Page 61 of The Last Library of Paris

‘There’s a town with that name near Southampton,’ I said.

‘Brilliant,’ said Henry. ‘We can use that. What’s next, Val?’

‘Saint-Pierre.’

‘Saint Peter.’

‘Thanks for the translation,’ I said sarcastically, though I was teasing because actually this was rather fun. ‘So we could say St Peter’s Road, or something?’

‘What’s next?’ Henry asked again.

‘Colembert,’ said Valentine, screwing up his nose. ‘That’s not as easy to translate.’

‘No,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘But could we write it phonetically? My parents have a friend named Colm. Irish, obviously. Could we make it Colm O’Bert Books or something? I know it’s not exact but hopefully it’s close enough.’

Valentine’s eyes gleamed. ‘You,’ he said, pointing at me with his piece of paper, ‘are an excellent addition to the team.’

I tucked my hair behind my ears and tried to pretend I didn’t care about his praise.

‘So, Colm O’Bert Books, 99 St Peter’s Road, Beaulieu.’

‘Hampshire,’ said Henry, who was looking at a map of Britain that he’d spread out on his desk.

‘Perfect,’ I said. ‘Should we do north to south in numerical order of the series, too? So number one is the most northerly village, and number twelve the farthest south?’

‘Yes,’ said Henry. ‘This is excellent.’

‘We need to make sure the men know what all this means,’ I said. ‘Tell them the addresses will be stamped in the books, that they might need to translate them or think phonetically. It would be good if they can swap books among themselves, too.’

‘Perhaps we can get them distributed according to where they’re going?’ said Valentine. ‘If they’re going to mid-France then they should take books five or six in the series.’

‘That works,’ said Henry, writing quickly.

‘Right, so book number one is done,’ said Valentine. ‘Did you write that down, Hughes?’

‘It’s all here.’ Henry tapped his notepad with the end of his pen.

‘Do we have a map of France?’ I asked. ‘Can we stick it up on the wall?’

‘There’s one here somewhere,’ said Henry.

There were a few minutes while everyone got up and hunted for the map, then Valentine stuck it up on the wall, while Henry found another of Iberia, and the Pyrenees and put that up, too, along with the one of Britain.

‘If this works, we can expand into Belgium,’ said Valentine, looking at the maps. ‘But let’s get France up and running first, shall we?’

I stood back and looked at northern France on the map. ‘Book two, then,’ I said. ‘What’s the next address?’

It took us hours but eventually we had twelve fictional addresses, each containing the names of two or three – and in one case, four – villages where there were safe houses.

‘I think we’re done,’ Henry said, looking satisfied.

‘Sure?’ said Valentine.

‘I believe so,’ I said, nodding.

Valentine took his list of the safe houses over to the windowsill, where there was an ashtray. He took out a lighter and lit the corner of the pages, watching them frazzle until he dropped them into the ashtray and they collapsed into embers.

‘Gone,’ he said. ‘Well done, everyone.’