Page 35 of The Last Library of Paris

‘We’ve had another donation, too,’ Sylvie said. ‘It arrived earlier. Guy is sorting it upstairs.’

‘I’ll go up and see how he’s getting on,’ I said.

Sylvie nodded, smiling as some readers came into the library. ‘Bonjour,’ she said, her attention already elsewhere.

Upstairs, Guy was standing in the office, surrounded by boxes, looking a little lost. Alain was sitting on a chair, spinning round and round on his tiptoes.

‘Another delivery,’ Guy said. ‘So many books.’

‘This is wonderful.’ I peered at the boxes. ‘Where are they from?’

‘A bookstore in London.’

‘Gosh, you’d think they’d have enough to worry about over there,’ I said. ‘How thoughtful.’

‘The note says his shop closed because of the bombs,’ Guy said. He handed me a handwritten letter with an address on Charing Cross Road in London.

I scanned the neat writing. ‘The owner – this Mr Anderson – has moved to live in Lancashire with his daughter, and he says he wanted the books to be read instead of leaving them in the shop. Lord, how awful it must be for them.’

‘It’s awful for us,’ said Alain. ‘We have Nazis on our streets.’

‘It’s not a competition,’ I said, rather more sharply than I’d intended.

I checked to see that Mr Anderson had included his address in Lancashire. It was there at the bottom. ‘I’ll write and thank him,’ I said.

‘I heard they took the animals from London Zoo and walked them to a safer part of England,’ said Guy.

‘Really?’ I said. ‘Giraffes and tigers and elephants all walking along together?’

‘That’s what I heard,’ he said. He smiled. ‘That would be something to see, wouldn’t it?’

‘Like something from a children’s book.’

Alain chuckled. ‘Like The Carnival of the Animals. I loved that music when I was a child.’

Guy gazed at Alain, his eyes soft. Wanting to break the moment, I said: ‘What do we have?’

‘Good stuff,’ Guy said, dragging his gaze from Alain’s chiselled jawline. ‘M. Anderson has really thought about what to send. Lots of funny stories to raise the spirits of the soldiers.’

I looked round at the piles of books. It seemed Mr Anderson had sent us the entire shop. ‘Are you here all day, Alain?’

He shrugged. ‘I can be.’

‘Could you help Guy parcel these up? We’ve got a collection coming later and it would be good to send them out with that. I’m trying to get some sort of schedule for when the Red Cross can collect, but it’s hard. So, who knows when the next pick-up will be.’

‘I suppose.’

‘And you’re all right to do your own delivery later?’

‘Oui.’

‘It’s no surprise that people are using books to raise their spirits,’ said Guy. ‘I had a difficult time at school when I was a child, and I read as an escape.’

Alain gave Guy’s good arm a small, sympathetic pat and then took his hand away as he saw that I’d noticed.

‘We do appreciate your help, you know,’ I told him, wanting to make amends for my sharp look. ‘I know some people believe that books are trivial in a time of war, but they’re much more important than that.’

‘Vital,’ said Guy.