Chapter 30
I looked from Marcus, to Alain, to the flames licking the sides of the bookshelves, and I tried to calm my brain and work out which was the most urgent concern.
‘Which crocodile is closest to the canoe?’ I said. It was something my father used to say to me when I was feeling anxious. Which should we deal with first?
Sylvie looked at me in confusion, then her expression cleared as she understood. She looked at Marcus.
‘How bad is your leg?’ she asked.
‘A graze. The bullet went past me.’
‘Take off your shirt.’
Marcus did as she said. He handed it to her and with surprising strength, she began tearing it into strips.
‘Bandages,’ she said, clearly seeing my astonished expression. ‘For Alain, not Marcus. He is fine.’
Understanding, I nodded. ‘Guy,’ I said. He looked up at me from beside Alain, with haunted eyes. ‘Guy, Sylvie is going to help Alain, but you and I need to stop the fire spreading.’
He stayed where he was for a second and I thought he wouldn’t help, but then he got to his feet.
‘There are sand buckets beside the counter,’ I said. ‘Let’s go, quickly.’
Guy glanced at Alain.
‘I’ve got him,’ said Sylvie. ‘Here, take these, put them over your mouth.’
She handed us strips of fabric, and I tied one around my nose and mouth, then helped Guy do the same, because his hands were shaking too much for him to tie a knot.
‘Come,’ I said.
We picked up the heavy buckets of sand and poured them onto the books that were burning beside the entrance. But the curtains were still alight, flames flickering up their length.
‘Pull them down,’ I said. ‘Before more books catch fire.’
Not caring about whether my hands burned I grabbed the curtains and pulled as hard as I could.
They came tumbling down straightaway, in a shower of sparks and cinders.
Guy and I crouched down, covering our heads with our arms. Then we stood again, coughing and spluttering with ash and dust and threw more sand on the fire, stamping out any embers.
‘That’s it,’ I said. ‘We’ve done it.’
‘It might smoulder,’ Guy said.
‘It might,’ I agreed. ‘But we have to go before the Germans come back.’
Sylvie and Marcus were talking urgently over Alain. Sylvie was putting pressure on Alain’s shoulder, leaning over him.
‘We really need to get out of here,’ I said. ‘Can we move him?’
Sylvie looked up. ‘It will be hard to move him without him bleeding.’
‘How about if we don’t move him far?’ I said.
Everyone gazed at me hopefully.
‘We’ve got a cellar,’ I said.
Guy was looking at me in astonishment. ‘It’s full of bugs and cobwebs.’
I shook my head. ‘It was,’ I said. ‘I cleared it out when the Nazis came. I thought it was a good idea in case there were bombs. Let’s go down there, just for now, while we work out what to do.’
There was a pause.
‘Let’s go,’ said Marcus.
It wasn’t easy, but with the help of another curtain – one that wasn’t singed and smouldering – we managed to get Alain lifted off the ground and cradled in a makeshift sling that we all held between us.
‘That’s it,’ I said, as we went. ‘Careful. Mind his head.’
I led the way round, beneath the staircase and through a door that you could easily overlook if you didn’t know it was there.
With considerable effort, we got Alain down the stone stairs and into the cellar, where the cold, dank air greeted us.
There were some ventilation bricks high up in the walls, so it wasn’t pitch black, and in the dim light we managed to get Alain onto the camp bed in the corner.
He moaned softly as we lay him down, which I took as a good sign.
I found some candles I’d stashed and lit them.
‘What is this place?’ said Sylvie, looking round. ‘Did you do all this?’
‘I like to be prepared.’ I lit another candle. ‘There are blankets, and there is some food but not much.’
‘This is great,’ Sylvie said. ‘It’s a good hiding place.’
‘We will need it when they come back,’ I said.
Guy was getting Alain comfortable, taking off his shoes and socks and tucking him under a blanket. Now he looked up at me, his eyes wide with fear.
‘What will we do?’ he said. ‘What is going to happen?’
I looked at Marcus, who was standing bare-chested and pale faced in his blood-soaked trousers, his eyes flickering around the room. He looked quite close to panic, and I wasn’t surprised. With icy-cold certainty I realised that I was the one in charge now.
‘Guy,’ I said, surprising myself with how calm my voice was. ‘Do you have any clothes here?’
‘Here?’ He looked blank.
