“It is the least I could do.”

Suddenly there was a loud banging behind us, and another group of children appeared in the alleyway. Leo laughed and retrieved coins from his pocket. They must have been generous coins, because the children went away singing loudly with smiles on their faces. But I stood still, trying to come to terms with what had just happened. At the banging noise, I had felt a twitch in my stomach. I had slipped my hand inside my coat and there it was again—a tiny tapping against my hand. My baby was alive, and I could feel its kick. This changed everything and made it real.

“What’s wrong?” Leo asked.

“Nothing,” I replied, smiling. “I just felt the baby move for the first time.”

“Really? Let me.” He didn’t seem to care that we were on a street. He slipped his hand inside my coat, and I directed it to the right spot. The baby obliged by another fluttering movement. A look of delighted amazement came over Leo. “It’s real . . .” His eyes said everything.

November 12

Today I summoned all my courage and went to the contessa’s soirée to meet the famous artist Paul Klee. Imelda had said she wasn’t interested and didn’t like Paul Klee’s work. I think the truth was that she had met a handsome Italian student and seemed to be spending more time with him now that Gaston had gone home. But Henry, dear sweet Henry, had said he’d like to come. We had been spending more time together in the last weeks. I think he was also now beginning to experience homesickness and worry about the possible spectre of war overtaking us so far from home. It was a mental relief for me to have a conversation in English.

My first shock was that my long dress was now too tight for me. I would have to see if it could be altered. But I couldn’t go in a tea dress! Then I decided that I could hold the gap together with safety pins and make sure I wore my fringed shawl, suitably draped. I met Henry, and we rode to the Lido together in the vaporetto. I was praying that Leo’s father was not there and more especially that Leo would not come in the launch to pick him up. Both prayers were granted. Professor Corsetti and two other professors from the accademia were present, as was the British consul, Mr Sinclair, and the jolly priest, Father Trevisan. Vittorio was naturally there, hovering protectively near the contessa. Paul Klee spoke little Italian and seemed rather withdrawn, but the contessa, with her usual charm, managed to bring him out of his shell. His English was better, and I found myself speaking to him, along with Henry and the consul.