The Venice Sketchbook(103)

“If anything happens to me, Juliet,” she said the other day, “I have made a provision in my will that she will be taken care of and her university will be paid for. She deserves a good life.”

“Don’t say that about anything happening to you,” I said, giving an involuntary shudder. “You’ve said many times that Jewish people in Venice are safe.”

She gave me a long hard stare. “One never knows what tomorrow might bring,” she said.

I finished my shopping, found a little pot of cyclamens at the market and came back to the flat feeling quite pleased with myself. It was going to be a jolly Christmas with Angelo now old enough to participate. The room was unusually quiet when I entered the flat.

“Francesca?” I called. “Is Angelo sleeping?”

She came out of the kitchen, her face a stoic mask. “They came for him,” she said.

“What? Who came for him?”

“They didn’t say. They just took him, and when I tried to intervene, one man said, ‘Stand aside, woman.’”

The world stood still. My heart was thumping so loudly that I was sure she must hear it.

“Were they police? Army?”

She shook her head. “I think they were men who work for the Da Rossi family.”

“They had no right!” The words spilled out. “They can’t take my son. I’m going to get him back right now.”

“You can’t. They are powerful people, signorina. I tried. I tried to stop them.”

“I don’t care if they are powerful. I’m going to get him back.”

I ran all the way down the stairs, trying to control my racing thoughts. Did this mean that Leo was safely back home and had taken his son? If not, who would have ordered this outrage? Leo’s father, who wanted a grandson and heir? Surely not Bianca, the unmaternal one. I was usually careful about crossing the city by the main thoroughfares during daylight because I had no identity card, but today I didn’t care. Past the accademia building and over the bridge to the Da Rossi palazzo. I didn’t even hesitate as I went up those austere steps, past the stone lions on either side, and hammered on that enormous front door.

A male servant opened it. “Is Signor Leonardo Da Rossi returned?”

“No, signora,” he said. “He has not. It has been many months since we have seen him.”

“Then I need to speak with Signora Da Rossi,” I said.

“May I tell her who is calling?”

“You may. It is Angelo’s mother. I have come about my son.”

I waited, gasping for breath because I had run all the way, my heart still thumping in my chest.

He returned. “The signora is not available for visitors right now.”

“Rubbish!” I said and pushed past him before he could grab me. I had no idea where I might find anyone in a house this size. I blundered forward through a marble foyer, hearing the footman shouting after me.

A maid came out. “Where is Signora Da Rossi?”

“In her bedroom, signora, but she doesn’t . . .”

I was already running up the stairs. I opened one door, then another, and then found a bright, pretty room overlooking the Grand Canal. Bianca was sitting at her dressing table, applying her makeup. She spun around in horror as I barged in.

“What in God’s name?” she shouted. “Get out immediately.”

“Signora Da Rossi, I’m sorry to intrude like this, but I am—”

“I know who you are,” she said, eyeing me with cold distaste. “Believe me, I know all about you.”

“I have come for my son,” I said. “I won’t go without him. Where is he?”

With an almost triumphant look in her eyes, she said, “Your son is not here.”

“Your men took him. Francesca told me.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

The footman was now standing in the doorway. “Giovanni, have this madwoman removed. She is annoying me.”

“I am not leaving without my son. Do you want me to go to the police? They will search the house and find my child.”

This was an empty threat and she knew it.

“The only child in this house is the son of this family,” she said. “The heir. Angelo Da Rossi. Now please go before I have you thrown out.”

“Tell me one thing,” I said. “Did Leo order this?”

“Of course,” she said. “He left instructions before he went away. It’s what he always wanted. I just couldn’t be bothered to get around to it before. I have no interest in babies. But now that Leo is gone and might not come home, an heir is all-important for a family like this, is it not?”

“Might not come home? You’ve had news?”

“No news. That’s the point. He is missing. We have to accept that your precious Leo is probably dead. Now go. Get out of my sight and do not return. If I ever see you again, I shall delight in calling the police to tell them that we have captured an enemy alien.” She waved an impatient hand. “Please escort this woman to the door, Giovanni.”

A strong hand gripped my forearm, and I was led away. I was trying desperately to think of something—anything—to get to my son. But I realized it was hopeless. I had no proof he was mine. I had no right to be in this city. An enemy alien. Even if I managed to creep in and steal Angelo back, they would find me and arrest me, and I’d wind up in a camp.