The Venice Sketchbook(102)

When we docked I pushed Angelo down the broad boulevard to the tall wrought iron gates and prayed that the contessa would be home. In the past she had visited friends all over Europe, but now I suspected she wouldn’t want to travel outside the city. Sure enough, I was shown in by Umberto and heard voices coming from the back garden. I went through to a charming scene. The new gardener, whom I suspected was another of the contessa’s rescued German Jews, had put up a swing on the big tree, and Hanni was swinging while the contessa watched her. Hanni spotted me and jumped off the swing with a squeal of delight.

“What a lovely surprise, my dear.” The contessa held out her hand to me. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”

“A bit of an emergency,” I said. I turned to the girl. “Hanni, would you take Angelo and play with him for a while?”

Hanni nodded and took Angelo from me. He went willingly, giving her an excited smile and babbling away.

“What’s wrong?” the contessa asked. I told her.

She frowned. “That’s bad,” she said. “But you did know you were living on borrowed time, didn’t you?”

“I think I’ll be relatively safe if I stay home and I’m careful,” I said, “but I can’t leave the city with no identity card.”

“That’s true. You should stay here. The police are too lazy to come out here, unless they want to swim.”

“I’d like to stay here for a couple of weeks, if you don’t mind,” I said.

“Stay here permanently. I have plenty of room and good food, and Hanni adores your son. You can help her with her schoolwork. I am coaching her in Italian and French, but my mathematic skills are from a different age.”

“I’d be happy to,” I said. And I thought, I can stay out here. Safe. Away from the police, until Leo returns. But then there would be no radio transmissions of ships leaving port. If British ships were sunk, it would be my fault.





CHAPTER 41


Juliet, Venice, December 1941

I don’t know where the time has gone. Recently there is a spirit of optimism because the Americans have entered the war on the side of the Allies. “They’ll bring it to an end quickly,” the old men in the park say. The year has gone smoothly enough, although with no identity card I worry about being questioned every time I go out. I have been spending most of my time at the contessa’s villa. She wanted me to stay with her all the time, but my conscience got the better of me with regard to my duty to monitor shipping, so I try to spend a couple of days a week at the flat, leaving Angelo in the safety of the Lido. Luckily German shipping has decreased recently after Hitler invaded the Soviet Union in June and turned his efforts to that direction. I hope that means that he is no longer planning to invade Britain and that the bombing has lessened. Still nothing from my mother and no way of communicating with her. Also nothing from Leo. I am very worried, but I hope he is on some kind of secret mission and will return safely.

Angelo is growing into a sturdy and active little boy. His hair is indeed taking on my auburn shade, and his eyes are a wonderful deep blue. Such a handsome little fellow! He climbs all over the furniture, runs around the contessa’s garden and delights in playing with Hanni, who is now fluent in Italian and seems quite at home. We have had no word from her parents, however. That may be a precaution not to give away her whereabouts. But she seems to be accepting the fact, and I hear her singing in her sweet high voice German nursery songs to Angelo: “Hoppe hoppe Reiter. Wenn er f?llt, dann schreit er . . .”

We have had several visits from Vittorio recently. He turned up out of the blue, just as charming and attentive as ever. I suspect he may have fallen out of favour with the powerful men in Rome. That man makes me nervous for some reason. Clearly he resents that the contessa is fond of me. He also resents Hanni’s presence. The contessa has asked him to take some of her more valuable paintings into storage at his gallery, just in case. She seems to be quite happy that he’ll look after them for her. I’m not so sure. He always strikes me as someone who will change sides whenever the wind blows.

Francesca comes once a week to clean when I am not at home but every day to cook and shop for me when I am there. With Christmas around the corner, I came back into the city to try to do some shopping at the holiday markets, which are still taking place outside the churches. I wanted to give the contessa something, and Hanni, and of course Angelo. I tried to think what the contessa might like and wondered if I dared to paint a picture for her. She who has old masters hanging from her walls. But she is a patron of the Biennale, which, I’m told, will take place as usual next year, war or no war. So I have been painting her an abstract. Professor Corsetti has been out to visit the contessa several times and has encouraged me to keep painting. I showed him the portrait I was painting of Angelo and he made good suggestions. But now it is almost finished, and I am quite proud of it.

The contessa’s new gardener, Peter—or rather Pietro now—is building Angelo a wooden engine he can ride on. Angelo and I returned to the city for a few days. I felt guilty if I was not doing the job I had promised to do, and I wanted to shop for Christmas presents. So I left Angelo in Francesca’s care and went to the market to see if there were any oranges or sweets, also to find something for Hanni, and found a little glass flute that actually plays. And in my favourite bookshop a couple of books in German. I don’t want her to forget her native language. I couldn’t think what to get for Francesca, who is so completely practical, so I decided she wouldn’t be offended if I gave her some money. Living with the contessa much of the time has meant that I have not used my monthly allowance. I have offered to pay my share for food, but she has turned me down. I’m exceedingly grateful because I have no ration card. I don’t quite know what I’d do without her and Francesca. And Hanni. I have become so fond of that girl. In some ways she is wise beyond her years and affectionate, too. It was as if having a baby has somehow opened my heart to the possibility of love. I love it when she sees me coming and rushes to hug me. The contessa adores her.