Chapter 8 Frances
Frances
Paris
Fischer giving me his support wasn’t the beginning of my plan. In fact, I’d been working on the Soldiers’ Book Service idea for months.
As I’d told Guy, I already had the support of the Red Cross, and the Quakers – I’d called in every favour I was owed, going way back to the last war. I had a list of hospitals, army canteens and RAF bases that were waiting to receive books, and I had piles of donations ready to go.
The only thing I didn’t have was enough hands.
When Fischer had given us approval, and we’d all waved him off with forced smiles from Guy and me, and a steely stare from Sylvie, we all stood for a moment and looked at one another.
‘Heck,’ I said. ‘How on earth are we going to do all this?’
Sylvie glanced round the library. All the readers had gone now, except for one woman who had been studying a copy of Les Misérables for ages. I watched in amusement as Sylvie marched over to her.
‘Have you read this before?’ she asked, plucking the book from the woman’s hands.
The woman shook her head. ‘But it was my boyfriend’s favourite.’
Sylvie’s eyes widened. ‘Is he dead?’
The woman looked tearful. ‘No, he left me.’
‘Pfft,’ said Sylvie, shoving Les Misérables back on the shelf. ‘Then you don’t need this. You need your friends and some wine. Go. Go on …’
She bustled the woman out of the library and shut the huge door behind her with a bang. Then she turned to Guy and me, who were looking on, bewildered. ‘We have things to discuss.’
‘I’m worried with just the three of us we can’t keep our deliveries going, run the library and sort the Soldiers’ Book Service,’ I admitted. I sat down at the loans desk and rested my chin on my hand. ‘What if it’s too much for us?’
I thought briefly of my mother, who always said I was full of big ideas and didn’t follow them through. Though she’d also been disbelieving when I said I was moving to Paris and here I was. I sat up a little straighter.
‘It’s fine,’ said Sylvie. ‘A little hard work never hurt anyone. Here’s what we’ll do. Frances, you are responsible for the soldiers’ books. It’s your idea and it’s a good one. You will make it happen and everyone will be so pleased.’
‘But …’ I began. Sylvie held her hand up to silence me.
‘I will look after the library, and Guy can help you and he can help me, depending when we need him.’
‘What about the deliveries?’ said Guy.
‘I can’t do deliveries because the soldiers pay me too much attention,’ Sylvie said.
She wasn’t being immodest; she was telling the truth.
Her pretty face and her chutzpah drew everyone’s eyes to her.
Patrolling soldiers would notice her once, then again, then they’d see a pattern. It was too risky.
I nodded.
‘Guy can help but he is not always so good on the bicycle,’ Sylvie continued.
Guy winced. ‘That’s true. But I can walk.’
‘Yes.’
‘I can do the deliveries,’ I said.
‘You can do some of them but not all of them. It’s too much,’ Sylvie pointed out. So we’re back to where we started.’
‘No, we are not. We just need someone to help.’
‘Alain,’ said Guy.
‘Exactement.’
I groaned. ‘It’s too dangerous,’ I said. ‘How do we know we can trust him? He’s indiscreet, Guy. He told me he was with the Resistance.’
Guy gave me a stern look. ‘He got the medicine for Maurice and he didn’t take any money. And he knows about our deliveries and he hasn’t told anyone.’
‘It’s only been a few days,’ I said darkly. ‘Who knows who he’s telling right now.’
‘He’s known for ages,’ Guy said. ‘I told him weeks ago.’
‘Guy!’
He shrugged. ‘He’s a good man. He’ll help us.’
There was silence for a second. My mind was racing.
Sylvie was right that we couldn’t do everything.
I didn’t want to give up delivering books to our Jewish neighbours and I didn’t want to doom the soldier service to failure before it had started.
Slowly, reluctantly, I nodded. ‘Please ask Alain if he will help with deliveries,’ I said.
Guy smiled.
‘I will.’
Under the desk I crossed my fingers and hoped that I wouldn’t live to regret this.
When Alain arrived at the library, having been summoned by Guy, he appeared to be so lacking in enthusiasm that I almost told him to stick it.
‘I am very busy,’ he said. He was a tall man, and really rather handsome, but he leaned on whatever structure he was closest to. Now he was draped over the loans desk in a way I found irritating. I fought the temptation to tell him to stand up straight.
‘With Resistance work?’ I asked, still unconvinced by his claims.
‘Among other things.’
‘But you can help with the deliveries?’
Alain paused for so long I almost thought he’d fallen asleep on Sylvie’s desk.
‘I can help.’
‘Great,’ I said. ‘Thank you. I can show you what to do.’
‘I know what to do. Deliver the books.’
‘All the same, I’d like to show you.’
Alain gave me a withering glance. ‘If it makes you feel better.’
‘Yes,’ I said, forcing a smile. ‘It does.’