Page 27 of Daughter of Genoa
‘No, it isn’t, but that’s the path he’s chosen. I know you’ve made a friend of him, or as close as you can get with a man like that.’ Silvia’s face softened. ‘He likes you, I can tell. He likes talking to you. But—’
The wail of an air-raid siren cut across her words. We sprang into action – we’d done this a few times by then. I went to get my bag with my false papers while Silvia wrestled Tiberio into the wicker basket that always stood ready in the corner. Then we hurried downstairs, where Bernardo was already outside and holding the door for us. He had a pair of binoculars around his neck.
‘Looks like the Americans,’ he said. He was terribly pale.
And we practically ran across via Assarotti, me clutching Tiberio in his basket, Silvia and Bernardo on either side of me like a protective barrier as a growing stream of people jostled and pushed alongside us. I had that strange sensation I always did when we had to go outside to the shelter. All around, the crowd pressed in as if it might crush me; up above, the sky was oppressively vast and full of danger. I felt small and terribly vulnerable. I put my head down and tried to block it all out, but part of me wanted to bolt back to the relative safety of the flat and my room. As we crossed the road, I glanced down the hill towards the city and saw planes on the horizon.
*
The air-raid shelter was a dead end, a semicircular tunnel cut into the side of the high terrace that rose above corso Armellini. It was higher, wider and less crowded than the tunnel under Galliera Hospital, but without that through-current of air it quickly grew humid and stifling. The echo was nearly unbearable, and I could only imagine how scared Tiberio must be in his cage-within-a-cage. When the guns began to sound, I took off my coat and draped it over his basket, which I held in my lap, so that he could at least hide in the dark.
Since it was a daylight raid, we were released relatively quickly. We emerged into the fading light, crossed the road and went down the steps that led back to via Assarotti. I looked down the hill as we emerged into the street, hoping against all reason to see the city still intact, or as much as it had been. But it was covered by a thick, hanging cloud of smoke and dust. I stood transfixed with fear. What had been destroyed this time? And where was Teglio, among all this destruction?
Silvia took my arm. ‘Marta, let’s you and I get Tiberio back to the house. He’ll be very shaken up, poor boy. Bernardo will find a good viewpoint and see if he can’t get a sense of the damage before we go worrying about it any further. Won’t you, Bernardo?’
‘Yes, love.’ Bernardo tried to smile. ‘I’m sure it’s not as bad as it looks.’ He patted my shoulder and gave Silvia a quick, husbandly kiss before walking away, uphill in the direction of piazza Manin.
When he came back to the house, he was clearly shaken. ‘The university’s been hit, and the San Martino Hospital.’ He swallowed. ‘And the Curia.’
Silvia breathed in sharply. ‘The Archbishop’s Palace?’ Now my heart sank further. The Archbishop’s Palace was only a short distance from the Jesuit church and its community house, where Vittorio must have lived.
‘Yes. It took a direct hit. It’s… it’s gone,’ he said bleakly. ‘Nothing but rubble.’
‘But the cathedral is still standing,’ Silvia said. ‘Isn’t it? The big bell tower’s still there?’
Bernardo nodded. ‘Yes, thank God.’
‘Then that’s fine.’ Her voice was firm, her expression determined. ‘There’s a shelter at the bottom of the bell tower – do you see, Marta? As soon as those sirens went off, they’ll all have gone there directly. Cardinal Boetto and his people and all the Jesuits, too, from the Gesù. You’ll see, he’ll… they’ll all be fine, all of them. Father Vittorio will be with us again tomorrow, safe and sound.’
She didn’t say what all three of us knew: that Vittorio might not have been at the Gesù with his brothers, or even at the Curia with the archbishop. He had other duties, other people in his care. He could have been anywhere when the bombs fell, as could Teglio.
There was a silence, and then Bernardo said: ‘We can’t ’phone them up, can we? I mean to say, there must be somebody at the Jesuit house whose job it is to answer the telephone. I suppose we couldn’t…’
‘What, ring up and ask for Father Vittorio?’ Silvia shook her head. ‘I don’t think we can. We don’t know who’d answer and what questions they’d ask us and besides, we don’t even know his surname. For all we know there’s some other Father Vittorio, if that’s even his real Christian name. There could be half a dozen of them. And as for Mr X…’ She cast me a quick, sympathetic glance. ‘I can’t imagine how we’d even start tracking him down. No, we shall simply have to wait and trust in the Lord.’
She said it in such a definite manner that neither Bernardo nor I had the heart to argue back. But that evening’s reading was a subdued affair. Tiberio came out from his hiding place under the sofa and crept up into my lap, and lay there in a dense, unhappy ball while I looked at the same page ofBrighton Rockand tried not to imagine the most dreadful scenarios involving Teglio or Vittorio or both, but those were all I could imagine. I sat there enveloped in horror, Silvia and Bernardo’s voices a muffled hum in the background. I didn’t even realise they had stopped their reading until someone shook me by the shoulder.
‘Marta, dear.’ Silvia’s kind, worried face was looking down at me. ‘You really should go to bed.’
She was wearing her nightdress and robe. The light was dim now, with a single lamp burning low on the table. Tiberio was gone and my lap was empty, except for the book I’d dropped there I didn’t know how long ago. ‘Sorry,’ I said rather stupidly.
‘There’s nothing to be sorry for, but you mustn’t sit up in the dark any longer. At least go and lie down, close your eyes for a while. It will be morning before you know it – and come morning, we’ll be able to find something out. We can even phone up the Gesù if you like. Bernardo can put on a silly voice. Well, sillier than the one he has already.’
I tried to smile, but I’m afraid I looked ghastly. Silvia sat down opposite me.
‘Poor thing,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. After all you’ve been through, and now you have to worry about your friend and your… your other friend. It’s a lot for anyone to bear, never mind a young thing like you.’
‘I’m thirty,’ I said.
Now Silvia smiled. ‘And I’m more than twice your age, but I’m not ancient yet. You’re young. I hadn’t even got married when I was thirty.’
‘Really?’
‘Really,’ she said. ‘I shan’t bore you with the details, but…’
‘No, please do. I mean, tell me all about it.’
‘Very well.’ She sighed. ‘I was the only child and my mother was fragile, so I had to look after her. My father was so taken up with his business. And after Mamma passed away, just when I thought I might finally get a little freedom – I know that’s awful, dear, but that’s how it was – my father fell sick, and so I had to look after him. By the time that was over, I didn’t think I’d ever marry.’
