The Tuscan Child(70)

Paola chuckled. “I think my dancing days are over. But if the young lady wishes to go, I have no objection.”

“Oh, I don’t think it would be right for me to attend alone and to dance with strangers,” I said. “The police inspector already thinks I have a bad character because I had a glass of wine with the men of the town without a chaperone.”

“Why was an inspector from the police talking to you?” Francesca asked. “Why did he concern himself about your character?”

I realised instantly that I had opened up an embarrassing topic. I could hardly say that he was trying to pin her husband’s murder on me because he thought Gianni had tried to force himself on me and I had killed him in self-defence. I tried to come up with a reasonable thing to say. “He was being unpleasant to everyone,” I said. “He tried to make me confess to your husband’s murder because I was the one who found the body.”

“How ridiculous,” she said. “These police are idiots. Why should you have any reason to kill a man you had never met?”

“He was among those men at the table, I suppose,” I said. “I did exchange a few words with him. I said I was interested in seeing the countryside, and he offered to show me his sheep and how he makes cheese.”

“I see.” She was still frowning. “And why did you come to San Salvatore, Signorina?”

“My father was a British airman whose plane was shot down near here. I wondered if anybody knew anything about him.”

“In the war?”

“Yes. I don’t know any details. That’s why I came to find out.”

She waved a hand, dismissing this. “We were only children during the war. We learned to survive and hide away.”

“Yes. It seems nobody ever knew anything about a British pilot who survived a plane crash.”

“And was taken away by the Germans?”

“Why do you say that?” I felt my pulse quicken. “Do you know that to be true?”

“I think Gianni mentioned it once. They came for him, I’m pretty sure of that.”

“Was he alone?”

“I have no idea. I was up at my uncle’s farm at the time. But what you said just jogged my memory about something Gianni said. He was only a boy himself at the time, but he ran errands and he saw a lot of things that other people didn’t. He always did like spying on other people, and look where it got him.”

She put a hand up to her mouth and sobbed. Paola came around to comfort her. “Don’t worry, Francesca. You have friends here. We will make sure you are all right,” she said. “We’ll take our leave now. But you are welcome at my house any time.”

“You are a good woman, Paola. May the saints watch over you.”

We left her standing at the doorway and watching us as we walked back down the hill.





CHAPTER THIRTY





HUGO


December 1944

For a long moment they lay huddled in complete darkness until the movement around them ceased.

“Are you all right?” he whispered to her.

“I think so. Just very afraid. You saved us. What was happening? It felt as if the whole building was falling down to hell.”

“The bomb must have disturbed the foundations.”

Their voices seemed to echo in the darkness.

“Is it safe now, do you think?” she whispered. “Have they gone?”

“Yes, they have gone.” He stroked her hair and she snuggled against him.

“How will I get home if I cannot find my lantern?” she said.

“We’ll find it. Don’t worry.” He eased them upright, reached for his lighter, clicked it, and held out the small flame, looking around. The lantern had fallen on its side and rolled a few feet away from them. He retrieved it and relit the candle.

“Why did they drop a bomb on us?” she asked as he set the candle upright and held his lighter flame against it. “How could they do such a thing?”

“The pilot might have seen the light of your lantern and thought this was still an enemy position, I suppose,” Hugo said.

“My little lantern? A pilot thought that was a danger?” She smiled.

“You’d be surprised how small a light can be seen from up in a plane,” he said. Then he added, “Sometimes an airman just wants to turn around and go home, so he drops the last bomb where he thinks it can do no harm, in the woods or fields.”

“Did you ever do that?”

“I am a pilot. My job is to fly the plane, not drop the bombs,” he said. “And I flew only light bombers with very few bombs. We tried to make them count.”

He positioned the lit candle back inside the lantern, then he held it up to examine the damage. The small light threw out long shadows on to newly fallen masonry. The walls were still standing, although there were now gaping holes in them. The rubble on the floor had shifted, and the whole floor now lay at an angle.

Sofia stood up. “I hope it’s still solid enough to walk on.” She took a few steps, then she stopped. “Gesù Maria!” she exclaimed.

“What is it?” He hauled himself to his feet.

“Look here.”

He made his way over to where she was pointing. On the floor, against the side wall of the chapel, a gaping hole had now opened up and a flight of steps went down into darkness.