I have kept Hanni hidden up in the flat. In truth I hardly go outside myself. I told Francesca that she was the granddaughter of a fisherman I had met and he wanted her safe in the city away from the Nazis. Francesca, not being overly endowed with curiosity, seemed to accept this with no problem. I told Hanni to talk as little as possible so that Francesca did not hear the difference in accent. I didn’t think she would notice, but one couldn’t be too careful.

October 18

Life is becoming increasingly difficult. Germans patrol the streets. There are no more deliveries of coal. I thank God and the consul for my little electric fire, which keeps the bedroom warm. Also that the electricity remains on at least part of every day. When it is on, I heat hot water bottles and put them into my bed for the night. Food has also started to become a problem. Without the contessa’s produce, we are using the last of my backup supplies—pasta and beans like the rest of the city.

After Hanni had been with me for two weeks, I dared to make a trip to the contessa’s villa. The fact that she hadn’t returned convinced me that she was now in a camp. The walls had been stripped of paintings, but the larder had not been raided. I went around the garden and picked some late greens and early lemons. I came back with as many supplies as I could carry. That night Hanni and I had a feast of ham and spinach and chocolate biscuits. I opened our last bottle of wine. I remember it clearly, every minute of it. I think it was the last time I experienced happiness.

October 19

The next day a note arrived for me, pushed under my door. I had no idea who delivered it. It said, MEET ME. MY TREE. 8 PM. TUES.

That was all. Unsigned. Printed. But it had to be Leo. Who else could it be? Unless it was a trap. How could he be here, after all this time? And yet who else would mention a special tree, a hiding place? And so at seven thirty I set out, walking over the Accademia Bridge, behind St Mark’s to the Giardini. I passed very few people along the way. Now that the city was patrolled by Germans, it was not wise to be caught out in the streets. But I knew the city well enough to avoid the bigger streets that soldiers might frequent. It was a long walk, and I was breathless by the time I entered the darkness of the gardens. Trees and bushes loomed, looking menacing in the occasional lamplight. There were piles of damp leaves underfoot. At least it wasn’t raining. That was one blessing.