Page 73 of The Last Library of Paris

In my darker moments, I worried that he was setting me up – planting the ‘wrong’ books on my shelves just to expose my so-called crimes later.

But I was just a librarian, I reasoned with myself. No one – Nazi or otherwise – was interested in what I was doing.

‘Where do they think you’re going when you come to visit me?’ I asked as I led him up the stairs to the office. ‘The other Nazis?’

He didn’t reply and I kicked myself for being so indiscreet. When we got inside, he shut the door and went through his routine of checking for listening devices. And finally, he sat down.

‘I’m not a Nazi,’ he said.

‘I know.’

‘You said the other Nazis.’

I chuckled. ‘You know what I meant.’

‘I told them I’m checking to make sure there are no books on your shelves by Jews,’ he said. ‘Keeping an eye on things. I got a slap on the back from one of my officers the other day for being so committed.’

‘Lord. That won’t draw attention to us, will it?’

‘No, I think they’re relieved I’ve taken on this supposed task, so they don’t have to.’

I nodded.

Marcus looked at me.

‘They know about your Soldiers’ Book Service, of course,’ he said.

‘That’s approved by the Bibliotheksschutz,’ I told him. ‘It’s approved by the guy who’s overseeing all the libraries in occupied territories. Dr Fischer.’

‘I’ve heard about him.’

‘I knew him from before the war,’ I said. ‘I admired him then …’

I let my words trail off as I considered that my admiration for Dr Fischer was waning since he’d started working for the Nazis.

‘I understand.’ Marcus took a breath. ‘Lord, how things have changed.’

He sounded breezy but his voice shook on the last word. I looked at him, sitting in my office in his imposing uniform, his black boots on the floor where I sorted books for Jewish Parisians, and I felt my palms begin to sweat.

‘Marcus,’ I began. ‘We are not simply organising the Soldiers’ Book Service from here.’

‘Go on.’

Hoping I wasn’t making a huge mistake and putting us all in danger, I said in a rush: ‘We deliver books to the Jewish people who aren’t allowed to use the library anymore.’

There was a pause.

‘We?’

‘Me, and my assistants Sylvie and Guy, and his friend Alain. On bicycles.’

Marcus widened his eyes. ‘I had London check you out,’ he said. ‘This wasn’t mentioned.’

I allowed myself a small smile. ‘We seem to go unnoticed for the most part, thankfully. No one thinks books are important. But they are.’

‘How long have you been doing this?’

‘Since the Nazis came. We did our first deliveries that same week.’