Page 88 of The Last Library of Paris

I felt sick, but I forced myself to smile.

‘So we can expect our first Peacock Books delivery soon?’

‘Any day now,’ Marcus said.

‘And what about you? Do you have any more of your books for me?’

‘I do. I’ll bring them when they’re ready.’

‘I’ll be here.’

Marcus and I walked downstairs where he said goodbye and headed out into the street, just as Alain and Guy were coming in. I froze for a second, but Marcus barely acknowledged the other two men, keeping his face stony.

Guy and Alain waited for him to leave, then they both hurried over to where I stood beside the reception desk.

‘What did he want?’ asked Guy, his brow wrinkling.

I put my hand on his to calm him. ‘Nothing to be concerned about,’ I said. ‘Just checking in with the Soldiers’ Book Service.’

‘It’s all fine?’ said Alain. He was more relaxed than Guy, but he still looked worried.

‘All fine.’

‘Good news,’ said Guy. He leaned against the desk, as if he’d run out of strength to stand up straight. ‘No questions about anything else?’

‘No.’

‘Is there a delivery later?’ Alain asked. ‘I’m free if you need my help.’

I wanted to say that we could manage without him, but I didn’t, because I knew we couldn’t, and I had piles of books that our Jewish friends were waiting for.

‘Thank you,’ I said. Then, because I was still wondering, I added: ‘You’re not needed by the Resistance today, then?’

‘No,’ said Alain, giving me a sidelong glance. ‘Not today.’

‘Is there a staff rota?’ I asked, aware I was being a little facetious. ‘Like we had here, before the war?’

‘No,’ said Alain quite patiently. ‘There’s no rota.’

‘How do you know when they need you?’

Alain preened. ‘They always need me. But I have other things to do, like helping here, and getting supplies.’

‘It’s hard to know how anyone gets along without you.’ I was being sarcastic, but Alain nodded, as though I’d said something very profound.

‘I do my best,’ he said modestly. ‘That’s all I can do.’

Guy frowned at me. ‘Why are you asking so many questions?’

‘I’m just nosy,’ I said with a chuckle that sounded fake to my own ears. ‘Curious.’

‘It’s a good way to be,’ said Alain.

‘I think so.’ I nodded vigorously. ‘For example, I don’t know much about you, Alain. Were you born in France?’

‘Was I born in France?’ he repeated, exchanging a puzzled glance with Guy. ‘Oui, je suis né à Paris.’

‘Lovely,’ I said. ‘Magnifique.’