown you how to reboot it? Computers can smell your fear, you know; you have to learn to show them who’s boss. Come on, let’s sort it out.’

Callum smiled to himself. He never said much, but it tickled him the way people behaved when they were using the computers. Not everyone, of course, but there were a lot like his mum and dad who thought they were the devil’s work. Some of the staff at the library were just as bad. Lucy was right, you could see the fear sweep across their faces whenever the slightest thing went wrong or if someone dared asked them a technical question. Regardless, he still liked doing his work here; it certainly beat sitting at home with his laptop, trying to concentrate while his brothers squabbled.

He sat back and waited while his PC rebooted. Luckily, he had only been looking at stuff on the internet, so it was no problem, but he could hear the sighs from the people around him who feared they had probably now lost whatever they had been working on. Lucy would have to sort them all out. Their stuff would still be there, in most cases, and if it wasn’t there would be smiles and apologies and a gentle reminder to make sure folks saved their work as they went along. Lucy never got cross or irritated with people, but he knew that she really didn’t have the time to give them as much attention as she did. One day he might pluck up the courage to ask if he could help.

A chiming alert sounded from the depths of his bag and he bent down to fish out his phone. A pen landed on the floor beside him, and without thinking he stretched to pick it up. His fingers curled around it, slightly too late to register the movement from above him, as another hand reached out for it. Their fingers touched.

He pulled his hand up swiftly, a flush of colour flooding his face. He thrust the pen back to its owner.

‘Sorry, I didn’t… Sorry.’

A pretty face smiled back at him. ‘No worries,’ she said, before taking the pen and turning away again, back to her computer.

Callum stared at the girl beside him, at the sparkly ring on one of the fingers that had touched his. She was deep in thought, looking at an image of flowers on the screen in front of her. A large notepad lay open beside her, covered in exuberant loopy writing in lots of different colours. The dropped pen scratched across it now, in purple ink. It was cute, shaped like an owl at the top; one of those pens that had a range of different colours in it. He wanted to say something, a witty remark perhaps that would attract her attention, but even as his mind suggested it, he knew he wouldn’t. It was just his luck she was already taken, but then who was he kidding? Even if she was single it would make no difference. He had never managed to come out with a witty remark in his life, and today would have been no different. He reached back down to find his phone, one eye still on the girl with the beautiful shiny hair and engagement ring – but she didn’t even look up.

Chapter Two

‘Odelia, Odelia!’ The voice was sharp and getting sharper. Lia put down her hairbrush and examined her reflection in the bedroom mirror. She really ought to have washed her hair.

‘Coming, Mum,’ she called, looking at her watch. Gwen would be here any minute now.

The sound of the television was loud as she made her way downstairs, and she could already hear the strains of a beautiful classic waltz playing.

‘Are you okay, Mum?’ she asked, walking into the living room.

Rose was sitting in a chair opposite the fireplace, her legs stretched out in front of her, her slippers laid neatly to one side, and both socks peeled from her feet and discarded.

She stared at Lia. ‘Who are you?’ she asked, a raucous note to her voice.

‘Mum, it’s me – Lia. Odelia, your daughter.’

The older woman looked her up and down with eyes that were still surprisingly blue. She opened her mouth to argue, and then closed it again, seeming to accept what Lia had said. ‘Well, someone’s pinched my flip-flops again. Look, these aren’t mine.’

Lia knelt on the carpet beside her, picking up a sock and gently easing it over her mother’s toes. ‘I’ll look for them in a minute, Mum. Let’s pop these back on in the meantime, shall we? It’s a bit chilly today.’ She glanced sideways at the television. ‘Oh look, Mum, Strictly Come Dancing is on. Why don’t you watch that for a minute?’ She finished with one sock and picked up the other, hoping the distraction would do the trick.

‘I used to be a dancer, you know…’

‘I know you did, Mum. You and Dad won all the medals there were going, didn’t you?’

‘We did. But that’s because he was so handsome. And he had the lightest feet. He used to whizz me around the ballroom like I was dancing on air. All the girls were in love with him.’

‘I bet they were, but you were his one and only, weren’t you? His “dancing queen”, he used to call you.’

‘That’s right… How did you know that?’ Rose’s voice had risen slightly again.

