Maxine looked torn, then said, ‘My father could be violent. I never really knew why.’
Sofia gazed at the view around them, at the rolling hills and then up at the blue sky. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Shall we get back on the boneshaker?’ Maxine said after a few moments. ‘We’ve been lucky so far. No machine-gunning, no bombs.’
Sofia smiled. ‘A good day then! Let’s enjoy it while we can.’
43.
The sudden storm hadn’t quite blown itself out but half an hour earlier they wouldn’t have heard a thing in the howling wind circling the tower. Now, at the sound of a vehicle arriving, Sofia and James exchanged anxious glances. It couldn’t be Maxine. It sounded more like a car than a motorcycle and, in any case, Maxine had already gone to meet Marco, despite the weather. She’d left the moment they’d finished sending her latest report to the Allies.
James began to pack up rapidly. They heard a clattering sound like someone kicking a pail and then the dogs began barking excitedly.
‘Carla must have let the dogs out,’ Sofia said.
‘At this hour?’
‘Best way to warn us.’
Recently the radio had been kept in the tunnels and now, with the weather so unreliable, they’d needed to transmit from a higher point so had brought the equipment back to the top of the tower. It felt like an age as James neatly arranged everything to ensure the case would close properly, and Sofia watched helplessly as he fumbled with something that didn’t quite fit.
‘Quickly. Go downstairs and get into the concealed passage,’ he whispered. ‘Leave me.’
‘Not without you.’
Only moments later they heard Carla making even more noise as she argued with somebody outside in the square, right beneath the tower. Sofia was about to take the equipment down the stairs and into the passage, but at that moment James dropped a radio plug.
‘Shit!’ He cursed under his breath and began to search for it, scrambling on hands and knees under the table.
‘I think it rolled. Leave it.’
‘Can’t. If it’s Germans out there, they’ll find it when they come up and then they’ll know. You’ll be arrested.’
‘It’s dark. They won’t see to find it.’
‘They’ll have torches.’
‘Could it be refugees?’ she said. ‘Escaped British prisoners, Italian soldiers?’
‘Who’ve managed to get hold of a car?’
As he continued to search, she knew there was not a chance they’d have time to carry everything downstairs, even if he did find the plug. As she waited for him in an agony of suspense, the seconds passed too quickly.
‘Per Dio,’ she hissed as he finally located it. ‘Quick! Up the stairs to the roof.’
The ancient staircase, uneven and incredibly narrow, hadn’t been altered since the tower was built. James carried the heavier box while Sofia took the other and they squeezed into the opening, hardly daring to breathe as they crept up to the place where the stairs curved round towards the roof. The door at the top was locked so all they could do was huddle together at the top of the steps. James hadn’t really needed her there, only Maxine, but she’d been looking forward to seeing him again. She told herself it was because Lorenzo hadn’t been home since January and she was so lonely it consumed her, right through to the bone.
She heard the outer door being unlocked and Carla speaking loudly as she climbed the stairs and then reached the now empty room.
‘There,’ they heard her say. ‘I told you she wasn’t here. Like I said, I must have left the light on when I was cleaning.’
Driven by the fear of discovery, James and Sofia were pressed even more tightly together with the two boxes wedged on the final step above them. Had the blackout fabric slipped? Hadn’t she tacked it up properly? Was that how they’d spotted the light? She could feel his heart beating as furiously as her own. As he wrapped an arm around her, she leant in.
They heard muttering and then very clearly: ‘Where does that opening lead?’
Kaufmann! Sofia’s chest constricted, terrified he would decide to climb up after them. In a flash she grasped that she might not be able to contain her rising terror and that a groan was about to escape her lips. She pressed them together as hard as she could. James held her rigidly still and clamped a hand over her mouth.
‘It goes to the roof,’ they heard Carla say. ‘The door at the top is always locked and I don’t have a key. No one goes up there for fear of being bombed.’
