We finished eating and made our way back to the accademia, where the first person we saw was Professor Corsetti.

“The very people I wanted to see,” he exclaimed. “I have instructions from my wife. She wants to hold a dinner party to welcome you back after the holiday, despite our dire situation. Is Sunday acceptable? And my wife is intent on serving shellfish. You can all eat it?”

“That is fine. I love all the seafood here,” I said.

The others nodded.

“Your wife is a good cook,” Gaston said. “I am sure anything she prepares will be delicious.”

“Flatterer,” Imelda muttered as we parted company with the professor.

Gaston smiled. “How else am I going to get a passing mark in his class? I don’t think I am destined to be Picasso or Miró .”

“I agree,” I said. “It does not come naturally to me to distort reality.”

“I’ve noticed that,” Gaston replied. “Your nude drawings are very attentive to detail.”

“Be quiet.” I slapped him with my notebook, laughing.

At that moment it dawned on me that I had not had a chance to behave like this for years. To be free, to tease, to laugh and, as I began to realize, to love. Now I would be going back to the grim reality of a war, to danger, deprivation, maybe even a German invasion.

“My last days,” I whispered to myself as we went up the stairs to our class.

Sunday September 10, 1939

This evening we went to dinner at Professor Corsetti’s. I agreed to meet Henry at the traghetti dock so that he didn’t get lost this time.

“When are you leaving?” he asked.

I sighed. “I don’t know. I had a letter from my mother today, telling me to come home immediately. I should probably go before the end of the month, but I tell myself I have paid my landlady for September and it’s quite possible that the war will stay in Eastern Europe. I don’t think Britain is prepared to do anything too dramatic yet.”

We walked on in companionable silence. He was a nice boy, I thought. Too young for me, of course. But it was pleasant to have the companionship of a male. I hadn’t seen Leo, although he must have returned from his villa by now. At least going home would cease the fantasy of being with him.

There was a bigger group this time at the professor’s house. Gaston was not present, but Imelda and Franz were both there, along with two girls I hadn’t met before. These were introduced as Lucrecia and Maria, new students from Sicily. They looked painfully shy and clung together, giving one-word answers to questions put to them.

The contessa greeted me warmly. “How I have been missing you,” she said.