Page 40 of The Last Library of Paris

‘And you?’

Digby shut the door behind him, and I saw him walk down the hall past the windows in the office.

‘The same,’ said Dad.

Hating to interrupt him, but wanting to be quick, I jumped in.

‘Dad, I need your help,’ I said.

‘Are you in trouble?’ His voice sounded unsure and worried, and I thought this was how he would be now, forever, because his son had died.

‘No, I am absolutely not in trouble. Not me. But I want to help other people.’ I paused. ‘I want to help Jewish refugees.’

‘Good,’ said Dad.

‘And I thought you might like to work with me.’ I took a breath. ‘It could be a useful distraction.’

Dad went quiet. And then he finally spoke. ‘What can I do?’

I loved him so much for it, my heart almost ached.

Quickly, because phone calls were expensive, I told him our idea.

‘They need job offers?’

‘Yes, or sponsors who will guarantee £50.’

‘Your mother and I can take a housekeeper, and probably a gardener, too,’ said Dad. ‘I’m looking out at the rose bushes now and they’re in a terrible state. As is my paperwork, to be honest. I could make use of an assistant.’

‘Doesn’t Mum do that?’

‘Well, she did,’ said Dad. ‘But not now she’s joined the Women’s Voluntary Service.’

‘She’s joined the WVS?’ It was news to me, but I was pleased. My mother had always been the type of woman who rolled up her sleeves and got stuck in. But Jamie’s death had sucked a bit of the life out of her and when I had been at home, she had been listless and uncharacteristically reluctant to get involved. ‘Is it helping, do you think?’

‘I do,’ said Dad. ‘It’s made a real difference. But it does mean she is much too busy organising evacuees, and teaching people first aid, and who knows what, to help with my work now.’

‘Do you think she’d help find jobs for refugees too?’

‘I think she would love to.’

‘That would be wonderful, Dad, thank you.’

‘Anything to help.’

‘How easy do you think it would be? To find a job opening for a refugee, or someone to stand guarantee for the £50?’

‘That’s a lot of money.’

‘It is,’ I admitted. ‘But the thing is, we’re pretty sure it will never be an issue. Edith says the Home Office won’t check – they simply don’t have the resources – and the refugees are all very determined to find work themselves. Some of them have jewellery and other valuables with them, sewn into coats and whatnot. They’re not going to be a drain.’

‘Is this legal, Cassie?’

I paused, thinking of the best way to say it.

‘Not entirely. But it’s not entirely illegal either. And I am sure it is the right thing to do.’

‘How many refugees do you want to help?’