Page 130 of The Last Library of Paris

‘Bloody hell,’ she said.

Henry was looking round, taking it all in. ‘I heard that when the Germans first arrived, the soldiers went round with cameras, taking photographs of all the sights like tourists.’

I shook my head, finding it hard to comprehend how much it had changed.

‘It feels like a different city,’ I said.

‘Ready?’ Archie appeared behind us.

‘As we’ll ever be,’ said Lara who looked more subdued than usual.

‘Is it safe to just stroll around the city?’ I asked, wishing that we’d had longer to plan and prepare for this trip. It seemed horribly as though we were feeling our way in the dark, unsure of what waited for us.

‘We’ll find out,’ said Archie. ‘I suppose.’

We all looked at one another for a moment, and then I nodded. ‘Good luck, everyone.’

It was quite a walk from the station to the library. We crossed the Seine and I thought about how I’d imagined sauntering across the bridge, hand in hand with Archie. Now we walked briskly, barely speaking.

‘Look,’ said Lara, nudging me as we walked. I looked to where she pointed and saw, above the rooftops, the Eiffel Tower.

‘The Resistance disabled the lifts,’ I said. ‘So, the Nazis had to use the stairs when they wanted to hang their flags.’

‘Small acts of rebellion,’ Lara said in satisfaction.

We walked on. As we reached the far end of the Champs-Élysée we all paused, glancing down the wide boulevard to where the Arc de Triomphe stood. Nazi flags hung from the lamp posts.

‘Don’t react,’ said Archie quietly, and obediently we all turned away. ‘And speak French,’ he added. Coming towards us were two Nazi soldiers.

‘We need to be quick, we have a lot to do today,’ I said in French as we passed them. They didn’t pay us any attention, and my legs felt weak with relief.

On we went. The streets narrowed a little and I remembered looking up at the apartments we passed in happier times, imagining living in a little Parisian attic and eating fresh croissants every morning.

Now there were soldiers at the Metro stations and we’d not seen any bakeries that were open.

Eventually, we reached Rue de Teheran. Or Teheraner Straße as the sign said. With our senses on high alert, we walked towards the library building.

‘We’re very exposed,’ Archie said in an undertone. ‘But everything seems quiet.’

‘Just be on your guard, everyone,’ I warned. ‘Eyes and ears open.’

The library was a sorry sight, though I was heartened to note it wasn’t festooned with Nazi flags like everywhere else. Instead, a tattered Stars and Stripes hung from its flagpole.

‘Mon dieu,’ I said. The front of the building was blackened with smoke, though the heavy wooden doors were intact. One window was smashed, and a charred curtain blew through the gap.

Henry had walked on past the library and now he beckoned us to join him.

We walked quickly and he herded us through a stone archway, off the street. ‘I think this must be a delivery entrance,’ he said. ‘Look.’

Next to a door was a cardboard box. It was sodden and split, and inside we could see books – heavy and swollen with rain.

Gingerly I pulled a book from the box. It was one from our list – The Mysterious Affair at Styles by Agatha Christie. I flicked to the inside front cover and nodded as I saw the stamp there.

‘This is definitely the right place,’ I said.

‘Now we just need to get in,’ Lara said, standing back and looking up at the building. ‘The front window was smashed but it would be too easy for anyone to see us to risk climbing in there.’

A car rumbled along the cobbled street outside and we all shrank back against the walls, so we’d be hidden from view.