Today, we have a very full schedule and I am eager to get started. I dress as quickly as possible and head downstairs. In the kitchen Lili is frying bacon and Ben leans against the counter, drinking a cup of coffee. When I enter the room, he looks up and a smile lights up his face for a second before he gets himself under control. Lili glances between us, a knowing look in her eyes.

“Good morning,” she says, flipping the bacon expertly. The smell of it sizzling in the pan, mixing with the scent of freshly ground coffee, is absolute heaven and I place my hand over my stomach as it starts to rumble.

A deep, growling snore arises from one of the sofas and I look over to find a large, scruffy man who I don’t know is sound asleep there. His legs are sprawled out, crossed at the ankles, and he still has his boots on.

“Don’t mind Boris,” Lili grunts. “He could sleep through anything. I do find most of these anarchists are actually quite lazy when they’re not rabble-rousing.”

“Is it usual for there to be an anarchist asleep on the sofa in the morning?” I ask.

“It is in this house,” Ben says.

“Boris is a harmless dear,” Lili says, cracking eggs into the pan with one hand and making the fat spit furiously. “He hasn’t recovered from the Arditi being broken up.” The Arditi were the anti-fascist organization – I know that much. “God knows, he is right to be frightened.”

“You think Mussolini is dangerous?” I ask. I take a sip of my coffee, leaning against the counter, my arm pressed lightly against Ben’s.

Lili starts flipping the bacon and eggs on to plates. “Look at those young kids out there,” she says. “Head to toe in black and that fanatical gleam in their eye, committing violence in the name of a charming dictator.” She shakes her head. “You tell me that’s heading anywhere good. Nationalism is like a sickness.” Lili hands me my plate. “Italy first, Mussolini says, let’s rebuild the Roman Empire, and they look at him and they see hope for the future, but everyone seems to forget that the Roman Empire was built out of blood and bones.”

And right now, my uncle might be drinking tea with him for all I know. I catch Ben’s eye and I know that he’s thinking the same.

“A lot of people think he’s charming,” he says with an easy shrug. I’m struck again by how little these things seem to touch him. Lili’s anger is palpable, but Ben is relaxed, already more interested in the breakfast that he’s been handed.

“I suppose it’s the same in England,” I say. “Lots of my parents’ friends seem quite interested in the BUF.”

“That’s the British Union of Fascists?” Ben’s brow crinkles.