noticed Cosimo and Elena sitting at a table in the corner. She was about to stop and knock on the window to attract their attention, but then noticed they were holding hands and gazing into one another’s eyes. Half an hour earlier, they had been begging her to join them. Now it seemed they only had eyes for one another. She was tempted to stop and confront them, but she knew the café would be filled with members of the Fascist police. She couldn’t afford a scene and risk discovery. Besides, it would make her late for her transmission. So instead, she walked briskly on to Signor Casoni’s office, and once she was finished, headed home. Her route took her past the café again, and she was relieved to see Cosimo and Elena had gone.
That afternoon, as Livia sat in the lecture theatre, she felt a rising sense of indignation. Elena and Cosimo were the two people she loved most in the world, apart from her family, and they had apparently betrayed her.
Unusually, Elena was late. When she finally arrived, she looked nervously at Livia as she slid into her seat.
As they filed out an hour later, Livia grabbed her by the arm. ‘I need to speak to you.’ Her tone was firm, challenging.
‘What about?’ asked Elena. ‘I can’t stay long. I have a meeting with my tutor in five minutes.’
‘It won’t take long,’ Livia said.
She pulled her friend into a small anteroom off the main entrance. There was nowhere to sit but a cold stone seat.
‘So, what do you want?’ Elena asked impatiently.
‘I saw you, with Cosimo at the café.’
Elena blushed.
‘So you admit it?’
Elena turned her face away.
‘I saw you holding hands,’ Livia said accusingly. ‘You should have told me.’
Elena stood up suddenly. ‘I have to go.’
‘Don’t you have anything to say?’ Livia asked furiously.
‘You have your secrets and we have ours,’ Elena replied.
Livia remained in the anteroom for some moments after her friend had left. She was stunned. It seemed extraordinary that Elena had not denied her relationship with Cosimo, but neither had she admitted it. And what did she mean about ‘having secrets’?
As she walked slowly home, she struggled to understand how Cosimo, her own beloved Cosimo, could betray her in this way.
That evening Elena’s mother telephoned Livia. ‘Elena has a terrible cold, poor thing. She has quite lost her voice and has a bad chest; her father says she must stay at home. Will you tell the lecturers she won’t be in for several days?’
‘I see.’ Livia was furious that her friend seemed to be avoiding her. ‘Has Elena seen Cosimo at all?’
‘Cosimo? Not as far as I know. He’s certainly not been here, why?’
‘Oh, nothing,’ said Livia. ‘I hope she gets better soon.’
A few days later, Livia was still smarting from her friends’ betrayal. She had seen neither Cosimo nor Elena since that day, and felt desperately hurt and confused. She tried to bury herself in her responsibilities, but the memory of them holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes disturbed her concentration. It seemed incredible that they could be so disingenuous, declaring their affection for her whilst meeting behind her back. Perhaps it was her fault for being so secretive, and yet what else could she do? She was forced to behave secretly for her own and everyone else’s protection.
That evening, after the family had retired to the attic, Livia monitored the broadcast from Radio Londra while her father worked at the dining table. She wrote up her notes as usual, and was just was tidying the kitchen when a ball of snow hit the kitchen window. She opened it and peered outside into the street. Cosimo was standing outside, hammering on the oak door with his walking stick.
‘Cosimo!’ she called out. ‘What are you doing here?’
He looked up at her. ‘I have to speak to you… please, it’s urgent.’
‘Wait there,’ she shouted, ‘I’m coming.’
As she opened the door of the apartment, Lombardi appeared on the landing. ‘Who is that making such a racket at this time of night?’ he asked irritably. ‘I presume it’s a visitor for you?’
‘Excuse me, Signor Lombardi, but a friend has an emergency. I must go down and let him in.’
‘It’s after curfew,’ he said grumpily. ‘I could report you.’
She took his hand in her own. ‘Please don’t do that,’ she begged. ‘He’s a war hero, injured on the front in Russia. He lost part of his leg, and he wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t urgent.’ She