The Broken Hearts Book Club (10 page)

Unsurprisingly, my idea went down about as well as a wet fart. Everybody gazed around themselves, looking everywhere but at me. Then the murmurs started and I even heard a couple of them talk about going home.

‘Don’t look safe, that,’ I heard Jean say. Cath, meanwhile, was going on about the baseball bats taking someone’s eye out and Denise was concerned about the violent connotations of whacking a donkey filled with sweets.

Determined not to give up, I attached the piñata to the frame of the partition wall that separated our little alcove from the rest of the café.

‘It’s fun, look! Instead of sitting round a table, we could be doing something!’ I grabbed one of the bats and took a swing at the donkey. Unfortunately, I put too much energy into it and ended up falling on my arse in front of everyone. My timing, as it turned out, was impeccable. Jake walked in just as I was taking a tumble.

‘Are you shut Diane?’ he asked, obviously not sure what the hell he’d just walked into.

‘Sorry love, I must’ve forgotten to lock up! Never mind, I’ll take your order in a minute.’ She got up and scowled at me.

He came over to me and extended a hand to help me to my feet.

‘Thanks,’ I said, ‘I came a bit of a cropper there!’

‘So I saw! What’s the piñata all about?’ He grinned and gestured to the large purple donkey, which remained unscathed after my swing at it.

‘Join us and find out.’ I stuck my tongue out at him. ‘There’s all sorts of fun going on here, you’re missing out!’

He cast a glance at the other members, who looked like they’d rather be white water rafting than sat here with me.

‘I’ll take your word for it,’ he replied, going over to Diane to order his food.

In an attempt to get the meeting going again, I addressed the remaining members: Cath, Jean, Frank and Denise.

‘OK guys, who wants to take the first swing?’ I brandished the bat like it held all the secrets to the universe. When nobody bit, I added ‘come on, you know you want to!’

‘No offence love, it’s just not the way we do things here.’ Denise’s rosy cheeks went from crimson to scarlet. ‘We’re used to sitting talking about how our weeks have been then discussing the book we’ve read. That’s how we’ve always done things.’

I could feel the bat slip out of my hands and it clattered on the floor with a soft thud. My chest deflated, taking all my excitement and enthusiasm with it.

‘OK,’ I conceded, ‘we’ll just keep things the same then. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it – right? I-I just thought we could try something new, that’s all. This isn’t just a book club, it’s a book club for people with broken hearts and I wanted to see if I could help.’

Denise got up and gave my shoulder a sympathetic pat with her chubby hand. ‘I know you meant well darling, and your heart was in the right place but there’s no easy way to fix us I’m afraid. All the piñatas and foam baseball bats in the world won’t cure our broken hearts.’

I nodded and Frank helped me take the piñata down. It weighed a ton and as we struggled with it, I wondered how I’d got it up there on my own in the first place. All my misplaced enthusiasm and boundless naiveté must’ve given me super-human strength. When Diane returned to her seat after serving Jake she looked relieved to see the piñata had done a disappearing act.

‘Right,’ I said, ‘now that that little blip’s out the way, we can get on with the meeting properly.’

And so my first meeting as chairwoman of the Broken Hearts Book Club got underway.

First up was Frank, who was still struggling with the loss of Harriet. His daughter had suggested clearing out some of her things: keeping the items that had sentimental value but donating the rest to charity.

‘I said yes at first because I thought I could handle it,’ he said, choking back tears. ‘But when the time came to actually sort through Harriet’s things, I couldn’t do it. Karen said it would be good for me, give me a fresh start and all that but she’s wrong. Everything of hers in that house has a memory attached to it and since the memories of Harriet are all I’ve got left, I can’t bear to throw any of it away. Getting rid of her things means admitting to myself that she’s really gone. She hasn’t just popped to the shops or gone to see her sister in Darlington; she’s gone and she’s never coming back. Karen said we could do it another day, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. I don’t want other people having her things either; it’s like they’ll have a piece of her, as mad as that sounds.’

Cath put a comforting arm around his shoulders and handed him a tissue. I looked at him, utterly in awe of his devotion to his late wife’s memory. I thought of how I’d felt when I’d cleared out Rose Cottage; it had been a sad yet nostalgic experience. Saying goodbye to Nana Lily’s possessions, things that had made up her entire life, had been one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do. It had brought back so many memories and allowed me to really think about the woman who’d meant so much to me.

