Page 33 of The Last Library of Paris

When Fischer had given us approval, and we’d all waved him off with forced smiles from Guy and me, and a steely stare from Sylvie, we all stood for a moment and looked at one another.

‘Heck,’ I said. ‘How on earth are we going to do all this?’

Sylvie glanced round the library. All the readers had gone now, except for one woman who had been studying a copy of Les Misérables for ages. I watched in amusement as Sylvie marched over to her.

‘Have you read this before?’ she asked, plucking the book from the woman’s hands.

The woman shook her head. ‘But it was my boyfriend’s favourite.’

Sylvie’s eyes widened. ‘Is he dead?’

The woman looked tearful. ‘No, he left me.’

‘Pfft,’ said Sylvie, shoving Les Misérables back on the shelf. ‘Then you don’t need this. You need your friends and some wine. Go. Go on …’

She bustled the woman out of the library and shut the huge door behind her with a bang. Then she turned to Guy and me, who were looking on, bewildered. ‘We have things to discuss.’

‘I’m worried with just the three of us we can’t keep our deliveries going, run the library and sort the Soldiers’ Book Service,’ I admitted. I sat down at the loans desk and rested my chin on my hand. ‘What if it’s too much for us?’

I thought briefly of my mother, who always said I was full of big ideas and didn’t follow them through. Though she’d also been disbelieving when I said I was moving to Paris and here I was. I sat up a little straighter.

‘It’s fine,’ said Sylvie. ‘A little hard work never hurt anyone. Here’s what we’ll do. Frances, you are responsible for the soldiers’ books. It’s your idea and it’s a good one. You will make it happen and everyone will be so pleased.’

‘But …’ I began. Sylvie held her hand up to silence me.

‘I will look after the library, and Guy can help you and he can help me, depending when we need him.’

‘What about the deliveries?’ said Guy.

‘I can’t do deliveries because the soldiers pay me too much attention,’ Sylvie said. She wasn’t being immodest; she was telling the truth. Her pretty face and her chutzpah drew everyone’s eyes to her. Patrolling soldiers would notice her once, then again, then they’d see a pattern. It was too risky.

I nodded.

‘Guy can help but he is not always so good on the bicycle,’ Sylvie continued.

Guy winced. ‘That’s true. But I can walk.’

‘Yes.’

‘I can do the deliveries,’ I said.

‘You can do some of them but not all of them. It’s too much,’ Sylvie pointed out. So we’re back to where we started.’

‘No, we are not. We just need someone to help.’

‘Alain,’ said Guy.

‘Exactement.’

I groaned. ‘It’s too dangerous,’ I said. ‘How do we know we can trust him? He’s indiscreet, Guy. He told me he was with the Resistance.’

Guy gave me a stern look. ‘He got the medicine for Maurice and he didn’t take any money. And he knows about our deliveries and he hasn’t told anyone.’

‘It’s only been a few days,’ I said darkly. ‘Who knows who he’s telling right now.’

‘He’s known for ages,’ Guy said. ‘I told him weeks ago.’

‘Guy!’