Chapter 5 Frances
Frances
Paris
Once he had the right medication, Maurice recovered quickly. When I called on him again just two days later, he was out of bed and sitting up reading in a chair.
‘You look much better,’ I said.
‘I feel like a new man.’
I put the book I’d brought him on the shelf next to the door. ‘As requested.’
‘Merci.’ He smiled at me. ‘If it wasn’t for the books, boredom would finish me off long before my kidneys did.’
‘Well, we can’t let that happen, can we?’
‘Was he with the Resistance?’ he asked. ‘Guy’s friend?’
‘So he says.’
‘You don’t believe him?’
‘He was a bit too pleased with himself,’ I said.
‘True.’ Maurice nodded. ‘But he got the medicine I needed.’
‘Did he charge you a fortune for it?’
‘Actually, he didn’t charge me at all.’
I was surprised. ‘Well, I never.’
Maurice gave me a sly look, swapping from French to his heavily accented but word-perfect English. ‘What do you say? Never judge a book by its cover?’
‘Very clever,’ I said with a chuckle. ‘You’re right. Perhaps I misjudged Monsieur Travers.’
‘Come and sit for a while,’ said Maurice. ‘Tell me what you’re doing today.’
Obediently – after checking my watch subtly – I sat. ‘It’s a big day today,’ I told him. ‘I can’t stay long.’
‘Why is it big?’
‘I’ve had an idea. Inspired by you, actually. You and the other people we deliver books to.’
‘Explain.’
‘You’re always telling us how the books keep your spirits up. Stop you from being bored. Make you laugh, even.’
‘C’est vrai,’ said Maurice, nodding.
‘So I thought, why not get books to other people who need them?’
‘Other Jews?’
‘Ah, well, no. Not yet.’
‘Then who?’
‘Soldiers,’ I said. ‘Soldiers who have been injured, or who are training, or even those who are fighting.’
Maurice looked at me. ‘German soldiers?’
‘Whoever asks,’ I said. ‘Though I shan’t be shouting about it to them, I will need to make it available to everyone, I think.’
‘How will you get the books to the soldiers? You cannot get on your bicycle and deliver books across France.’
‘No.’ I smiled. ‘I can’t. I have to do it officially.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘I’ve asked the Nazis for permission.’
Maurice’s mouth hung open in surprise.
‘I know,’ I said. ‘But this is where we are.’
‘What if they find out you’re delivering books to Jews?’
‘They won’t.’ I put my hand on his arm. ‘And I believe they’ll be less likely to ask questions if they know we’re doing other deliveries.’
‘You are a clever woman,’ said Maurice. ‘Clever and brave.’
I preened, just a little.
‘And foolish.’
Ah.
‘But thank goodness for you, and the others like you,’ he said, patting my hand on his arm. ‘You and your tiny acts of rebellion will help win this war.’
‘I hope so.’
Back at the library later, I gathered Guy and Sylvie and told them for the first time what I’d planned.
‘It’s a good idea,’ said Guy thoughtfully. ‘A very good idea.’
Sylvie glared at me.
‘You didn’t tell us until now?’
‘I didn’t want to get your hopes up until I’d found the right person to ask for permission.’
‘The right Nazi?’ Sylvie almost spat the words.
‘I’m afraid so.’
Guy nodded. ‘If they know you’re delivering books to soldiers, they might be less interested in everything else we’re doing.’
‘That’s exactly what I hope.’ I was pleased we were thinking the same way.
Sylvie scowled. ‘What if they don’t give permission?’
‘Then I’ll come up with a new plan.’
‘And he is coming today? This Nazi?’
‘He is.’
‘Do you think he will agree to your plan?’
‘Honestly? I have no idea.’
Sylvie sucked air in through her teeth. ‘People who love books are usually good people. But this man is a Nazi. So he is unpredictable.’
‘Everything is unpredictable now.’ I looked up at the high ceiling of the library. ‘I just don’t know what could happen.’
‘We just have to hope,’ said Guy, ever the optimist.
‘Hope is all we’ve got,’ I said. ‘Hope and books.’
‘What is his name?’ Sylvie said, her tone suggesting she could not care less.
‘Dr Hermann Fischer,’ I said. ‘He’s in charge of libraries in occupied territories.’
‘Goodness, they really have thought of everything, haven’t they?’ said Guy, raising an eyebrow.
‘Apparently so,’ I said drily. ‘His department is called the Bibliotheksschutz.’
‘I suppose we should be grateful they’re not stealing the books like they’re stealing the art,’ said Sylvie.
I narrowed my eyes at her. ‘Can you be civil to this man when he arrives? Or will you cause trouble?’
‘I can be nice,’ she said.
