“And are you happy that Germany has invaded your country?” Imelda challenged.

“We are all Germans. We are glad the trams now run on schedule,” he said with a little smile. “I do not think that life is very different for the average Austrian.”

“Only for Austrian Jews,” the American said. I was surprised he had understood enough of the conversation to contribute.

“Children, let us not argue in our first meeting,” Gaston said. “Let us be a small League of Nations, yes?”

“Agreed. Good idea. I’m all in favour of that.” The American nodded fiercely.

“And what is your name?” Imelda asked him.

“Henry Dabney. From Boston,” he said, holding out his hand to her before he turned to me. “And really glad to see there’s someone else here who speaks English. My Italian is so bad. I took a crash course, but I’ve forgotten everything I’ve learned.”

“You’ll soon become more fluent when you have to speak the language every day,” I said.

“How is it that you speak it quite well?” Gaston asked. “In my experience, the British are hopeless at languages. Have you lived here before?”

“No, only visited. But I have been studying at home in the hope of returning here.” I paused, feeling them eyeing me with interest. “I had to interrupt my art studies when my father died, so I have been teaching at a girls’ school and was given the chance to spend a year in Europe. So I have taken that chance, even if we do live under the threat of war.”

“Oh, I don’t think war will break out here for a while,” the Frenchman said. “I hear that Mussolini has set his timetable for conquering the Mediterranean. He does not think he will be ready for at least a couple of years.”

“He wants to conquer the Mediterranean?” Henry asked. “A new Roman empire?”

“Exactly,” the Frenchman said. “He thinks the islands should belong to Italy, so he will work his way through them. First Crete, then Cyprus, then Malta. He’d really like Malta, but the British own it and they intend to keep it.” He looked back at me. “But as I say, he needs to build up his supply of armaments first, and train an army that can fight against harder targets than a few Abyssinian tribesmen with no guns.”

The Spanish girl shook her head. “He has been boasting so much about that victory. Have you heard him? ‘Our great success is just the start of capturing the whole African continent.’ He really does have big ideas. And all those poor boys called up into the army. None of them want to fight. What Italian enjoys fighting, eh? Like the French, they enjoy making love more.” And her eyes challenged Gaston again.