The Venice Sketchbook(113)

He rushed over to the barbed wire. He looked thinner than I remembered, his face gaunt and bony. “Julietta, what are you doing here?”

“I was betrayed,” I said. “Someone told the Germans that I was not who I claimed to be and that I was escorting a Jewish child.”

I didn’t want to say that the someone was Francesca. I had always treated her with great kindness and assumed she was fond of me. Perhaps she had been paid for information. Perhaps her dislike of the Jews had pushed her over the edge, or the fact that I was leaving, which meant she would no longer be paid. I don’t know what makes people act badly in time of war.

“This is terrible. We must get you out,” he said.

I had to laugh. “You’re in a fine position to talk. Were you caught going back to the Allies?”

“I, too, was betrayed,” he said. “But I am hopeful that I shall be released when my family learns of my plight. My father is unfortunately no longer in favour, but my father-in-law has prospered and has learned to work with the Germans. We’ll just have to see how fond he is of his only son-in-law.”

“No talking!” A guard was striding in our direction, waving a gun in menacing fashion. “Move away from the fence, both of you.” He reached Leo. “This is no time to flirt with young women.”

“I am not flirting,” Leo said. “This woman is the love of my life, the mother of my child. Do you begrudge us a few minutes together when we are doing no harm?”

There is one thing that Italians prize, and that is family. I saw his expression soften.

“You have a bambino?” he asked me.

I nodded. “His name is Angelo. He’s almost four.”

“Very well,” the guard said. “When I am on duty, you can meet behind that guard tower in the corner. But only when I am on duty, understand?”

“Thank you,” I said.

“You’re a good fellow,” Leo added. “Too good for a position like this.”

“I had to feed the family. They were starving,” he said. “We have a farm. The Germans took away all our livestock and our olive oil. Cursed Germans.” And he spat. Then he looked around. “Only don’t tell anyone I said that.”

We had an ally. We met several more times, then Leo came to the fence with an excited smile on his face. “Here, take this,” he said. He handed me an envelope.

“What is it? A love letter?”

“No. It’s your ticket to freedom. My father-in-law has come through. It is a pass ordering my release. I’m giving it to you.”

“Don’t be silly,” I said. “I can’t take your pass, even if I could. Presumably it’s in your name.”

“No. It says the bearer . You are now the bearer. Show it to the camp commander, and you’ll be out of here.”

“But what about you? I’m not leaving you behind.”

“You won’t. I’ve already written to my father-in-law saying that a spiteful guard ripped up the first pass, so could he send another in a hurry. I should be out by the end of the week.”

I stared down at the envelope in my hand.

“Go on,” he said. “Go now. You’ll have time to make it to Stresa by nightfall, and then you’ll negotiate for a boat—if they give you your possessions back, which they are supposed to do. My father-in-law’s name is Antongiovani, in case you need to use it. A good friend of German high command in Italy.”

“Leo.” Still I hesitated. “I can’t leave you.”

“I’m not using the pass while you are still here,” he said. “Do you want us both to die of cold and disease because of your stubbornness?” His voice softened. “Please go. I’ve given you enough pain in life. Let me at least do this for you.”

“You have not given me pain. You have given me more happiness than you can ever know. Angelo was the best thing that ever happened to me. And you—I can’t tell you how much having you in my life has meant to me.”

He reached a hand through the barbed wire. “You are the love of my life. I will find you, I promise, wherever you are. And after the war we will go somewhere together—Australia, America—and make a new and happy life.”

I reached my own hand through and our fingertips just touched.

“And Angelo?”

“I’m afraid we must leave him where he is. He is, after all, the heir. There must always be an heir, and if I desert my post, it is up to my son. But you and I, we will have more children, won’t we?”

“Oh yes,” I said.

“I won’t say goodbye, amore mio. I will say arrivederci, au revoir, auf Wiedersehen . . . until we meet again. Stay strong. My love goes with you.”

He mouthed a kiss. I mouthed one back. His fingertips brushed mine one last time. Then I turned and walked away.

Switzerland, November 21

I made it to Stresa with no problem, but I couldn’t find a boatman willing to risk his life for me. I had decided I would have to make my way to Switzerland through the mountains on foot. A daunting prospect. But then there was a rainstorm. Everyone was sheltering behind closed shutters. I dared to steal a rowboat and set off as the rain pounded down on me. I rowed all night, until my hands were blistered, and at first light I sheltered under a willow tree. Luck was with me. It kept raining, so there was very little traffic on the lake. I kept baling out the boat and rowing, and on the third morning I saw the sun gleaming on snowy peaks ahead of me. I had reached the head of Lake Maggiore. I was in Switzerland.