Page 17 of The Secret Librarian

Chapter Eight

Camille

Camille was at the front of the bookstore rearranging a table when she saw a familiar face outside.

The American woman raised her hand in a wave before entering, making the little bell above the door tinkle.

There was no one else in the store – it had been a quiet morning so far except for a few newspaper sales – and Camille stopped what she was doing to greet her, grateful for the distraction.

‘You decided to come back,’ Camille said.

‘I did.’

‘The newspapers were suitable for your work?’ she asked, starting to return to the counter.

‘They were. I’m interested in all publications from anywhere in the world, so if you come by anything else ...’

‘Predominantly enemy publications, by chance?’

She saw the flush of colour in Avery’s face, but quickly glanced away so it wasn’t obvious she’d noticed.

It hadn’t been Camille’s intention to catch her out so easily, but quick words had shown Avery’s lie.

So it was enemy newspapers Avery really wanted, not all newspapers and books as she’d first claimed.

‘Unfortunately I don’t have anything, but perhaps I could put some aside if they do come in.’ Camille still couldn’t decide how she felt about the American. They were both Allies, so in theory she wasn’t opposed to helping her, but before she did that, she’d need to trust her.

‘That’s fine,’ Avery said. ‘I’ll call in another day. Thursday perhaps?’

Camille went to nod, but she froze when she saw who was poised to come through her door.

She immediately went through an inventory in her mind of what she had out in her office, of what could be found in the shop.

Camille was always careful, but she didn’t doubt how thorough they could be if they suspected her of conducting illegal activity.

‘Avery, the PVDE are—’ Her whisper was cut short when two men marched more quickly than expected through her store towards them.

‘Can I help either of you with a book?’ Camille asked, refusing to let them see how rattled she was.

‘A book?’ One of them laughed and nudged the other man with his elbow. ‘She thinks we’re here looking for something to read.’

‘I didn’t realise it was so funny. This is a bookstore after all,’ she said. ‘Most people who walk through my door are looking for a book to purchase, or a newspaper. I can’t interest you in either?’

The man who hadn’t spoken yet took a piece of paper from his pocket and held it out, slamming it on to the counter with a bang that made her jump. ‘Suppose if we took a look around,’ he said. ‘Would we find any documents that looked like this one?’

Camille swallowed, seeing from the corner of her eye that Avery had quietly moved to the back of the shop. They were holding papers, but she knew immediately that they weren’t papers forged by her hand. She breathed a sigh of relief.

‘I have my own identification papers that look very similar to that, if that’s what you’re asking?’

‘So you wouldn’t mind if we took a look around then? Just in case you have papers that don’t belong to you?’ he asked. ‘And while you’re at it, how about you show us those papers that you’re so confident about.’

Her heart was pounding. She’d hidden the visas in her apartment, and one she was still working on was tucked away under the floorboards, but her pot of ink and pen were still on display.

There could be many reasons for her to have ink, but she was worried it might add to their suspicions about her, and she couldn’t recall what else she might have left out.

‘My purse is in my office in the back room. Please give me a moment to retrieve it.’

It was then that Camille realised she didn’t know where Avery was, until she walked straight out of the office that Camille was striding towards.

‘Stop!’ the PVDE man shouted. ‘Who are you?’

Avery stopped, and her cheeks turned a deep shade of pink. ‘I’m sorry, I—’

‘This woman is a customer. I sold her a book just this week.’

His gaze narrowed. ‘What were you doing back there?’

‘Looking for a restroom to powder my nose,’ Avery said, before laughing and giving a little shrug. ‘Sorry, I don’t actually think you call it a restroom here, do you? What would I—’

‘Leave,’ he ordered, immediately ignoring Avery. Camille glanced after her, wondering what game she was playing, before going into her office and taking out her purse. She found her papers and handed them over, barely breathing as she watched the two men give a cursory glance around her office.

Camille noticed that some items were missing – a pair of tweezers that she used to place photos on doctored identification papers, and the ink pen that had taken her some time to procure, as well as her ink pot, but she kept her chin high, not letting on that anything was amiss.

She must have put them away earlier and forgotten.

She stood still as the men checked her papers and walked around the small space, opening drawers, and finally turning around to look at her.

‘Next time we come here, we won’t be so polite.’

She watched them go, refusing to acknowledge the wobble in her knees until the front door had opened and closed.

