Avery visibly paled. ‘I thought, I meant I didn’t—’
‘I’d be thrown in a cell by the PVDE if I were to sell you such a book and they found out. They take censorship very seriously, and I cannot have anything like that in my shop. They raided me only last month, and another bookshop that was openly pro-Allies was closed down only weeks ago.’Before I took up with Kiefer. When they were more inclined to wonder if I was a Jewish sympathiser.
‘I-I thought Lisbon was neutral, but I’m guessing that’s just something else I’m wrong about?’ Avery asked.
Camille nodded, glancing around her shop at the wooden shelves heaving with books, considering her words before speaking again. ‘The authorities tolerate the Jews being here because they have to, because most of the locals are sympathetic, but we have to be careful about what we do, what we say, and certainly what we read. The authorities might let the Jews inhabit the streets, but they certainly don’t want their publications, or I dare say anything else that might paint Germany in a bad light. It’s a very fine line to walk, and one you’ll have to learn to tread carefully if you’re going to live here.’
Avery nodded and turned, walking slowly down the closest row of books, her fingers trailing over their spines. Camille watched as she glanced around the store, as if to check they were alone before she spoke again.
‘Are there many other French women living here?’
‘In Lisbon?’ Camille shook her head. ‘No, unless you count the French Jewish refugees waiting for boats. There are few French women living here.’
The American woman looked crestfallen, and Camille felt at least partly responsible. It was impossible not to be cynical and suspicious after what Camille had been through, but she could have been a little softer in her approach. She could see that now.
‘How about I take a look for the types of newspapers you’re searching for. I’m sure there will be something in yesterday’s delivery that will be of interest to you, and I’ll be sure to include a copy of our local paper as well. That’s published daily and I have them delivered every morning.’ Avery’s face lit up and Camille went out the back into her office and took out the foreign papers she had sorted there, glancing through them and selecting a German one, as well as the BritishDaily Mirrorand the local newspaper.
When she walked back out, Avery was glancing at a book, and Camille moved closer to see what she was looking at.
‘You have good taste.’ Avery was flicking through the first few pages of Virginia Woolf’sMrs Dalloway.
‘The best part about working at a library is discovering authors. But I spent most of my time microfilming old books and newspapers that would otherwise have been disposed of.’
Camille’s eyebrows lifted in question. ‘Disposed of?’
‘There simply isn’t room to store everything forever, but—’ Avery stopped talking, as if she’d suddenly realised she’d said too much. ‘Anyway, it’s nice to spend time looking at all your lovely books; you have an impressive inventory. Tomorrow I might come back and find something to read for myself, if I have the chance.’
‘This microfilming you speak of—’
‘Oh, it’s nothing. Something for another day,’ Avery said quickly. ‘What do you have there?’
‘It’s a German book on military tactics I thought might be of interest.’
Avery’s eyes widened as she reached for it, flicking through the first few pages and then smiling. ‘Thank you, this is definitely what I’m looking for.’
Camille was about to ask Avery another question, curious about what microfilming was, when the little bell above the door announced a new visitor. And her American customer must have noticed how still she had gone, because she immediately held out the book.
‘I’ll take it,’ Avery said.
Camille quickly folded the newspapers against it, wrapping them in brown paper and passing the package back to Avery. The American had been in her store for long enough – she didn’t need anyone who might be watching to think she was collaborating with an Allied spy.
‘I’m certain you’ll love the book,’ Camille said as she rang the sale up on the cash register and took the money Avery passed to her, trying not to look nervous as Kiefer stepped up to the counter.
Avery turned when Kiefer cleared his throat behind her. Or perhaps she was more perceptive than Camille had given her credit for and could sense the change in her, and wanted to see who was the cause of it.
‘Oh goodness, I wasn’t expecting such a handsome man to be standing so close,’ Avery said, clutching her book to her chest and moving quickly past Kiefer.
If Camille had doubted the woman’s ability to pass as a spy in the beginning, she didn’t now.
‘Oh dear, look at me being all clumsy,’ Avery said, knocking into a table and turning to give Camille a quick smile as Kiefer bent to collect the fallen books. ‘You’ve got me all flustered here.’
‘Be sure to come back when you’re ready for another good book,’ Camille called out.
‘A romance next time!’ Avery said. ‘Put something aside for me when you get a chance.’
With Kiefer’s attention diverted as he watched Avery leave the shop, Camille took a deep, shaky breath, grateful for the reprieve before readying herself with a practised smile.
‘Kiefer,’ she purred when he turned to her, the bell signalling that Avery had left. ‘What a wonderful surprise.’