‘That’s so heartbreaking Frank. I definitely wouldn’t clear away any of Harriet’s things until you’re ready.’ I could feel a well of tears brewing in my throat and eyes but stopped myself.

‘I think you’re wrong,’ said Diane, ‘Clearing away her things will mark a new beginning and a vital stage in Frank’s recovery from such a devastating loss.’

I wiped my eyes and got comfortable in my seat. No mean feat when you’re sitting in a wooden chair that feels like a medieval torture instrument. I knew Diane was testing me to see how I’d react and I didn’t want to rise to the bait.

‘Yeah, but if he doesn’t feel he’s ready to do it yet then he shouldn’t have to. When you’re grieving, there’s nothing worse than somebody trying to force you to move on too quickly. You have to do it at your own pace.’

Unknowingly, I’d just provided more fuel for her fire. ‘Like you tried to get us to do, you mean? You brought in that daft piñata as a way of trying to get us to move on before we were ready! If you ask me, you’re being hypocritical.’

I didn’t ask you
, I wanted to say.

Denise shot Diane a look and said ‘let’s move on shall we, who’s next?’ before things could get too heated. At that moment, I could quite happily have snogged her.

Cath’s story also touched me. She couldn’t quite believe her husband had left her for his Pilates instructor and was continually hit by a feeling of worthlessness because of it.

‘I feel like no man will ever want me again,’ she said. ‘I’m fifty-four with a turkey neck and bingo wings, who’s going to find me attractive? Plus I’ve still got no idea why Barry left so suddenly. I wish I knew what I did wrong so that I could try and fix it.’

The whole group was in agreement on that one: Cath had done nothing wrong and Barry was a massive shit for leaving her. Sure Melinda was twenty-six with long blonde hair and legs up to her armpits, but Cath had an altogether different charm that would make some lucky bloke very happy one day.

After Jean had talked about how painful it was to see other people loving and enjoying time with their dogs, it was Diane’s turn. From her body language – stiff back, shoulders hunched up to her ears and a guarded look in her eyes – I could tell she wasn’t feeling happy about sharing. Given that she’d been fine at the last meting, I guessed the problem was me. Although I’d been there last time, it had been as a casual observer rather than the new chairwoman. I hadn’t been a permanent fixture like I was hoping to be now.

‘This week’s been OK really. Nothing to report. I’ve missed Derek like I do every minute of every day, but that’s about it. Who’s next?’

From the way her voice wobbled, it sounded like she had something more to share. I felt awful that she felt she had to stay closed off because of me. Between the awful piñata idea and Diane’s hesitance to speak freely in the club, I was really arsing this up.

‘Diane, it sounds like you’ve got more you’d like to say.’ I tried to keep my tone diplomatic and dispassionate. ‘Has something bothered you this week that you’d like to talk about or –’

‘Never mind about me, why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself?’ Although her question was friendly enough, her smile and tone certainly weren’t. ‘I think I speak for us all when I say we’re
dying
to know about the woman who’s come from nowhere to take over our club.’

My mouth worked to form words that didn’t come. Finally, something legible appeared in my brain. ‘Um, OK – I’m Lucy Harper and I lived here for eighteen years before moving to London. I came back for my nana’s funeral, found out I’d been left the club in her will and decided to give running it a go.’

Phew, good job you didn’t mention the Vicky thing. Or burst into song. High five, Harper and ten points to Hufflepuff.

Diane’s coal-coloured eyes narrowed and she bared her teeth in a somewhat sinister grin. She was a wolf about to go in for the kill and I was the prey of choice.

‘Well yes we know that, darling. But what we
really
want to know is your broken heart story. Every member has one and we haven’t heard yours yet.’

I felt like I was being backed into a metaphorical corner. I knew what she wanted: for me to spill my guts about what happened to Vicky so the whole club would turn against me and I would be forced out. But I couldn’t: this club was crucial to my new start and I couldn’t let a bit of hostility from Diane put me off.

‘Oh, well… I lost my nana a couple of weeks ago. She was a huge part of my life and I miss her every day.’

