The Tuscan Contessa

by Dinah Jefferies

  She was sure these dreams of the past were her way of escaping the present and groaned at the icy cold as she swung her legs to the side and then slid out of bed. She dressed without washing, then braved the empty, echoing halls and corridors where the shutters were rattling in the wind. When she reached the kitchen, Anna was already stoking the range and the boiler. At least they had a supply of unused fuel here, although how long it would last or how long they’d need it to last was unknown. The uncertainty of everything left her feeling ill at ease, but for Anna’s sake she rallied and gave her a smile.

  ‘Did you sleep well, Anna?’

  Anna pulled an exhausted face. ‘Well, you know …’

  ‘Yes.’

  They drifted into silence as Anna brewed the coffee.

  ‘Goodness,’ Sofia said, suddenly realizing the coffee was real.

  Delighted with herself, Anna pointed at a cupboard. ‘I found it at the back of that cupboard, already ground and rock hard. Had to pound the life out of it.’

  She poured them both a cup.

  And even though Sofia could tell it had lost some of its flavour, the taste still brought tears to her eyes. Memories. Always the memories of better times.

  ‘I was dreaming of food again,’ she said.

  Anna’s mouth turned down at the corners. ‘It’s because we’re always hungry. I don’t dream at all.’

  ‘We all dream. It’s the way we make sense of things. You just don’t remember.’

  Anna tilted her head to one side, thinking. ‘I dream of my husband sometimes, or I used to.’

  Sofia shot her a sympathetic look. ‘It’s been hard on you.’

  ‘On so many,’ Anna added.

  They both stayed silent for a moment, contemplating.

  ‘Maxine not up?’ Sofia said eventually.

  Anna shook her head.

  But just a few minutes later Sofia heard Maxine as she came to the doorway and turned to look at her. Wrapped in a blanket, her curly chestnut hair tangled about her shoulders, she still looked beautiful.

  ‘Darn this freezing mausoleum,’ she said as she stalked in, sat at the table and reached out to pour herself some coffee. ‘The real stuff, eh? What’s to eat?’

  Anna was slicing the last of two loaves they’d brought with them. Stale now, so she toasted the slices in the pan before bringing over salt and olive oil.

  ‘What I wouldn’t give for a cheesy bagel.’ Maxine inhaled and then shrugged at the thought before stuffing bread into her mouth.

  Sofia laughed. ‘I’ve been dreaming of food too.’

  ‘Chocolate brownies?’

  ‘No. Fig and ricotta tart.’

  ‘Oh, my goodness, my mother used to make that.’

  ‘Tell us what you know about her village.’

  A dreamy look softened Maxine’s gaze. ‘It’s called Poggio Santa Cecilia, as you already know, and it’s perched high up on a hill. Siena isn’t far by car. The farmhouses are clustered outside the village – my parents had one with a rooftop pigeon loft. My mother loved it. There are olive groves, vineyards, agricultural lands, woodlands, plus two lakes on the estate where she told me she used to swim. I’m not sure it was allowed but she did it anyway.’

  ‘It’s a beautiful place,’ Anna said. ‘I went there once.’

  Sofia watched as Maxine’s eyes grew softer still. ‘My mother says it’s the most peaceful place in the world.’

  Sofia nodded. ‘She must have hated leaving.’

  ‘She did.’

  Maxine’s face changed and Sofia felt she was pining for something she’d never had.

  ‘And there are orchards, Mother said. Plums and apples too. The village is enclosed by the crumbling walls of an old castle.’

  ‘I’ve sat on those walls,’ Sofia said, ‘and I know most of the buildings go back to the fifteenth century.’

  ‘Estate workers live there as well as the aristocratic family who own the whole shebang.’ Maxine’s lip curled as she scoffed, then she reddened as she glanced at Sofia. ‘No offence.’

  ‘None taken,’ Sofia said. ‘By birth, I’m a commoner.’ Then she reminded Maxine of her plan to visit the village.

  ‘I still want to. Things keep getting in the way. And I hate to think of Germans living there. My mother would die if she knew. I wish my parents hadn’t had to leave Tuscany.’