‘All the same, I shall investigate when I’ve finished in here,’ Kaufmann said.
Apart from the sound of the German poking about, it was silent for a moment. Sofia bit the inside of her cheek and focused on the taste of blood.
‘Does she spend much time up here?’ Kaufmann was saying. ‘Too cold to paint, I’d have thought.’
‘My daughter knitted her some fingerless gloves.’
Sofia felt as if her soul would spring from her chest as they waited. Was that what a heart attack would be like? The same lack of control. The feeling of being stranded and helpless as your pulse hit the roof and your fate sped inexorably closer. They were doomed. She knew it. James must know it too. And yet, despite the fear, she noticed a smouldering, trembling rage rising inside her.
‘Is there a light on those stairs to the roof?’ Kaufmann said.
She held her breath and counted inside her head. One, two, three, four, five. This was it.
‘No,’ Carla said.
A moment later they heard the sound of a motorcycle arriving, followed by a car horn hooting repeatedly. Sofia prayed the motorcycle wasn’t Maxine’s and that she’d kept to her plan not to return until morning.
‘Verdammt noch mal!’ Kaufmann cursed. ‘Lead the way down. I don’t want to break my neck in the dark.’
‘I wish you would break your neck,’ Sofia muttered inaudibly, and then held her breath. A few moments later, as they heard the tower door being locked, she felt lightheaded with the kind of reprieve she’d never experienced before. As she let out her breath, a powerful release swept throughout her body: a tidal wave let loose inside her.
‘Phew,’ he said. ‘A bit too close for comfort.’
She swallowed several times before she could even speak.
They hugged each other for a long while as their hearts gradually slowed and the elation of having got away with it took over. His breath was warm on her face and as his lips brushed her forehead, he kissed her gently. Then he paused and bent his head as if he was about to kiss her lips. She reluctantly averted her head, feeling a yearning for something she really ought not to be feeling.
44.
A week later Sofia was surprised by the arrival of Schmidt, who was shown into their main drawing room by Anna.
‘Contessa … Sofia, I do hope you won’t mind the informality of me calling you by your name.’ He came forward, holding out his hand.
She shook it. ‘Of course not. Is there something I can do for you?’
He walked to the window and gazed out before turning back to her with such a defeated look in his eyes it caught her off guard. He looked beaten, and it baffled her.
‘Actually, this time, it’s more about what I can do for you.’
‘Really?’ she said, probably sounding as surprised as she felt.
‘It is rather delicate.’
‘Oh?’
He began to circle the room and while he remained silent she noticed how incredibly strained he seemed. It showed in his hands, his shoulders, his preoccupied stance.
‘Commandant Schmidt. Is something the matter?’
He looked at his feet for a moment. ‘Klaus. My name is Klaus. My wife is Hilda.’
She inclined her head. ‘I see.’ Except of course that she didn’t see at all. Why had he come and what on earth was going on?
‘You have a very fine view here,’ he said, then stared at her with an intense, disconcerting gaze. ‘I regret you have been troubled by our being here.’
It
was her turn to remain silent.
‘But I know of what they are capable. Do you see?’
He seemed to be balanced on a fine line, so she tried to hide her puzzlement. ‘They?’
He gave a slight shake of the head as if doubting himself. ‘We. Us.’
This was strange. This was a man forlorn and fragile. She had never seen him looking so insubstantial.
‘Look, I do not know for certain, and I have no details. I am just here to tell you it is possible you might find yourselves “persons of interest”. For observation purposes.’
She stepped back, feeling a rush of heat and thinking of Florence. ‘Me? Why me?’
‘No, no,’ he jumped in. ‘Let me clarify. It is not so much you, but your family. Perhaps.’
Her hand flew to her heart. ‘I don’t understand. What do you mean? Is it Lorenzo? My father? My mother?’
‘Believe me, I regret I cannot be more specific. Nothing is certain and I am not saying you are in danger. But, of course, it is conceivable they may …’
There was that word they again. Was he distancing himself from the Nazis?
