heard from Cosimo, and she had learnt to live with the dull ache of anxiety and uncertainty that filled her waking hours. Even her dreams were dominated by surreal images of him lying in a pool of blood, or ravaged by the roadside. She was haunted by the newspaper photographs of Italian troops who had been left for dead on the Eastern Front. She was grateful for the comforting distractions of her university course and friendship with Elena.
Standing in the canteen queue one lunchtime, Livia chose the least unattractive option on offer – a pale, watery soup served with a small piece of bread. She was placing the bowl on her tray, when Elena suddenly appeared at her side.
‘Elena, there you are!’ Livia said. ‘I missed you this morning – where have you been?’
‘The hospital.’
‘Why?’ she asked, taking her friend’s hand. ‘What’s wrong – are you ill?’
‘No, I’m fine, but a boy I know, an old family friend, has just been sent back from the Russian front. He’s very badly injured – God only knows how they got him home. I went to see him this morning as he’s in my father’s hospital.’ She put a bowl of soup on her tray. ‘It was a terrible shock, seeing him like that.’
‘I’m so sorry. Will he recover, do they think?’
‘I don’t know; it’s rather touch and go. I thought he might have news of Cosimo. They were friends, you see, in the same division.’
Livia put her tray down next to the cashier, her heart racing.
‘And?’ she asked.
‘I’m afraid I don’t know,’ Elena said, getting her purse out and paying for her lunch. ‘He was asleep when I got there, and the nurse wouldn’t let me wake him.’
The pair moved away from the line and sat down at a table.
‘Perhaps we could go back there now?’ suggested Livia eagerly. The thought that someone in Florence might have seen Cosimo, might know something about him, was almost more than she could bear.
‘They won’t let us talk to him,’ said Elena flatly, eating her soup.
‘But I must try,’ Livia insisted, ‘surely you can see that?’
‘All right,’ Elena agreed. ‘But eat your food first – there’s no point in starving.’ She reached over and squeezed Livia’s hand. ‘He may know nothing, so don’t get your hopes up.’
Later that afternoon, Elena led Livia onto the ward. The tightly packed rows of beds were filled with young men – their faces pale and grey, many with missing limbs. They looked exhausted, defeated and hopeless, Livia thought, as if old before their time.
Elena’s friend lay at one end of the ward, his face turned to the wall. She sat down gingerly on the edge of his bed. ‘Mario, it’s me Elena,’ she murmured.
He rolled over, groaning slightly. One half of his head was covered in bandages. Judging by the shape, he had lost part of his skull, and possibly one eye. Blood seeped through the white muslin dressings.
‘Oh Mario.’ Elena took his hand, her eyes filling with tears, ‘you poor, poor thing. Can you speak?’
‘A little.’ His voice was hoarse and very weak.
‘What happened?’ she asked gently.
‘A mortar attack,’ he whispered.
‘Are you going to be all right? What have they said?’
He shook his head.
‘Well, you’re back now, thank God. They’ll make you better.’
His good eye filled with tears.
‘They will,’ she said earnestly, ‘I promise. My father’s a surgeon here. It’s amazing what they can do.’
They sat for a moment in silence, each reflecting on Elena’s optimism. The soldier caught sight of Livia standing nervously to one side.
‘Mario, this is my friend, Livia.’
Livia crouched down at his bedside. ‘I’m so sorry. It must have been awful.’
‘It was a living hell,’ he said quietly. ‘Bodies everywhere… no guns, no support… the things I have seen. I can never get them out of my mind.’ He began to cry and a nurse bustled towards them.
‘What are you doing here? I told you this morning – he can’t have any visitors.’
‘I’m sorry,’ replied Elena, ‘but he may have some vital news for my friend here.’ She stood up, smoothing the bedclothes.
‘Please,’ Livia pleaded, taking the nurse’s hand, ‘let me ask him one more thing.’
‘All right – just one question,’ the nurse replied crossly, ‘and then you must leave.’ She stood sternly at the end of the bed while Livia sat down at Mario’s bedside.
‘Elena thought you might be stationed with another friend of ours. His name is Cosimo de Luca.’
‘Cosimo,’ he murmured. ‘Yes, I know him.’
‘Is he alive?’ Livia asked, suddenly terrified