Camille slumped against the wall then, eyes shut, realising how easily everything could collapse around her, how much her being caught would affect the families who were counting on her.

And all she could see in her mind was the old man, the pain in his eyes; the faith he had showed in her to create the documents he needed for his daughter and grandchildren when he’d stood before her earlier in the week.

Or the mother from the camp the other night, who’d been so desperate for her help.

The tinkle of the bookshop’s bell made her jump, her eyes flying open as she pushed off from the wall. But it wasn’t just any customer, it was the American again.

‘Avery, what are you doing back here?’ Camille asked, irritated at having to talk to her when all she wanted was a moment alone.

‘I thought you might want these back,’ Avery said, her voice soft as she reached into her pocket and took out Camille’s tweezers, pen and small pot. ‘I heard what they said to you and I thought these might—’

‘You took these from my office?’

Avery nodded.

‘Thank you,’ Camille said, her voice catching in her throat. ‘You saved me there, you did, but if you’d been caught ...’ I don’t need anything else to keep me awake at night, I have enough memories haunting me as it is. ‘Just, thank you.’

‘I was worried these things might implicate you, and I didn’t think they’d even look twice at me.’

Camille sighed, placing the items on the counter and reaching out to her.

‘What you did was very brave, and I’m so grateful.

But I don’t want anyone else to be punished instead of me.

If you’d been caught, I’d never have forgiven myself, and being an American doesn’t mean they won’t question you.

It’s as dangerous for you as it is for anyone else. ’

Avery nodded. ‘I understand.’

Camille wasn’t so sure she did, but she didn’t press the subject any more. ‘Come with me. I might just have one of those newspapers you were asking about earlier.’

A smile brightened Avery’s face. ‘You do? I thought—’

‘Don’t ask questions,’ Camille said, as she walked across the store to the counter and reached beneath it, passing Avery a Portuguese newspaper, as well as recent copies of both Das Reich and Der Stürmer . She watched Avery’s eyes widen at the sight of the German newspapers.

‘Thank you, this is excellent.’ Avery laughed. ‘I had no idea it would be so easy to obtain these German newspapers. I expected it would take a great deal of searching.’

Camille gave her a little shrug. ‘You’d be surprised what comes into Portugal each week. I take copies of everything, and there’s a newspaper vendor a few streets over that usually has whatever I don’t.’

‘Well, this is very much appreciated. I honestly can’t believe it.’

‘I do need something from you though,’ Camille said. ‘I have other customers looking for your American Time magazines. Is there any way you could have some sent to you, if someone from home were to send you a parcel?’

Avery was quick to smile. ‘I’ll try my best. Leave it with me.’

Camille rang up the sale and Avery paid, before tucking the papers beneath her arm. ‘I’m sorry, about what happened before.’

‘So am I.’

‘Camille, if you were caught with the forged papers they were asking about, what would happen?’

‘The PVDE are ruthless,’ Camille said, hearing the catch in her own voice. ‘I’d be sent to jail.’

Avery visibly swallowed. ‘Has your shop been subject to a raid before, or was this the first time?’

Camille nodded. ‘It has. I don’t think there’s a bookshop in Portugal that’s been exempt, although they’ve come looking in mine perhaps more than others.’ She didn’t tell her why: that the PVDE likely had suspicions about her that were unrelated to the books she stocked.

‘Camille, please feel that you can say no, but would you like to have lunch together?’ Avery asked, managing to take Camille completely by surprise. ‘I don’t know anyone here, and I’d love the company.’

Camille hesitated. Earlier, when Avery had walked into the shop, she would never have said yes, but this American woman had taken a risk for her, and she’d also heard the PVDE were poking around. She quickly realised that it would be better to have her as a friend than foe.

‘I could close for an hour at one p.m. if you’d like to meet at Pastelaria Suíca?’

Avery’s eyes lit up. ‘Fantastic. That gives me time to work before we meet. I might need directions to the café though. Is it far?’

‘Oh, mon Dieu ,’ Camille said with a laugh, taking herself by surprise.

‘You’re surprised?’

Camille smiled. ‘I forgot you spoke French! It’s only you’re the first person I’ve met here who doesn’t know the Pastelaria Suíca.’

‘It’s famous?’ Avery asked, looking confused.

‘Famous in Lisbon, yes,’ Camille said, returning to the counter to write down directions.