  ‘I went to Santa Cecilia a number of times before the war,’ said Sofia, ‘parties, recitals, that sort of thing. The main villa has these lovely panelled ceilings and frescoes on the walls. There are huge fireplaces and a wide stone staircase up to the first floor where a salon leads to a glass-walled solarium overlooking the terraced gardens. Our place at the Castello is tiny by comparison. But Santa Cecilia is not what it used to be. The family who own it moved out. Only the grandmother has stayed on, a lovely old lady, but I heard she’s now in a village house since the Germans requisitioned the manor.’

  ‘It’s a damn cheek, isn’t it? Maybe I’ll go when all this is over.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘Would you consider coming with me?’ Maxine added as an afterthought. ‘If you know someone at the village, it could give us an excuse for visiting. We could go on my motorcycle.’

  Sofia laughed but was aware of the vulnerability in Maxine’s eyes. She didn’t give a lot away but there was more to Maxine than you first realized. She’d seen it in the way she gazed at Marco too, and visiting her parents’ village clearly mattered.

  ‘Riding pillion on a motorcycle would certainly be a change,’ Sofia said. ‘Lorenzo rides but I never have. I’m sure I’d end up in a hedge.’

  ‘You’ll love it,’ Maxine replied and smiled warmly.

  Sofia was aware they were talking about the things that were guaranteed to make them feel happier. Sometimes they just had to.

  ‘I heard firing in the night,’ Maxine said suddenly. ‘Did you?’

  ‘Every night. Doesn’t matter how often you hear it, it’s always awful.’

  Maxine turned to Anna. ‘Could you contact some of the local staffettas? One of them should know where I can find a partisan called Luca.’

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘I think he may be the new leader around here.’

  33.

  February 1944

  Although most of Maxine’s hopes for information were now pinned on Wolf’s clerk, Antonio, she knew she might still gain an advantage by knowing Bruckner. So, once the morning mist had cleared, she spent a few hours keeping an eye out for him, modestly dressed in an old brown coat, her scarf wrapped round the lower part of her face and a woollen hat pulled low, plus a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles. The last thing she wanted was to attract attention.

  The shops were almost empty and Maxine saw why when she spotted German lorries picking up merchandise from every single one. She trusted the shopkeepers had been canny enough to hide some of their goods. She sauntered up the Viale Michelangelo and was impressed by the Piazza Signoria with its famous tower and loggia. While doing all this, she spied out the bars Marco had listed and kept her eyes peeled for Bruckner, ensuring he didn’t spot her until she was ready.

  While she paced, she contemplated the British officer with whom she liaised. Ronald was quite a posh chap, but she knew nothing else about him. He had been helpful and kind but always distant. Perhaps it was the British stiff upper lip. She didn’t know. In any case, the more the Allies knew about the area, and whom they could or could not trust, the easier it would be when they pushed northwards and drove the Germans back, especially if the partisans were well armed. Later in the day she intended to make contact with Luca.

  She spotted Bruckner eating early with another officer, so she skulked in the shadows and waited, ready to cast off her coat, scarf and hat to reveal a red silk dress when she intercepted him.

  A few moments later she almost missed him when, with long, purposeful strides, he vacated the restaurant with the other man, whom Maxine now recognized as Baltasar Vogler. She followed them and, with no
time to cast off her outer clothing, she watched from the other side of the square as the two men made their way towards the Excelsior hotel. Vogler went in first and then, a second or two later, Bruckner entered. At the exact same moment two men in dark clothing came racing past and sent her flying. In the seconds during which she restored her balance a tremendous noise rocked the piazza. Despite standing on the opposite side of the square, the full force of the blast slammed into her. Blinded by the dust, her eyes were stinging and, aware of shrapnel striking masonry and glass, she sank down and covered her head with her arms. When the noise subsided a little, she wiped her eyes with her sleeve, but it was impossible to see anything through the clouds of dust and smoke ballooning in front of her. Men shouted and women screamed but she couldn’t tell from where. She scrambled to her feet, wanting to get away quickly, but was hampered by the rubble, brick, mortar and glass strewn all over the ground, and stumbled. Now little fires dotted the piazza too and gradually, despite the smoke, she was able to see flames surging from the windows of the hotel. Had the bomb been planted there? Or had it been thrown in? She remembered the two men she’d seen running away and then gave a fleeting thought to Gustav Bruckner. If her one good German connection had been killed, it was even more urgent she find Luca quickly. Luca and Antonio were all she had.

