Page 63 of The Last Library of Paris

‘It’s straightforward,’ said Edith. ‘But it’s secret, of course.’

‘Of course.’

‘And it’s time-consuming. I think the quicker we get all this done, the better …’ She trailed off but I knew she meant we should do as many applications as we could as fast as we could, in case we were caught.

‘Lara’s coming to help,’ I said. ‘She should be here any minute. And she said she’d bring Bea, if she was free.’

I checked my watch.

‘I’ll go down to the main entrance and meet Lara now,’ I said.

‘I’ll get everything ready.’ Edith rubbed her hands together like she couldn’t wait to get started.

Lara was waiting outside, with – I was pleased to see – Bea. I gave them both a hug and showed them inside, our footsteps echoing round the empty halls.

‘Edith’s got lots of names already,’ I told them. ‘Some theatre people, Lara, and lots from London, so I assume Hector has been busy.’

‘Wonderful,’ said Bea.

We got to the office and I introduced them to Edith. I could tell immediately that she and Bea would soon be firm friends.

We each sat down by a typewriter and Edith dished out the paperwork.

‘The forms are all pretty straightforward,’ she said. ‘We enter the details of the refugees here, add their job offers or sponsors in Britain, and that is it. The tricky bit is matching refugees to the right job.’

‘Is it just a case of who we think fits?’ Bea asked. She was running her fingers over the typewriter keys affectionately.

‘Pretty much,’ said Edith. ‘Here’s a list of the refugees with their skills and work experience. Once you’ve allocated them to a sponsor, cross them off.’

We began work. We leafed through the paperwork and chatted about the jobs and swapped refugees’ details, and slowly but surely we began to get some forms filled in.

Not all of them were genuine job offers, and not all of the sponsors had £50 to spare, but Edith said she was confident that with the number of applications we were sending through, plus how busy everyone was, we’d get away with it. We had to clip a photograph of the applicants to the forms, and seeing the refugees’ haunted expressions made me more convinced we were doing the right thing.

‘I think that’s probably enough for now,’ Edith said, after a couple of hours when we were all beginning to droop with tiredness. ‘In the morning I’ll bundle up the documents we’ve typed today and send them off to London to be processed.’

‘What if they notice there are more applications than usual?’ I asked, always wanting to be ready for every eventuality.

‘I’ll tell them we’ve taken on some extra staff,’ Edith said. ‘But I don’t think they’ll question it. They’re swamped anyway.’

I carefully typed a refugee’s name on the form, using my two forefingers and checking and double checking the spelling. Edith watched me in despair.

‘Is that the fastest you can type?’

I grimaced. ‘If you want me to get it right, it’s absolutely the fastest.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Maybe you’ll get better.’

I wasn’t sure.

Bea, whose fingers had flown over the keys all evening, thanks to her experience writing articles, laughed.

‘I think perhaps Cassie’s skills lie elsewhere.’

‘I’m not sure.’ I pulled the form from the typewriter and looked at the correctly spelled name with satisfaction. ‘I do really think I’m getting better at this.’

This time everyone laughed.

‘Oi!’ I said, affronted, but only mildly because I knew they were right.