‘I wanted to caution you and say –’
‘What? Say what?’ she interrupted.
‘If there is anything, anything at all, that you may wish … Ah, I don’t quite know how to phrase this … If there is anything going on, as it were, at the Castello. Do you see? Anything unfitting, I mean. You must take care.’
Her mind was spinning. ‘Of course,’ she managed to say.
‘And now I must take my leave. I am returning to Berlin, so this is goodbye.’
‘Oh, I see. When do you leave?’
‘Tomorrow. I wanted to speak with you first but now I must go.’
She took a breath and regained her equilibrium as much as she was able, although her heart was still thumping. ‘Well, thank you, Commandant Schmidt.’
‘Klaus.’
She nodded. ‘But truly there is nothing to worry about here.’
They gazed at one another.
‘I’m glad to hear it. I wish I could have met you and the Count at a happier time.’ He clicked his heels together and made for the door, then twisted back to look at her. ‘My wife and I are a family, you see. A small one, but a family. Like you and your husband.’
And he gave her a slight nod before closing the door behind him.
‘I’m grateful to you,’ she called out, not knowing if he had heard, ‘for coming.’
During the second week of March Sofia opened the back door to find Marco and James leaning against the walls of the narrow porch.
She beckoned them in. ‘Quickly. Thanks for coming.’
James smiled at her. ‘We kept a lookout. Nobody saw me.’
‘That’s fine. Will you stay for lunch?’ She glanced at Marco, who was staring at his feet. ‘You too, Marco, if you’d like to.’
He shook his head and moved his weight from foot to foot. ‘Actually, I’d like to find Maxine.’
‘She’s around somewhere. You could tell her lunch is ready.’
‘I’ll go and look.’
‘Before you go, I wanted to let you know that a friend of ours phoned with news.’
‘And?’
‘The Allies are bombing Rome heavily. Florence too, again. Apparently, the Germans won’t be defending Rome; he got it from a member of the government.’
‘But they’ll continue their defences all around Rome?’ Marco asked.
‘They’ll block the roads, but the intelligence says they plan to eventually form a strong defence line north of Florence across the Apennine mountains.’
‘Which means they believe Rome and Florence will be liberated,’ Marco said.
‘Bloody hurrah,’ James said. ‘I’m sorry about the bombing, really I am. But I guess there’s no other way.’
Sofia wasn’t sure what to say to this and turned to speak to Marco. ‘Maxine’s outside somewhere, I think. There’s nobody much around. Tell her I’ll save her some soup.’
Marco nodded and left them to it.
‘Soup okay for you, James?’
He smiled in that warm, open way of his and she beamed at him. Then, suddenly assailed by a feeling of discomfort at his presence, she marched across the hall, barely waiting for him to follow.
All through lunch, which they ate in the kitchen with Carla – Gabriella was having hers in her room – Sofia could hardly speak. Carla looked puzzled by the strained atmosphere and Sofia felt so torn it hurt. Lorenzo hadn’t been in touch for weeks and she was terribly worried, especially since Schmidt’s strange visit. She didn’t understand why Lorenzo had been unable to contact her at all and although she’d known he would be away for longer, this was longer than she’d expected. And now, here was James gazing at her with his face clouding over and concern in his eyes. She wanted to weep.
Carla was looking at her too, but she was frowning. ‘You have hardly eaten.’
Sofia glanced down at her bowl of bread and garlic soup. ‘I think I’ve lost my appetite.’
Carla tutted.
James drew back his chair. ‘Well, I’d better be off. Thank you so much for lunch.’
Sofia glanced at him as he rose and felt herself redden as she spoke. ‘Don’t go. Keep me company in the garden for a bit.’
He accepted and Carla cleared the table.
‘Actually, would you rather walk in the woods?’ she said, not wanting to encourage gossip in the village. ‘It’s quite safe if we keep to the tracks that circle close to the walls.’