‘Tell them what happened to Vicky, Lucy. Tell them all about the accident.’

Chapter Nine

Diane’s voice was eerily calm and dripping with honey. My eyes darted nervously from member to member, their gazes fixed on me and waiting for answers. Most of them had been around when it happened, yet I hadn’t experienced any hostility from them. Bloody Diane was the only one still bearing a grudge. Apart from Maggie Cunningham.

I was faced with a fight-or-flight situation. I chose the latter and clambered out of my chair, heading for the door. Once I was out on the street, I broke into a sprint and ran down the hill for home as fast as I could.

‘Lucy! Lucy, wait!’

I ignored the familiar voice behind me and kept running. I needed to get as far away from the Vicky thing as possible. I wanted to run and run and run until there was nothing left. I knew I couldn’t outrun my guilt, but surely being anywhere but here would ease the pain I still felt every day. When I tried to quicken my pace, my right ankle gave way and I landed on the cobbles in an ungraceful heap.

‘Are you OK?’ I heard Jake’s gentle voice above me and looked up to see him standing there, offering an arm for me to take.

‘Yeah, that’ll teach me to run in wedges!’ I forced out a laugh and let him pull me to my feet again. I tried to put weight on my ankle and winced, hoping to God it wasn’t broken. ‘I’m not usually this clumsy you know; I don’t usually fall twice in one day.’

‘Is that like saying you don’t usually burst into song at random moments?’ He grinned and led me over to a set of low steps that went right down to the beach. ‘Because I’ve got loads of evidence to the contrary on that one as well. Oh and let’s not forget the random striptease!’

‘Well what’s the point in living if you can’t blast out a little Beyoncé or Mariah every now and then? Or bare all to a total stranger for that matter?’

‘Says the woman who belted out Joni Mitchell and Tom Jones! Talk about an eclectic taste in music.’

He gently lowered me onto the top step and slid my wedge off so he could have a look at my ankle. Lifting it onto his lap his fingers gingerly brushed the skin before applying some pressure to it. Meanwhile, my heart started expressing its desire to escape from my chest, judging from the way it was thudding against my ribcage.

‘How’s that?’ He caressed my ankle and moved to the sole of my foot, keeping his touch light and gentle.

I swallowed hard. ‘Fine, yep, good. I-I don’t think it’s broken anyway.’

Jake moved his fingers in little circles around it for a second, before he suddenly realised what he was doing. He gave a loud cough, as though signalling the moment was over, and gave me my ankle back.

‘So now that I’ve got you here, what was that piñata all about?’

I grimaced and covered my face with my hands. ‘It was meant to be a stress busting exercise! I thought if they’d had a bad week, they could take it out on the piñata instead of just talking about it and not doing anything. They all seem so, I dunno…
sad
and lost and I just want to help them. The way Diane was going on, you’d think I’d brought in Nazi memorabilia and handed out copies of
Mein Kampf
.’

Jake smiled kindly and for the first time since I’d met him, his spikiness was gone. Instead, he was looking at me like I was the best thing in the world. ‘Didn’t you say the club’s been going for years? It’ll have its own traditions and rules that it sticks by. You can’t just go steaming in there and expect to change things right away. It’s great that you want to help them, but I think you’re going to have to be a bit more subtle about it.’

‘Like I can go back now after making myself look like a first-class tit! There’s something else as well… I wasn’t entirely honest with Diane about my motives for leading the club. My nana said in her will I have to lead the club for three months or I lose the cottage and I sort of neglected to mention that.’

I wasn’t sure why I was telling him this, but something about him made me think I could trust him. We may not have gotten off to the best of starts, I thought, but I had a feeling I could talk to him about the current mess I was in.

‘Of course you can go back.’ His knee brushed against mine. ‘OK so your first attempt at helping them didn’t work out. Big deal. There’s loads of other things you can try. And as for the whole thing with your nana’s will, I think you should let things settle down a bit before you go blurting that out. At the moment, they might not take too kindly to you having so much riding on being their leader. They might think you’re only doing it to keep the cottage instead of genuinely wanting to help them. If I were you, I’d get my thinking cap on and come up with some new ways to get them to move on.’