Page 107 of The Last Library of Paris

Sylvie gripped my hand and I looked at this strange, mismatched team of people, and I wanted to cry.

‘It’s not safe,’ Marcus repeated.

‘You’re right.’ I wiped my eyes and tossed my hair back. ‘We need to go.’

I stood up. Then, still holding Sylvie’s hand, I reached out and took Guy’s too. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Alain, who was standing on Guy’s other side. I didn’t know if I felt guilty for wrongly accusing him, or vindicated in my suspicions. Perhaps he hadn’t betrayed us, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have done if he’d had the chance.

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘It’s been a blast.’

‘Let’s hope not,’ said Alain, drole as ever. I ignored him.

‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

But as we all dropped hands, I heard a noise downstairs. I froze. Was it footsteps?

‘Did you lock the door?’ I asked Guy.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘After the Nazi arrived.’

‘I’m not …’ Marcus began, but Guy just stared at him, and he didn’t finish his sentence. He simply nodded. ‘I saw him lock the main door.’

We all listened intently.

‘Perhaps it is a fantôme,’ said Alain.

Sylvie gave him a disdainful look. ‘Je ne pense pas.’ I don’t think so.

‘Shhh.’ I was trying to hear. Everyone stayed silent for a moment, and then there was a huge thud and a shout from downstairs, and my heart lurched.

‘Is it them?’ I said quietly. I felt oddly calm. My previous panic had gone and I felt clear-headed. ‘Is it the Nazis?’

‘It could be.’ Marcus looked grim-faced.

‘What should we do?’ I asked, not sure whether to stay up in the office, where we could perhaps be safe, or go down and see what was happening.

‘Stay here,’ said Marcus firmly, just as Alain said: ‘We need to go downstairs.’

The two men stared at one another. It felt like a silent struggle for power. Then Marcus said: ‘Let’s go very quietly to the top of the stairs and take a look.’

Alain nodded.

Guy stood up, too, but Alain shook his head at him. ‘Stay here,’ he said quietly. ‘Stay with Frances and Sylvie.’

The men crept out of the office. I went too, but only as far as the door because I could see Guy’s face was pale and Sylvie’s jaw was set, and I didn’t want to leave them alone and frightened. I gripped the door frame and watched Alain and Marcus edge along the top of the stairs. They both listened for a moment and then Marcus turned back to me.

‘Germans,’ he whispered. He looked relieved but I didn’t share that feeling. ‘I’ll go down. I can send them away.’

‘No,’ I said, but it was too late; he was heading downstairs.

On legs that trembled I went to my desk and picked up the empty brandy bottle. Then I went after Marcus, horribly aware that if his cover had been blown, he’d be shot.

Behind me I could sense the others following. Halfway down, on the curve of the staircase, we paused, hidden in the shadows, and I gasped aloud at the sight that greeted us.

It seemed like there were Nazis everywhere, though there were actually only five or six. They were pulling books from shelves. Tearing out pages. Throwing old and precious editions on the floor and trampling them. As we looked on in horror, one soldier took out a cigarette lighter and singed the pages of a leather-bound book, dropping it on the floor when it burned his fingers.

Another soldier growled at him as the book smouldered on the floor, gesturing as flames began to lick the pages. So, laughing, the first soldier unbuttoned his fly and urinated on the book, leaving it damp, but no longer burning.

Sylvie let out a tiny squeak of distress, and I gripped her hand. Her fingers were cold and clammy, just like mine.