interrogated. She was keen, as always, to get away from the area as soon as possible. But that morning, she stood transfixed, watching as Mario Carità walked purposefully out of the building, surrounded by his henchmen. They climbed into a fleet of cars and drove towards them, passing Livia and Cosimo on the pavement.
For a second, Livia feared Carità had recognised her and might even stop and arrest her. She grabbed Cosimo’s arm.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘I think he saw me,’ Livia replied, looking frantically around for somewhere to hide.
Cosimo pulled her into a shop doorway and waited until the cars had driven away. ‘It’s all right,’ he said, putting his arm around her, ‘it looks like he’s gone now. Come on, we’d better get going.’
Later that day, rumours flew among the partisans that the Fascist chief had left Florence for good.
When Livia and Cosimo returned from their patrol later that afternoon, Livia was amazed to find her father installed in the apartment.
‘Papa!’ she cried, hugging him. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? And how did you manage to get back to Florence – weren’t there German patrols on the roads?’
‘I’m sorry. I should have rung you but I only made the decision this morning. I’ve been trying to persuade your mother for weeks that I needed to come back. This morning she finally gave in. As for getting here, I thought it would be more difficult than it was, but apparently an old man driving an old car is not considered a threat. It was as if I was invisible.’ He smiled cheerfully.
‘I’m so happy to see you,’ Livia said, ‘but I hope you won’t expect me to look after you. I have my work to do, you know.’ She kissed him affectionately on the cheek.
‘I do realise that,’ he said. ‘When have I ever asked for anything?’
‘Papa, one thing you ought to know…’ she blushed slightly.
Giacomo looked up at her expectantly.
‘Cosimo has moved in here. It seemed easier as we are on patrol together – I hope that’s all right.’
‘You think I will disapprove?’ he asked.
‘I was worried you might,’ she said anxiously. ‘I know what Mamma would say.’
‘Well, Mamma is not here, fortunately. As for me, I’m just glad you have found each other and that you’re not alone when you’re out there on duty.’
For the next few days, her father was busy attending meetings about the possible handover from the Fascist authorities to the CTLN.
‘Pavolini is trying to bargain with us,’ he told Livia and Cosimo one evening, as they sat on the roof terrace.
‘You’re not going along with it, are you?’ Livia asked.
‘I’m not inclined to, no. But one or two of my colleagues are considering it.’
‘What does he want?’ asked Cosimo.
‘He’s offered to free all political prisoners if we agree to allow the Germans to withdraw and promise not to take reprisals against the Fascists.’
‘My God,’ said Livia. ‘Surely, we’d never agree to that?’
‘I hope not,’ interjected Cosimo. ‘We’ve got them on the run, surely?’
Giacomo inhaled deeply on his cigarette, admiring the view across the roofs to the Duomo. ‘I think,’ he said, ‘that Pavolini hoped we might agree, in order to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.’ He turned to his daughter and Cosimo. ‘But I suspect it’s too late for that now, isn’t it?’
Livia nodded.
‘We’ll fight to the death,’ Cosimo said earnestly.
The negotiations between Pavolini and the local government continued for a few days. Giacomo was tight-lipped about their progress. But one afternoon, as Livia and Cosimo were patrolling the Arno, they made a detour past the Excelsior Hotel. As they walked into the piazza, they noticed a fleet of cars lining up outside the hotel.
‘Something’s going on,’ said Cosimo, pulling Livia into the shadows. ‘This is Pavolini’s headquarters. I think we should just wait here, out of sight, and watch.’
An hour later, two men in Fascist uniforms came out of the hotel and looked left and right, as if checking all was safe, before beckoning to Alessandro Pavolini, who emerged blinking into the sunlight.
‘That’s Pavolini!’ Cosimo whispered excitedly. ‘Where are they taking him?’
Pavolini climbed into the first car, followed by his bodyguards and assistants. As the convoy of cars drove out of the piazza, a column of bellboys filed out of the hotel carrying leather suitcases and boxes of papers and files, which they loaded into the last car in the cavalcade.
‘It looks like Pavolini’s leaving for good,’ Cosimo suggested. ‘Negotiations have obviously collapsed.’