‘He knows that. He’s very intelligent, Papa. I agree their scheme was crazy, but that wasn’t his fault. It was a GAP idea, he just volunteered.’
‘There’s something else,’ Giacomo said, turning to look at her. ‘We are hearing rumours of organisations like ours being infiltrated by the enemy.’
‘Cosimo is not the enemy,’ said Livia aghast. ‘How could you even think that? Please give him a chance, Papa.’
The following night, the Allies planned to drop canisters to the partisans containing machine guns, grenades, ammunition, incendiary bombs, food and clothing. Livia had already scoped out a suitable location just outside Florence, and that afternoon there was to be a briefing to discuss the last-minute arrangements. Livia introduced Cosimo to the team leader, Paulo.
‘I was wondering,’ Livia asked when they arrived, ‘if Cosimo could be of help tonight?’
Paulo looked at Cosimo, noting the walking stick. ‘You’ve been injured, I presume?’
‘Yes,’ Cosimo replied. ‘I lost my foot in Russia. I have a prosthetic.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Paulo, ‘but I think you’d be a liability. I can’t risk it.’
Livia, sensing Cosimo’s disappointment, interjected. ‘Surely we could find something for him to do – please, Paulo?’
Paulo stared at Cosimo’s foot, as if musing on the problem. ‘I’ll think about it. All right, everyone, gather round. The weather forecast tonight is bad, I’m afraid; heavy snow is forecast, which will make collecting the canisters harder than ever. But we have to go ahead – the plans have all been made, and we need this equipment.’
‘How do we get everything back to town?’ asked Cosimo.
‘We have my father’s car,’ Livia said, ‘and a charcoal haulier’s cart that Paulo borrowed yesterday. We load the stuff up and bring it back in the middle of the night.’
‘There will be roadblocks of course, but we can avoid them,’ said Paulo. ‘Once we’re back in the city we’ll store the stuff in a house on Via Guicciardini near the Ponte Vecchio. Livia,’ he went on, ‘you’ve done your part liaising with the Allies on the radio, so you stay behind tonight.’ He looked pointedly at Cosimo. ‘You can drive a cart, I presume?’
Cosimo nodded.
‘Right, meet back here at midnight. And remember, anyone who gets into trouble will be left behind. Understood?’
Livia had a sleepless night, waiting anxiously for news of the operation. She was on edge the following morning, and distracted herself by making coffee and toasting the remains of a stale loaf on the ancient grill.
When the family came downstairs from the attic, they gathered in the kitchen. While Jacob entertained Matteo, Sara sat down heavily at the table. Now eight months pregnant, her ankles were swollen and it was clear she felt uncomfortable. After breakfast, Jacob took Matteo back upstairs to tidy their little flat.
‘I think the baby might come any day now,’ Sara said, after they’d gone. She sipped her cup of weak coffee and nibbled her tiny square of bread.
Livia pushed her plate towards Sara. ‘You must have mine,’ she insisted. ‘You and the baby need it more than I do.’
Sara shook her head. ‘I can’t do that.’
‘Please,’ said Livia. ‘Eat it for me.’
‘If you’re sure?’
‘Of course. Are you excited about the baby?’ Livia asked. She was trying to sound optimistic, but the truth was she was worried about the birth. Finding a midwife they could trust was proving difficult, and she had no idea how to deliver a baby herself.
Sara smiled encouragingly. ‘Not excited exactly. I’m anxious, if I’m honest.’
‘We’ll manage.’ Livia squeezed her hand. ‘Don’t worry.’
There was a sound of the front door being opened, and boots stamping in the hall. It was Giacomo, who had gone out very early that morning to collect his car after the airdrop.
‘Papa, at last,’ Livia said, taking his coat.
He pulled her into the sitting room, closing the door behind them, and kissed her fervently on both cheeks. ‘I have exciting news,’ he whispered. ‘Thanks to you and Radio Cora, the drop last night was a huge success. We picked up a massive haul of weapons. Added to what we already have, there’s quite an arsenal now. And look,’ he said, putting down a shopping basket on the table, ‘one of the canisters was filled with provisions. We have food!’ He opened the basket, revealing a large bag of flour, along with some salt and sugar – neither of which Livia had seen for over a year.
‘Oh Papa, that’s wonderful. I’ll take this flour to Sara now,’ she said. ‘With the baby coming, she really