by the answer she might receive.
‘Yes… At least, he was when I left.’ Mario sighed, closed his one eye and turned his face back to the wall.
‘I insist you leave now,’ interjected the nurse, grabbing Livia by the elbow and ushering both girls briskly out of the ward.
Walking back towards the university, Livia and Elena were lost in their private thoughts. It was Elena who eventually broke the silence. ‘It’s good news about Cosimo, don’t you think?’
‘I suppose so.’ Livia was close to tears. ‘At least we know he was alive.’
‘And probably still is,’ Elena encouraged her, taking her arm. ‘Really, you mustn’t give up hope.’
‘I’ll try,’ sobbed Livia, tears cascading down her cheeks. ‘But it’s so hard. That poor boy back there – he looked so... broken. What are we doing, Elena, fighting a war in Russia we can never hope to win? What are we trying to prove? It’s madness.’
Later that day, still worrying about Cosimo, Livia climbed the stairs towards the apartment. As she reached the landing on the fifth floor, she could hear her father shouting. This in itself was an unusual experience, for her father rarely lost his temper. As she opened the glass doors into the sitting room, her father was standing between the two windows, his face puce with rage.
‘How dare they?’ he was saying, to no one in particular.
Luisa was on the sofa, staring open-mouthed at her husband, clearly alarmed at this outburst.
‘Giacomo,’ she said softly, ‘please calm yourself. It will do you no good, all this shouting. You’ll make yourself ill.’
‘How do you expect me to react?’ he replied, pacing the room.
‘Papa,’ Livia called out. ‘What on earth is the matter?’
‘You’ve not heard, then?’ he demanded.
‘No, what?’
‘Pisa? Have you not heard the news about Pisa?’
‘No, Papa. I’ve been…’ She paused, unsure if she should reveal her hospital visit. ‘I’ve been in lectures all day.’
‘The Pisans have been attacking Jewish shopkeepers. Our fellow Tuscans have been looting their premises, defacing their shops with smears and lies, denouncing good Jewish citizens as traitors and spies – when it’s those vandals who are the real traitors.’
‘How did you hear about it?’ asked Livia, sinking down into one of the armchairs.
‘I have clients with connections,’ replied Giacomo, his anger surging again. ‘It’s appalling. This is the end, do you hear? The absolute end. We will rise up and stop this. It cannot go on.’
Luisa rose to her feet and began to pace the floor agitatedly. ‘Now Giacomo, you cannot take the world’s problems on your own shoulders. You cannot help everyone.’
‘So what do you suggest?’ he asked, rounding on her. ‘That I sit back in comfort here in my apartment and do nothing? Say nothing? No, Luisa, the time has come for action.’ He stomped out of the room; a few minutes later the front door of the apartment building slammed shut.
Livia stood up suddenly. ‘I have to go out too,’ she announced to her mother.
‘But you’ve only just come home,’ her mother objected.
‘I know, I’m sorry.’
Livia ran down the five flights of stairs and, emerging onto the street, she glimpsed the tails of her father’s coat as he swung round the corner. She raced after him. ‘Papa, Papa…’
He stopped and turned around. ‘Livia, what are you doing?’
‘Coming with you,’ she said defiantly.
‘No, Livia, no,’ he said firmly. ‘Go home and help your mother with supper. I’ll be back in an hour or two.’
‘No!’ She pulled his arm until they both stood facing one another at the edge of the road. ‘Wherever you’re going, I’m coming with you. I can’t stand aside anymore either. I can be useful, you’ll see.’
He gazed down at her with tears in his eyes and stroked her cheek gently with his hand. ‘Your mother will never forgive me,’ he said, smiling. ‘Come on then. We have a meeting to go to.’
The meeting was held in the cloisters of a church – a gloomy space that smelt strongly of wax candles. A group of about fifteen men sat in a semicircle facing the door. A tall man with silvery hair stood up respectfully when Giacomo and Livia arrived.
‘Ah, Francesco,’ said Giacomo, ‘I hope we’re not late.’
‘Not at all,’ he replied.
Giacomo put his arm around Livia’s shoulders. ‘This is my daughter, Livia. She is a student here at the university, and would like to help. I trust that’s all right?’
‘Of course, she’s welcome.’ Francesco pointed to two empty chairs next to him. ‘Please, do join us.’
The discussion began with what could be