If only they’d had time to hide the radio equipment in the tunnels the night before. She’d been living at the Castello for several months before Lorenzo told her about them and she’d been surprised when he revealed that the tunnels were accessed via a stone-built outhouse in her rose garden, of all things, and also from the basement of the house. When Italy was not a unified country and the fighting nobles were at one another’s throats, their hilltop fortresses, villages and castles frequently sat atop a warren of hidden tunnels with multiple exits. Lorenzo had shown her the way through their large basement and into a maze of dark passageways, alcoves and secret rooms to the deepest cellar. From there they’d slipped into the escape tunnels.
The Captain walked out of the wood store, and she felt a cold, unnatural calm as she observed him closely; a tightly bound man, like the Commandant, wound up, coiled inside himself, but without the feeling of resignation that hung about the older man. What wouldn’t she give to see every feeling, every thought, every emotion, every fear, everything this man had ever repressed or suppressed suddenly bursting forth? But it wouldn’t happen today. Today, if he found the equipment, he would be jubilant.
The time had come, and as she heard Lorenzo’s voice in her head – Dignity at all times, my darling, dignity – she took a deep breath. The feeling of calm didn’t last and now, as the dread returned, she pointed towards the wine-barrel store.
15.
As Sofia unlocked the store, she felt terribly exposed, as if every bit of her was laid bare for everyone to see. The doors opened inwards and the Captain and one of his men walked down the steps first, with Maxine following and Sofia trailing behind reluctantly.
‘Is there no electric light in here?’ Kaufmann asked with a grimace as he glanced back at her.
‘I’ll leave the door open,’ she said, omitting to mention the large torch resting on a shelf concealed behind the open door.
He tapped a few of the barrels. ‘Thirsty work this searching.’ And then he reached for one of the tasting cups sitting on a long trestle table and laughed – a forced laugh with no enjoyment in it.
Sofia had the impression he wasn’t a man who would be interested in wine. His officer stepped up, took the cup, placed it under the tap of one of the barrels and filled it. He handed the cup to Kaufmann who took a disdainful sip then slowly emptied the rest of the wine on the ground while keeping his eyes fixed on her, enjoying her discomfort as he took his time. Then he moved on to the next barrel.
‘Maybe this one is better.’
Was he playing with her? Was all this for show? Or was he going to taste the wine in all the barrels and try the one with no wine in it? Her mouth went dry and, treading around the black hole she saw opening in front of her, she felt the rise and fall of her own breath. Too fast, too shallow. She tried to suppress all fear, and all hope. In spite of the overwhelming strain, she forced herself to look unconcerned, as if nothing of interest was happening.
Her understanding of time altered. It stretched as he moved from barrel to barrel and the relentless raid went on and on. She heard other German voices as the men strode from door to door. She heard their boots and the crows cawing above the tower. She glanced outside. From the endless white-grey sky fine rain was now falling. She shivered with apprehension and gazed at the dull greens and purples of the distant landscape on this dark, brooding day. It was bitterly cold, and she wondered if snow was far behind. Maxine, meanwhile, was smiling. She asked to taste the wine too and the Captain handed her a different cup.
‘Be my guest,’ he said.
Sofia was too afraid to speak but Maxine was making conversation in Italian and English and attempting a little German too. Sofia only half listened and tried not to stare at Kaufmann. Maxine did her best to engage him in the merits of different kinds of wine, but he remained monosyllabic as he arrived at the last but one barrel. He leant against it and stared at Sofia. Her palms were sticky with sweat and fear crawled up her neck as she reached the point where she barely knew how to feel. But when he remarked that her wine was merely average, her loathing knew no limits. It was a little thing, but the wine was good. Very good. Everyone knew it.
With unassailable confidence, Maxine pointed at the final barrels. ‘But there are two more to go. Maybe they are more to your taste.’
Sofia didn’t miss the gleam in her eyes, and the fact that she was finding this exciting. My God, she was playing a dangerous game. Sofia glanced at Kaufmann and was met with a repulsive, cold stare and that contorted smile of his. A torrent of mixed emotions surged through her and her stomach lurched in disgust. So much for calm indifference! But the anger was hardest to deal with. Sofia was not known for losing her temper. She put her hand in her pocket and felt the cool pistol nestled there.
As Kaufmann reached the final barrel, a sense of dislocation flooded her being. She was there and not there. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something and she wanted to shout out, No! Wanted to raise her hand, draw out the pistol and pull the trigger. Of course, she couldn’t. It was an insane idea. Her mother had once said, We don’t know what we are capable of until we try. Sofia didn’t think she’d been talking about murder.
‘Go ahead,’ she managed instead, hoping her voice didn’t shake. She gave an involuntary shudder and Maxine widened her eyes. It was a timely warning and she took a deep breath. But her mind was letting her down. As terrible scenarios took over, she felt as if she had become a shadow, transparent, hardly there. Was it possible he could see right through her?
‘Or maybe you might like some breakfast now, Captain?’ Maxine said, still totally unruffled.
