Page 55 of Daughter of Genoa
Mr X leans back in his chair, drums his fingers on the table. ‘Right,’ he says. ‘We need to sort this out.’ Vittorio expected him to be angry, to lose his cool for once and upbraid him, even threaten him. But the coldness that’s radiating from him is far, far worse.
‘I truly am sorry. I know…’ The words are spilling out, unstoppable, desperate. ‘I know you love her. I love her, too,’ he says, and don Francesco sucks in a breath. ‘Everything I’ve done, I… I didn’t mean to put her in danger. I know I have, but I didn’t mean to – you must believe me. Please help her. I don’t care about myself, only her. Please.’
Mr X pushes back his chair and stands up. ‘Go to the San Martino Hospital,’ he says, just as if Vittorio hasn’t spoken. ‘Straight to the leper ward.’
‘Theleperward?’
‘The Germans don’t go in there – too cowardly. You’ll be given a bed. I’m sorry, don Francesco, I have to go. Can you get a message to our doctor friend?’
‘Of course,’ don Francesco says.
‘Thank you. Good day.’ He strides out, pulling the door firmly shut behind him.
Don Francesco gets up and hurries to the window. ‘Forgive me, Father Vittorio, but I must see that he gets away. It’s my constant worry.’ He’s studying the panorama, tapping his fingers on the windowsill. ‘He’ll go out through the church, of course – looks so much less suspicious. Oh, there he is,’ he says at last. ‘Just look at that.’
Vittorio doesn’t want to look, but he gets up and goes to stand next to don Francesco. And there far below, crossing piazza De Ferrari, is Mr X: not walking, but sauntering past a group of German soldiers. One of them looks at him, and he nods and tips his hat; the German nods back and turns away, scanning for miscreants.
‘I don’t know how he manages it,’ don Francesco says. ‘I go out and about, of course, and do what I must do. Buthemakes it look terribly easy, and he’s taking such a very great risk compared to me. I feel quite inadequate.’
They watch until Mr X is out of sight, and then don Francesco turns to Vittorio and looks him directly in the eye for the first time since he re-entered the room. ‘I dare say he’s off to the Guichards’.’ His voice, like his face, is soft and expressionless. ‘Mr X is very protective of those he loves. And he’s very fair to those he doesn’t.’
‘Yes,’ Vittorio says. He’s choked with misery, overcome by a mercy he doesn’t deserve.
Don Francesco puts a hand on his arm. ‘I think you’d better make your confession,’ he says.
36
Anna
We were still at breakfast when the doorbell rang three times. Silvia and Bernardo exchanged glances, and then Bernardo put down his napkin, got up and went downstairs. I hovered on the edge of my seat, ready to flee as always, until I heard the familiar sound of Massimo’s voice. He was speaking to Bernardo in a low, urgent tone – I couldn’t make anything out.
‘Were you expecting him?’ Silvia asked, and I shook my head. ‘Maybe it’s time to go, then.’
‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘It’s early, though.’ Massimo and I had agreed that he wouldn’t give me advance notice, but would simply tell me on the day my train for Switzerland was to leave. It made sense, because plans could always change; and I’d thought it would be easier, less painful, to go on living as usual and pretend that nothing was happening. But the reality was agonising. I’d spent two days and nights with my suitcase packed and ready at the end of my bed, with my new, Genoese papers stitched into the lining. Vittorio hadn’t come in all that time. Massimo had visited twice, and we’d worked and talked as we always did; but inevitably he’d have to leave, and there was no pretending then. I wasn’t sure how many more of those goodbyes I could bear.
Silvia patted my shoulder. ‘It might be no bad thing,’ she said. ‘Sometimes the waiting is… Hang on, here they come. Let’s see, shall we?’
When Bernardo appeared in the doorway with Massimo behind him, I knew immediately that something was wrong. ‘We have to leave,’ Bernardo said. His face was ashen. ‘Plan B.’
‘Oh,’ Silvia said. She was pale, too; she got to her feet, straightened her apron. ‘Plan B. Yes, let’s…’ She trailed off, put her hand to her mouth.
‘Come on, love,’ Bernardo said, and reached for her. ‘Let’s go and leave these two to talk.’ He led her out and down the corridor, and now Massimo and I were alone. He quickly came towards me, closing the door behind him; he looked as shocked as Bernardo did. I felt sick with nerves and my legs were suddenly weak, too weak to let me stand.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked, though I was almost afraid to know. ‘Why did he say thatwehave to leave?’
Massimo sat down next to me and took hold of my hands, just as he’d done when he told me about the escape plan. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Something’s happened, something I couldn’t control. There’s been a breach and you’re in danger, you and Silvia and Bernardo. I’m afraid you can’t afford to wait for the train to Switzerland. I need you to go with them right now, this morning, to Torre Pellice. They’ve got a house there and contacts, people who’ll help to protect you – it’s Waldensian country up there, of course. You’ll be safer than you are in Genoa. I know it’s not what I promised,’ he added. ‘It’s not what I wanted for you, not at all. I wanted to make sure you were really safe. I’m sorry.’
‘But what about you? Will you be all right?’
‘I have my own Plan B, if I need it. And C, D, E and F, at the very least. Don’t worry about me.’
But of course I worried about him. I wanted to beg him to come with us – to come with me, and be relatively safe in Torre Pellice among the Waldensians. I opened my mouth to say as much, but he shook his head and said, with a severity I’d never heard from him before: ‘I can’t leave my post – not even for you, and you know it. Do as I ask, please.’
I didn’t want to, but I knew that I had to accept. ‘All right,’ I said, and tried to pretend that it really was all right. ‘But what about Father Vittorio? He comes here all the time. Is he in danger, too?’
‘I’ve already seen to that. He’s been sent to a safe house. And now I’m afraid I have to go.’ Massimo’s expression was grim. ‘I have a hell of a mess to clean up. But I shall be fine, my darling, knowing you’re being looked after.’ He stood and pulled me up with him, folding me in a tight embrace. ‘I love you,’ he said quietly, into my ear, as if it were a secret. And he kissed me one last time before turning and walking out, his back straight and his shoulders rigid.
Silvia bustled in just as I was sinking back into my chair. ‘Forgive me, dear,’ she said, brandishing my ‘legal’ identity card. ‘I went into your suitcase. But I thought we should take this out, and get rid of it, before anyone forgets. Since you’re staying in Italy after all…’
