Page 23 of The Last Library of Paris

‘I didn’t want to get your hopes up until I’d found the right person to ask for permission.’

‘The right Nazi?’ Sylvie almost spat the words.

‘I’m afraid so.’

Guy nodded. ‘If they know you’re delivering books to soldiers, they might be less interested in everything else we’re doing.’

‘That’s exactly what I hope.’ I was pleased we were thinking the same way.

Sylvie scowled. ‘What if they don’t give permission?’

‘Then I’ll come up with a new plan.’

‘And he is coming today? This Nazi?’

‘He is.’

‘Do you think he will agree to your plan?’

‘Honestly? I have no idea.’

Sylvie sucked air in through her teeth. ‘People who love books are usually good people. But this man is a Nazi. So he is unpredictable.’

‘Everything is unpredictable now.’ I looked up at the high ceiling of the library. ‘I just don’t know what could happen.’

‘We just have to hope,’ said Guy, ever the optimist.

‘Hope is all we’ve got,’ I said. ‘Hope and books.’

‘What is his name?’ Sylvie said, her tone suggesting she could not care less.

‘Dr Hermann Fischer,’ I said. ‘He’s in charge of libraries in occupied territories.’

‘Goodness, they really have thought of everything, haven’t they?’ said Guy, raising an eyebrow.

‘Apparently so,’ I said drily. ‘His department is called the Bibliotheksschutz.’

‘I suppose we should be grateful they’re not stealing the books like they’re stealing the art,’ said Sylvie.

I narrowed my eyes at her. ‘Can you be civil to this man when he arrives? Or will you cause trouble?’

‘I can be nice,’ she said.

‘Please do.’ I clapped my hands together. ‘I was going to gather some examples of books to show him,’ I said. ‘Guy, could you help with that? Sylvie, you tell us when Fischer arrives? Be. Nice.’

She smiled sweetly at me. ‘See?’ she said, pointing at her own face. ‘Nice.’

Guy and I headed up to the office and spent a rather nice hour or so choosing a selection of books that we thought soldiers might like.

‘I’m basically choosing the books I’d like to read,’ he said when I admired his pile.

‘Which is perfect, because you are a young man, like the soldiers.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Guy, looking pleased. ‘If he says yes, this Monsieur Fischer, how will we get the books to the soldiers?’

‘I’ve been writing to all sorts of organisations,’ I said. ‘I’ve got the YMCA on board, and the Red Cross, and the Quakers said they’ll help.’ I picked an Evelyn Waugh novel from Guy’s pile and started reading the blurb. ‘I just need to know the Nazis won’t interfere.’

‘Maybe they have bigger things to worry about.’