He went to touch me, then obviously thought better of it. “Juliet, I worry about you stuck here on your own. I know there’s not much sign of war at this moment, but what if it comes? What if you’d like to get home but you can’t?”

I sighed. “I know, Henry. I worry about it, too. But I can’t go home until the baby is born, and then I’m just praying that I can get across France.”

“So come with me now. You know, if you find you don’t like me that much, you can always divorce me later. They do it all the time in the US.”

I took his hands and held them in mine. “You are possibly the sweetest person I have met in my whole life, and I appreciate you so much. The moment you’ve gone I’ll be kicking myself that I’ve been so stupid to let you go. But I just can’t do it to you.”

“Okay. If that’s what you really feel.” He sighed. “I’d better get going. I have a lot of packing to do. My father’s booked me on a ship sailing out of Genoa in three days.”

“Have a safe journey, Henry.” I stood up and kissed him on the cheek. His arms came around me, and he hugged me tightly. “Take care of yourself, okay?” Then he made for the door, and I heard his feet clomping down the stairs.

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 36

Juliet, Venice, April 9, 1940

Time just seems to have passed in a blur. There has been little mention of war on the radio. Italy is still in Abyssinia and has now annexed Albania, but Hitler has not made any move towards Western Europe. On the home front I have made progress with my painting. It seems that my pregnancy has unleashed a wave of creativity, and I want to paint all the time. Even Professor Corsetti said nice things about a nude I did in the style of Salvador Dalí . Henry’s departure was followed by a spell of glorious spring weather. Flowers bloomed in window boxes and in the various gardens. The air smelled of perfume. People came out in light clothing and sat on walls enjoying the sunshine.

It seems strange to admit this, but most of the time I forgot about the baby. Apart from the increasing difficulty in negotiating the stairs, or being woken by a vigorous kick at night, it was as if it didn’t exist. Easter has come and gone. Leo has been away a lot, apparently inspecting boatyards in other places for his father-in-law. So my life has been lonely but not unpleasant. Francesca and I can now understand each other. I’m pleased to think that I can now speak rudimentary Venetian in addition to my now fluent Italian. I actually dream in the language.