She found it an effort to eat even a single bite of the food, for the bread was dry and the jam was watery, and her throat closed in with her every reluctant swallow. Yet she managed to finish the entire slice of bread, and drink the rest of her cooled tisane, while her father and Niccolò talked of inanities such as the weather and the coming harvest.

She collected her empty plate and cup and set them in the sink, and then she turned to face Niccolò. “Must we . . . ?”

He nodded. “Yes. I don’t wish to hurry you, but—”

“But you must be on your way,” her father finished. “Why don’t you fetch your things, Antonina, while Signor Gerardi and I tidy up in here?”

Moving as dully as an automaton, Antonina went to her bedroom and collected the rucksack. The room was dim, for she hadn’t seen the point in opening the shutters; yet still she knew where everything belonged. Her little room was a treasure trove of memories, its contents so familiar and precious, and now she was leaving them all behind.

Too late. Too late.

Her father and Niccolò were waiting for her on the landing.

“Are you sure there isn’t time for me to see Mamma again?”

“No, my dear,” her father said, shaking his head regretfully. “It’s best that you go now.”

“But she will worry so. She will wonder where I’ve gone.”

“I know, but I will be there to comfort her. And no matter what happens, I will remain at her side. You must remember that.”

“Yes, Papà.”

“Then let me hold you tight for a moment, and when I see your lovely face again this madness will be over.” He embraced her, his arms crushing her tight against his chest, but then, far too soon, he pulled away. “Now go, while the sun is shining and you have the entire day before you.”

He set a final kiss on her brow, and then Niccolò’s hand was heavy upon her shoulder, turning her gently, and her body obeyed even as her head was insisting that she plant her feet and remain rooted in place.

“Go, now, my darling child, my dearest Nina. Do this for me,” her father begged, and as she had always been a dutiful girl, the most devoted of daughters, she knew she had to obey.

So she followed Niccolò down the stairs, out the door, and away from her home, her family, and the only life she had ever known or thought to lead. Away, away, and into the unknown.

Chapter 4

When they were only a few steps into their journey, Niccolò took her pack and slung it over his shoulder. Then he hurried them along, his hand at the small of her back, guiding her as they crossed the small bridge at the end of the calle and turned onto the Fondamenta dei Ormesini.