money, and that helps. But I have something else too, something better than money. I have conviction, and a belief in the strength and valour of the Italian people. We will get through this, you’ll see. Mussolini and his like are finished, thank God. There’s a better life waiting for us… once this war is over. And we artists must stick together.’
He put his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. Isabella rested against his chest, inhaling the scent of his aftershave, and felt safe, completely enveloped in his arms.
Twelve
Florence
July 1943
It was a hot, steamy evening; Livia, Elena and Cosimo were sitting at a table outside Café Paskowski, when news of Mussolini’s overthrow broke.
‘He’s gone! Il Duce’s finished,’ shouted a young student, running through the piazza. The friends rushed into the busy café, demanding the barman switch on the radio. The room fell silent as the announcer declared: The King Emperor accepted the resignation of the Head of Government, Prime Minister Cavalier Benito Mussolini, and appointed the Marshal of Italy, Pietro Badoglio.
The café erupted, as people cheered and leapt to their feet, but the barman, still with his ear to the radio, shouted over the hubbub. ‘It’s the King, be quiet!’
Through the noise came the voice of King Emmanuel III. Now, more than ever, I feel inextricably linked to you all in the certainty of the immortality of the Fatherland.
‘What does he mean,’ whispered Livia, ‘by “the immortality of the Fatherland”? I thought now we’d got rid of Mussolini, we’d be free of Fascism too.’
‘I don’t really know,’ said Cosimo, shrugging his shoulders. ‘But Mussolini’s gone. Isn’t that all we should care about?’
The three of them left the café and joined a larger group of students, running towards the Duomo. They leapt and shouted, hugging one another. Passers-by out walking in the cooler night air acknowledged them, smiling and laughing. There was a palpable sense of relief in the city, as if the worst was finally over.
Livia and Elena parted, kissing each other and making plans to meet the following day, before Livia and Cosimo walked together towards her apartment.
‘Are you happy?’ she asked.
‘Of course,’ he replied. ‘We have to believe the worst is over now. The tyrant has gone.’ He leant down and kissed her.
‘Come up with me,’ she urged him, as they stood outside her building. ‘I’d like my father to finally meet you.’
‘But it’s late. Won’t he be in bed?’
‘I doubt it, not on a night like tonight. Besides, my father never goes to bed early, he’s a nocturnal animal. Please?’
Standing in the lobby, Cosimo peered up into the darkness. ‘You live on the top floor?’
‘Yes, it’s five flights. Can you manage, do you think?’
He grinned. ‘I think so.’
As Livia held his crutches, Cosimo began the long climb, half-hopping, half-dragging himself up the stairs, stopping on each landing to catch his breath. He was sweating heavily by the time they finally arrived outside the apartment.
As they entered the hallway, she could see the lights were still on in the sitting room. She poked her head around the door. Her father was in his favourite armchair.
‘Livia, darling, I’ve been worried about you. Have you heard the news?’
‘Yes, Papa – isn’t it wonderful?’ She turned around, and beckoned to her friend. ‘You remember I told you about Cosimo, Papa?’ Her father nodded. ‘Well he’s here…’
‘Of course I remember.’ Giacomo stood up and held his hand out to the young man. ‘Please, do sit down, Cosimo. I’m sorry we’re on the top floor. It must have been very difficult.’ He glanced down at Cosimo’s crutches. ‘But I’m delighted to meet you at last – thank you for making the effort. Livia’s told me a lot about you.’
‘Thank you, sir. I’m very pleased to meet you too. There was a time when I thought I’d never see Livia, or anyone else I cared about, again.’ He sat down heavily on the sofa, leaning his crutches against his good leg.
‘I’m sure,’ said Giacomo kindly. ‘Can I get you a drink? I think a celebration is in order, don’t you?’
‘Where’s Mamma?’ asked Livia.
‘She went to bed, soon after the news broke.’
‘Isn’t it exciting?’ exclaimed Livia, pacing around the room. ‘Perhaps now we can all get back to normal.’
Her father handed round three small glasses of grappa. ‘Maybe. But I think it will not be so easy, or straightforward.’
‘But Mussolini’s gone!’ Livia protested, sitting down next to Cosimo.
‘Yes,’ said her father cautiously, ‘but the people who have taken over are nevertheless