Page 44 of The Secret Librarian
Camille nodded.
Avery sighed. ‘I want to help, but—’
‘After you’ve photographed the maps, wait for me until closing,’ Camille said. ‘I have some people I’d like you to meet, and I think they’ll help you to make your decision.’
Avery nodded. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help, she just couldn’t stop thinking about what might happen if she were caught.
‘If there are clothes I can help find for them, or even food, I know that I could—’
‘Avery, once you see what I’m going to show you? Helping with food and clothes won’t feel like enough. Trust me.’
Avery swallowed. That was what she was scared of.
‘We’re going to the square?’ Avery asked, as she walked quickly alongside Camille.
They were both carrying bags of food they’d purchased from the market – the leftover produce that hadn’t sold that was going for a much cheaper price than it would have done first thing in the morning. Avery moved the bag she was carrying to her other hand, struggling to keep up with Camille.
‘We can’t stay long once we get there,’ Camille said. ‘I want you to meet someone, and we’ll distribute the food as quickly as possible, then leave.’
Avery was silent for the rest of the walk, her heart racing as she tried not to think about being caught or something terrible happening to her because she’d decided to throw caution to the wind. But she couldn’t exactly change her mind now, not when Camille seemed so fearless.
She looked around, wide-eyed. They were across the street from the square now.
‘If we are questioned, you’re to say that you felt sorry for the refugees and wanted to give them food,’ Camille said. ‘That’s all you have to say, and there is nothing illegal about giving another person a gift.’
Avery nodded, but she imagined that she looked like a deer caught in a light.
‘Let’s go.’
They bustled across the road and Avery watched as conversations stopped when they passed, noticing smiles and kind expressions from the people staring at Camille. It was obvious to Avery that they all knew who this woman was, and she would go so far as to guess Camille was revered for her work with them.
‘They’re all looking at you,’ Avery whispered, bumping shoulders with Camille as she caught up with her fast pace. ‘Why do you not acknowledge them?’
‘The best thing I can do for them, and for me, is to pretend as if we are strangers,’ Camille murmured back. ‘It’s not safe here, you never know who’s watching.’
Avery glanced around, terrified all over again, but she didn’t have time to overthink things, because soon they were at a tent and Camille was gesturing to an old man. He walked as quickly as he could over to them, taking the bags of food and calling out to a woman who hurried to join them.
‘Please give this out to those who need it the most,’ Camille said. ‘It’s not a lot, but it’s something.’
Avery watched the man, the way his eyes seemed to communicate a silent thank you to Camille; the touch of another woman’s hand to Camille’s, a movement so fleeting that Avery could have missed it if she’d blinked.
‘You’ve helped all these people,’ Avery said, whispering. ‘They are here because of you?’
Camille nodded, her chin held high. ‘Without visas, they would have always been one raid away from deportation, so I’ve done what I can.’
Avery looked around them, at the children who flocked around their parents, edging closer to see what was happening; at the mothers staring at Camille. But it was the old man who spoke to her.
‘I think I have a camera to use,’ Avery heard Camille say, her voice barely audible, it was so low. ‘I’ll be better equipped to help those who need completely new identification papers now.’
Avery’s face burned as she realised what Camille was saying. Camille would be able to help them only ifAverychose to use her camera alongside her.
‘How have you made do without a camera up until now?’ Avery asked, forcing the words out.
‘I’ve only been able to make new identification for those who already have a photo. Usually I have to cut it from their old identification document to use on the new one.’
‘But a camera would mean—’
‘That I could help young children or those who’ve lost their paperwork on their journeys and don’t have an old photo,’ Camille said. ‘It would mean that there would be no one I couldn’t help, if you could take their photos and develop them for me.’
