The Librarian Spy(84)

“Are you all right?” he asked, his brow creased with concern.

“Are you?”

He gave an easy chuckle. “Of course.”

“You’re limping.”

He grinned. “I have it on good authority that a chap with a limp is rather dashing.”

Ava rolled her eyes at him, the way Peggy always did, but there was no real annoyance behind the action. “Come, let’s get some food in all of you.”

Together they walked from the train station out into the March sunshine.

Sarah stopped abruptly, her eyes widening at the city around her, taking everything in from the expanse of clear blue sky overhead to the reflection of sunlight on the limestone and the heavy flow of cars roaring by. A little girl strolled by with her mother, a large pastry in her hand. Noah had lifted his head and mutely followed their departure, gaze fixed on the confection.

Two German men nearby began speaking, their voices loud. Sarah hugged Noah tightly to her as her body went stiff.

“No one will hurt you here,” Ava reassured her. “Portugal is neutral. The Germans have no power.”

It was mostly true. While the Portuguese people were absent prejudice and gave freely, sharing their possessions and food with the refugees, there were always those whose loyalty could be bought.

Fortunately, the Allies had supporters in their corner too.

“Rossio Square is right around the corner,” Ava said gently. “I’ve secured an apartment for you both there. You’ll be close to restaurants, grocery stores, whatever you need.”

“We don’t have ration cards,” Sarah whispered, her eyes fixed on everything around them, her body taut.

“There is no ration here.” Ava set a hand on the woman’s shoulder and gently led her forward. “I purchased some groceries for you, but nothing has been prepared to eat. If you like, we can order a meal here.”

They turned the corner to reveal Rossio Square with its waving white and black stonework and towering statue, where café patrons pressed beyond the awnings into the luxurious spring sunshine. Empty cups sat before them, cigarettes were pinched between fingers, and meals lay on plates in various states of consumption.

“There is fish, meat, something called alheira, which is pork-free sausage stuffed with poultry and potatoes and breadcrumbs.” Ava looked to Sarah, who watched the world around her as if she were fearful it would disappear the moment she allowed herself to believe it was real.

“Do you have a preference?” Ava asked.

Noah looked about with bright, eager eyes. “Frites,” he piped up.

Sarah gave a distracted nod as she anxiously scanned her surroundings. “I... I would like a cup of coffee. Real coffee.” Her worried gaze found Ava’s. “If it is truly safe.”

Doubtless this was the first time she had been out of hiding in years. Ava tried to put herself in the other woman’s position, to imagine the vulnerability of being in the open after having spent so long remaining sequestered, away from prying eyes and well-trained ears.

“It is,” Ava answered earnestly.

Sarah’s shoulders only slightly relaxed.

“Nicolas has an excellent array of anything you could ever want,” James offered and led the way to the popular café with his gallant limp.

He and Alfie secured a square table for the five of them. It was crowded, but no one complained. A waiter came out for their orders. When it was Sarah’s turn, she simply stared at the list of food.

“If you like fish, it is very good here,” Ava suggested.

Sarah lifted her stunned gaze and nodded.

Noah didn’t have any hesitation with what he wanted, he kicked his legs against the chair, his pants slightly too short. “Frites, s’il vous pla?t.”

Ava made a note to find some well-fitting clothes for him.

His eyes, hazel and long lashed like his mother’s, lit with delight.

Ava glanced at James discreetly, studying him in the sunlight for any bruises or cuts. There were none. Only several days’ growth of a dark beard and that limp whose origin story she had yet to hear. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what had happened, what had held them up for over a month. But the tight, weary expression on James’s and Sarah’s faces had Ava holding back.

Whatever it was could be discussed later when she and James had a chance to speak privately.

The waiter came out with cups of bica and a bowl of sugar. Sarah stared at the glistening white grains as if they were made of gold. James spilled sugar into his coffee, and she followed his lead, adding only a fraction of his heaping spoonful. After a slow, careful stir, she brought the cup to her lips, breathed in the strong coffee in a long, slow inhale, then took a sip.

Her eyes closed in pleasure, and she held the coffee in her mouth for a second before finally swallowing. When she opened her eyes once more, they were clouded with tears.

Never in all of Ava’s life had she enjoyed anything as much as Sarah had in savoring that cup of coffee.

Sarah caught Ava watching and color flushed in her cheeks. “Forgive me,” Sarah said. “It has been years since I have had real coffee.”

Ava shook her head, embarrassed to have interrupted the other woman’s simple pleasure. “Please don’t apologize. I want you to enjoy everything.”

The waiter came then, the length of his arms stacked with plates full of food. Within the span of a minute, the bounty covered the small square table and filled the air with the scents of roasted meat, yeasty, fresh baked bread, salty fries and the rich, briny smokiness of grilled sardines.