a party in full swing. In the drawing room, people from the world of cinema and Roman high society were all gathered together – laughing, drinking and dancing to music. She spotted Vicenzo standing by the window; he was immaculately dressed in his favourite black shirt and trousers. He looked thin, she thought, but happy.
When he spotted her, he walked towards her and took her hands in his.
‘Little Bella,’ he said affectionately. ‘It’s so good to see you.’
She yearned to hold him but sensed his reluctance. She hadn’t asked for his thanks, and yet it seemed strange that he offered none.
A waiter handed her a glass of champagne and feeling nervous, she drank it down in one draught.
‘So tell me?’ he began, drawing her to one side, towards a window seat overlooking the garden. ‘How did you manage to avoid being taken up north? I heard he’d asked you.’
That was disconcerting. How could he know about her conversation with Koch the previous evening? ‘Oh,’ she said dismissively, ‘that was ridiculous. I have no idea why he asked me. I suppose he had a crush on me. Of course I would never have gone with him. I made it quite clear I couldn’t leave Rome – and my family and friends.’
‘Still,’ he persisted, ‘it seems remarkable that you have escaped so unscathed. You obviously have friends in high places.’
She stared at him, incredulous. ‘I’m sorry?’ she said. ‘Friends who got you out of prison. How else do you think you got out?’ she asked.
‘My sister has been marvellous,’ he observed, turning to look at Luciana, who was holding forth amongst a group of admirers, hanging on her every word. She noticed his glance, and raised her glass to him. He mouthed, ‘I love you’ and raised his drink back to her. Isabella was reminded of how the brother and sister had played the tower game. It seemed there was still only room on the top of the tower for two people, Luciana and Vicenzo. ‘Well,’ he said casually, ‘I really must circulate; it’s been great to see you again. Enjoy the party.’
Isabella was dumbfounded. Instead of a fulsome appreciation for everything she had done for him, she was being dismissed, like a casual acquaintance. She felt faint, her heart thumping.
A passing waiter refilled her glass and she drank the champagne swiftly, trying to obliterate her feelings of emptiness. It hit her now, like a hammer to her chest, that Vicenzo didn’t need her. She had served her purpose and now she was irrelevant.
She put her glass down on a table and stumbled out of the room, into the hall. Vicenzo’s two greyhounds ambled over to her and snaked their heads beneath her hand. She stroked them affectionately and knelt down, burying her face in their soft fur. The dogs whined, as tears cascaded down her cheeks.
Isabella stood up, straightened her back, and walked down the drive. She hailed a taxi and clambered into the back seat, where she wept openly. It seemed that, finally, the bond between her and Vicenzo, a bond she had thought unbreakable, had dissolved.
At home, she went to her bedroom and retrieved the letter he had sent her after her visit to the prison of San Gregorio, a letter that had seemed, on the face of it, to be so full of love. Now, as she read it again, she realised how much he had changed. Gone was the affection and the gratitude. Instead all that was left was cold disdain. She thought of the way he and his sister had looked at one another at the party – their relationship had always been exclusive, she realised. Had Luciana poisoned Vicenzo against her? If so, why?
Angrily she tore the letter into pieces and threw them onto the smouldering logs in her bedroom fireplace. As she watched them burn, Isabella realised it was the end of her dream – a dream of being united with Vicenzo. It was over, and she would have to learn to live without him, forever.
Thirty-Six
Florence
July 1944
Although in Rome the war was effectively over, in Florence the battle was reaching its peak. The Allied army were ten miles away, approaching from the south. The Germans meanwhile were dug in, preparing to battle street by street, buying time to allow the bulk of their troops to retreat to the hills north of the city.
Livia and Cosimo had joined with three thousand other Resistance fighters, all prepared to fight to the death if necessary. They had