“How can we sort things out?” I said, hearing my voice tremble a little. “I’m an enemy alien, aren’t I? I’m supposed to be in a camp.”

“Then you really must go to Switzerland right away,” he said.

“I can’t leave Angelo. I really can’t.”

“Cara.” He touched me gently. “The longer you hold on to him, the harder it will be. I want your safety, and that of my son.”

He went, leaving me feeling nervous and near despair. I gazed down at Angelo as I nursed him, and he sucked lustily, his chubby hand resting on my breast. He will be all right whatever happens, I thought. But what if I was taken to a prison camp? When would I realize I had to leave? Was it too selfish of me to hang on here as long as possible?

I didn’t see Leo for two more days. I stayed home, looking anxiously out of the window. A delivery was made from the consul with boxes full of wonderful and necessary items: tins of fruit, tomato paste, sardines, bags of dried beans and pasta, coffee, tea, wine, olive oil, and several fluffy blankets plus the incredible electric fire. I nearly wept with gratitude and shared some with Francesca, who was equally grateful. Then Leo came back, looking rather pleased with himself.

“All is well,” he said. “I had a little talk with my father. A useful man to know. Fortunately someone in city government owed him a favour, so here is your identity card and here is your ration card.”

He placed them on the table. I picked them up and looked at them. “Giuliana Alietti?” I asked.

“Used to work for us but recently died, unfortunately. Her husband had just turned in her cards. It seemed like a pity to waste them. The photograph is not unlike you. But still, proceed with caution. I’m sure there is a rumour in this neighbourhood that you are a foreigner. And there will be the odd person who hopes to be paid for information. But as long as I am here, all you need to say is ‘I am in the employ of the Count Da Rossi.’ That should suffice.”

“I hope so,” I said.

He went over to Angelo’s crib. The baby was awake and looked up at him with unblinking eyes.

“I think he is getting your auburn hair,” Leo said, glancing up at me. “And maybe your blue eyes? They don’t seem to be brown.”

“All babies have blue eyes, so I’m told by Francesca, who knows everything,” I replied. “They change to the real eye colour at a few months.”

“Good. I hope he will look like you,” Leo said. “That way I will remember you all my life.”

I didn’t know how to answer that, but my heart ached.

July 21, 1940