The Broken Hearts Book Club. Lynsey James

      George frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘This place isn’t doing as well as it could be, so I suggested some things he could do to get people through the door and he wasn’t exactly grateful.’ I looked over at him as he served the few remaining customers at the bar. ‘It’s a shame because look at this place. It’s gorgeous, it should be full to the rafters every night.’

      George threw me one of his million-watt smiles. ‘You’re right; a place like this should be doing roaring business. A few events in here and there’d be a real buzz about it. If he doesn’t want to listen to you, that’s up to him, but for what it’s worth I think you’re right.’

      The cogs in my brain began to whirr again as more ideas formed. The pub was pretty inside, if a little dated with its mahogany wood and fraying carpets. All Jake needed was some promotional activities that would drive people through the door. My brain buzzed with excitement as I considered the possibilities: cocktail nights, quizzes, open days where the whole community could get involved. Not that he deserved any of my help or experience, especially after being so rude to me. Then again, the place had so much potential…

      Just you hold on a minute, my brain said, some insane part of you might be telling you to stay here, but you’ll have a cottage to renovate and a book club to lead. You’ll be plenty busy without launching a campaign to save the local pub and help its very delectable owner, who doesn’t seem to want your help anyway. And you don’t even know if you’re going to stick around yet. There’s no use getting attached to anyone or anything.

      Yet I couldn’t deny that the old magic I’d once felt for Luna Bay was coming back. I was slowly remembering why I loved the place so much, and that was a very dangerous thing indeed.

      The evening wore on and soon it was time for George and me to leave. We’d spent what felt like a lifetime discussing the Broken Hearts Book Club, its members and whether or not I could and should take over as the leader. By the end of our chat, we were quite a few drinks down but no closer to a solution.

      ‘See ya Joni!’ Jake said as we left, smiling what looked like an apology. ‘Sorry, I mean Lucy!’

      I did what I hoped was a coy little wave: nothing special, just a waggle of the fingers followed by a smile. When I saw him return it, my heart did a hop, skip and a jump. His mood had obviously brightened up since he’d almost torn my head off.

      We stepped out onto the street – completely unaware of what was about to happen – and George and I began our slow, precarious descent down the hill towards my parents’ cottage.

      ‘Well, well, well, some things never change. Lucy Harper’s still leaving a pub at silly o’clock on a Friday night!’

      The voice behind me was so familiar yet shocking that I wasn’t sure whether to do a happy dance or take my chances and run. I hadn’t heard it in far too long for a very sad reason. When I spun round, I saw my old friend Elle standing in front of me. Everything about her remained unchanged: her long blonde hair, slim frame and creamy skin tied together with a mischievous smile.

      ‘Oh my god! Elle bloody Nicholls!’ I had to stop my jaw from dropping; she was the last person I’d expected to see in Luna Bay. The part of me that had been friends with her for almost twenty years wanted to run up and hug her, but I remembered how and why we’d drifted apart. So I settled for a cautious wave.

      I was glad to see she looked equally shell shocked to see me. ‘Tell me about it; last I heard you were down in London being a megastar! What’s brought you back to this neck of the woods?’

      ‘Nana Lily’s funeral; she died last week.’ Saying the words stung and I had to stop a fresh bank of tears from brewing at the back of my eyes. ‘How about you?’

      Elle clapped her perfectly manicured hands to her mouth. ‘Nana Lily’s dead? Oh god, I’m so sorry Luce. I remember eating her fairy cakes by the skip load when I was a kid.’

      The mention of her famous fairy cakes made a lump rise in my throat. Elle reached over and hugged me then dropped her arms as though something in the distance had distracted her. When I turned to see what it was, I realised it was George.

      ‘Who’s your friend?’ she asked, taking a few steps towards him. ‘I’m Elle Nicholls, Lucy and I are old friends.’

      ‘I’m George Molloy,’ he replied, extending a hand for her to shake. ‘I’m Lucy’s flatmate in London.’

      ‘Lucky Lucy.’ She flashed him her million-dollar smile and turned to me. ‘If you’re bringing friends like these up from the big, bad city, I’m even happier you’re back! That’s settled it, we have to go for a catch-up drink this week! What do you say?’

      I knew what a night out with the human tornado that was Elle Nicholls was like; it could be accurately described as the Yorkshire version of The Hangover. I also knew that she was feeling far more awkward about seeing me than she was letting on. How could she not be, given what had forced us apart?

      ‘I don’t know about that,’ I joked. ‘Nights out with you were…eventful, if I remember!’

      Elle snorted, put her arm around me then removed it after seeing how awkward physical contact made our odd little reunion. ‘I’m just back from dicking around Australia and I haven’t seen you in forever. Trust me, we’re having a drink tomorrow and I’m kidnapping you so I can force-feed you cake and talk about old times. We’ll meet in the Moonlight Café tomorrow lunchtime OK?’

      Before I could object, she announced that we’d also be meeting in The Purple Partridge sometime that week then scuttled off up the hill.

      ‘So that’s your old friend then?’ George stared after her. ‘She’s… she’s something else.’

      ‘Yup, she’s a one-off,’ I agreed.

      The next day I met Elle at the café for cake. We exchanged slightly awkward smiles and sat at a table in the middle of the room. Walking in after so long felt strange, but the smell of freshly baked bread and cakes brought back a whole host of memories. I smiled at Diane but she didn’t return it. I guessed we wouldn’t be exchanging Christmas cards any time soon…

      ‘So, long time no see!’ I said with a bright smile. ‘You said you’d been travelling? Where have you been?’

      ‘Here, there and everywhere,’ she said, folding her arms tightly across her chest. ‘After everything that happened… I had to get away, you know? I suppose you were the same.’

      I nodded ruefully. ‘First chance I got, packed my bags and headed to London. Haven’t been back since, not even for Christmas. Mum and Dad either came to me or just sent presents when they couldn’t. I came back for Nana Lily’s funeral and now it looks like I might be staying! I suppose you have to come home eventually, eh?’

      ‘Yeah. I got tired of the whole jet-set lifestyle and fancied a change of pace. Thought I’d give good old Luna Bay a second chance, see if I can’t make a life for myself here.’

      We looked at each other, both trying to avoid the elephant in the room: the Vicky thing. It was impossible; those events were like an invisible thread that bound us together yet forced us apart. We had to talk about it.

      Luckily for me, Elle went first. ‘You know, when I was in Australia, I couldn’t help thinking how much Vicky would’ve loved it. She’d have adored the sunshine and the surfer boys, wouldn’t she?’

      I nodded and found myself smiling. I hadn’t done that when talking about my old best friend for a long time. It felt good.

      ‘She really would’ve! Remember when we took that school trip to Cornwall and she tried to convince this group of surfers she was eighteen so they’d buy her a round of drinks at the beach bar? Miss Rivers went ape shit when she found out!’

      Elle screwed her eyes shut and giggled. ‘Oh God yeah! She tried to have a go at surfing too and ended up falling