Page 21 of The Secret Librarian

Chapter Ten

Camille

Camille glanced over her shoulder, always careful about approaching Rossio Square.

Tonight she was dressed in a woollen coat and had a scarf tied over her head, trying as hard as possible not to draw attention to herself, and so far it seemed to have worked.

She leaned against a tree and watched the people ahead of her, tears pricking her eyes.

They were all so grateful , and that always managed to break something inside of her.

They were just people, and yet somehow they’d ended up being so hated that they’d been driven from their homes and persecuted – despised, even.

But to her, they were no different to any other human being.

I wish you were here, Hugo. I wish you could see what I see.

Camille looked behind her again, before starting to move.

She was a familiar face to many, so when she lowered her scarf and showed her face, no one was alarmed to see her coming towards them.

The street lights meant that the refugees were never in the dark, which she imagined added to their feeling of safety, but it made her feel as if she could be seen by anyone, and after the recent visit from the PVDE, she was more on edge than usual.

But it wasn’t her that she was worried about; it was the families she’d helped.

The old man she was looking for saw her first, catching her eye when he stood and gave her a nod. Behind him was a woman, perhaps a little older than Camille herself, and Camille watched as she bent to speak to her children before joining the man.

She knew immediately that the woman was his daughter.

‘I have your papers,’ she said in French, once the man was within earshot. ‘Please embrace me, as if we are friends, and I will slide them into your jacket.’

He nodded, and once she was close enough to him, the transfer was made.

‘Thank you for helping us,’ said the woman, and Camille saw the glint of tears in her eyes, recognising the desperation there that was evident in the expressions of so many women just like her. ‘I actually have something for you, something from France.’

The very fact they were speaking in her maiden tongue was emotional for Camille, but hearing that this woman had something for her from home was enough to make her gasp.

It had been a long time since she’d had any direct communication from anyone in Paris, which meant that anything at all would be cherished.

‘I’ve carried it in my coat since we left,’ the woman said.

‘You shouldn’t have risked anything for me,’ Camille said. ‘It’s not that I’m not grateful, but if you’d been caught with it ...’

The woman stepped forward, kissing first Camille’s right cheek and then her left, before putting her arms around her and giving her a warm hug. As she pulled away, she pressed something into Camille’s coat, and Camille was quick to secure it in her pocket.

‘You have risked so much to help us, so this was something I could do, as my way of saying thank you. Without you and your friends in France?’ The woman shook her head, tears slipping rapidly down her cheeks now. ‘I don’t even want to think what would have happened to us.’

‘Thank you,’ Camille said, through her own tears. ‘It might take you a long time to leave here, but those documents will keep you from being deported or arrested. Without the correct visa paperwork, the PVDE can be ruthless.’

They parted then, the old man giving her a long look that told her just how much she’d done for them, before Camille turned away.

She glanced at families as she walked, wishing she could sit with them, that she could hear their stories and find a way to do more for them, but she knew that her presence would only put both herself and them in more danger.

She didn’t want to raise the suspicions of the PVDE any more than she already had.

But as she glanced around again, Camille realised that she’d already been seen. She lifted her scarf and wrapped her jacket tightly around herself, keeping her gaze lowered and pretending that she hadn’t seen the woman standing beneath the street light.

Avery had been watching her, of that she had little doubt, and Camille could only hope that the American was who she claimed to be. Because if she wasn’t, she could put everything Camille had worked so hard to keep secret in jeopardy.

The note felt as if it were burning a hole in her coat pocket as she hurried for home, and she slipped her hand inside so she could clasp it.

But it wasn’t until she was safe inside her apartment, the door locked behind her, that she dared open her hand and take out the little parcel of papers.

There was a small note tucked inside what she recognised as the type of clandestine paper used by the Resistance.

Betrayal ran deeper than expected. Hard to know who to trust. Definitely Allied deception, confirmed British double agent.

You need to be careful not to draw attention to yourself, otherwise you risk being deported alongside everyone you’ve helped.

They know you’re there and I’ve heard rumours of the work you’re doing.

You’ll be treated the same as the Jews if you’re caught.

Situation in camps even worse than we suspected, thousands dead, not just Jews but political prisoners too. B.

Camille read the words in Benoit’s familiar scrawl three times over before closing her eyes and sliding all the way to the floor. She didn’t even have the energy to read the other sheet of paper, not yet.

Everything came back to her then – the terror, the pain, the sacrifice of the night when everything had changed irrevocably for her – and she was suddenly alone again, her memories playing in her mind, torturing her.

She tucked into a thick area of foliage, wrapping her wool coat tightly around her body as she tried to stay warm.

She’d walked for hours, more hesitant than usual as she followed the path she and Hugo had taken so many times before, usually always in silence as a family brought up the rear on their way to freedom, trudging step after step.

They’d learnt how to move soundlessly across the grass, through dense treed areas, often guided only by the moonlight as they each focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

But it was different being alone. This time, the silence felt deafening.

She began to shiver, squeezing her eyes shut as she imagined Hugo’s body pressed against hers to keep her warm, his hand covering her waist as he pulled her against him.

Every movement, every step, every decision made her think of him, and she knew that as soon as she drifted off to sleep, she’d be straight back to that moment in time, seeing him lying there, choosing to leave him all over again.

Wishing she could have made any other decision but the one she’d made.

She sat up, tucking her legs close to her body as she reached into her bag.

She’d been too scared to go to her apartment in case someone was waiting for her, and so she’d gone to a friend’s house and let herself in through the back door.

No one had been home, and it was there she’d hurriedly dyed her hair and packed a small bag of things, taking only what she absolutely needed to survive the first few days, and leaving a note of apology.

One day she’d apologise in person, but right now she needed to do whatever she had to, to survive.

She took out a small piece of bread and an even smaller piece of cheese, nibbling on them slowly in an attempt to make her stomach feel more full.

She was numb, but she forced herself to chew, somehow swallowing the bread even though it felt almost impossible to move around her mouth.

Eventually she gave up on the rest, placing it back in her bag as birds began to chirp around her and the trees slowly came to life.

The cover of darkness was her friend, which meant sleeping and hiding when everyone else was awake.

As she pulled the zipper on her bag, the edge of her wedding ring caught, and she stared down at the gold band that had been there for almost three years now.

The thought of her simple wedding, with her brother and father flanking her as Hugo walked to the front of the little church, made her smile, but her happiness was short-lived when she remembered that of the four of them, she was the only one left. The war had taken everything from her.

How had this happened? It was never supposed to be like this. They were all supposed to be together. They’d had a whole life planned, a future that they were all looking forward to. Together.

She reluctantly slid the ring off her finger, knowing that she would have more luck sweet-talking Nazis or local officials as a single woman, and she fiddled with her necklace, intending on putting the band there.

If anyone asked, she could say it had belonged to her mother, and no one would be any the wiser. But at least it would keep Hugo close.

Camille opened her eyes and stared down at her bare ring finger, wishing she’d never taken it off in the first place.

She also had the distinct feeling that her days were numbered.

I wish you were here, Hugo. I miss you so much.