The Broken Hearts Book Club

by Lynsey James

  Just then, a voice from the hallway brought me back to the present.

  ‘Hello? Anyone here?’ I instantly recognised it as Jake and felt my insides begin to do cartwheels.

  ‘In here!’ I called. I got up to greet him and felt a jolt of pain shoot up my leg.

  Jake came in, looked at me and shook his head. ‘Dare I ask what happened here?’

  ‘Nobby No-Jobs had a bit of an accident while he was doing the damp-proofing.’ I gestured to the rubble-strewn floor. ‘And this happened. What are you doing here anyway?’

  ‘I saw Nobby in the pub and he told me about the accident he’d had here. I thought I’d come over and see if I could help out.’

  My hackles rose when I saw him try to stifle a chuckle. His cheeks turned crimson and he stuffed his fist into his mouth to try and stop it from bursting out.

  ‘It’s not funny! This cottage means a lot to me and now it’s crumbling down around my ears! If you’ve come to laugh instead of help, then you can bugger off!’ I knew I sounded like a child throwing a tantrum but I didn’t care. I had a lot riding on renovating Rose Cottage and was furious that Nobby had derailed all my plans.

  ‘I’m sorry…’ Jake trailed off and let out a laugh that sounded like air hissing out of a helium balloon. ‘I just can’t believe you hired Nobby No-Jobs! You know why they call him that, don’t you?’

  I flushed and said I didn’t. ‘I found him in the Yellow Pages; he was cheap and could start the job right away. Why, what did he do?’

  He finally managed to compose himself and wiped some tears away from his eyes. I could see he wanted to laugh again. ‘It’d be easier to answer what he hasn’t done, really. He’s taken out a whole street’s electricity, flooded umpteen kitchens and don’t get me started on his crazy paving skills. Oh and he once mucked up a plumbing job so badly, the woman had to flush her toilet to get her shower to work.’

  I threw my head into my hands and started laughing. ‘Oh God, I couldn’t have chosen a worse handyman, could I? Why’s he still in business if he’s no good?’

  I looked up and saw Jake smile. Suddenly, the catastrophic mess around my feet didn’t seem quite so bad.

  ‘Nobby’s a good bloke,’ he explained, ‘and he loves doing odd jobs. He might not be any good, but he’s enthusiastic and wants to help people.’

  I felt a rush of warmth course through me. It made total sense: Nobby had worked his way into everyone’s hearts – so despite his complete lack of DIY skills, people still hired him.

  We stared at each other for what felt like a decade, until Jake broke the companionable silence.

  ‘Let’s see about getting this mess cleared up, shall we?’

  With that, we got on our hands and knees, sifting through the rubble and stealing glances at each other as often as we could.

  That night, I stayed at Rose Cottage instead of going home. After the disastrous day I’d had, it seemed important to be there, not least in case anything else went wrong. Jake had said he’d have a go at patching up the hole in the ceiling on his next day off. Armed with a dubious-looking camp bed from my parents, I prepared to spend the night in my beloved Rose Cottage. I folded it out and lay on top of it, staring up at the ceiling. The whole house seemed alien to me; it was no longer the place I’d spent so many happy days as a child. It had fallen into rack and ruin and there seemed to be no trace of Nana Lily here any more. I couldn’t feel her warmth or spirit any more; Rose Cottage had become nothing more than an empty shell with a hole in the kitchen ceiling. Tears began to run down my face as I remembered how the house used to be: happy, full of life and love and always bursting with people. It had had a life of its own once upon a time; everyone in the village had passed through here at one time or another, either for some of Nana Lily’s amazing cakes or a dose of her advice.

  Through the living room’s ornate French doors, the moon shone brightly and cast a milky lustre onto the sand and sea. I got up and walked over to the French doors, looking out at the scene that lay before me. The beach was quiet and still; the only sound I could hear was the soft, gentle sigh of the waves lapping the shore. A heavy weight dropped into my stomach: was I really ready for the task that lay ahead? Could I really make Rose Cottage great again and help the Broken Hearts Book Club members?

  ‘What do you reckon, Nana?’ I asked the empty room. ‘Am I up to it?’