Lia smiled. ‘I don’t know, Mum, I expect you told me some time. Tell me about your costumes again… how you used to twirl and twirl, the sequins catching the light…’

‘Oh, they were so beautiful. I had one, I remember, which was exactly the same colour as my eyes. The bodice was covered in tiny crystals…’ Her gaze flickered back to the television.

Lia replaced the slippers and straightened up, a soft smile in her eyes. She had seen the photos, and that dress; her mum had been truly beautiful. She gently stroked the top of her mother’s hair before leaving the room.

With another glance at her watch she ran lightly back up the stairs to her bedroom. Her reflection looked just as it had moments ago, and she grimaced, rooting around on the dressing table for a hairband. Ponytail it was then. She piled her hair as high as she could, pulling out two small curls on either side and fixing the rest with the band. She ruffled her fringe and puffed out her cheeks, tilting her head to one side. It would have to do; Gwen’s car had just pulled up outside, and it was time to go.

Lia met her at the door. ‘Thanks so much, Gwen, come in.’

The carer stepped inside, giving Lia a friendly smile. ‘How are things?’

‘Oh, you know. Good days, not-so-good days.’

‘And today?’

‘Not too bad at all. She’s watching Strictly… again. Whoever invented that programme needs a medal. It’s on an almost permanent loop some days, but, well, you know…’

Gwen narrowed her eyes. ‘And how about you? How are you holding up?’

Lia touched a hand to her hair. ‘Oh, I’m fine. Absolutely.’

‘Well then, you get going and enjoy yourself. Your mum and me will be right as rain.’ She paused for a second. ‘Listen, Lia… I shouldn’t really do this, but I was supposed to be with another client this afternoon and I’ve just had a cancellation, which means I’m free for another two hours. Why don’t you take the extra time for yourself? Meet a friend, have a coffee. Go shopping – anything.’

‘I can’t do that,’ exclaimed Lia.

‘Who’s to know?’ replied Gwen. ‘I’m not about to tell anybody, and if you don’t…’

Lia bit her lip; the thought of four whole hours to herself was absolute bliss. ‘Well, I must pay you – and only if you’re sure.’

Gwen took hold of her arm. ‘Listen, love: I’m doing it as favour, as a friend, not because I want the money. If you don’t mind me saying, you look a little tired, and it will do you good.’ She watched Lia’s face. ‘And I know you want to, I can see it in your eyes.’

Lia smiled. She had never been able to hide how she was feeling. ‘You’ve got to promise you’ll ring me if anything happens.’

‘I will,’ said Gwen, almost pushing her out of the door. ‘Go on, go! You’ll be late.’

With one final check of her bag, Lia grinned, backing off down the path. ‘I owe you one, Gwen,’ she called.

Lucy studied the biscuits on the plate and wondered if there would be enough, adding three more just to be on the safe side. She’d bought proper biscuits this time, with her own money; big chunky cookies full of chocolate chips, and some sugar-covered shortbread. The library budget only ran to custard creams and Nice biscuits, but she hoped that these luxury treats might help to break the ice.

The book club had been her idea and although two others ran locally, they were each formed from existing groups of friends and Lucy imagined it must be hard for someone new to join them. She wanted her group to be one that anyone could come along to, whether they knew each other or not. As for the reading material, Lucy was a sucker for a happy ever after, and so by and large this was what they read. She had chosen this month’s title for that exact reason.

At the moment only three people regularly came to the meetings, but Lucy consoled herself with the thought that it had only been up and running for six weeks, so there was still time for it to get bigger. Just yesterday a young mum had enquired about joining and would be coming along this morning to see what it was like. The library needed more activities like this, and Lucy had a ton of ideas. It wasn’t that the place was underused, more that its potential wasn’t being fully explored, and Lucy was only too aware that cutbacks were looming. It didn’t do to rest on one’s laurels.

She looked up at the vaulted ceiling above her, not offering a prayer exactly, but recognising how she always felt in this building, as if help were just around the corner and all she had to do was call upon it. After all, wasn’t that exactly why she was here? When she had first stepped foot in the place it had been like walking into the home of an old friend. There had been no need to stand on ceremony or be on best behaviour, just a comforting acceptance of everything she was. It was the same for other people too, she knew, and now that she was working here she’d do everything she could to keep that atmosphere; if the library thrived, so did everyone else.

