Chapter 36 Cassie
Cassie
Paris
Frances led us down some stone stairs to the basement. There was a large storage area filled with crates of books and then a smaller room, where she said they’d been sleeping. It was dark and cramped, but I could see why they’d hidden out there. It was solid and felt safe.
‘This is Sylvie,’ she said, gesturing to a small, very pretty, young woman, who eyed us with suspicion.
‘Who are these people?’ she asked Frances in rather blunt French.
‘Nous venons de British intelligence,’ I said.
She wrinkled her nose up in disdain. ‘You are late,’ she said, in English.
‘And this is Guy,’ said Frances, gesturing towards a man who had been lying on the camp bed. He sat up, looking confused. ‘Guy, these are the British people who sent us the Peacock books. They’ve come from Lisbon to help.’
‘It’s too late,’ he said, echoing what Sylvie had said.
‘We came as soon as we heard,’ I said. I’d sort of been expecting a little fanfare and lots of thanks, not this – well – hostility.
‘What happened here?’ asked Archie.
Frances explained that the Nazis had arrived unexpectedly and there had been a confrontation.
‘I’m afraid that’s down to us,’ said Archie.
Frances winced. ‘They were looking for me.’
I forced myself to hold her gaze, even though I felt awful. ‘I think that might have been my fault,’ I said.
‘It wasn’t,’ said Lara, but I ignored her.
‘There was a chap at the embassy in Lisbon. He had a bit of a score to settle with me. And he told the Nazis you were helping us.’
‘The only person to blame is Steven Parrish,’ said Lara, quite fiercely.
‘She’s right,’ said Archie. ‘But I apologise for bringing this trouble to your door.’
But Frances shook her head. ‘We’ll never know who brought the trouble,’ she said. ‘It could have been your guy, or it could have been Alain. He loved to talk.’
‘It wasn’t Alain,’ Guy said. He was hugging his knees as he sat on the bed, and he fixed Frances with a cold stare. ‘He took a bullet for me. He’d never betray us.’
Frances made a little face at me, letting me know she wasn’t as convinced of Alain’s loyalty as Guy was. Behind her, Sylvie rolled her eyes. I wasn’t sure what that meant.
‘It could even have been far more mundane,’ Frances went on. ‘They’ve moved very quickly to clear the library and from what we’ve overheard, they want to use this building as some sort of office for their staff. Perhaps they just wanted us out.’
‘Gosh,’ I said, still convinced Parrish was the culprit, but understanding that we’d never know for sure. ‘They could have just asked.’
Frances smiled. ‘But I’d have said no.’
‘Whatever the reason, we need to get you all out of here as quickly as we can,’ Archie said. ‘We can take you back to Lisbon with us. There is one train going back tomorrow morning, but if we miss that, we’ll be stuck here. What time is curfew?’
‘Nine o’clock,’ said Frances.
‘If we get to the station before that, we can spend the night there. It won’t be comfortable, but it’s safer than being here. Do you all have passports?’
‘I’m not leaving,’ said Guy stubbornly. ‘I need to find Alain.’
Archie looked at him. ‘That’s up to you,’ he said. ‘Sylvie?’
‘No one knows I work in the library,’ said Sylvie. ‘I didn’t tell anyone.’
‘Why not?’ said Lara, clearly amused.
‘None of their business.’ Sylvie smiled suddenly. It was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. ‘So I can just go home.’
‘Really?’ said Archie doubtfully.
‘Oui.’ Sylvie nodded, her face stern once more.
‘Fair enough,’ Archie said. ‘Frances, my concern is that your name might be on a watch list. If you travel on your own passport, it could raise alarm.’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘But we don’t have the time or the contacts to get you fake papers.’
Frances smiled. ‘Frances Reed isn’t my real name,’ she said.
I blinked at her. ‘Pardon me?’
‘Well, it is my real name. But my first name is Dorothy. It’s a family name. My middle name is Frances, after Grover Cleveland’s first lady. My mom thought she was wonderful and she thought my grandmother – another Dorothy – was awful. So she named me Dorothy, but she called me Frances.’
Archie laughed. ‘And Reed? Is that your real name?’
‘Reed was my maiden name,’ Frances said. ‘I was married a long time ago and my passport is in that name. Officially I’m Dorothy Frances Johnson.’
I desperately wanted to ask what had happened to Frances’s husband, but I resisted.
‘Do you have your passport here?’ I said. ‘Here in the library?’
‘It’s in my bag,’ Frances said, pointing. ‘I like to keep it with me, along with my identity card, just in case.’
‘Perfect,’ said Archie. ‘We can get you a ticket at the station.’
‘Will that be easy?’ I asked, remembering how chaotic it had been in Lisbon.
