I have discovered what my landlady thinks. Today was a holiday because of the feast day. I met up with Henry, who is becoming a real friend, and we walked around town watching people putting up Christmas decorations. There was a Christmas market being set up in the big Campo San Polo, selling tree ornaments of Murano glass, hand-carved wooden toys from Switzerland and Austria and lots of good sweets. I found myself feeling very homesick. Not that Christmas was an exciting festival at my house. We had a small tree, decorated with paper chains and glass balls. We went to midnight service at our church. We had a roast chicken for Christmas dinner, because a turkey was too big for the two of us. My mother made the Christmas pudding with silver threepenny pieces inside. We pulled crackers, put on paper hats and listened to the king’s speech on the radio. So little really, but now it meant everything to me.

I could still go home. The words crept into the back of my brain.

“It’s just beginning to sink in that I’ll be away for Christmas.” Henry had an uncanny way of echoing my thoughts.

“I know,” I agreed.

“I think you should go home, don’t you?” he said. “I’m even thinking I should go home, while there are still ships crossing the Atlantic. The Germans would not dare to torpedo an American liner, because it would bring the States into the war.”

“I am considering it,” I said.

“Go while you can. There doesn’t seem to be any real fighting in this part of Europe yet. Germany is still busy with Poland. But I bet you could still take a train across France. You’re still getting mail from back home, aren’t you?”

“I am.” I nodded agreement. “I got a letter from home the other day.”

It had been a particularly stern one from Aunt Hortensia. There isn’t a day goes by that your mother doesn’t worry about you, she wrote. I can’t understand why you are being so selfish and putting your own pleasure above the well-being of your dear mother. Venice may be a grand place to sit out a war at the moment, but what if you find yourself trapped behind enemy lines? What if you are taken prisoner? Your poor mother thinks of these things every day. It is especially hard for her with your dear sister stuck in India, expecting a baby any moment, and her husband now off somewhere with the British army. Please do be sensible and come home before it is too late.

Your affectionate aunt, Hortensia Marchmont