still Fascists. As far as they are concerned, the war with the Allies still continues.’
‘Is that what the King meant by the “immortality of the Fatherland”?’ asked Livia. ‘Does that mean that our work goes on too?’
Giacomo nodded, glancing nervously at Livia, and then at Cosimo.
‘If you’re worried about the Pd’A,’ she said, ‘I’ve already told him.’
Giacomo frowned. ‘Livia, I don’t think you should have done that.’
‘I’d like to join you, sir, if I may,’ Cosimo interjected. ‘I want to do something. I need to do something.’
‘You have a right, certainly,’ said Giacomo, ‘after what’s happened to you. But it’s a big step joining an organisation like ours. Who knows what the next few months or years will hold? The future is uncertain. At the moment we are still technically at war, although that may change. But either way it won’t be easy or bloodless. The Germans are in the north. The Americans and British are in Sicily and have already begun to bomb Rome. We might be next, caught in the middle – like rats in a trap.’
There was a noise outside in the corridor. Livia leapt to her feet. ‘Is that you, Mamma?’
‘Yes, it’s only me.’ Luisa stood in the doorway wearing a pale-blue silk robe over her nightdress, her dark hair unravelled around her neck. ‘I thought I heard voices.’
‘Come in, darling.’ Giacomo leapt to his feet, beckoning his wife. ‘Have a grappa with us. Meet Livia’s friend, Cosimo.’
‘You know I hate the stuff,’ said Luisa, sitting down in an armchair, waving the glass of grappa away. ‘Cosimo…’ she said sweetly, turning to him, ‘… such a lovely name. I had a friend many years ago called Cosimo.’ She smiled but then noticed his crutches and missing foot. ‘Oh!’ She blushed, obviously shocked. ‘I had no idea, I’m so sorry.’
‘I lost my foot in Russia,’ he explained calmly. ‘I developed frostbite. I’m lucky to still have the rest of my leg, or so they say. I’ve been promised a prosthesis. But with the war, it’s taking a long time to be made and fitted.’
Luisa smiled nervously.
‘I hadn’t told my mother,’ Livia murmured to Cosimo, by way of explanation. ‘Mamma, we were talking about Mussolini going at last – it’s exciting, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose so.’ Luisa looked pointedly at her husband. ‘What were you saying about the Americans bombing Florence? Are you serious?’
Giacomo sipped his drink. ‘I fear we must be prepared, cara.’
‘Then we must leave immediately.’ Luisa stood up. ‘Livia’s term is finished for the summer. We should all go to back home to the villa, as soon as possible.’
‘Luisa, please sit down,’ began Giacomo gently. ‘Whatever happens, we’re not leaving now. And you know as well as I do, that I can’t leave. I have too many responsibilities here.’
‘So you’d rather stay here and be bombed – is that it?’
‘Darling…’ Giacomo’s tone was placatory. ‘Please.’
‘Don’t “please” me, I want to leave!’
Giacomo put his glass down on the table and stood up, taking her hands in his. ‘Well, if you really want to go, I can take you home, of course.’
‘And Livia, she must come too,’ said Luisa firmly.
‘No, Mamma.’ Livia looked desperately at her father for support. ‘My place is here.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a young girl and my only child. You must come with me to the country, where we’ll be safe. Giacomo, explain it to her.’
‘Please, Mamma.’ Livia walked over to her mother and held her firmly by the shoulders. ‘Let’s talk about this tomorrow. For tonight, let’s just enjoy the sense of freedom… please?’
The following morning, the family rose late. Livia joined her father in the kitchen. They made coffee and ate a little stale bread, toasted on the gas ring. The peace was interrupted by the phone ringing. Giacomo, still in his dressing gown, went into the hall to answer it.
‘I’m very sorry,’ he said after a while, a worried frown etched on his face. ‘Please tell him, from me, that he has my deepest sympathy.’
He came back into the kitchen and slumped down at the table. Livia poured him another cup of coffee.
‘Papa? What is it?’
‘That was a colleague from the Pd’A in Puglia. A group of young people, demonstrating against Fascism, were attacked last night by the Italian police. Twenty-three were killed, including the son of the local leader of the Pd’A. He’s devastated, of course.’
‘I knew it,’ said Luisa, coming into the kitchen. ‘I heard all that, Giacomo. There is danger everywhere. I insist you take us to the