In the breath-stopping pause, Sofia’s temple throbbed. He glanced at the barrel and took a step towards it, but then, to her overwhelming relief, he accepted Maxine’s invitation with the slightest of bows and stalked up the steps to the square. As Maxine passed, she squeezed Sofia’s arm. On the verge of tears, Sofia felt deeply touched by the woman’s support, and braced herself. Would she have even got through it without Maxine?
After the Germans had finally gone, Sofia planned to retreat to her bedroom to release James, but Maxine trailed behind her.
‘Where is he?’ she asked, hands on hips. ‘They didn’t find him so what in hell did you do with him?’
Sofia gave her a veiled smile.
‘Come on,’ Maxine said as if encouraging a recalcitrant child.
‘You’ll see,’ she replied and, despite some reservations – the fewer people who knew the secrets of the Castello the better – she made her decision. She sorely needed an ally and maybe together they’d find courage, strength and a way to help each other. She took in Maxine’s amused face, her amber eyes, the chestnut hair. ‘Very well. Come on.’
A little later, with James safely out of the hiding place, Maxine laughed. ‘Well done, you. My mother told me about these tunnels. Not here but in Poggio Santa Cecilia. My father farmed but she worked in the big house there. I still have distant cousins thereabouts.’
‘The village isn’t far away,’ Sofia said, thinking of the beautiful high-ceilinged villa at the top of Santa Cecilia. Larger than theirs, it used to be where the grandest summer parties were held. Lorenzo and she had been drinking champagne there before the war began, when nobody believed that, even if it happened, it would go on for long.
‘I intend visiting soon,’ Maxine was saying. ‘I so want to go.’
Sofia frowned. ‘Except the Germans are using it as local headquarters. Trashing it, I heard.’
‘All the more reason for going. Who knows what I might find out?’
James had been pacing the room. He knew Italian, but Sofia wanted to be completely clear about their plans, so she spoke in English. ‘I’ll arrange for a tray to be brought up. Then I’ll work out what to do with you.’
‘I can’t stay here?’
‘Too risky. There’s an empty farmhouse halfway down the hill. It’s in a copse so not easily seen unless you know it’s there.’
Maxine, unabashed, smiled mischievously. ‘Or I could go with James. Man and wife.’
He laughed, getting into the spirit of it. ‘Now there’s an offer I can’t possibly refuse.’
‘You may not refuse,’ Sofia remarked. ‘But the Germans have already seen you here, Maxine.’ Then she rubbed her forehead, not knowing why she felt a bit irritated. After all, he wasn’t her parachutist.
‘Okay, okay.’ Maxine spread her arms wide in an attitude of surrender. ‘I know when I’m not wanted. I’ll see you later.’
As Sofia and James talked, she admitted to herself how weary she felt. This level of tension was draining, but she hoped sorting out the use of the radio equipment would provide the stamina she needed to keep going. It was dangerous and, unlike Maxine, she didn’t thrive on fear. As James gave her the sweetest smile, then explained what he’d been thinking, she could tell he had sensed how unsettled she was feeling.
‘We either deliver the radio to one of the partisan groups immediately – I’ll go with the equipment, train them to use it – or, we set it up at the top of the tower tonight. It is the perfect place. I know it’s a lot to ask but the radio will work so much more efficiently at height. We’ll move it afterwards.’
She gasped. The tower. She hadn’t been expecting that. ‘I’m not sure. We need to get our lives back on track, not derail them even further.’
He touched her hand, intending it to be a comfort, but she felt a little awkward and bowed her head. She hadn’t expected friendship but, if she was honest, she liked him and didn’t want him to go so soon. They all needed human contact, love, connection with friends and family, for without it they had no hope of surviving, let alone thriving.
‘Very well,’ she said. ‘If it really means the transmission has more chance of succeeding, use the tower tonight. Just this once. There are heavy shutters and I have blackout fabric we can tack on top of them.’
‘Thank you. Truth is, it’s going to get a hell of a lot worse before it gets better.’
She worried he might be right. These were the days of their lives and they were steadily losing them through no fault of their own. No one knew what would be left when it was all over. If it ever was. She tried to keep positive with hopeful thoughts and visions of a rosy future, but it wasn’t easy. Even before all this, they’d had the long years of Mussolini to cope with. She’d never been happy about Il Duce, as he was known, despite Lorenzo paying lip service, at first. The dictator might be good for business, he’d said, but, like everyone else, they soon realized the dreadful rumours of brutality were true. And now here they were clinging to life by their fingertips, just as surely as if they were on a sinking ship.
16.
Later that day Sofia spent an hour with Aldo making preliminary sketches for her painting of him. Naturally, she had sworn him to silence. When they were finished, she found Carla and led her to the garden where they wouldn’t be overheard. Carla wiped her hands on her apron and neatened her hair a little as she looked up. The sky was a dazzling iridescent blue for a change, but it was also freezing and yet, dressed only in her indoor clothes, Sofia barely noticed. She glanced around to ensure nobody could hear and then took Carla right to the back of the garden to her private area, the place where villagers would come after church on Sunday mornings to ask for help. But this was different. This time it would be Sofia asking for help.
‘Now,’ Sofia said. ‘We’ve known each other for many years.’
Carla agreed, but her teeth had started to chatter and she was shivering.
