time she was sent out, wondering if this should be the day she didn’t alert someone to danger. If not, one day, she feared it would be her who was being tortured. But that fear was soon superseded by rage, and a sense of defiance that she would not give in. And every time she was sent out with the guards, she found a way to save another life, at whatever cost to her own safety.
Back at the apartment, Sara, Jacob and Matteo had settled in well, and a routine had been established. Each morning they would creep down the staircase from the attic, and knock gently on the door leading to the apartment. Livia would move the coat rack as quietly as possible, and once inside the apartment they would gather in the kitchen. While Sara made breakfast – a little weak coffee and a scrap of bread for each of them – Jacob sat and read quietly with his son. The family had arrived with few possessions of their own, but Livia had unearthed a selection of her childhood books buried behind a stack of her father’s legal textbooks. Pinocchio seemed a particular favourite, and she relished hearing Matteo laughing as his father read to him.
Inevitably, rations were short. It was already hard enough for two people to live on what was allocated. But to stretch it to five was near impossible. Everyone was hungry, but no one complained. They could not have survived without the help of local partisans, who would occasionally deliver emergency rations. Livia, going upstairs to hang out washing, would find food parcels dropped off by some nimble-footed young member of the Resistance. Bringing the parcel downstairs, she would discover a rabbit shot in the fields, or a fresh fish caught in the River Arno.
As she left the apartment each morning, it cheered Livia that somewhere out there, people were prepared to support them, to face danger in order to bring them food. Signing the register at Villa Triste, she would think about Sara and Jacob, safely ensconced in the attic; it gave her a sense of rebellion that glowed deeply and satisfyingly within her. While the authorities thought they had her under their control, she was fooling them every minute of the day.
She and her father were in no doubt that by harbouring a Jewish family they were putting themselves in terrible danger. Giacomo reminded her constantly of the need for absolute secrecy. ‘No one must know about the family – not your Mamma, not your best friend, nor Cosimo. Do you understand?’
‘But surely Cosimo is part of the Pd’A now? Can’t even he be trusted?’
‘No,’ replied Giacomo firmly. ‘He’s a good boy, and you love him, I understand that. But the rules of the Pd’A are strict for a reason. All our work is done on the principle that people must know as little as possible. We operate with small cells of people who know something but not everything. I have no idea, for example, who else in the organisation is sheltering a Jewish family. That way, if I were arrested, I would be unable to reveal their secret. Try to keep a wall between you.’ He peered at her over his glasses. ‘It’s hard, I know. I have to keep everything from your mother, remember.’
‘What about the people who bring our food?’ Livia persisted. ‘They must know something about the family.’
‘They may simply have been told that people are in need in this building. They probably have no idea who it’s for. Believe me Livia, it’s the best way.’
Livia demurred to her father. But she also knew that while the Partito d’Azione might consider themselves in charge of the Resistance effort, all over Florence little breakaway partisan groups were springing up, working in isolation from one another. While the Pd’A were busy writing and delivering leaflets, encouraging people to stand up against Fascism, people in separate organisations were prepared to risk their lives to defy the occupying forces of Nazi Germany. Cosimo told her as much when they had met one cold afternoon in a small café near the Duomo.
‘I’ve joined another Resistance group.’ He spoke quietly in case they were overheard. ‘They’re called Gruppi di Azione Patriottica – GAP for short.’
‘But you’re part of the Pd’A,’ Livia insisted.
‘Yes, I know. But GAP are prepared to fight for what we believe in, not just distribute leaflets.’
‘Oh Cosimo.’ Livia looked around anxiously. ‘Please, you must take care.’