  I looked up at the star-strewn sky above me and the answer became crystal clear: yes you can.

  After my first disastrous attempt at running a Broken Hearts Book Club meeting, I managed to successfully organise our next read. I picked The Book Thief by Markus Zusak and got copies for all the members as a way of apologising for the piñata.

  The book was met with scepticism by some of the members.

  ‘Never heard of this,’ Frank said when he got his copy. ‘It says it’s written from Death’s perspective? How can you write a book like that?’

  ‘Just give it a chance, I promise you’ll love it. It’s a beautiful book. If you can’t get it all read before the meeting on Wednesday, that’s OK. Just read as much as you can.’

  His eyes flicked from the book cover to me but he didn’t look convinced. ‘That’s not the sort of thing we usually read, you know.’

  I smiled. ‘I know. But you might like it.’

  I told him about the change of venue – The Purple Partridge instead of the Moonlight Café – and left.

  When I dropped Diane’s copy into the café and told her about holding the meeting in the pub, she was surprisingly OK with it.

  ‘That’s fine.’ Her smile was sweet and serene as she buzzed around behind the counter. ‘We could do with a change of scenery.’

  This isn’t right, I thought, something’s definitely up. ‘Are you sure? Because if you’re not, we can just hold it here instead. I just thought a different venue might be nice. N-not that this place isn’t nice…’

  She held her flour-covered palms up. ‘Lucy darling, it’s absolutely fine. I’ll be there, having read what I’m sure is a wonderful book.’

  As I left the café and saw Diane wave as I carried on down the street, I felt very unsettled. One minute she was trying to goad me into telling everyone about the Vicky thing, the next she was all sweetness and light. It was true what Nana Lily used to say: there’s nowt as queer as folk.

  To distract myself from my impending second meeting and all the nerves that came with it, I threw myself into renovating Rose Cottage. Jake still hadn’t managed to come round and fix the hole in the ceiling, so the kitchen was still a disaster area. I’d closed it off and avoided looking at it; even the sight of it made me want to hurl things at Nobby No-Jobs’ head.

  Elle, George and I decided to make a start in the living room, since it didn’t have any gaping holes anywhere. I selected a warm butter-yellow to slap onto the bare white walls and we quickly got started.

  ‘Painting’s quite relaxing isn’t it?’ Elle said. ‘When I was in Morocco, I did some painting and decorating at a friend’s apartment. Reckon I should become an interior designer?’

  I grinned. ‘A few days ago, you wanted to own your own jewellery business. What’s made you change your mind?’

  Silence.

  ‘Earth to Elle Nicholls!’ I playfully flicked some paint at her.

  ‘Oh sorry!’ She ran a hand through her hair and looked like she’d just snapped out of a deep thought. ‘Oh you know, I just want to try loads of different things that’s all! Jewellery maker, interior designer, queen of the universe…!’

  ‘Well for what it’s worth,’ George took his headphones off to join in the girl talk for once, ‘I think you’d be great at whatever you decide to do.’

  There was a lingering gaze between the two of them before they got back to painting.

  ‘Have you got anyone to fix the ceiling in the kitchen yet?’ he asked.

  I shook my head and felt like throttling him. He’d just had an ideal opportunity to ask Elle out or move things forwar
d somehow, and he’d chosen to ask about the money pit that was Rose Cottage.

  ‘No,’ I replied, ‘Jake said he’d come and take a look at it, but he hasn’t yet. I’ll probably have to get a professional in anyway, to see if there’s any structural damage. That’ll be more money I don’t have!’

  I stopped painting for a minute and took a step back to look at what lay ahead for me. Slapping some paint on the walls wasn’t going to bring this place up to scratch. It needed time, love, care and most importantly, money. My pretty bare savings account wouldn’t even cover half of the work that needed doing. But as I looked around at the half-painted living room, I knew I had to keep going. I had to make Rose Cottage come alive again.

  ‘Well if you need any help at all, count me in,’ Elle said as she continued to paint the wall next to the French doors. ‘Hey, you could be the first client for my interior design business!’

