Page 3 of The Secret Librarian
‘Find your way to Lisbon,’ Benoit said. ‘You’re the one on the run now, Little Rabbit. It’s time to save yourself.’
‘And once I’m there?’
‘You can help France in a different way. We’ll send more refugees as soon as we can, and you can help them there. Any messages I need to send, I’ll send with them,’ he said. ‘Besides, Lisbon is full of spies. You’ll find a way to be helpful to the cause. I know you will.’
He walked quickly across the room then and opened the door, and she waited for him to give her the all-clear signal as he peered out into the darkness. When he lifted his hand and gestured for her to go, she did, hurriedly touching his shoulder on the way past. They’d worked together for more than a year, she trusted Benoit with her life, and yet there was no time to say goodbye, not properly. But in that one touch they both knew what the other meant. Just as she knew how hard he would take Hugo’s death, even if he wasn’t showing it now. Benoit would never forgive himself for allowing a double agent to infiltrate their network.
‘Until we meet again,’ she murmured as she left, before hurrying into the darkness and praying that she’d have enoughtime to change her appearance before she was found. Because one thing was for certain – those men would never stop searching for her now that they’d seen her, and she didn’t want to think about what they’d do if they found her.
She would do everything Benoit had suggested – change her hair, her clothes, the way she spoke;anythingthat would help her slip into Portugal without detection. And she would find a way to continue her work – she would never stop fighting for France and the Allies. Just as she would never stop searching for who had betrayed them.
Tears slipped down her cheeks then, leaving her skin wet. She walked quickly across the road, her collar raised and her head bent. Hiccups of emotion caught in her throat and she wrapped her arms around herself as grief rose in her chest, fighting against the sobs inside, too afraid to make a noise.
How will I ever live without you, Hugo?
We were supposed to spend the rest of our lives together. We were supposed to have a family, to open our restaurant once the war was over and be surrounded by children. We were supposed to grow old together.
Now she was fleeing the country she loved, the country she’d fought so hard for, just like the countless refugees they’d dedicated the last two years to saving.
A widow instead of a wife.
Then the sound of a single gunshot rang out in the otherwise-silent night air, and she began to run.
Chapter One
New York, 1942
Avery
Avery smiled at Michael when he reached for her hand. He gave it a little squeeze before letting go and reaching for the serving spoon, and she couldn’t help but wonder why he’d paused to touch her when he was clearly more interested in dishing up extra mashed potato. But then she saw her mother watching, her hand held to her chest as if it were possibly the sweetest thing she’d ever seen, and suddenly Avery understood. Michael had always known just what to do to charm her mother, from the very first time they’d met, and he’d clearly noticed her gaze resting on them.
‘Our boys will be home by next Christmas, you mark my words,’ Avery’s father said, reaching for the bottle of wine and pouring himself another glass. ‘Germany and the Japs, they don’t stand a chance now that we’ve joined the war. It’ll be over before we know it.’
Her mother made noises that indicated she agreed, and Michael nodded along as if her father was an invaluable source of information and couldn’t possibly be wrong. It infuriated Avery on a nightly basis that they all just accepted what her father said asgospel. What she wouldn’t have given for them all to have a lively debate! The only thing more frustrating was her sister Charlotte’s disinterest in politics and world events.
‘Speaking of our men, it’s such a wonderful thing you’ve been spared from serving, Michael,’ Avery’s mother said. ‘What a worry it would be for our Avery, forall of us, if you had to go and serve.’
‘Another reason to be happy we had daughters,’ her father said. ‘It’s bad enough having a nephew serving, but to have a son sent to God only knows where ...’
‘I hear that women in Europe are helping the war effort more and more every day,’ Avery said, taking her chance to speak up before the conversation changed. ‘I was reading just today, in fact, that women in England are learning to fly fighter planes so they can ferry them about, and that it might be happening soon here in America, too.’
‘Nonsense!’ Her father laughed, before pressing his napkin to his face. ‘You know what I think of women doing men’s jobs. It’s ridiculous to even talk about it.’
‘There are female war correspondents, too,’ Avery said, her cheeks burning hot as her father’s eyes widened. ‘I’ve been preserving articles from a British paper about them at the library.’
‘Here she goes again about the journalists,’ he said, exchanging an impossible-to-miss look with her mother. ‘Why do young women keep thinking they have to take over the world? In my day, women were happy to be teachers or nurses while they waited to have a family; there was none of this nonsense.’
Avery folded her hands in her lap and lowered her gaze, knowing it wasn’t worth the argument. Her father never had any interest in hearing her opinion on anything that didn’t align with his old-fashioned views on politics and society.
‘We’re very proud of our Avery being a librarian though,’ her mother said quickly, more likely for Michael’s benefit than hers. ‘Inever thought I’d have a daughter with a degree from Colombia University, so that’s something.’
‘Well, it won’t be much use once she’s married,’ grumbled her father.
Avery looked up then at her parents, feeling the familiar twist in her stomach that she always felt when they talked about her degree. Her mother was proud of her in her own way, she knew that, but her father had refused to pay her college fees, and so Avery had used her own savings, along with a scholarship, in order to attend, which he’d seemed to take as a personal affront. He’d even asked her to hang her degree certificate in her bedroom rather than the front room, where his was displayed, and she knew that if she’d been a son, he would have had it framed and hung it there himself. Right alongside his, for everyone to see.
‘To think both my girls will be married in the summer!’ her mother said. ‘Nowthat’ssomething we can all agree is exciting, don’t you think?’
The knot in Avery’s stomach tightened and she felt her cheeks begin to heat. Thankfully her sister came to life and began prattling on about wedding plans and dresses, so Avery was able to sit in silence, pushing the last of her dinner around her plate before eventually escaping when it was time to clear the table. She lost herself in washing the plates, running the water until it was bubbly with soap suds, interrupted only when her mother came in to join her.
