Page 126 of The Last Library of Paris

We sat at a table. I chose to sit with my back to the bar, so I could see the rest of the carriage. Henry and Lara sat opposite me, and before we knew it, another bartender appeared to take our orders. It felt like a throwback to another time – an easier, happier time – and I quite liked it. How different travelling across Europe was if you had money and influence, compared with the desperate refugees tramping through countries and surviving as best they could, or the airmen following the escape lines and risking their lives in the process.

I sighed, as the barman put our drinks down on the table and Henry handed him some money.

‘This is delightful,’ said Lara.

‘Before the war, they used to serve full meals on this train …’ Henry began, and I let my mind drift, half-listening to him and half taking in my surroundings.

Behind me, the man who was sitting on the bar stool said, ‘Boa noite.’ Opposite me, Henry sat up straighter, while Lara’s eyes widened. I nudged Henry with my foot under the table wondering why he’d reacted that way and glanced round to see – to my shock – that the man was Archie. He was wearing a trilby hat and a tweed suit, like one of Digby’s.

He saw us looking at him, but he barely reacted, other than a tiny flicker at the corner of his eye. I watched as he gathered himself, subtly, and as he went to walk past us, he dropped his wallet.

Henry got to his feet, scooping it up. ‘Excuse me, sir?’ he called. ‘You dropped something.’

‘Good lord, so I did,’ Archie said. His accent was rougher than usual. ‘Thank you so much. Can I buy you a drink for your trouble?’

‘If you’ll join us to drink it,’ said Henry.

Archie accepted. He gestured to the barman, and slid into the empty seat next to mine. It felt as though every nerve ending in my body was sizzling, desperate for him to touch me. But of course, he didn’t.

‘I’m Marta Bucher,’ I said. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

‘Miss Bucher,’ Archie said. He shook my outstretched hand, and I ached with the closeness of him.

‘This is my sister, Ada Morgan,’ I said.

‘Half-sister,’ said Lara, pointedly, reaching across the table and shaking Archie’s hand vigorously. ‘And my husband, Baron Rhodri Morgan.’

‘Charmed,’ said Archie. ‘I’m Douglas Hepburn.’

The barman brought our drinks, and we all stopped talking for a moment.

‘What takes you to Paris?’ asked Archie through slightly gritted teeth.

‘Oh, we’re not stopping,’ I said lightly. ‘We’re going back to Britain from Paris. Rhodri here has business to attend to, and my sister invited me to join them.’ I noticed the Germans watching us – had they heard my name? – and lowered my voice the tiniest amount knowing they would still be able to hear me. ‘I am worried I will need to change my name,’ I said. ‘Our father was German, but I don’t think the Brits will be too welcoming, blast them.’

Archie looked straight at me. ‘I think that will depend on where your sympathies lie,’ he said.

I made a face, aware of the German officer’s eyes on me. ‘I think I should change it,’ I said with a meaningful nod.

Archie’s shoulders dropped, tension released, as if I’d given him the answer he wanted. At the other table, the officer stopped watching me and turned his attention to his companions. It felt a little like I’d passed a test.

‘Why are you going to Paris, Mr Hepburn?’ asked Lara.

‘I’m going home, too,’ Archie said. ‘My mother is ill.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Henry looked concerned and I was impressed by his acting skills. ‘Will you return to Lisbon?’

Archie shook his head. ‘The city has been good to me,’ he said. He leaned over the table, as though he was sharing a secret. ‘I’ve made a lot of money, doing this and that, if you catch my drift? I’ll find something else to do in London.’

He drained his glass. ‘I’m off to bed,’ he said, taking his cabin key out of his pocket and putting it on the table as he adjusted his hat. ‘The cabins are nice, aren’t they? I’m the only person in mine. I’m glad I don’t have to share.’

My eyes flickered from him to the key in front of me, where the cabin number was clearly displayed. He gave me the tiniest, most imperceptible wink. Or perhaps it was just the dim light of the carriage playing tricks on me.

‘Well, goodnight,’ he said, standing up. ‘Perhaps our paths will cross again.’

He headed off out of the bar. I watched him go. Then I looked back at the others who were both watching me.

‘Shall we turn in, too?’ said Lara.