‘In the library. Do you or Alain have an overnight bag?’ I gave him a small smile that I hoped conveyed understanding. ‘For those evenings when you, erm, stay elsewhere?’
Guy nodded slowly. ‘I do. It’s upstairs in the office.’
‘Good,’ I said, glancing at Marcus, who was beginning to shiver. ‘We’ll need that.’
‘I’m not leaving Alain,’ Guy said before I could ask him to fetch it. ‘He needs help. We need to get him to hospital.’
‘We do,’ I said. ‘But we need to make sure it’s safe to move him.’
‘My mother was a nurse in the last war,’ said Sylvie. ‘She has been teaching me how to care for injuries like these.’
‘She has?’
‘Sometimes people come to her,’ Sylvie said vaguely. ‘If they are in trouble.’
‘Resistance?’ I asked.
But Sylvie didn’t reply.
‘When Alain is stable, you all need to leave,’ I said.
Sylvie looked alarmed.
‘I will stay here with Alain until we can get him to the hospital,’ I said. ‘The rest of you should go. Keep yourselves safe.’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Sylvie just as Guy said: ‘I will stay.’
‘This is my responsibility,’ added Marcus. ‘I’ve brought this trouble to your door. I will stay here.’
‘No.’
‘I have a gun,’ he said.
‘But they’ll be looking for you,’ I pointed out. ‘You being here makes us a target.’
Marcus looked thoughtful. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and I will send help for you all.’
I took a breath, feeling the adrenalin still coursing through my body.
‘Here’s what we’re going to do,’ I said, still in organisational mode. ‘Guy, where is your bag?’
‘Under the table by the window.’
‘Right. I’ll fetch it. You stay here with Alain. How is he doing?’
Guy shrugged helplessly. ‘He is breathing. But it sounds strange.’
Sylvie clutched my arm. ‘Drugs,’ she said. ‘Alain might have drugs.’
‘Does Alain have a bag here, too?’ I asked Guy.
‘He does. It’s with mine. Smaller.’
I nodded at Sylvie. ‘I’ll bring whatever’s in there. And water?’
‘Yes, as much as you can.’
Guy rubbed his face, leaving a white streak across the soot. ‘Why would Alain have drugs?’
‘We’ll explain later. Marcus?’
His head whipped round at the sound of his name. ‘Yes?’
‘Come with me.’
I was full of purpose as I led him up the steps, and horribly aware it was because I really thought Alain was about to die, right there on the camp bed, and I didn’t have the faintest idea what to do about it.
The library was dark and gloomy. Smoke hung in the air, but it was cold and there was nothing burning.
We paused at the bottom of the stairs, listening. It was silent.
‘Come on,’ I whispered, though I wasn’t sure why.
Together, we went on up to the office and I found Guy’s bag, exactly where he’d said it would be.
I unbuckled the strap and pulled it open. Inside were some trousers, a shirt and an undershirt. Relieved, I threw them at Marcus. ‘I don’t know if these will fit,’ I said. He was shorter than Guy but stockier. ‘But it has to be better than wearing a Nazi unform.’
Marcus was looking calmer and now he managed a smile, gesturing to his bare chest. ‘Half a Nazi uniform,’ he said.
I was looking at his feet in blood-stained socks. ‘You might need to take Alain’s shoes when we go back down,’ I said. ‘The boots are a giveaway – you can’t put them back on.’
‘Yes, you’re right.’ Without a hint of self-consciousness, he began pulling off his trousers and embarrassed, I turned away.
I opened Alain’s bag, which was next to Guy’s, rooting through more clothes, and – I noticed – a couple of the Peacock books. I pulled out the clothes so I could see better and let out a gasp of relief as I found some bottles at the bottom.
‘Look,’ I said. ‘Sulfa? And aspirin. And some other things.’ I rooted some more and found a little sachet containing syringes.
‘What’s this?’ I held it up and Marcus looked over his shoulder.
‘Morphine,’ he said. ‘Good. That’ll see him right.’
I dropped all the bottles back in the bag, then I went to the shelves and found the books Marcus had written – the stories he’d been told by the Jewish people. I wanted to keep them safe. I put them in the bag, too.
‘I’m decent,’ Marcus said. I turned to see him buttoning up his shirt. The trousers were a little long but not too awful, and the shirt slightly baggy, but he looked French already.