‘I can be very persuasive,’ he said, with a grin. ‘Right, let’s get going, shall we? We should make sure there are no signs that anyone’s been down here. We don’t want the Germans to know you’ve been under their noses the whole time. I’d rather they thought you were miles away by now.’
‘All right,’ said Frances, taking charge. ‘Guy, up you get. We need to fold these beds away. And Sylvie, can you clear the rubbish? Archie, would there be space in one of your suitcases for a few bits and pieces?’
‘I think we can manage that,’ said Archie. ‘Lara, yours seemed to be fairly empty.’
‘It’s upstairs,’ Lara said. ‘I’ll fetch it.’
There was a bustle of activity, and people coming and going. And in the hubbub I noticed Guy reach out and take a cap from the side, and slip out of the room. Intrigued, I watched. He ducked behind a crate of books as Lara came back downstairs with the suitcase.
‘Just need to check something,’ I muttered vaguely when she looked at me standing there, doing nothing as far as she could tell.
As Lara went back into the little room, Guy emerged and headed up the stairs. I followed quietly, wondering where he was going.
In the library, I pulled my headscarf out of my pocket and tied it over my curly wig, hoping it might make me look a little more Parisian. And then I went out of the back door and walked straight into Guy.
‘Oh, bloody hell,’ I said. ‘I thought you’d have gone.’
He gave me an unimpressed glance. ‘Are you following me?’
‘Yes,’ I admitted. ‘I saw you sneak off. Are you going to find this Alain?’
He went to walk away, and I grabbed his arm to stop him. ‘Are you going to find Alain?’ I asked again.
Reluctantly he nodded.
‘Frances and Sylvie don’t think much of him?’
Guy closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘They’re wrong.’
‘You trust him?’
Guy took his hand from his pocket and I saw his arm was wizened and weak. ‘When the Nazis came, I was so frightened,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t free my arm from my pocket fast enough to raise my hands, and they shot at me. Alain pushed me out of the way and he was shot instead.’
Suddenly understanding, I nodded. ‘He loves you.’
‘I hope so,’ said Guy. His stoic expression collapsed suddenly.
‘Sylvie and Frances don’t like you and him being together?’ I asked, choosing my words carefully.
‘No, that’s not it.’ He sighed. ‘Alain is …’ He searched for the word. ‘Quite a character. He tells big stories. Sometimes they’re true. Sometimes they are not. He is always the hero.’
I smiled. ‘I know the type.’
‘Sylvie thinks he tripped and that’s how he pushed me out of the way. Frances thinks his stories about being part of the Resistance are not true. They both think he ran away as soon as he was strong enough to go.’ He looked sickened suddenly. ‘They say he is a coward. But he’s not.’
‘Then where is he?’
‘There is a safe house,’ he said. ‘Alain told me where it is. He might be there.’
‘Why wouldn’t he tell you where he was going?’
Guy gave a little smile. ‘Frances is right. Alain has his faults. He is a talker. He is indiscreet. He is making money selling things to Nazis. Drugs. Alcohol. You know?’
I nodded.
‘I think he blamed himself for the Nazis coming. Worried that he’d let something slip,’ said Guy. ‘He is ashamed, and guilty.’
‘Do you think he’s gone to get help? To make up for his indiscretion?’
Guy shrugged. ‘I hope so. That’s why I want to find him.’
‘To reassure yourself that he’s on your side?’
Guy looked down at his feet. ‘Sylvie and Fran have been telling me he is not worthy of my respect.’
I thought about how I’d misjudged Archie when I first met him, and I nodded.
‘Well,’ I said. ‘We’ll see. Where is this safe house? Is it far?’
‘No.’
‘Then I’ll come with you.’
‘Pfft,’ said Guy, unimpressed at the offer. ‘What can you do?’
I put my hand on my waist, where the pistol was strapped. ‘You’d be surprised,’ I said. ‘Lead the way.’
Guy paused by the stone archway, listening, and then peeked slowly round the corner, checking the coast was clear. He nodded and I followed him.
‘It’s down this way,’ he said in English.
‘French,’ I murmured. ‘Je comprends.’
He nodded.
We walked out of the archway and as we did, two Nazi officers came out of the building opposite.
One of them was holding a large piece of paper – a plan of some sort, which he spread out, holding his arms wide and showing it to the other man.
They both looked from the plans to the library building and back again.
The first man pointed to the windows on the second floor like he was assessing something.
I remembered Frances saying she thought the Nazis wanted to use the building and it seemed these chaps were the ones putting that into practice.
As the second man studied the document, I realised with a certain amount of horror that he was the soldier we’d spoken to on the train. Would he recognise me?
I looped my arm through Guy’s and tipped my head as though he was saying something important that I was listening to.
‘Speak to me,’ I urged him quietly in French. ‘I need to keep my head down.’
‘We’ll make some bread later,’ he said. ‘And perhaps we can buy some sausage today. I have enough coupons, I think …’