Page 26 of The Secret Librarian
‘Goodnight, James the journalist,’ she replied, unlocking her door and going through it before she did or said anything she might regret.
But when she was on the other side of it, she pressed her back to the timber and closed her eyes, her heart beating fast as she thought about the man who’d brought her home. He was obviously a rogue, a man who talked to single women at hotels, probably on his way now to warm his lover’s bed after bidding her farewell, so she knew nothing could come of it, but she certainly wasn’t minding the flutter in her stomach when she thought about the way he’d so boldly kissed her cheek, or the touch of his fingers against her shoulder.
But what he’d said to her about staying safe had rattled her, despite her excitement, especially when she’d received no such warnings during her training. And she couldn’t help but wonder whether he was actually a spy or not. Were they all spies? Had the hotel truly been full of them? Was she really in jeopardy if she was walking the streets alone?
Upstairs, as she slipped out of her dress and put on her nightgown, she also thought about the woman from the bookstore, and wondered just how she fitted in with the mysterious crowd at the Hotel Avenida. She’d been drawn to Camille in her bookshop, despite how blunt the French woman had been, but Avery was starting to understand that she needed to be less trusting and more suspicious in Lisbon. After all, what had James said? Something about enemies all smiling politely under the same roof? That meant she shouldn’t trust him, either, no matter how much she was drawn to the handsome Brit who’d so chivalrously walked her home with his jacket draped around her shoulders.
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 ...’
‘Predominantlyenemypublications, 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.’