Sofia felt strangely excited as she spoke, explaining that the Englishman wanted help while the partisans moved some equipment into the tower.
‘Help, how?’ Carla asked, looking anxious.
‘Well, it will be under cover of darkness, but as Maria lives between my house and the tower, I want to ensure she doesn’t suspect anything when the men cross the square right past her window. Could you sit with her, share a drop of wine? Distract her?’
Carla raised her brows in surprise. ‘She’ll think it mighty strange. We’ve barely spoken since her bastard grandson ran off with the Fascists. And anyway, why not use the hidden passage?’
It was Sofia’s turn to look surprised.
Carla smiled good-naturedly and patted her hand. ‘Contessa Sofia, I’ve lived hereabouts longer than yourself. A few of us know of it. It was my father who told me.’
‘I had thought of using it, but it’s blocked – I tried it out before I came to see you. I don’t know how long it will take to clear but it’s crucial the equipment be moved and set up to be used tonight.’
‘So?’ Carla frowned and narrowed her eyes. ‘What is this equipment?’
Sofia was deciding what to say before she spoke. ‘You mustn’t breathe a word.’
Carla nodded.
‘It’s a transmitting radio.’
‘Oh!’ Carla said, seeming utterly appalled. ‘If they find it –’
Sofia interrupted. ‘I know – if they find it, it will be the end for me.’
‘Worse. Before they kill, they torture to extract information.’
Sofia bowed her head but didn’t speak.
‘It is a brave thing you do,’ Carla said with a slight shake of her head. ‘But what if something goes wrong?’
Sofia looked up and took a long, slow breath. ‘I have learnt so much from you, Carla, from all of you. Your fortitude, your courage and your determination never to give up. And now this is something I must do. The injured man, James, is a radio operator with the British army, so an ally and a friend. He is going to train Aldo to use it.’
It really was too cold to be out and Carla, frowning, vigorously rubbed her palms together during the short, uneasy silence. The wind had got up too and a few clouds had gathered again.
‘Why Aldo?’ she said.
‘It may be the safest option for him.’
Carla gave her a knowing look. ‘So, you mean he won’t have to go off to live in the woods with the partisans?’
Sofia nodded. ‘Unless he gets called up by the German army. And we don’t really know when that will happen, or even if it will happen. This seems like the best solution for now.’
Carla rose to her feet but didn’t look wholly convinced. ‘I just hope it is, Contessa. I worry, you know.’
‘Oh, Carla. I know you do. I’m just looking for the best way to keep Aldo here at home.’
Carla nodded.
‘You’re happy to distract Maria?’
‘That will not be a problem. I can do that. But you’re sure this is the right thing for my son?’
‘Yes. I believe it is.’
17.
Sofia pulled open a cupboard in search of a warm jersey. The tower would be bitterly cold at this time of year. She kept trying to convince herself she wasn’t afraid but, all the same, she hid her gun in the small shoulder bag she wore across her body. Then she marched down to the back door, collecting Aldo from the kitchen as she went.
‘You ready for this, young man?’
Aldo gave her a thoughtful look. ‘I hope so.’
They found James already waiting at the door at the side of the house. Earlier, they had moved him to the farmhouse along with a few tins of sardines, a wrinkled apple and a loaf of Carla’s relatively fresh bread. Now, once she’d beckoned him into the passageway, she switched on the dim light and asked if he was comfortable in his new quarters.
‘Bloody cold,’ he said, rubbing his hands together, and she put a finger to her lips.
‘I can always put you back in the hidden passage here if you prefer.’ She raised her brows, knowing full well the passage was rough and even chillier than the farmhouse, with nowhere to sit.
‘I think I’ll pass, Contessa.’
‘Sofia will do.’
He seemed a warm and genuine man and she felt sure she’d done the right thing by joining forces with him. But you had to take care. When a person turned out to be someone entirely different from who they’d
made out to be, you began to mistrust your own instincts. A couple of men had requested refuge at the Castello and because she’d had no way of telling genuine refugees from spies, she’d turned them away. When they were later discovered to have been spies and were shot by partisans, she realized she was right to have been cautious.
‘You okay?’ James asked, and she was surprised he’d picked up on her qualms so easily.
‘What do you think?’ she said a little sharply.
At that point Maxine joined them, wrapped in an oversized man’s coat and with her hair tied back.
A few moments later there was a tap at the door and even though Sofia had been expecting the men, she jumped.
James gently touched her arm. ‘Take a breath.’
She did so and then opened the door a crack to see two men also bundled up in thick coats, woollen hats pulled down over their foreheads.
‘Marco,’ one said under his breath and she recognized him from the night before.
The other one, a smaller man, muttered his name too. ‘Lodo.’
‘Lodovico?’
‘Just Lodo.’
Sofia, James, Aldo and Maxine joined the two men outside, Sofia leading the way to the wine store, passing in front of Maria’s house where, despite the late hour, a low gleam of light still shone from her window. Sofia glanced up. A cloudy night with virtually no moon would work in their favour. She hoped Carla was still with Maria, and they were both praying to San Sebastiano. Someone certainly needed to.
The Tuscan Contessa Page 10