Page 34 of The Secret Librarian
Camille knew exactly who they were, of course, but she stood with her hands on her hips, more to stop the shaking than anything. She’d become aware of Lourenço Santos the first time he’d marched into the shop, soon after she’d started working there. It had been no secret that the old man she’d bought the shop from had helped Jews, which was the reason she’d confessed a little about her past to him, knowing it would sway him into selling it to her. But it had also meant she faced the continued interest of PVDE men like Lourenço Santos, who seemed more intent than ever on making their position in Lisbon clear.
‘We have reason to suspect that you’re in possession of books that breach censorship regulations,’ Santos said, sneering at her as he looked her slowly up and down, as if his police uniform gave him the right to do whatever he pleased.
Camille refused to squirm under his gaze, wishing she could slap the expression straight off his face. But men like Lourenço didn’t scare her. Once upon a time they would have, but not today, not after everything she’d survived. The only part of him raiding her shop that scared her was the timing – she would never forgive herself if he knew about the family she’d met up with last night at the square, or that she’d supplied anyone with papers. It would be a death sentence for those she’d helped.
‘I can assure you that I’m very much aware of what is and is not appropriate to stock in my shop.’ She turned in time to see his men throw an entire row of books to the floor. ‘Please tell your men to be careful. These books are very precious to me, not tomention worth a lot of money, so I’d appreciate it if they could be more careful.’
He shrugged, as if her words meant nothing, and took out a silver case from his pocket, producing a cigarette and proceeding to light it in front of her and blow the smoke in her face. She held her cough in her throat, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing it had affected her – so much so that her eyes began to water.
‘They were only here a few days ago and they couldn’t find anything, which makes me think you’re targeting me on purpose.’
His eyes were piercing when he stared back at her. ‘Tell me again, Mrs—’ He laughed.
‘Silva,’ she said, giving the false name on her papers and folding her arms, resisting the urge to cringe as more books were swept to the floor. They weren’t even looking at them, just doing their best to mess up her shop.
‘Mrs Silva, tell me again how you came to be the owner of this bookshop,’ he said. ‘It was owned by the same family for generations, and then suddenly, here you are, making everyone feel sorry for the widow who miraculously had enough money on her own to buy the place. Makes me wonder if you’re not one of the Jews the old man was so interested in helping.’
She refused to react, keeping her mouth in the same straight line. ‘If you thought I was a Jew, you’d have shut my store down by now,’ Camille said. ‘Let us not play silly games.’
‘Maybe not a Jew, but one who sympathises with them, no?’ He grunted, as if he were particularly pleased with himself. ‘Now answer my question. How did you become the owner of this bookstore?’
Camille fought the tremble inside at his words. So long as he only thought she sympathised with them, she would be fine.Theywould be fine. ‘As I told you last time you came to visit, I was awidow looking for a job when I first came here. I’m sure you can understand how hard it is for a woman to earn enough money to survive on her own?’ she said. ‘I was very fortunate to have a little money left to me by my husband, which allowed me to purchase the shop. But then I’m sure you know all of this already, don’t you?’
He stroked his moustache as she spoke, the faint curve of a smile on his lips as if he were enjoying every moment. Her little diatribe certainly hadn’t made him feel small, as she’d hoped it might.
‘Go on,’ he said. ‘You look like you have more to say.’
‘You make it sound as if I convinced the previous owner of Oliveira’s Books to sell to me, which is not at all what happened. I worked here for months before old Mr Oliveira told me of his failing health, and he was only too happy to sell to me so that he didn’t have to keep working. No one else was interested in purchasing a shop in wartime, not with such irregular shipments of books.’ They didn’t need to know that darling old Mr Oliveira had given her everything he owned before he died, and that he’d carefully had his bookshop and the lease on his apartment transferred into her name because he’d become so fond of her and had no family left to leave it to.
Santos’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why was your door locked when we arrived today? What were you doing back there in secret?’
She smiled. ‘I have a very bad headache and was taking a moment to myself, which has only been made worse by your storming into my store unannounced. Is it suddenly illegal for a shop owner to take a break? I have no employees, so I can’t exactly disappear and leave the door open.’
He started walking towards the back of the shop. ‘You won’t mind if I take a look in there then?’
Camille glared at his men when she passed, their carelessness making her want to scream, but she didn’t want Santos going into her office without her. She didn’t trust him not to plantsomething and then triumphantly march out with whatever he’d allegedly found.
‘You’re welcome to look, but you’ll find nothing more than coffee cups and some women’s magazines, which I dare say is all your men found the last time they were here,’ she said, edging into the room behind him as he looked around slowly, as if he didn’t want to miss anything.
But then Camille spotted the letter from Benoit on the floor. She’d been in such a hurry to hide everything that she must have dropped it.
She slowly moved closer, placing her foot over it just as Santos turned around.
‘Excuse me,’ he said, but Camille didn’t move and he came so close to her that she could smell the onion he’d eaten for lunch on his breath.
She shook her head as he shoved past her, his shoulder colliding with hers, and while his back was still turned she dropped down low and retrieved the paper, quickly sliding it into the waistline of her skirt. She smiled sweetly when he glanced back at her and moved to the other side of the room, heart pounding.
‘Did you find any books to confiscate?’ Santos called out to his men, too loudly for the small room, the sound of his voice reverberating.
‘Three books that need further investigating,’ one of the men called back, and Camille followed him back out into the store, eyes wide at the mess that greeted her. And then she saw a movement outside the glass windows at the front. When she saw it was Avery peering in, she shook her head slowly from side to side. The sign on the door still said ‘Back in 15 Minutes’, and she breathed a sigh of relief when Avery stepped away and disappeared. The last thing she wanted was the American to be drawn into whatever vendettathe secret police had against her, especially when she’d been here the last time they came.
‘Keep looking,’ Santos ordered. ‘I don’t want to leave here without what we came for.’
Camille stayed still, her expression fixed. But inside, she was scared and wondering precisely what it was he’d come for. The sooner she got him out of her shop, the better.
‘Camille?’
She was collapsed in a puddle on the floor, books all around her, when she heard her name being called. Camille looked up, surprised that anyone had come into the shop when the sign on the door remained. She didn’t even know what time it was, but she imagined late afternoon.
