done to prevent further attacks on Jewish citizens in Tuscany.
‘This is just the start,’ said Giacomo darkly. ‘You mark my words. There’ll be more atrocities to come.’
‘It’s strange, because the Fascist government does not officially support anti-Semitism,’ interjected Francesco. ‘It goes against everything we stand for in this country.’
‘Mussolini is under pressure from Hitler,’ argued another. ‘And it will only get worse – Giacomo’s right. We need to identify the most vulnerable and find hiding places for them if necessary.’
‘Yes, yes,’ Giacomo sounded impatient. ‘Individual acts of human kindness are important, of course they are. But our role in this must be more strategic. We need to build a political coalition – working with the Communist Party, the Liberals, all of them. At the moment we are just five or six disparate groups all trying to make a difference. We need to become a movement.’
The others nodded.
‘And part of that,’ Giacomo went on, ‘is to get our message out there. People are sympathetic to our cause, but they need to know that others agree with them, that there is a plan. We need a rallying call and a way to get information out to the general population. I think we need a newspaper.’
Livia listened respectfully as the men talked. They were mostly academics, interspersed with industrialists and a few professionals like her father. They were intelligent and well-meaning, but inwardly she felt a sense of frustration: how could producing a newspaper really turn the tide against the power of the Fascist government? How could sheltering a few Jewish families really make a difference? It was time, she decided, for direct action, before the lives of all the young men like Mario and Cosimo were destroyed, fighting for a cause no one believed in. It was time to fight back.
Nine
Rome
Christmas 1942
It was Christmas Eve and a blanket of snow covered Isabella’s rose-coloured villa and the surrounding gardens. The pine trees that dominated the front garden were so weighed down that with each gust of wind huge piles of snow fell dramatically onto the lawn. Upstairs in her bedroom, Isabella could hear the muted tones of her mother and Giulia, the housekeeper, as they prepared the evening meal. She had invited her grandmother and aunt to join them for Christmas and she knew her mother was planning a traditional celebration.
As she pulled on her fur coat, she looked out of her bedroom window. Outside, Giuseppe the gardener was doing his best to keep the drive clear, shovelling snow into a large greying pile in one corner of the garden. But as fast as he shovelled, fresh snow fell, and Isabella’s car appeared to be completely blocked in the drive. If she wanted to go out, she would have to walk.
She pulled on her snow boots, and adjusted her hat in the mirror. She picked up a small parcel wrapped in hand-blocked paper and slipped it into her coat pocket, before going downstairs to the kitchen.
‘Mamma,’ she said, pulling on her gloves, ‘I have to go out for a while. But I’ll be back in time for dinner, I promise.’
‘Where are you going?’ her mother asked. ‘Your grandmother and aunt will be here soon.’
‘I promised to see a friend who’s all alone this Christmas.’
‘Invite her to dinner,’ her mother suggested.
‘No,’ said Isabella evasively, ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea. She’s quite shy.’ It was a lie, of course. But if she told her mother where she was really going, there would be no end to the interrogation when she got home.
The roads felt eerily quiet as Isabella strode out in her thick winter boots and fur coat. She imagined families tucked away inside their houses preparing for the holiday – lovers draped in one another’s arms sharing their first Christmas, or married couples with small children, sitting in front of the fire or cooking together in the kitchen, excitedly wrapping presents for one another. Imagining all those other people enjoying Christmas made her heart ache. For while she loved her family, and felt a strong duty to them, they could never be a substitute for the intimacy she yearned for, and the desire she felt to create a family of her own with Vicenzo.
She touched the parcel in her coat pocket. It contained a silver cigarette lighter engraved with the words: To Vicenzo with love your Bella.
As she walked up Vicenzo’s drive, there was no sign of the dogs. Normally they would be on the stone steps outside, but perhaps