The Venice Sketchbook(108)

“On your way, then.” The German waved us on.

I let out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank you. That was quick of you.”

“I don’t want any German to get his hands on a nice Venetian girl,” he said.

I felt a surge of pride. My accent was now flawless. I could pass as a Venetian.

I was dropped off at a small, out of the way jetty. “Not near their filthy camp,” he said, “and you take care of yourself.”

I hurried to the villa. I knocked, but nobody came to the door. I went around to the garden at the back, rapping on the glass of the conservatory. A growing dread gripped me. What if the place had been taken over by Germans? Where was the contessa? And Hanni?

“Umberto!” I called through the door. “Sono io! It is I. Julietta. Let me in.”

I waited. Nobody came. I tried all the doors and at last I found a window half open. I crawled into the house.

“Contessa?” I called. “Umberto?”

I went from room to room. Everything was in its usual place—a newspaper on the table, a glass of lemonade half drunk. I checked the kitchen, the servant’s quarters. No sign of life. Then slowly I went up the stairs.

It’s all right, I told myself. She had to leave in a hurry. She’s gone away. Somewhere safe. Taken Hanni with her. No time to let me know.

I pushed open one bedroom door after another. There was no sign of clothing having been packed. A robe still lay across a silk counterpane. Then I opened another door to a smaller bedroom. I was about to leave when something moved. I jumped, terrified.

“Who’s there?” I demanded.

“Julietta?” whispered a small voice.

“Hanni?”

She crawled out from under a bed, her eyes wide with fear. “Oh, Julietta. You’ve come.”

And she flung herself into my arms.

“My darling. What happened? Where is the contessa?”

“They came,” she said. “Nazi soldiers. They took her away. She saw them outside and told me to go and hide. I didn’t know what to do or where to go.”

“What happened to Umberto?”

“I don’t know. He went. When I came downstairs, there was nobody.” She was crying now. “They took her. Where did they take her?”

“It must have been to one of those camps for Jewish people they’ve built on the Lido.” I put an arm around her. “Don’t worry. The contessa is a powerful woman. She’s well respected in this city. They will let her go quickly. And until then, I’ll take care of you, Hanni. I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll take you back with me. You can hide out in my flat until the Allies get here and the horrible Nazis are driven out.”

She took my hand and gazed up at me with such gratitude in her eyes that I felt myself tearing up and a great welling of tenderness.

“I’m so glad you are here, Julietta.”

I wrapped her into my arms. “Don’t worry, my darling. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”

We were just coming down the stairs when we heard the sound of the front door opening. I motioned to Hanni. “Run and hide again and don’t come down until I tell you,” I whispered.

I took a deep breath and strode confidently down the stairs, only to see Vittorio coming in through the front door.

He stopped, surprised to see me. “Julietta. What are you doing here?”

“Oh hello, Vittorio,” I said in my breeziest voice. “I came to call on the contessa, but I see she’s not here. Nobody’s home. I suppose they must have gone out to the country.”

“Yes,” he said. “That must be right. I was wondering about the child—the Austrian Jew. Did she take her, do you know?”

“Obviously,” I said. “She wouldn’t go away and leave a little girl alone, would she? She adores that child.”

“You’re sure the girl is not still here?” He was looking around.

“Quite sure,” I said. “I’ve been all over the house. And as I just said, I’m sure the contessa wouldn’t just leave her behind.”

I moved so I was standing at the bottom of the staircase in case he decided to go and look for himself, although why there was this interest in Hanni I could not imagine. I tried to keep my voice calm and pleasant. “Do you happen to know the address of these friends in the country that she talked about? The Salvis? Over in Tuscany, wasn’t it? Cortona?”

“Yes,” he said, “I think that was it.” His eyes were scanning the place as he talked.

“But you don’t know the address?”

“It might be in her desk, unless she has taken her address book,” he said. “Do you want me to look for you?”

“I can look,” I said. “I don’t want to hold you up. I suppose I’ll just have to go back to the city and wait until she comes back. I’ll miss her and my weekly visits.”

He nodded. I wasn’t going to leave, and neither was he.

“Was there something you wanted?” I asked. “Something I can help you with?”

He frowned. “She asked me to take some of her more valuable artwork for safekeeping to my gallery. I thought this might be a good time.”

“Good idea,” I said. “I’ve heard what these Nazis are like—looting treasures wherever they go.”