  34.

  A few moments earlier Sofia had just settled into the cosy salon overlooking the river when she was startled by a loud blast. She put down her book, rose to her feet and rushed to the hall window from where she saw a pall of smoke rising over an area of the city.

  When, fifteen minutes later, Maxine burst in, her face raw with cold, Sofia stared in astonishment. Like a living phantom, Maxine was coated in fine grey dust: on her face, in her hair, all over her clothes. And, to top it all, she was shivering uncontrollably. As she attempted to speak, her red-rimmed eyes scanned the room, glittering as if in shock. Sofia offered to make her a hot drink, but she could hardly catch her breath and, still unable to say anything, doubled up as if in physical pain.

  As soon as Maxine straightened up, Sofia wrapped her arms round her shoulders, pulling her close. As Maxine gradually settled and her breathing calmed, Sofia drew back and studied her face. ‘I heard the blast. What happened?’

  Maxine squeezed her eyes shut for a second and, when she opened them, Sofia noticed how hollow they looked.

  ‘Can you tell me?’

  ‘A bomb …’ Her voice came out rasping and unclear.

  ‘Where? I didn’t hear any planes.’

  She took a long, deep breath and exhaled slowly.

  ‘It’s all right. Take your time.’

  ‘Not the Allies. Near the Excelsior hotel. I was watching Bruckner walking in through the main doors and the next second – boom …’

  ‘Is he dead?’

  ‘I don’t know. Probably. I had to run. I don’t know why I’m so shaken really. I’m not usually so pathetic.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. You’re the least pathetic person I know. It was unexpected. That’s all. You’ve had a shock.’

  ‘I thought I was shockproof,’ she said with a wry smile.

  Sofia shook her head. ‘None of us are.’

  ‘They’ll extend the curfew,’ Anna muttered as she entered the room, still wearing her coat and looking weary. ‘Per Dio, these hotheads make it impossible for the rest of us.’

  Maxine spun round to look at her. ‘Did you see it?’

  Anna threw herself into a chair, then glanced at Sofia as if for consent to sit down.

  Sofia smiled at her. ‘Come on. I think we’re past these old differences, aren’t we? It’s fine. Make yourself comfortable.’

  ‘Madonna,’ Anna said, looking across at Maxine who was now standing with her back to one of the two shuttered windows. ‘Look at the state of you! No, I didn’t see it, but I heard it.’

  ‘Thank God you’re both safe,’ Sofia said, ‘although you need to get cleaned up, Maxine. Did anyone see you near the hotel?’

  Maxine shook her head. ‘No one would have noticed me. I was wearing that old overcoat with a hat and scarf.’

  Anna indicated that no one had seen her either. ‘I came back the long way round, but there were quite a few people out on the streets. They can’t arrest all of us.’

  ‘Can’t they?’ Maxine said bitterly.

  Anna looked at the other two gloomily. ‘There’ll be reprisals.’

  The very real possibility of that made Sofia feel physically sick.

  Maxine looked glum. ‘I’ll have to find out if Bruckner is dead.’

  Early the next morning Sofia was pacing the garden, restless and edgy, waiting to hear news of what was going on in the city following the bomb blast. They had no radio so Anna had gone out to see what she could learn.

  When she heard the back gate open and saw Anna entering the garden, it was obvious from her drawn, anxious face the news wasn’t good. When she spoke, she was breathless, almost panting, and the words came out in a rapid stream.

  ‘I came back as quickly as I could. Throughout the night the Germans have been rounding up anyone known to be even remotely sympathetic to the partisans. Plus anyone who doesn’t actively support the German Reich.’

  ‘So now only the Fascists are safe.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘What have we come to …’ Sofia didn’t finish her sentence. ‘Did you meet anyone?’

