Page 3 of The Last Library of Paris

In fact, I was absolutely furious with Jamie for dying, with my parents for not stopping him joining the Army, with Hitler, with Churchill, with the whole world. And especially with myself for teasing him about my own important war-work, and giving him the incentive to join up, even though he too was a vicar and he wouldn’t have been conscripted.

I had moments where the rage rose up inside me. Fury at the futility of it all. Jamie was dead, and so were thousands of men like him, and for what? The war continued. Europe was in tatters. My family was broken.

‘I’m fine,’ I said again. Digby turned the corner by the entrance to the university and onto the main road, which would take us into central Lisbon. I felt my heart lift, just a little, at the sight of the tiled buildings reflecting the strong sun. ‘I’m glad to be back.’

‘It’s good to see you.’

‘I can’t wait to get to work. I imagine there’s a lot to do, I feel I’ve been away for an age – much longer than a few months. I’m looking forward to shedding my Cassie skin and becoming Sandra again. Is there something juicy for us to get our teeth into? What’s happening in Russia?’

Digby had gone very quiet.

‘What?’ I said. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Ah,’ said Digby. ‘Well …’

‘What does “ah, well” mean?’ I said, looking at his profile as he stared at the road ahead.

‘Well, it means that for now – just for now – you need to be on desk duty.’

‘And desk duty means?’

‘Nothing classified.’

‘What?’ Anger burned inside me. ‘Will I just be like any other embassy member of staff even though I’m part of Section D?’

‘Section D is part of the embassy,’ Digby said.

‘Don’t patronise me. Being based in the same building doesn’t mean we’re the same thing. It’s just a cover.’

Digby sighed. ‘You can’t work in intelligence for a little while after a bereavement, in case you’re compromised.’

‘That is stupid.’

‘It’s protocol.’

‘It’s nonsense.’

‘My hands are tied.’

‘Then untie them.’

Digby glanced over at me. ‘Cassie, we just need to make sure you’re …’

‘I’m what?’ I said. ‘Up to the job?’

He grimaced in agreement.

‘You know I’m up to the job.’

‘We need to make sure you’re coping.’

I snorted. ‘And my experience counts for nothing?’

‘Not for nothing, no.’

‘But I’m still being sidelined.’

‘Not for long,’ Digby said. ‘It’s just a question of ticking boxes.’