‘Good idea.’ He glanced out of the window. ‘Although it does look like rain might be on the way.’
‘Grab one of our spare macs on our way out. I like walking in the rain. Don’t you?’
As they left the walls and headed along the path they walked in silence.
The damp woods were green and leafy with an eerie light that created a mysterious feeling of timelessness. In these ancient woods you could almost believe in wood sprites or elves living in the tree hollows. She liked to think of other worlds going on around her, but when she heard birds shifting in the trees and scurrying creatures in the undergrowth, she laughed at herself. Those were the other worlds.
He had a puzzled look as he watched her. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘Sorry. It’s nothing much. I was just imagining the wood sprites.’
His eyes lit up as he smiled. ‘I like that. You could almost believe we’re not at war.’
‘Will it be over soon, do you think?’
He puffed out his cheeks then blew out the breath. ‘I hope so. Once we drive them out of Florence, the war won’t be over, but it will be over for you.’
‘For me?’
‘For everyone hereabouts, I mean.’
‘Schmidt came to warn me, you know, before he left. At least, I think it was a warning. He implied my family might be under observation. And now I haven’t heard from any of them, not my mother, my father or Lorenzo.’
James paused for a moment and they both stopped walking. He reached for her hand and as her eyes filled with tears she didn’t pull away.
‘I can’t bear not knowing if they are hurt … or … worse.’ Her voice shook and a few tears began to fall.
‘Try not to think the worst. I know it’s hard.’
He held her for a moment, but she manged to control herself and stepped back, her tears subsiding.
‘Better now?’ he said.
She brushed the wetness from her cheeks with her palms and nodded.
‘Look, I wanted to apologize for the other night. Heat of the moment …’
‘You don’t need to.’
He started to speak again but she interrupted.
‘James.’ She gazed at his beautiful blue eyes. ‘I am a married woman who loves her husband very much and right now I feel like hell.’
There was a short silence as the air between them thickened and, as she continued to look into his eyes and he into hers, she saw the good, decent man he was. L
onely, like her. But then she turned away. It was too close. He was too close.
‘I understand,’ he said eventually.
She swallowed the lump developing in her throat and glanced back at him.
‘I want you to know one thing –’ he began.
She held up her hand and stepped back. ‘Don’t. Please don’t.’
There was a short, uncomfortable silence.
‘Let me just say you are the most beautiful and kindest woman I’ve ever known. If things were different –’
‘If is far too big a word.’
‘You’re right.’
They walked on a short way and she sighed deeply.
‘That sounded heartfelt,’ he said.
‘I don’t know. Everything is heartfelt these days, isn’t it?’ She paused, wondering how to put it. ‘I don’t know how to think any more. What do you do when you’ve had enough?’
‘Enough of what? Not life, surely. You don’t mean that?’
‘No. I don’t think I do. War, I mean. When I think about winning, I wonder if it even matters when so many are gone.’
He frowned. ‘You can’t think like that.’
‘Why not?’
‘It doesn’t achieve anything.’
‘Must thoughts always achieve something?’
There was a sudden thunderclap and she smiled weakly as the rain began. ‘That’s God telling me to go home,’ she said.
‘I guess I’d better head back to my place.’
‘Yes.’ And then she touched his hands lightly and took to her heels.
Back at the house, Maxine was waiting, her face anxious and drawn. She urged Sofia to come into the salon with her.
‘What’s happened?’ Sofia asked. ‘I thought you’d be with Marco. He came to see you.’
‘Marco’s gone. There was a phone call.’
‘Oh?’
‘From your mother. I told her you wouldn’t be long, but she said she’d find it difficult to call again.’
A dreadful presentiment gripped Sofia. ‘Is it my father?’
Maxine paused for a second.
‘Tell me.’
‘It’s Lorenzo.’
‘Lorenzo.’ Sofia gasped as her head began to spin. ‘Dead?’
The Tuscan Contessa Page 24