The Venice Sketchbook(111)

“I will, amore mio .”

He kissed me again. Twigs scratched me as I scrambled out of the bushes. I felt my cheek bleeding, or was it a tear trickling down? I don’t know.

I made my way back to my flat. On the way I heard Germans singing in a bar—a coarse drinking song and lots of laughter. More than once I had to slip into a doorway and once into an open church until a patrol had passed. The Accademia Bridge was the worst because it was so exposed. But I walked across as if I belonged there, and nobody stopped me. Hanni was already sleeping peacefully when I arrived home, breathless and with heart beating rapidly. How I envied the young and their ability to adapt. I hurriedly packed a few things into a rucksack. I couldn’t risk taking a suitcase with me. Too obvious. Besides, there was not much that was precious to me. Leo’s ring was on my finger. I took out my British passport, money, the keys to my bank vault and my flat and the secret drawer in my desk. The drawings should stay safely hidden, along with the diary I had kept for so long, until I could return for them, after this nonsense had ended. But I did take the one painting of Angelo I had finished. It was a small oil painting in the Renaissance style of Angelo as a cherub. I removed the canvas from its frame and wrapped it around my toothbrush holder, tying it with a ribbon.

Then I ate a good meal, packed some bread, cheese and fruit for our journey and climbed into bed beside Hanni. Of course sleep wouldn’t come. I kept thinking about Leo. Would he get away safely? Could he make it back to the Allies? Would I ever see him again?

October 20

At first light I woke Hanni and told her of our plan. I left a note for Francesca, along with some money, telling her to help herself to our supplies and that I hoped to be back someday. We ate our last eggs for breakfast, and then we set off. As we walked I instructed Hanni to remember at all times that she was my little sister and we were going to see our grandmother in Stresa. Lake Maggiore. Mountains.

“You know all about lakes and mountains, don’t you?” I asked.

She nodded, her face lighting up in a smile. “Every winter we went skiing at Kitzbü hel. And in the summer we went up to our little house in the Vienna Woods. It was so beautiful.”

“It will be beautiful where we are going, too,” I said. “You’ll love it. Good mountain air.”

We reached the station. A train for Milan was leaving in an hour. From there it would be a short journey on a local train to Stresa. The train arrived. We boarded. Nobody questioned us. In the carriage was an older couple and a priest. We chatted. I told them about my grandmother.

“Your little sister is very shy,” the man said when Hanni only answered in monosyllables.

“I’m afraid this German invasion has terrified her,” I said.

“I don’t blame her. I can’t wait to get away,” the wife said. “Our cousin lives on a farm in Lombardy. We wanted to be out of the city.”

The priest said nothing.

We pulled into Milan with no incidents. The beautiful big station with its gleaming marble floors and new murals was a treat to the eye, and almost empty, apart from German soldiers lounging in corners, guarding exits. I checked the board. A local train that would call at Stresa was leaving in twenty minutes. I couldn’t believe our luck. We headed for the platform. The train was there. A few people were already boarding.

“Just a minute, Fr?ulein,” a voice behind me said. I turned to see two German soldiers behind me. “Your pass, please?” he asked in Italian.

“I have a letter,” I said. “It is stamped by the authorities, and I am told it is all I need. I go to visit my grandmother in my hometown. She is not expected to live.”

He scanned the letter. “And this child?”

“Is my little sister.”

“The letter does not mention her.”

“That is because originally she was going to stay with my aunt. But then she changed her mind. She does not want to leave my side.”

“You will come with me, please,” he said.

“But my train leaves in a few minutes. Who knows when there might be another one?”

“You will come with me.”

I had no choice. We were marched to an office behind the platforms. A man was sitting at a desk, not a soldier but in a black uniform.

“And what do we have here?” he asked.

I handed him my letter and told him about my grandmother and my sister.

“Take the child away,” he said brusquely. I didn’t understand German, but I got the gist, especially from Hanni’s horrified intake of breath. Hands snatched her from me.

“No, please,” I begged. “She is so afraid without me.”

“No, Julietta!” she begged as she was taken from the room.

“You must think me very stupid, Fr? ulein,” he said. “I can smell a Jew a mile away. And you, I am sure, are not Jewish. Lucky for you. But my Italian is not so good. Shall we revert to a more familiar language? I happen to speak English quite well.”

I suppose my face must have registered my shock because he laughed. “Oh yes. We know all about you, dear English lady. Your housekeeper told us you had left. We searched your dwelling, and we found the radio. A rather primitive device no longer of any use, of course, but a valiant attempt. So please take a seat. We have a few questions we want to ask you.”

I was glad he said that because my legs wouldn’t have held me up much longer.