Chapter 38 Frances
Frances
Paris
I looked up at Alain’s grinning face as he peered through the gap. I couldn’t quite believe my eyes.
‘Bonjour, Frances!’ he called. ‘I came to get you out.’
‘I can see that,’ I said. ‘Who are your friends?’
Alain beamed with pride. ‘This is the Resistance.’
I felt like an enormous fool. I glanced round at Guy who shrugged.
‘I’m sorry I doubted you,’ I called up to Alain.
He snorted. ‘I wanted you to doubt me. It’s all part of the act.’
I didn’t believe that for a second. ‘It worked,’ I said.
‘This is lovely,’ said Lara. ‘But could we get out, do you think?’
For the first time, Alain seemed to realise there were more people down in the basement with us than he’d expected. He stood up, vanishing from our view, and we heard urgent chat. Then another man’s face appeared.
‘Who are you?’ He wasn’t smiling and I had a sudden fear that he’d dismiss us all as collaborators and block the hole back up again.
Fortunately, Archie took the lead. He stepped forward and looked up at the man. ‘We’re from British intelligence,’ he said in smooth, confident French. ‘We’ve been working with your chaps on escape routes and Frances has been helping.’
‘That’s right,’ I said, slightly desperate now. ‘The books, Alain. You know about the books.’
‘I was in Marseille last year,’ Archie went on. ‘And I was here for a while.’ He began reeling off a list of names – presumably of his contacts in the Resistance. And upstairs, the man’s face began to relax into a smile.
‘I know about you,’ he said to Archie. ‘You are Monsieur Chérie.’
‘Valentine,’ Archie muttered. ‘I’m Monsieur Valentine.’
Lara laughed, and Archie called up to the man once more. ‘Thank you for coming. Do you think you could get us out, now? We’re in a bit of a hurry.’
This time everyone laughed. There was a bit of commotion as the Resistance people up top slid a ladder down to us through the gap and we all rearranged the crates to make sure it had space. Then one by one we all climbed up and wriggled through – handing the suitcases up too.
‘Hold on,’ said Lara as she was about to climb the ladder. She put her bag down and disappeared for a minute, then she came back holding the Dorothy L. Sayers novel I had been reading to them all.
‘I want to know who did it,’ she said. She tucked it into her waistband, and hauled herself up.
We let the Brits go first, then Sylvie went up, and when it was just Guy and me left in the basement, I reached for his arm. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘I was mistrustful and suspicious.’
Guy shook his head. ‘Don’t be sorry. That’s exactly how you should be in wartime. You were looking out for us all.’
‘I suppose. I feel awful, though. I thought some terrible things about Alain, and he was telling the truth all the time.’
‘Well,’ said Guy. ‘Some of the time.’
‘He loves you.’
‘I hope so.’
I gave him a hug.
‘Just please, be careful.’
‘We will.’
‘All right then,’ I said, emotional but trying to hide it. ‘Up you go.’
Carefully, Guy climbed the ladder, holding on with his good hand. I took one last glance round the basement and then I went up too, wriggling through the gap into the night air.
There were four members of the Resistance including Alain and the older man who’d spoken to Archie. There was also a younger, silent man with bulging muscles and a mallet slung over his shoulder, and a woman who was not much younger than me.
‘Merci,’ I said to them all. It was such a tiny word for a huge deed, but they all nodded.
We were in the courtyard of the library, at the very far corner.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever been down that far, even though I’d worked here for so many years.
Already, the building looked different. There was a pile of rubble at one side, where the Germans had obviously started clearing the fire-damaged entrance.
And my Stars and Stripes flag was lying on top, finally pulled down.
I went over and picked it up, folding it so it would fit in my pocket.
Once we were all out, the younger man went to work.
He quickly filled in the hole with the bricks he’d knocked out and some of the rubble from the pile, until there was very little evidence there had ever been a hole there.
It wasn’t perfect, of course; it was dark and the repairs were uneven. But perhaps no one would notice.
‘We have a place to go,’ said the older man. His name, he said, was Pierre. But he faltered slightly when he said it, which made me think it wasn’t his real name. ‘We can take you there until it is time to get your train.’
‘That would be good, thank you,’ said Archie.
‘We need to go quickly and quietly,’ said Pierre. ‘Stick to the shadows at the side of the street. No talking. Stay alert for any patrols.’
Obediently, we all followed him out of the courtyard, along the street, and round the corner.
It felt as though our footsteps were as loud as thunder, and my heart was hammering like a piston.
But there was no one around. A few minutes later – though it felt like hours – Pierre stopped at a tall, narrow apartment block and I watched as he eased a brick out of a gap, and felt for a key.
Then he unlocked it and we all filed in, and he shut the door behind us.
As soon as we were inside, Pierre bustled us into the main room of the house, and shut the door behind us. Immediately we all erupted into urgent whispered questions.
‘Did anyone hear you break down the wall?’ asked Archie, looking worried.
Pierre shrugged. ‘Apparently not.’