  ‘I’m a dab hand with a paintbrush too!’ George playfully flicked some paint at her and she retaliated. This sparked a full-on paint war and they ended up chasing each other into the kitchen.

  I peeked round the door and watched them laugh together as they covered each other in flecks of lemon paint. Since they’d first set eyes on each other, I’d known there was something between them. A gentle nudge in the right direction and they’d get there. I’d make sure of it.

  The night of the second Broken Hearts Book Club meeting came around far too quickly for my liking. As I waited for seven o’clock to come, I had four freak-outs, lost my copy of The Book Thief and contemplated skipping the country.

  ‘Will you calm down?’ George laughed as he watched me pace up and down the living room at my mum and dad’s. ‘You’ll be fine, what’s the worst that can happen?’

  I looked at him and he put up his hands in defeat, muttering ‘Fair point. It’s you we’re talking about.’

  ‘What are you up to tonight anyway? Besides getting on my nerves that is.’ I shot him a smile to let him know I was joking.

  ‘I’m gonna buy a takeaway, wine and DVD for me and Elle and see what occurs.’

  I sighed and started pacing again. Much as I loved that my two best friends were getting together, I was too worried about the meeting to really get excited for them.

  ‘I brought a bloody piñata to the last meeting George! I mean, what was I thinking, just storming in there and forcing my ideas on them! If this meeting doesn’t go well, I may as well kiss goodbye to the club, Rose Cottage and my life in Luna Bay. They’re holding a vote in a couple of months’ time to see whether I can stay, so I need to do my best at this.’

  I sank down onto the sofa and he put a comforting arm round my shoulder. ‘As long as you don’t turn up with a ball pool and some sumo wrestling costumes, you’re laughing. You tried something and it didn’t work out, so you’re going back to basics. This meeting will be fine and they’ll see how awesome you really are.’

  I managed a weak, sickly smile. ‘Do you think it might help if I sing out sections of the book?’

  He pretended to mull it over for a second, before settling on ‘Nah, probably not.’

  I went over early to The Purple Partridge to set up the meeting. Strangely, there was no sign of Jake when I got there, so I began grabbing chairs from the large stacks in the back room and laying them out around the table.

  ‘Nice to see you’re prepared.’ Diane’s voice behind me made me jump.

  ‘I’m just getting the room ready, that’s all.’

  I gave as bright a smile as I could muster, but something about her terrified the life out of me. I wasn’t sure if it was her keen dark eyes or the feeling that she was sitting in judgement on me, but something about her felt off. Especially when she was being nice. I wondered if she’d somehow managed to find out about Nana Lily’s will, but reminded myself that was impossible. Only a handful of people knew and none of them were likely to tell Diane.

  ‘Do you need any help?’ She took a seat at the table and looked at me with a faint smile.

  ‘Nope, I’ve got it thanks.’ I heaved the last chair off the stack and into position.

  Her constant gazing at me made me feel uncomfortable and I preferred to walk around the room rather than sit down.

  ‘Any surprises for us tonight? Only the last meeting was quite eventful.’

  I managed a small laugh. ‘Just business as usual, I’m afraid. Except for the change of venue, that is. Are you sure you’re OK with not having it at the café?’

  She put her hands up, palms forward. ‘I’m not the chairwoman here. That’s your job now, so it’s your call.’

  Her voice was calm, eerily so. From her face and body language, I couldn’t work out if she was telling me what I wanted to hear, trying to hide something from me or actually starting to accept me. Like so many times, only time would tell.

  Once the members all arrived, the meeting got underway. First, we all reported on what kind of a week we’d had.

  Frank had had the worst one out of the lot of us. He couldn’t stop looking at photos of Harriet, particularly ones from before her Alzheimer’s had taken over.

  ‘I sometimes feel like I’ve lost two people,’ he said. ‘My wife and the person she became after she was diagnosed. She was so… so different towards the end. Sometimes there would be these amazing moments of clarity; once she even remembered our wedding day and she hadn’t been able to recall that for months. Then other days, she wouldn’t even know my name. It was hard not to mourn the loss of the person she used to be.’

