Page 28 of The Secret Librarian
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 Suíça?’
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 Suíça.’
‘It’s famous?’ Avery asked, looking confused.
‘Famous in Lisbon, yes,’ Camille said, returning to the counter to write down directions.
The bell tinkled to announce the arrival of more customers, and Avery took the note and slipped it into her pocket. ‘I’ll see you there,’ Camille said, shaking her head at the American’s enthusiasm and wondering if she might regret her decision to meet for lunch. It had been quite some time since Camille had seen someone socially, without it being part of her work, and as she watched Avery dash from the store she couldn’t deny that it would be nice to have lunch with another woman. It also hadn’t been the worst feeling in the world to smile, so perhaps an hour away from the shop with the person who’d induced it wasn’t such a bad idea. It wasn’t as if she’d made any friends in Lisbon, other than the lovely old man who’d once owned the bookstore.
Once there were no more customers in the shop, Camille took the opportunity to go to her office in the backroom. She’d put up the bell on the door to her shop once she’d purchased the store, to alert her to any customers coming or going, which was especially helpful when she was in her office. No one could sneak up on her and see what she was doing, and as she reached for the bulky item wrapped in a man’s shirt, she’d never been more grateful for that little bell.
She opened up the shirt, careful not to drop the precious wireless radio as she did so. It was beautiful, and it was going to be her way of listening and finding out what was truly happening in other parts of Europe. The foreign newspapers that she received were either out of date by the time they came in, or full of so much propaganda that she never knew what to believe. But the radio? The radio felt like her gateway to the rest of the world. It also made whatshe’d done with Kiefer in exchange for it almost bearable.Almost.She was going to be one of the lucky few who could listen to what was actually happening in the world.
She was careful to fold it back up in the shirt again, placing it beneath the floorboards with some other precious things that she didn’t want anyone to find. But as she did so, bending down and looking at the few possessions she still had from her old life, the memories hit her like a wave, reminding her of what she’d lost. Of what she’d left behind. Of the life she’d once had that had meant more to her than anything else in the world. The life that she’d doanythingto go back to.
Camille reached for the desk beside her, placing her palms flat against it as she pushed herself up, but she couldn’t straighten; as Hugo came back to her, as the memories of him clawed at her, she was pulled back into the past. Usually it was at night that she twisted and turned, plagued by what had happened, but sometimes, like today, the memories came rushing into her mind as if it were only yesterday. Unable to push them away, they turned into a nightmare that replayed itself over and over no matter how hard she fought against it.
And just like that she was back in the forest, looking over her shoulder at Hugo, screaming his name, watching him crumple to the ground. She’d fought so hard to hide her identity, to leave behind the woman she once was for the woman she’d had to become in order to survive, but the pain of losing Hugo, of the betrayal they’d faced, was impossible to forget. No amount of pretending would ever stop her from thinking about that night. But it was what had happened next that kept coming back to her as she searched her memory for clues, for what she might have missed, replaying what she remembered of the family who’d stood before her and Hugo earlier that day, who they were supposed to save that fateful night – the family who had trusted her and Hugo to take them to safety.
‘Please, take it,’ the man said, reaching into his jacket and taking out the most beautiful pocket watch that she had ever seen.
He held it in the palm of his hand, and his eyes searched hers until she looked down again, admiring the diamonds that marked the face of the platinum watch. Just by glancing at it, she could tell how expensive it must be.
‘Please, for your troubles,’ he said, pleading with her as he waved his wife closer. ‘My wife’s rings, any of our jewellery, please, anything to keep us safe. We’ll give you anything if you just help us get to Portugal.’
She reached out and closed his fingers over his watch as Hugo spoke for them.
‘Keep your valuables,’ he said. ‘The only thing we want from you is your promise that you will listen to us at all times, and follow our lead. It’s a dangerous journey, but one we’ve made many times now, and when you arrive in Portugal you’ll need everything you have to secure passage to America.’
Tears formed in the man’s eyes as their two children crowded around the couple’s legs, his wife’s hands falling to their small shoulders as they looked up at her with the most hopeful expressions on their faces. Camille couldn’t imagine what they must be thinking as they tried to understand why they were having to leave, why they were so hated for just being them, why their parents had made them flee their home.
‘But we must pay you something, for your—’
‘Our reward for doing this is knowing that you’re safe,’ she said. ‘Our network is helping Jews from all over France as best we can. Please, we don’t want your valuables.’
‘Why?’ the woman asked, her eyes wide as she looked back at her. ‘Why would you risk everything for strangers?’
Camille smiled, glancing down at the children and then reaching for the woman’s arm. ‘Because we know what it’s like to lose those we love. Because if we don’t fight against this regime, who will?’
‘You know where to meet us?’ Hugo asked.
The man nodded.
‘Don’t tell anyone where you’re going. We’ll meet after dark and begin our journey immediately.’ Hugo’s smile was kind, but she could see the worry etched on his face. ‘I suggest you rest until then, because once we start, we won’t stop walking until daybreak.’
They said their goodbyes and she slipped her hand into Hugo’s as they made their way back to their apartment, both lost in their thoughts and neither saying a thing.
She wiped at her eyes as she remembered the steady way Hugo had held her hand, the kindness of his gaze and the warmth of his smile. But she kept thinking about the Jewish man, too, prepared to give up anything and everything just to keep his family safe; the way they’d been betrayed by someone who’d known their precise movements, by someone they should have been able to trust.
There was still a glimmer of hope that someone from that beautiful little family had survived, but so far no one had been able to tell her what had happened, and she feared that with fewer and fewer families escaping France now, she might never find out.