The woman – I’d heard the others call her Bibi – took pity on us. ‘Our friends set fire to a warehouse across the river,’ she said. ‘Everyone was distracted.’
‘Good thinking,’ said Archie with a mixture of approval and relief on his handsome face.
‘What is this place?’ I asked.
‘It’s a safe house,’ Cassie said. I looked at her, wondering how she knew.
‘This is where Guy and I came,’ she explained. ‘He thought Alain might be here.’
Alain overheard.
‘I went to Pierre,’ he said. ‘Not here.’ He looked at Guy and his eyes were soft. ‘You came looking for me?’
‘Of course.’
The two men smiled at one another as though there was no one else in the room instead of the many, many people who were crowded inside.
‘Tell us what happened, Alain,’ said Archie. He sat down on an armchair beside the window, sending up a cloud of dust that made him sneeze.
We all sat down, perching on various pieces of rickety furniture.
Alain looked at Guy. ‘I didn’t mean to take the bullet for you,’ he admitted. ‘It all happened so fast I didn’t really have time to make a decision. Sylvie was right; I slipped on the brandy bottle. But …’ he added quickly. ‘I was so glad it was me who was shot instead of you. And I’d do it again.’
Concerned Guy would be upset, I looked at him, but he didn’t seem too bothered. He simply nodded at Alain. ‘Thank you,’ he said with a smile.
Alain looked at me and at Sylvie. ‘I do work with the Resistance,’ he said.
‘I can see that.’
‘But I also know that I am annoying, and I talk too much.’ He screwed his face up. ‘And sometimes I exaggerate.’
‘We all like a storyteller,’ I said.
‘I called you a coward,’ Sylvie said, taking his hand. ‘But you are a hero.’ Then with her trademark shrug she added: ‘But you are also very annoying.’
We all laughed.
‘I have a question,’ I said. I looked at Alain. ‘I know that Alain Travers isn’t your real name. What is it?’
He smiled. ‘I can’t tell you. We all use fake names in the Resistance.’
‘The less we know about each other, the less the Nazis can force us to tell them,’ said Pierre.
Alain winked at Guy, who flushed. ‘Some people know my real name,’ he said. ‘But not everyone.’
‘Alain told us you have been delivering books to Jewish readers,’ Pierre said.
‘That’s right.’
‘And collecting stories? About what the Nazis have been doing?’
‘That wasn’t my idea. It was Marcus – the British agent.’ I patted Alain’s bag which was slung safely across my body. ‘He put them all in books and I have them here. I added a few but he collected hundreds. We need to keep them safe. I promised I’d return them.’
‘Now you’re the storyteller,’ said Alain.
Sylvie was curled up on the dusty sofa, her eyes drooping. ‘We’re all storytellers,’ she murmured.
‘Perhaps we should try to sleep,’ I suggested. ‘Snatch a couple of hours before we have to get the train?’
‘I’m staying,’ said Sylvie, her eyes already closed.
‘I know,’ I said.
I was so on edge, pumping with adrenaline, that I didn’t think I would sleep. But I did. It felt like just a couple of minutes later, Cassie was gently rousing me.
‘It’s almost seven o’clock,’ she said. ‘Curfew’s over and we need to go to the station and get you a ticket.’
I sat up, wiping my bleary eyes. ‘I’m ready. Guy?’
But Guy shook his head.
‘I will stay with Alain,’ he said. ‘In Paris.’
I smiled at him. ‘I thought you might say that.’
Cassie looked worried. ‘But you’ll still come with us?’ she asked me. ‘You’ll come to Lisbon?’
‘I will,’ I said. I’d not been sure about it until that very minute. But I knew it was the right thing to do. ‘I need to give Marcus his books. And it’ll be good to see Bea again.’
‘She’ll be so glad to see you,’ said Lara.
I nodded. ‘Perhaps she can help me run the Soldiers’ Book Service from Lisbon instead.’
‘I think she’d love that,’ Cassie said.
We all said our goodbyes to the Resistance, shaking their hands and thanking them profusely. They shrugged off our gratitude.
The Brits all picked up their suitcases, making me chuckle, and headed for the door. I stood for a second with Guy, Sylvie and Alain in the living room.
‘I will miss you all,’ I said.
We all threaded our arms through each other’s and shared a slightly uncomfortable but emotional hug.
‘We will always be the Three Musketeers,’ said Sylvie, subtly wiping away a tear.
‘There are four of us,’ I said.
‘Pfft.’ She looked at Alain. ‘You are d’Artagnan. A late addition, but just as important.’
For a second I thought Alain was going to cry, but instead he just grinned. ‘More important,’ he said.
‘Au revoir,’ I said to them all, my own voice thick with tears. ‘Until we meet again.’
I went out into the hall, where the others were waiting.
‘Are we all set then?’ said Archie, looking at us all.
‘Right behind you,’ said Henry.
‘And me,’ said Lara.
Archie took Cassie’s hand and she smiled at him.
‘Let’s go,’ she said. ‘We’ve got a train to catch.’