From that day on, the news only got worse. Toward the end of the month we learned that the British troops were being driven back, destroyed, overrun, and were retreating to the coast, where they were trapped on the beaches, waiting to be picked off by German bombs and guns. And then a miracle: thousands of small boats came out from England to a place called Dunkirk and brought the troops home. I wept as I read the account in the newspaper. It seemed only a matter of time before Germany invaded England, and I was glad that I had chosen to remain here, although I worried about my mother. I had not heard from them in months. I hoped that nobody would bother with two old ladies. They’d be safe enough, even if England was under German rule.

June 10

Today everything changed. Italy has announced it is joining Germany in the war against the Allies. I am now an enemy alien. I wonder what that will mean? Surely nothing much in a place like Venice. And I do have friends in high places. The irony is that our newspapers are full of news about the successful first month of the Biennale. One has to admire the Venetians to hold an international art exhibition as if nothing in the world has changed. I decided I’d visit it when I was feeling a little stronger. I needed to be reminded that somewhere in this world there was still an appreciation of beauty and the things that matter.

This afternoon I was taking an afternoon nap after Francesca had gone home when there was a tap at the door. Probably not Leo, as he usually came in without knocking. I got up, pulled on my robe and went to the door. I was surprised to find Mr Sinclair, the British consul.

“I do apologize for this visit, Miss Browning,” he said. “I can see that I’ve come at a bad time. You are unwell?”

“No, just taking a nap,” I replied, ushering him into the room. “You might have heard that I had a baby recently.”

He nodded gravely. “Yes, I did hear. It must be a difficult situation for you now that Italy has entered the war. You could still go to Switzerland, I presume, or take a ship from Marseilles?”

“I’m not sure why I’d want to go home if we’re about to be invaded,” I said.