‘Please do.’ I clapped my hands together. ‘I was going to gather some examples of books to show him,’ I said. ‘Guy, could you help with that? Sylvie, you tell us when Fischer arrives? Be. Nice.’
She smiled sweetly at me. ‘See?’ she said, pointing at her own face. ‘Nice.’
Guy and I headed up to the office and spent a rather nice hour or so choosing a selection of books that we thought soldiers might like.
‘I’m basically choosing the books I’d like to read,’ he said when I admired his pile.
‘Which is perfect, because you are a young man, like the soldiers.’
‘I suppose so,’ said Guy, looking pleased. ‘If he says yes, this Monsieur Fischer, how will we get the books to the soldiers?’
‘I’ve been writing to all sorts of organisations,’ I said. ‘I’ve got the YMCA on board, and the Red Cross, and the Quakers said they’ll help.’ I picked an Evelyn Waugh novel from Guy’s pile and started reading the blurb. ‘I just need to know the Nazis won’t interfere.’
‘Maybe they have bigger things to worry about.’
‘Maybe.’
I put the Evelyn Waugh back down.
‘Frances?’ I looked up to see Sylvie at the door of the room, her lip curled in disdain. ‘The German is here.’
I got to my feet, feeling my knees twinge. ‘What’s he like?’
‘Exactly like I imagined.’
‘Is that good or bad?’
She shrugged. ‘Maybe both.’
‘Wish me luck,’ I said.
‘Bonne chance,’ Guy called.
I went down the staircase, Sylvie and Guy following. I noted with pleasure that there were people browsing the shelves of the library.
The German was standing beside the desk. He wasn’t in uniform, but he was smartly dressed, stiff-backed, and – I realised – familiar.
‘Dr Fischer?’ I said as I approached. He turned to me, gazing at me with piercing blue eyes, and I nodded in recognition.
‘We’ve met,’ I said, holding my hand out to him in welcome. ‘I’m Frances Reed.’
‘Miss Reed,’ he said, his voice warm. ‘I thought your name was familiar when I saw it on the papers, and now I know why. We met in Berlin.’
‘1932,’ I said. ‘Or ’31?’
‘It feels like a lifetime ago.’
‘It does.’ I studied him. ‘You’re not at the Berlin Library anymore, then?’
He shook his head. ‘As you know, I have been given the job of overseeing all the libraries in the occupied territories.’
‘I thought the Nazis were more interested in destroying books than distributing them.’ My tone was sharp.
Fischer gave me a look full of disappointment. ‘I am not a member of the Nazi Party,’ he said. ‘I am a civilian.’
I thought that was splitting hairs somewhat. There seemed to be very little difference between someone who worked for the Nazis and someone who declared themself to be a Nazi. But I didn’t say so.
Dr Fischer obviously took my silence for agreement because he smiled at me.
‘Professional librarians like you and me do not destroy books.’
There was a slow moment of silence as we both regarded one another. And then I said: ‘Would you like me to show you around?’
‘I would.’
Together, we walked towards the shelves. ‘You want to send books to soldiers?’ he said, as we went.
‘That is the idea,’ I said. ‘You and I both know how important books are. I think it would boost morale.’ I paused. ‘I see the soldiers on the street and they’re so young. Their brains should be full of stories and legends, not guns and bombs.’
Fischer stopped beside a shelf marked D–E. ‘Would you ask for the books to be returned?’
‘No, they’d be gifts,’ I said. ‘I’d send them to hospitals, to churches and army bases, across France and beyond.’
‘You can afford it?’
I nodded. ‘We have funds. And I have the Red Cross ready to help, and others. But I need your approval, or it won’t happen. We can’t send packages out across France and the rest of Europe without the Nazis knowing about it.’
Fischer pulled out a copy of Crime and Punishment and studied it. ‘What are people reading?’ he asked. ‘In these times of change.’
‘At first there was a lot of demand for funny books,’ I said. ‘PG Wodehouse, that sort of thing.’
Fischer shuddered. ‘And now?’
‘More history,’ I said. ‘Learning lessons from the past.’
My palms were sweating, and I could feel my heart pumping in my chest. I’d worked so hard on this idea, and I really wanted it to go ahead. I was horribly aware that Fischer could stop it with one stroke of his pencil.
‘The books would have to be checked before they are sent out, to ensure there is not propaganda hidden inside. If anything were to be found, we would stop the service immediately.’
‘Of course.’
He slid Crime and Punishment back into the shelf. ‘But I see no reason why this …’
‘Soldiers’ Book Service,’ I said. ‘That’s what we’re calling it.’
‘I can see no reason why this Soldiers’ Book Service can’t go ahead.’ He looked at me. ‘I hold you in high regard, Miss Reed. You have the approval of the Bibliotheksschutz.’