Page 64 of The Last Library of Paris

‘Oh, I forgot,’ Bea said as she picked up her bag. ‘I brought you some books.’

She handed me a bundle of distinctive Peacock books with bright blue covers and I gasped at the timeliness of them.

‘The Forces Book Club editions?’ I said.

‘That’s it.’

I turned them over in my hands, admiring how small and neat they were. ‘They’re perfect to fit in a pocket, aren’t they?’

‘I think they’re lovely,’ Bea agreed. ‘And what a marvellous idea, too.’

‘Absolutely.’

I put the cover on my typewriter and gathered the paperwork.

‘I have a friend from the last war,’ Bea went on, as she handed her completed forms to Edith. ‘She’s a librarian in Paris.’

‘Lord,’ I said. ‘I didn’t think there were any libraries left in Paris.’

‘She’s a very determined woman,’ said Bea. ‘Anyway, she’s started her own organisation to send books out to soldiers. She said in her last letter that she’s sending books to hospitals, canteens, POW camps – all over the place.’

‘To British troops? From occupied Paris?’ I said, in amazement. ‘How on earth is she doing that?’

‘She’s got the approval of the Nazis, apparently. And the Red Cross are helping distribute.’

Now I really was amazed. ‘She’s sending books across France?’

‘I believe so,’ Bea said. ‘Maybe into Belgium too? I’m not sure. She says there’s so much demand for it, they can barely keep up. They’re getting requests all the time for more.’

‘Well I never,’ I said. My mind was racing. ‘What’s her library called?’

‘The American Library of Paris.’

‘And her name?’

Bea was looking at me through narrowed eyes. ‘Frances Reed,’ she said.

‘Ha!’ said Lara. ‘Reed is an excellent name for a librarian.’

‘Nominative determinism,’ said Bea. She was speaking lightly but I felt her eyes on me as I wrote down the names she’d given me. ‘Like your name is Lara Hope, and you’re full of optimism.’

‘I’m optimistic there’s some food at home,’ said Lara. ‘I’m starving.’

I nodded to Bea, letting her know I was grateful for the contact, and that she hadn’t asked me any more details.

‘Thanks for the books,’ I said.

‘Always glad to help.’

The next day, I raced into the office, desperate to tell Valentine and Henry what I’d found out.

‘So it’s all coordinated by this library in Paris?’ Valentine asked.

‘That’s what Bea said. I didn’t want to ask too many questions. She’s a former journalist so she’s very curious.’

‘Nosy,’ muttered Valentine.

‘But apparently, they’re sending out hundreds of books. Bea said they can barely keep up with the demand.’