“Yes. My aunt Hortensia. She did say her Austrian maid had left her to go home and it was impossible to find servants these days,” I said hesitantly.

“Well, there you are. Perfect solution. Invite your aunt to stay while you are away.”

It did seem to be a perfect solution. Aunt Hortensia still had a small private income, although not the fortune she once owned, and my mother wouldn’t be alone. And Venice was not the ends of the Earth. If she needed me or fell ill, I could catch the next train home.

And so I accepted. Aunt Hortensia agreed with enthusiasm to come and stay. I wrote to the Accademia di Belle Arti—that same academy to which I had taken the girls only a year ago, where I had seen that group of students entering, laughing together without a care in the world. Would I fit in with such a crowd? I realized I was not eighteen again. I was almost thirty. I no longer had their hopeful belief that life would be full of opportunity.

I sent the academy a selection of my artwork and was accepted as a visiting overseas student. This meant I could take classes without being subject to the usual grades and exams.

To say Mummy was not too happy about the whole thing was an understatement. She was most distressed about it.

“A whole year away? What about me?”

During the years after Daddy’s death, she had come to rely on me heavily. She had never been an outgoing and confident person in the first place, and for years her life had been reduced to taking care of her husband and daughters, going to church and being part of the altar guild.

“You will have Aunt Hortensia to keep you company. And Mrs Bradley to keep the house looking nice.”

“But this is so irresponsible,” she said. “Why on earth would you need to study any more art? They seem to think you are competent enough to teach at the school.”

“Mummy, it’s a wonderful chance for me. You should be happy.”

“Happy?” Her voice had risen to the point where she usually broke down in hysterics. “Out there amongst foreigners for a year? You—with no experience of the world. How will you cope? You’ve always lived at home. Had me to take care of you.”

This was not strictly true, and I’d been taking care of her for a long time. “I’ll cope.”

“What will happen if Hitler decides to declare war? The whole world is in a state of chaos,” she said. “That Mussolini is almost as bad. Didn’t he just invade Abyssinia?”

“That’s far away in Africa, Mummy. A colony. He’s just colonizing, the way Britain and France have done for ages. And if war breaks out, I’ll come home, of course,” I said.