  Jean started to cry and I could tell Cath and Denise wanted to as well. Everything from Frank’s voice to the look in his eyes revealed how much he missed Harriet. He’d brought in some of the photos he’d been looking at and passed them around the group. It was plain to see how beautiful she’d been; some were of her as a young woman with long wavy hair and wearing tea dresses, while others were of her surrounded by family and beaming with pride. I looked at Frank and could tell how happy he was that we were sharing in her beauty.

  Denise had had what would’ve been Rebecca’s nineteenth birthday to contend with. As predicted, it hadn’t been an easy occasion.

  ‘John didn’t want to deal with it at all and went to the football with his mates. I went to the cemetery and sat with her for a while, telling her what had been happening. Sometimes when I’m really low, I wonder what she’d think of me now if she could see me. My life basically ended the day hers did; I’ve just existed ever since. She’d probably laugh and say “come on old woman, get your act together!”’ She stared down at her hands for a moment, as though she didn’t trust herself to look at us without falling apart. ‘Before she died, I promised her that I wouldn’t let things slide, that I’d keep living because she couldn’t. I feel like I’ve let her down.’

  Diane patted her shoulder and nodded sympathetically. ‘If she could see you now – and I firmly believe she can – I’m sure she’d be really proud of you.’

  ‘She wouldn’t!’ Denise wailed. ‘When she was in the hospice, I told her all these daft things I wanted to do: skydive, travel to India, write a book. She told me to get off my arse and do them, but I haven’t. It’s been nearly a year and I’ve accomplished nothing.’

  ‘Nonsense, you’ve been grieving,’ said Diane. ‘Nobody could expect you to do any of those things yet.’

  I opened my mouth to speak, but quickly closed it again. Although I was sat at the head of the table, supposed to be leading the meeting, I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by it all. Here I was, tasked with helping these people who’d had terrible things happen to them and I didn’t have a clue where to start.

  Cath noticed I’d been about to say something and invited me to speak.

  ‘Oh no, it’s nothing… R-really…’

  ‘Anyone’s allowed to speak in the group, aren’t they Diane?’ She shot her a sideways glance.

  ‘Of course. Say what you were going to say Lucy.’

  I felt the weight of the whole club starin
g at me. As long as I don’t sing, I’ll be fine.

  ‘I-I think you might be right about what Rebecca would think if she could see you now. I can’t pretend to know her, but from what you’ve told me I think she’d want you to be living your life to the full. Why don’t you do something special in her memory, like a charity skydive? You could raise money for the hospice or a cancer charity.’

  The whole room was silent. I felt as though I’d said something very, very wrong and judging by the murderous look on Diane’s face, I was right.

  ‘This group is about trying to build people up, Lucy Harper, not tear them down! If you don’t realise that, you’re not fit to be chairwoman! Don’t listen to her Denise, Rebecca would be amazed with how well you’ve coped.’

  ‘Actually, that’s not a bad idea.’ Denise smiled a little through her tears. ‘I like the idea of doing something to make her proud and raise some money at the same time. Diane, thanks for trying to be nice – but Lucy’s right. Rebecca’s up there somewhere shaking her head at me because I’m not doing what I said I would do. And Lucy, thanks for being honest and not telling me what you thought I’d want to hear.’

  A round of applause erupted from the table and I stared around me in wonder. My eyes met with Diane’s and I caught the sour expression on her face. Her gaze slid away from me, much like Maggie’s had at Nana Lily’s wake but this time was different. I didn’t feel like a spectre at the feast. I felt like I belonged.

  We’d just finished discussing The Book Thief when it happened. The doors to the back room swung open and Maggie Cunningham walked in, clearly drunk and looking for a barney.

  ‘Hello Maggie,’ I said in as calm a voice as I could muster. It was then I noticed that everyone else looked surprised to see her, apart from Diane.

  ‘I invited Maggie along to the meeting to see how we do things, since she’s my best friend. I hope you don’t mind.’ A sinister smile broke across Diane’s face; she was absolutely delighted to have got one over on me.

  I took a deep breath and walked over to the stack of chairs. ‘Not at all, the more the merrier. Why don’t you sit over here next to Diane?’