‘Take Guy’s hat,’ I said. ‘You can pull it down and keep your face in shadow. Is your leg all right?’
He nodded. ‘It’s fine.’
‘You could put some of the sulfa on it. That might help it heal.’
Marcus shook his head. ‘Alain will need that. I’ll see if I can get someone to have a look at it, before I go.’
‘Before you go where?’ I said. ‘Where are you thinking of going?’
‘Lisbon,’ he said.
‘Oh, Marcus, no,’ I began, but he held his hand up to stop me arguing.
‘I can be there in a few days,’ he said. ‘It’s the obvious place to go.’
‘You’re injured and it’s too dangerous. Don’t you have someone here in Paris? A contact in British intelligence?’
He shook his head. ‘It’s too risky to go to them,’ he said. ‘The Nazis could be watching. I need to get out of the city.’
‘Then go to London. It’s much nearer.’
He gave a small chuckle. ‘Nearer, but I’d never make it across the Channel.’
‘What will you do when you get to Lisbon?’
For a second Marcus looked panicky again. ‘I’m not actually sure.’
‘Here.’ I opened Alain’s bag again and found the Peacock books. I held them out to Marcus. ‘They might help. And if they don’t, then they’ll keep you distracted.’
I handed them to Marcus and he took them, slipping them neatly into his pockets.
Then I bundled up his bloodied trousers and shoved them into Alain’s bag with the Flora and Fauna books.
I opened my desk drawer and took out some more copies of the Peacock books. Alain hadn’t been the only one to take a few for himself. I put them in the bag to take downstairs. If the stories had been chosen to raise soldiers’ spirits, perhaps they would work on librarians, too.
Marcus watched me bustling about.
‘I’m really very sorry,’ he said.
‘None of this is your fault.’ I closed the bag and buckled the strap. ‘We’ve all just been doing our best.’
Marcus nodded.
‘Do you have somewhere safe to go for now?’ I asked. ‘Somewhere in Paris?’
He nodded again.
‘Can you send help? A medic for Alain? Someone who can tell us where to go? We can’t go home, not now.’
‘I will.’
‘Right. Good.’ I breathed out slowly. ‘You should go, as soon as you get some shoes.’
In silence, we left the office and went back downstairs to the library, stopping to fill some jugs with water on the way, and then down again into the cellar.
Sylvie was taking Alain’s pulse, and looking concerned.
‘Il est très malade,’ she said, glaring at me as if it was my fault that Alain was very sick.
‘Je sais,’ I said. I know. I put down the jugs of water. ‘I found these.’
I opened the bag and gave her all the medication I’d found.
Sylvie examined each bottle, nodding. ‘This is good,’ she said. ‘Good. I can clean his wound and stop the pain. This will help.’
She turned back to Alain while I sidled over to Guy and picked up Alain’s shoes.
‘Marcus needs them,’ I said, apologetically. Guy nodded. ‘And your hat?’ I asked. He didn’t speak, simply pulled his cap from his head and held it out to Marcus.
‘Thank you,’ Marcus said, putting on the shoes. ‘I’ll get help.’
‘You must be quick,’ said Sylvie.
The words hung in the stale cellar air. Marcus tipped Guy’s hat to us. ‘I’ll be as fast as I can,’ he said. Without saying goodbye, he turned and left.
I went to Guy, who was looking stricken as he sat by Alain’s side.
‘You heard Marcus,’ I said. ‘He’s getting help. Someone will come before we know it.’
‘He saved my life,’ Guy said quietly. ‘He pushed me out of the way, and he took the bullet instead of me.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘I know. Maybe he is a hero after all?’
‘He did not,’ said Sylvie, who was opening the syringes.
Guy and I both looked at her, startled.
‘He tripped on the brandy bottle,’ she said. ‘It was right there, under his foot. That’s why it was next to me before I threw it. It must have rolled down the stairs.’
Guy, who was already pale, went paler.
‘No,’ I said. ‘That’s not what happened.’ I caught Sylvie’s eye over Guy’s head. ‘It was chaos up there,’ I said firmly. ‘Sylvie must be mistaken.’
There was a pause. Until eventually, Sylvie nodded.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I was wrong. I’m sorry.’
Guy looked relieved, but as Sylvie injected the morphine into Alain’s arm, I could tell she didn’t mean what she’d said.