Chapter 16
Edith was already in clerical, waiting for me when I arrived. I was glad I didn’t have to go upstairs to find her and run the risk of bumping into Parrish. I wanted to avoid him as much as possible.
‘Good, there you are,’ she said as I came into the deserted office. ‘We’ve got a lot to do.’
‘Have we had more names?’ I headed to the typewriter I’d been using for the last couple of weeks and took the cover off. ‘I can call my dad and ask him for an update, too.’
‘Is your dad the Reverend Percy Watkins?’ asked Edith.
‘Oh my goodness, yes, he is. Has he sent in an application?’
‘It arrived today,’ said Edith. ‘In fact, so did one from – I’m assuming your mother – June Watkins?’
‘That’s her.’ I put my hand to my chest, feeling my heart swell with love and pride for my bereaved parents who were grieving a terrible loss but still helping others.
‘And,’ said Edith, ‘another ten from people all in and around Tetbury.’
She handed me the papers, and I smiled, leafing through them and seeing familiar names.
‘This chap is a churchwarden,’ I said. ‘And this is my mother’s friend from the WI – if she’s got them involved, we’ll be inundated in no time.
And Mr Chapman is the headmaster of the school I went to when I was tiny … ’
‘They’re all job offers,’ said Edith. ‘Most of the ones in Oxford are job offers, too. And then I’ve had one from a theatre in London offering a role backstage.’
‘That’s Lara,’ I said.
‘And a bundle from other people in London, mostly offering sponsorship,’ Edith went on. She showed me her folder which was alarmingly thick.
‘So we have all these people who will help …’ She picked up another folder. ‘And these are the refugees. We need to match the refugee to the job, or the sponsor, type up the application form, I’ll process the visas, and Bob’s your uncle.’
‘Gosh, you make it sound so easy.’
‘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.
‘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.’
‘Under the nose of the Nazis?’ said Henry in admiration.
‘Oh no,’ I said. ‘It’s even better than that. It’s with the permission of the Nazis.’
Valentine and Henry both went silent as they thought about that, which made me laugh.
‘I was thinking if we can get them to send out our Peacock books too, that’s a really good way of getting them all over the place,’ I said. ‘Field hospitals, canteens, churches … all sorts.’
‘And,’ said Henry, ‘we’d be doing it with the Nazis’ blessing. We’d be sending out books helping our chaps evade capture from the same people who’d given the whole thing their approval.’
‘It does add to the satisfaction, doesn’t it,’ I said, with a grin.
‘Yes,’ said Valentine. ‘This is excellent. Excellent.’
‘Then should I write to this Frances Reed and ask her if she’ll help?’
Valentine shook his head vigorously. ‘Unfortunately not. It’s way too risky writing to occupied France.
The Nazis are likely to be monitoring mail from here and almost certain to be checking post in Paris.
We also can’t telephone. There’s no way to check the library isn’t bugged. ’ He paused, scratching his jaw.
‘She’s still keeping the library open? Really?’
‘That’s what Bea said. She says she is a very determined woman.’
‘She must be,’ said Henry. ‘She sounds a bit like my Gwen. Grits her teeth and gets on with it, she does.’
Valentine sat down at his desk and drummed his fingers. ‘Paris is very dangerous,’ he added. ‘We don’t want to draw attention to Frances Reed in any way.’
I felt a surge of hopelessness.
Henry obviously felt the same. ‘So, there’s no way to ask her?’
‘What if we go?’ I suggested. ‘We could go to Paris and ask her face to face.’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Valentine. He fixed me with a stern glare. ‘Don’t argue with me on this one. Trust me. It’s too dangerous.’
‘So then how?’ I asked, chastened. ‘How can we get in touch with her?’
‘I believe we have a sleeper agent working with the Nazis in Paris,’ Valentine said, thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know the details, but I can find out more. Perhaps we can get word to him, and he can speak to Frances Reed on our behalf.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Do that. Can you do it today?’
‘I can,’ Valentine said. ‘And I will.’