Page 139 of The Last Library of Paris

‘Pfft,’ said Guy, unimpressed at the offer. ‘What can you do?’

I put my hand on my waist, where the pistol was strapped. ‘You’d be surprised,’ I said. ‘Lead the way.’

Guy paused by the stone archway, listening, and then peeked slowly round the corner, checking the coast was clear. He nodded and I followed him.

‘It’s down this way,’ he said in English.

‘French,’ I murmured. ‘Je comprends.’

He nodded.

We walked out of the archway and as we did, two Nazi officers came out of the building opposite. One of them was holding a large piece of paper – a plan of some sort, which he spread out, holding his arms wide and showing it to the other man. They both looked from the plans to the library building and back again. The first man pointed to the windows on the second floor like he was assessing something. I remembered Frances saying she thought the Nazis wanted to use the building and it seemed these chaps were the ones putting that into practice.

As the second man studied the document, I realised with a certain amount of horror that he was the soldier we’d spoken to on the train. Would he recognise me?

I looped my arm through Guy’s and tipped my head as though he was saying something important that I was listening to.

‘Speak to me,’ I urged him quietly in French. ‘I need to keep my head down.’

‘We’ll make some bread later,’ he said. ‘And perhaps we can buy some sausage today. I have enough coupons, I think …’

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the German. His head was still bowed over the document, but I thought that he was also looking at us. Or was I just being paranoid?

We got to the corner, and turned. ‘Let’s go faster,’ I said to Guy. ‘Just in case.’

We hurried along, round another corner where there was a tiny side road, so narrow I doubted a car could fit down there.

‘It’s along here,’ said Guy.

‘Wait,’ I said. I didn’t want us to get cornered down that alleyway. It reminded me of the cut-throughs in Lisbon. I checked there was a way out at the far end, and made sure we weren’t being followed, and then I nodded. ‘Go on,’ I said.

He led the way down the street about halfway, to where a small wooden door sat above two stone steps.

‘Here.’ He tried the door, but it wouldn’t open.

‘Should have brought Henry,’ I muttered. ‘He could have picked the lock.’

But Guy was standing back and gazing at the door. He seemed to be counting something. Then he went forward again and with his fingertips, eased out a brick near the top of the door frame. ‘Can you …’ he asked, struggling to hold the brick with one hand. I took it from him and watched as he stuck his fingers into the gap and pulled out a key.

‘How on earth?’ I was astonished.

‘Alain told me,’ he said. ‘There’s always a way into a safe house.’

‘Not very safe,’ I pointed out.

Guy didn’t answer. He unlocked the door then he put the key back into the hole and I replaced the brick. This time the door opened with ease, and we went inside, flipping the latch to lock it behind us.

We were in a narrow hallway. There was a small living area to one side, a kitchen in front of us, and I assumed a bedroom through the next door.

‘Alain?’ Guy called. ‘Alain?’

There was no reply. We went in each room but there was no sign of life. The kitchen had no food in it, there was dust in the living area and in the bedroom, the mattress was bare.

‘There’s no one here,’ I said eventually. ‘I’m really sorry, Guy.’

He lifted his chin. ‘It was unlikely.’

‘You can come to Lisbon with us.’