The Tuscan Child(78)

He was glad of his protected spot when the next violent storm blew in sometime in the middle of the night. The wind howled down the staircase, and he heard the crash and thump as more pieces of masonry were dislodged from the walls above. Sofia did not come that night. He fed himself with the turnip (it was surprisingly good) and the remains of the Christmas feast.

With daylight he made his way up the stairs and examined the lie of the land. The intense rain had washed away more of the hillside, and the steps now clung to what was an impressive drop. He needed to warn Sofia not to attempt the climb in a strong wind. She was so light and delicate, she might be blown over. He waited for her all morning but she didn’t come. He kept a watch on the road for any signs of Allied troops moving in from the south, but the higher mountains to the north were now well and truly covered in snow and he realised that Sofia might have been right—the Allies might not risk the advance until the weather became more spring-like.

He retreated to the shelter of the crypt. Darkness was falling when he heard the sound of footsteps crossing the floor above. He stood up to greet Sofia. She came rushing down the steps and put a finger to her lips.

“Your knife or your gun,” she whispered. “Have them ready. I think I was followed.”

He went to find them, checking that the gun was loaded.

“It had better be the knife,” she whispered. “The gunshot might be heard from far away.”

He examined the knife in his hand. He had never stabbed anyone in his life and couldn’t picture doing it now. He tried to imagine grabbing a German soldier from behind, holding his head, and calmly slitting his throat. Could he do that?

Sofia must have realised what he was thinking because she said, “Give it to me. I have killed pigs on the farm. I have no fear of killing a German.”

She snatched it from him, then she went back up the stairs. Hugo felt like a coward and made his way up behind her as fast as he could. The sun had just set and the sky was streaked blood red. With the knife in her hand and the walls glowing pink, she made the most dramatic image.

She turned back to him. “Stay hidden. I may be able to bluff my way out of this. We shall see who it is.”

She positioned herself near the doorway. He heard feet coming across the forecourt, then Sofia stepped out. “Gianni!” he heard her say in a surprised voice. “What are you doing up here?”

“None of your business, Signora Bartoli. What are you doing here?”

Hugo peeked out and saw a skinny boy of about eleven or twelve. His voice was still unbroken, and he looked defiant and afraid at the same time.

“If you must know, I came to see whether the latest bomb uncovered more of the monk’s kitchen. I have been up here several times and found tins of food and preserved fruits. I thought maybe some new items might now be found.”

“I’ll help you look,” he said. “My mother would welcome a jar of preserved fruit.”

“You are very kind, but I’m sure your mother wouldn’t want you risking your life by coming up here. See how the new bomb has blown away more of the hillside. You are so light you could get swept away.”

“I’m tough,” he said. “I can handle it.”

“So what are you doing here?” she asked. “Did you come up for a dare?”

“No,” he said. “I thought I might find the boys up here.”

“The boys?”

“Yes, you know, the local partisans. I overheard someone say they were planning something big. You know, an attack on the road maybe, and I think they might be meeting up here. I want to join them.”

“You? Join the partisans? You’re only a boy. They wouldn’t want you.”

“But I could be useful. Run errands for them. Spy out places for them.”

“Gianni.” Sofia put a hand on his shoulder. “From everything I hear, these are ruthless men taking big risks. They might well kill you rather than worry that you would give them away.”

“They are our men, our neighbours, on our side.”

“I wouldn’t quite say that. Some groups of partisans are communists. They want the Germans gone, but they also want our government overthrown and a communist rule by the people.”

“But the ones I’m talking about are men from around here. We know them.”

“I think you should stay well away. No good comes from eavesdropping,” Sofia said. “But now that you are here you can help me look for more items we can use . . .” Her voice became fainter as she walked away with the boy. Hugo waited impatiently, and just as the last glimmers of daylight were fading he heard their footsteps again and Sofia saying, “Go home now before it is quite dark. I’m sorry we didn’t find any food for your mother. Tell her I will bring her some of my turnips when they are harvested.”

“Are you not coming with me?” he asked, his voice sounding young and uneasy now.

“Of course. You go down the steps carefully and I will join you at the bottom. I left my basket in the old chapel where I was saying a prayer when you arrived. It is still a house of God, you know, even though its walls have been damaged. Go carefully now.”

Sofia came rushing back into the chapel and up to Hugo. “I have to go with him. There is food in the basket. And you may be in great danger. The partisans . . .”

“I heard,” he said. “They may plan to meet here.”