  ‘Since the bomb blast many of the men have gone, in prison or headed for the hills. There is a woman, though – Irma, she’s called.’

  ‘A staffetta like you?’

  ‘Yes. She says she’ll meet with Maxine at three today in Via Faenza. Introduce her to Luca, their unit leader.’

  ‘And the bomb?’

  ‘They’re saying a bomb was thrown into the hotel,’ she said. ‘I wish we could go home now. It’s terrible out there. People are starving, fighting over scraps of food thrown away by the restaurants. Getting themselves shot for trying to smuggle out food for their families.’

  Home. Sofia felt low as she thought of the Castello and longed to be there too.

  ‘I need to tell Maxine about Irma,’ Anna added.

  They remained silent for a few minutes.

  ‘Tell me something good,’ Sofia said eventually. ‘Tell me something to make up for all this.’

  Anna stared back with a hopeless expression.

  ‘Anything? Something?’

  Anna rubbed her neck as she considered it. ‘My little boy, Alberto. He’s good.’

  ‘I agree,’ Sofia said. ‘He’s a sweetie.’ And then her mind went wandering over the sunlit days of the past, Lorenzo kissing her forehead for the first time and in full view of her parents. Her father’s raised eyebrows, her mother’s gentle smile. And then, once they were engaged, off they went exploring the walled hilltop villages and towns of Tuscany.

  ‘It’s why we’re doing all this, isn’t it?’ Anna was saying, and Sofia came back to the present with a jolt. ‘To get our country back and for all our children to grow up in peace.’

  ‘It will happen,’ Sofia said. ‘The Allies will win. We have to keep believing.’

  35.

  It was barely light when Anna answered the door to a thin-faced Italian woman who glanced furtively to either side and then behind her.

  ‘Yes?’ Anna said.

  The woman spoke rapidly and in a low, urgent voice. ‘Tell Massima, Antonio will be waiting for her at 12 Piazza d’Azeglio. Ten o’clock sharp. Do not be late.’

  Anna started to thank her, but the woman scurried away before she’d finished her sentence. She went upstairs, woke Maxine, passed on the message, and then went down to prepare breakfast with Maxine trailing behind in her robe.

  ‘Was that all she said? Did she tell you her name?’

  Anna shook her head.

  ‘Do you think she might be working for the Germans? One of them told me they’d been watching the square.’

  ‘I believed her,’ Anna said. ‘What more
can I say?’

  ‘What did she look like?’

  ‘Middle-aged. Very black hair and a prominent nose.’

  ‘A hook nose, would you say?’

  Anna nodded. ‘At least you’ll have plenty of time before you meet Irma in Via Faenza at three.’

  Maxine was eager to hear Antonio’s news but first she was curious to see the aftermath of the bomb attack at the hotel. She had tied up her hair, hidden now beneath the kind of plain headscarf so many of the women wore. She had put on a drab grey coat and had applied none of her trademark red lipstick.

  When she reached the Excelsior, she saw several workmen were already repairing the damage. She loitered for a moment to give the impression that she was just a nosy Italian housewife, then she approached a bullish-looking Italian man who was strutting about giving orders to the other workmen. She sidled up then paused beside him, hands on hips.

  ‘Well!’ she exclaimed, puffing out her cheeks. ‘My husband, Tomasso, said it was a right old mess. He wasn’t wrong, was he? How long will it take to put right?’

  The man shrugged. ‘Too long.’

  ‘Anyone killed?’ she asked.

  ‘What’s it to you?’

  ‘I don’t live far. I heard the blast. Everyone in the street heard. Tomasso said someone must have been killed. I thought it might have been gas, but Tomasso bet me it was a bomb.’

  ‘And now you’ve come to gawk?’

  She frowned, arms folded in front of her, as if taking umbrage. ‘No-o-o. I’m on my way to see a friend. I was just passing.’

  ‘Just passing, eh? Well, for your information, an influential SS officer was indeed killed here, name of Bruckner. That’s what we heard, anyway. They don’t tell us much, to be honest.’