Page 82 of The Last Library of Paris

‘Watkins.’

He grinned.

‘Shall we start again? Honestly this time.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning we’ll get to know one another. And then you’ll explain to me what you’re up to.’ He drummed his fingers on the pile of papers.

‘Fine.’

Valentine stuck his hand out for me to shake. ‘How do you do?’ he said. ‘I’m Archie Valentine. Vice-consul.’ He gave me a tiny wink.

I took his hand. ‘Cassandra Watkins,’ I said, emphasising my surname. ‘Wat … Kins. I’ll be your translator.’ I gave him the same tiny wink he’d given me.

‘A pleasure, Miss Watkins.’

‘Most people call me Cassie.’

‘Most people call me Val,’ he said. ‘Except my mother.’

‘I can’t call you Val. I’ve got an Aunt Val.’

He chuckled. ‘Archie is fine.’

There was another pause.

‘What now?’ I asked.

Archie signalled to the barman to bring us more drinks.

‘Now we get to know each other. Surely you’ve made small talk before?’

‘I have,’ I agreed. ‘But not quite like this.’

‘Ask me a question, and I’ll answer it.’

I drained my drink as the barman brought us another round. Then I waited for him to leave again before I asked my first question.

‘Why are you working for MI9? You’re young enough to be fighting.’

‘You’re going straight for that, are you? Not where did I go to school or have I any pets?’

I smiled, despite myself. ‘I don’t care about that.’

He looked down into his glass.

‘Tale as old as time, I’m afraid. I have a sister, Heather. She’s lovely. And we had an older brother – Donald. Brilliantly clever. Handsome. Funny.’

I gripped my own glass tightly because I knew where this was going.

‘Donald died at the Somme.’ Archie spoke lightly, but a muscle pulsed in his cheek. ‘I was sixteen. My parents were devastated, obviously. I’ve been trying to prove myself to them ever since.’

I pinched my lips together.

He gave me a small smile. ‘The irony is, of course, that I can’t tell them what I’m really doing here. But being a diplomat seems good enough, though my mother would prefer me to be in Britain. She is rather protective of Heather and me.’

‘Is that why you didn’t join up?’ I asked. ‘Because of what happened to Donald?’