With a final nod of satisfaction, she placed the biscuits on the table. They were all set. Ten minutes later every chair was occupied, and Lucy waited for arms to be released from coats and bags to be placed on the floor before speaking. She smiled at the newcomer.

‘Hattie, it’s brilliant that you came. I’m so glad you’re here.’ She paused to catch the eye of one or two people in the group. ‘Everyone, this is Hattie, who’s come to see what we’re all about today. Perhaps we should introduce ourselves before getting stuck into the biscuits and then we can make a start.’

The young woman was looking around her, eyes focused a little nervously on the plate of biscuits.

‘Would you like to go first, Hattie?’ asked Lucy. ‘Just a few words about yourself.’

Her smile was returned as Hattie pushed a length of dark hair behind her ear. ‘Well, my name’s Hattie,’ she began, ‘obviously… I’ve got a little girl called Poppy, who just started school a few weeks ago. I’m not from round here, though – we only moved here in the summer, so I thought that as soon as she went to school and I had a bit more time during the day I would try to meet a few people.’ She looked down at her hands. ‘I’m on my own, you see, so it’s hard for me to get out of an evening. That’s why this group is so ideal. Up until recently, looking after Poppy’s been pretty much a full-time job, so I’m afraid I don’t do much else now besides reading.’

Lucy nodded and looked at the woman to Hattie’s left.

‘I’m Lia,’ she supplied. ‘And reading is virtually all I do too – when I can, that is. I’m a full-time carer, you see. My mum has Alzheimer’s, so this is my little bit of sanity.’ She gave Hattie a sympathetic smile.

The rest of the introductions were over quickly and Lucy picked up the plate of biscuits, offering them directly to Hattie. She could tell she wanted one and was just being polite. Perhaps if she took one the others would follow suit.

‘So, did you all manage to read Precious Time?’ she asked, waiting for the answering nods. ‘I’m sorry Hattie, you’re at a bit of a disadvantage this time, but we’ll pick the next read before we finish and then you’ll soon be up and running.’ She looked around the group. ‘What did you all think? Thumbs up or thumbs down?’

Lia was the first to respond. ‘Oh, thumbs up,’ she sighed. ‘It was beautiful,’ she added, ‘and I cried… again.’

The young lad next to her nodded vigorously. ‘Me too,’ he agreed. ‘Well, not the crying part, but I thought the characters were brilliant. I couldn’t pick a favourite, they were all so different, but so good – even the nasty one!’

‘I think that’s what I love about Erica’s writing, Callum,’ said Lucy. ‘Her characters don’t just introduce themselves so much as walk off the page to meet you. What about you Oscar? Perhaps not quite your cup of tea, but what did you think?’

Oscar was in his early seventies and always made Lucy smile; she never failed to be cheered up in the presence of one of his colourful bow ties. He was a regular at the library, and she had never seen him read anything that wasn’t a thriller.

‘It’s true, I prefer my fiction a bit more masculine, but all things considered I did enjoy it. Like Lia, I could see it was a very emotional read. The start struck me as quite…’ He trailed off, clearing his throat. ‘Very poignant, I thought.’

‘I knew I recognised the title,’ said Hattie suddenly. ‘Is it by Erica James? The one where the main character gives up her job and goes off with her little boy in a camper van?’

There were nods all round, and Hattie beamed.

‘It has an element of pure wish-fulfilment, doesn’t it?’ said Lia. ‘That’s why I enjoyed it so much. Imagine simply taking off without any consequences and seeing where the wind takes you. And of course they all live happily ever after – that’s what makes it so perfect. Isn’t that what we’d all like to do?’

Lucy loved it when the discussions seemed to flow of their own accord. It didn’t always happen, but she was pleased when it did. It showed the group was beginning to get to know one another better, and say what they felt rather than be polite or shy.

‘I know I would,’ groaned Callum, pushing his slightly too long black curls off his face. ‘I’ve had enough of my brothers teasing me and making my life a misery. I’d take off to a remote Scottish island – provided it had an internet connection, of course – find a nice girl to settle down with, and live out my days never having to listen to them again.’

‘What about you, Lia? What would you do if you could?’ asked Oscar.

Lia clearly didn’t need to think about it. She sat up straight, and leaned forward. ‘Dance,’ she whispered urgently. ‘I’d want to dance.’