Page 45 of The Last Library of Paris

‘We could hide the addresses of safe houses in the books,’ I said. I was so eager to share my idea that my usually calm voice was breathy and unsure. I forced myself to breathe normally then I said again: ‘In the books.’

There was a pause. Hughes and Valentine both stared at me, then glanced at each other. I bit my lip.

‘How would we hide them?’ asked Valentine.

‘Ah well, I’d not got that far,’ I admitted. ‘How about on the pages at the front of the book where they have the publisher and all that?’

‘We’d need to get Peacock on board to print the addresses. But it’s an idea.’

‘Might take a while, though,’ I said. I was still thinking. ‘Is there another way we could put them inside? A quicker way?’

‘Bookmarks?’ said Hughes. ‘Though an address on a bookmark would look a bit odd.’

‘Unless it was an address of a bookshop …’ said Valentine thoughtfully.

‘Yes,’ I said. I turned to Hughes. ‘Do you have one?’

‘One what?’ He looked alarmed.

‘A book, you goose.’

‘Oh, yes.’ He opened his battered briefcase and pulled out an even more battered copy of 80 Days Around the World. He held it out to me, and I took it. I flipped through the pages, backwards and forwards, forwards and backwards.

‘Hmm,’ I said.

‘Hmm?’ Hughes peered at the book in my hands.

‘There’s a stamp on the first page.’

‘A stamp?’ Valentine leaned forward.

‘What kind of stamp?’ said Hughes.

‘This is your book,’ I said. ‘You tell me what kind of stamp it is. You’ve obviously read this several times.’

Hughes thought for a moment. ‘It’s the name of the bookshop,’ he said, eventually. ‘It’s Siop Lyfrau Bach.’

‘Bless you,’ said Valentine. I stifled a giggle.

‘It means little bookshop,’ he explained. ‘And there’s the address underneath. I think the lady who owns the shop stamps all the books she sells. It’s like an advertisement, isn’t it? Enterprising.’

‘And very helpful,’ I said, feeling a little shiver of excitement. ‘In fact, it’s exactly what we’re looking for.’

‘Explain?’ Hughes was frowning again, making his spectacles skewwhiff.

‘We could stamp the books with addresses of safe houses, making them look like addresses of bookshops. If we’re clever, we could hide a few addresses in one. Like a street name, a village name, a region – whatever helps. We could even anglicise addresses if we need to – make it less suspicious. Translate road names and so on.’

‘This is very simple,’ said Valentine. ‘And the simplest ideas are often the best.’

Against my better judgement I flushed at his compliment.

‘Perhaps we could stamp different books with different addresses,’ said Hughes, warming to the idea.

‘Yes!’ I said in delight. ‘I think there are a few books in the series. Each one could contain an address or two.’

‘How do you know about this?’ Valentine asked. ‘These Peacock books?’

‘A friend from school is working on them. It’s called the Forces Book Club. They’re choosing books that they think soldiers and airmen will enjoy.’