an egg to make dough, rolling it out and cutting it into strips.
‘I didn’t know you could make pasta,’ he said appreciatively.
‘I haven’t had to bother before, but I’ve watched Mamma for years.’
Their meagre supper over, they sat together in the sitting room – she on the sofa, a rug over her knees, a book open on her lap, and he in his favourite armchair nursing a glass of grappa.
He turned to her. ‘I need to ask you something,’ he began. ‘It’s difficult…’
‘Papa,’ she urged, ‘just ask me.’
‘We had a meeting of the Pd’A council yesterday. There’s a feeling that we must do something for our Jewish neighbours here in Florence. We cannot allow what happened in Rome to happen here. Jewish people are in danger of being rounded up, herded onto trains and sent… God knows where.’
‘I agree,’ said Livia. ‘I wrote about it a couple of weeks ago.’
‘Yes, of course – I was forgetting.’ Her father continued: ‘We passed a resolution that our members would be asked to hide Jewish families in their homes. Not everyone can be protected, of course, but we must do what we can. I told the meeting you and I would be glad to consider sheltering a couple or even a family. But, after what happened to you today, I fear the authorities will be watching you. It would be a risk at any time, but the risk may now be too high.’
‘I see what you mean, but on the other hand, if I do as they ask and translate for them, they might begin to trust me.’
‘I don’t know.’ He shook his head, sipping his drink.
‘Papa,’ she said, coming over and kneeling next to him. ‘Our whole lives involve risk. You can’t go about in a state of fear, otherwise you’d never step outside the door. We have a moral duty to help these people.’
He looked down at her and stroked her hair. ‘You’re a good girl,’ he said. He reached over to the drinks tray next to his chair and refilled his glass. ‘Let’s have a think,’ he began. ‘Practically speaking, where could we put a family? We have so little room here.’
‘It depends how many there are, but I’d suggest the attic.’
‘But it’s full of old files and furniture.’
‘We can move all of that, surely.’
‘You really think we can make it work?’ he asked. ‘What about the radio? You use the attic to monitor the broadcasts – it’s the only place you can get a clear signal. How could you hide it from the family? What would happen if they were arrested? They might talk.’
‘Well,’ said Livia, standing up and pacing the room, ‘now Mamma is not here, I could try and make the radio work downstairs. But if the signal is bad and we have to move it back to the attic, we’ll just have to tell them.’
‘But it’s supposed to be a secret,’ he insisted.
‘Papa, it will be all right.’ She leant down and took his hand. ‘Just think, if we don’t take in a family, they risk being sent to prison or even killed. We must make it work.’
Giacomo sent word the following day that he and Livia could provide sanctuary for a family of up to four, and Livia began clearing out the attic. The first job was to free up the space by removing her father’s work files, which were stored in tea chests. They would have to be moved downstairs to her father’s bedroom, but to get them down the steep attic staircase involved dragging them along the attic landing and bumping them, stair by stair, to the bottom.
Livia was hauling the last chest noisily across the hall floor of the apartment when there was an insistent knocking at the front door.
‘Yes?’ she asked pleasantly, when she opened the door. ‘Can I help you?’
It was a neighbour called Lombardi who lived across the landing. An elderly man, he had a habit of lurking on the stairs whenever they had a visitor.
‘Signorina Moretti,’ he said, ‘what is that terrible noise? I’m trying to listen to music and I simply can’t concentrate.’ He peered behind her, noting the line of tea chests filling the corridor.
‘I’m so sorry, Signor Lombardi,’ she replied politely, half-closing the door behind her. ‘Do forgive me. I’m just tidying up my father’s office. I’ll be finished soon, I promise.’
She retreated inside and closed the apartment door in his face. They would have to be more careful in future – Signor Lombardi would