they returned to the attic and all evidence of their presence was erased. The extra dinner plates and glasses were washed and put away and the coat rack was placed back in front of the secret door.
With an hour or more until supper time, Livia pottered in the kitchen. She jointed a hare that had been left for them on the roof that morning, and began to fry it on the stove. Periodically she peered out into the darkening gloom, looking anxiously for her father, but the street below was deserted. Her father had said nothing about being home late, and to be out after the curfew was completely out of character.
She was just laying the table, when she heard Jacob’s gentle knocking on the attic door. As soon as she opened it, Matteo ran to her and buried his head against her legs.
‘Hello there,’ she said, stroking his blond head affectionately. ‘Have you had a good day?’
‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘Papa and me did a jigsaw.’
‘Oh, that was clever. Where did you find that?’
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Jacob said, joining them in the hall. ‘Your father told me he thought there was one in your room.’
‘Of course I don’t mind. We have a few things from when I used to visit Papa as a child. There may be some more buried away… I’ll look out for them.’
‘Is your father not home?’ Jacob asked, peering into the sitting room.
‘No.’ Livia caught Jacob’s eye. His face mirrored her own anxiety. ‘He’s probably just caught up at his office,’ she suggested reassuringly. ‘Let’s eat. We can leave him some food.’
They ate their supper in relative silence – each of them worrying about Giacomo.
‘It’s not like him to be so late,’ Jacob said eventually. ‘He said nothing about going out after breakfast. Perhaps I should go and look for him.’
Sara, alarmed at this suggestion, grabbed his hand.
‘That’s very kind,’ interjected Livia. ‘But you know it would be madness for you to risk going out. We don’t need to worry just yet. You’d better go back upstairs. I’ll clear up here and wait for him.’
Livia knew that to be out after the curfew was a risk. Partisans did it all the time, but they were usually young and fit, and could run if spotted by the enemy, whereas her father was an old man. She tried to think of logical reasons for him to be so late, but her mind kept wandering to more frightening scenarios – that he might have been arrested and detained, even tortured.
When it was time for the Radio Londra broadcast, she went to her room and listened to Colonel Stephens. His gentle voice calmed her a little. She made her notes, as usual, and began to start work on her weekly round-up of news stories for the paper, but she found it hard to concentrate. Eventually, she abandoned her work and began to pace frantically around the apartment.
To her immense relief, Livia heard her father’s key in the lock at last. She ran into the hallway and found him stamping the snow off his feet, forming a little pool of water on the parquet floor.
‘Papa,’ she said, hugging him, ‘thank God you’re back. I’ve been so worried. Where have you been?’
‘Let me come in first.’ He took off his coat and shook it, before hanging it on the coat rack in front of the secret door.
‘We kept you some supper,’ she said.
‘Thank you. I’m very hungry and could do with a drink.’
While he opened a bottle of wine, she laid out his food on the table. When he’d finished eating, he pushed his plate away and poured himself another glass of wine. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
‘Go on,’ Livia urged.
‘Someone will be coming here shortly – a member of the British Intelligence Service.’
‘Coming here, but why? What do we have to do with British Intelligence?’
‘You’ll find out,’ he said, refilling his glass again. ‘Let’s go into the sitting room and wait.’
He settled down at the dining table with his papers and the half-drunk bottle of wine. Livia marvelled at his calm exterior. He had an ability to concentrate on his work, whatever the circumstances.
After an hour or so, he checked his watch and stood up, draining his glass. ‘I arranged to wait for him downstairs – so he doesn’t need to knock or alert the household.’
‘Shall I come with you?’ asked Livia.
‘No,’ said her father. ‘Stay here. I won’t be long.’