Page 72 of The Last Library of Paris

‘It is not too much,’ I said firmly. ‘In fact, it’s the opposite. I’m so keen to crack on with things that I’m resentful of Parrish and his interference.’

‘If you’re sure?’ Lara poured more port, and I nodded.

‘I’m sure,’ I said. ‘Now, tell me everything that’s been happening with you.’

The next day, neither Henry nor Valentine was in the office when I arrived. There was just a pile of newspapers on one desk that told me someone had been there already.

I sat down and picked up The Times. Hitler had turned his attentions to the east, pushing through the Baltic and into Russia. Goodness, it made for bleak reading. Was the whole world going to be ruled by the Nazis eventually? The thought made me shudder.

I sighed, slapping the newspaper down on the desk and picking up the Weekly Dispatch instead. There was an advert on the front page asking for donations to the Red Cross to send food parcels to POWs. We could put books in those parcels, I thought. I made a note.

Feeling at a loose end, I put the Weekly Dispatch down, and wandered to the door of the office, to see if I could see Henry or Valentine. I looked out into the hallway, just in time to see Parrish crossing the landing, and heading downstairs. He was wearing his hat, and he was clearly on his way out.

‘Where are you off to so early?’ I murmured to myself. Then, on a whim, I grabbed my own jacket and bag, and I followed.

Lara had been correct when she said we were trained in surveillance. We both knew how to tail someone without being seen, and I had to admit it was easier in Lisbon than it had been in the Scottish border town where I’d done my training. Lisbon was full of little alleyways and cut-throughs, the bright sun cast dark shadows that were useful for ducking into, and the streets were usually filled with people, who provided accidental cover.

With Parrish up ahead, I set off on the opposite side of the street. He was heading into the Baixa – the main part of the city, which was good for me because it was always busy.

Here the buildings were taller, and the shops were more expensive. Parrish paused to look in the window of a fancy tailor and on the other side of the street, I waited, too, watching him through a group of women chatting outside a café.

He moved on, and so did I, confident he hadn’t noticed me behind him. He crossed the road and for a second I lost him as a tram went by.

‘Bloody hell, Cassie,’ I muttered under my breath, annoyed at myself. But then I spotted him, going into a pasteleria on the corner opposite.

I let him go inside, then I darted across the street. Parrish was at the counter, talking to the waitress. Then he went out of the door at the back that either led to a garden or the toilets. Casually, I walked to my left, checking the side of the café. There was nowhere for me to go. So I went the other way, round to my right, and this time I struck lucky. There was an alley running up the side of the café. It was narrow and smelled of bins, but I could see it opened out on the street behind, so it didn’t feel risky.

Checking to see if anyone was watching me, I ducked into the passageway and softly walked along beside the wall of the café to where it joined a lower tiled wall, with carved stone at the top. As I’d hoped, the back door Parrish had used opened into this little walled back yard with metal tables and chairs.

I could just about see over the top of the wall, but I didn’t want to peer over and make it obvious I was watching, so instead I strolled slowly by, glancing through the carved stone designs. The garden was quiet – it wasn’t lunchtime yet – but I could see Parrish there at a table. He had his back to me, which was handy, but it also meant he was blocking the face of the man he was talking to. I reached the end of the alleyway, and paused, thinking. Then I reached into the pocket of my jacket and pulled out a headscarf. Quickly, I tied it round my hair. Then I found a pair of glasses in my bag – clear lenses, but a useful tool for a quick way to look different – and put them on, too.

With my hastily assembled disguise in place, I strolled back along the alley the other way. This time I could see the man Parrish was talking to. He wasn’t in uniform but I immediately recognised him as a PVDE officer, whose name, I knew, was Jose Costa.

The PVDE had various responsibilities in Lisbon, but one of their main duties was overseeing the refugees that had flooded the city. They didn’t process the visas – that was the job of the government officials, like Alves – but they did have ultimate responsibility. And as far as I could tell, that meant making life as tricky as possible for all the desperate people heading to Lisbon.

Seeing Parrish with Costa made my blood run cold. Suddenly, it all made sense. He must have got wind of Bea and Lara helping Alves process the Portuguese visas.

But then again, perhaps poor Alves being sanctioned had come just at the right time for Bea and Lara, putting an end to their contribution and stopping Parrish getting any proof they were involved.

He might even have stumbled on the work Edith and I were doing – though I wasn’t sure how. It was just the same process as usual, the only difference was the quantity of visas being processed. But if he had found it, I didn’t think the PVDE or the Nazis would be that bothered about a few extra British visas being processed. They had no jurisdiction over our embassy. It was British soil, albeit in Lisbon.

My legs felt weak as I forced myself to keep walking past. I made it a little way down the street, where I jumped on a passing tram and slumped down, thankfully, on a seat.

I took off my headscarf and glasses, thinking hard.

If Parrish was working with the PVDE – which seemed beyond doubt, because why else would he be with Costa – then it was a problem, but perhaps not a big one. I could keep an eye on him, stay out of his way, and hopefully his bruised ego wouldn’t cause any problems.

Perhaps this was all going to be fine. I leaned back in my seat, watching Lisbon trundle past the tram windows. Perhaps.

Chapter 20

Frances

Paris

Marcus brought the next two books a week later. It was funny how I still started at the sight of him in his uniform, even though I knew he was playing a part.

At least, I hoped he was playing a part.