The Book of Lost Names(54)
“Oh, don’t look so worried, Eva,” Joseph said with a laugh. “My work doesn’t leave much time for romance. I was only pointing out how very lovely you are, and how different you seem to have become since I saw you last.” He waited until Eva met his gaze again. “Is that so wrong to say?”
“Thank you.” She felt like the shy schoolgirl she had once been, and desperate to change the subject, she asked, “Do you, by any chance, know how dangerous it is for members of the underground to escort Jewish children across the Swiss border?”
Joseph burst out laughing. “I thought we were having a moment, Eva, and you’re asking me about the safety of our couriers? You’re not very good at this.”
She could feel her blush deepening. “I’m just worried about someone.”
His smiled faded. “Ah. Your partner in forgery. Rémy, is it?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“He’ll be fine, Eva. He can take care of himself.”
She searched his eyes. “You don’t like him. Why?”
“It’s just that at a time like this, I find it more comforting to be surrounded by people who are more predictable, people like you.”
Eva wondered if it was only in her own head that the comment had sounded like a slight. Was Joseph here because he assumed she was the same old Eva, the docile English student who never spoke up, the inexperienced, sheltered girl who was too nervous to flirt? “I don’t know. I think there’s a certain value to being able to change when it’s necessary. Otherwise, we’d never grow.”
Joseph raised an eyebrow. “Eva, you’re absolutely right. What I meant to say was that I admire your character, your stability. It’s nice to know that I’ll always know where I stand with you.” He gave her another charming grin.
“So you think Rémy will be all right?” she persisted.
“Well, he’s traveling on papers that the two of you made together, so I would imagine there’s every reason to assume he’ll be just fine. Which brings me, Eva, to the subject I wanted to discuss with you.” He craned his neck to look down the hall, and satisfied that her mother was apparently trying to leave them alone for a bit, he turned back to Eva. “You see, the identity documents you’ve been making are fine. And you’ve been doing brilliantly with the stamps. But your supporting papers have been failing inspections lately.”
Eva’s eyes widened. Had there been more issues than just the one with the résistant named Lacroix? “Joseph, I’m very sorry. Was someone apprehended because of our work?”
“It doesn’t matter. The problem is that the actual paper the documents are printed on needs to be more convincing.”
Eva could feel herself blushing. “We—we’ve tried to make better paper, but it’s not our specialty.” She had always known, though, that it was a weak spot for them. Different documents were printed on entirely different types of paper—some closely woven, some fine, some textured, and some untextured—and she’d thought she and Rémy had done a decent job of sourcing the correct varieties. Rémy had even tinkered with making his own paper from wood pulp and water, but there hadn’t been time to get it right, not with all the documents that needed to be made. There were only two of them, and never enough hours in the day.
“It’s not your fault; it’s the network’s, for not providing you with the things you need. But that’s about to change.” Joseph stood and walked to the rack in the hall where his overcoat hung. He withdrew a packet as thick as a dictionary, and Eva wondered, as he returned to the dining room, how he had managed to conceal it so well. “Here,” he said, handing it to her.
“What is it?”
He glanced once more down the hall. Her mother and Madame Barbier were still nowhere to be seen. “Open it. Quickly.”
Eva unwound the string around the package and pulled back the brown butcher paper. Inside was a large stack of assorted papers, some thick, some as thin as blotting sheets, everything from blank ration cards to blank demobilization orders. She flipped through them and then looked back to Joseph in awe. “This is different from anything we’ve been able to get here. How…?”
“They’re made in free Algeria and parachuted in.”
“Parachuted?” Eva had heard rumors of weapons being dropped by the Allies, but blank papers? “By whom?”
Joseph just smiled. “The less you know, the better. But those should last you for a while. Now, go put them somewhere safe for the night. I’ll have a few people looking out for you on your way to the church tomorrow, but you should be perfectly fine as long as you conceal the package beneath your coat. The Germans know there’s a forgery bureau going on beneath their noses, but they’re not looking for a girl. And certainly not one as pretty as you.”
She could feel herself blushing. “Thank you. I’ll just go hide them in my room.” She stood.
“Good.” Joseph patted his belly. “Now, I’m starving. Where do you suppose your mother is with that food?”
* * *
Joseph left an hour later—full of chicken, wine, and ersatz coffee with a touch of real cream—and on the way out, he reassured Eva’s mother that he would see what he could find out about Tatu?.