Tuscan Rose (49 page)

She handed her coat and scarf to the coat-check girl as well as the overnight bag she had brought with her. She straightened her
dress before entering the restaurant. It featured padded shoulders and a wraparound bodice, and it was simple and elegant: the kind of dress she might have worn before the war. Rosa had the sense she was slipping into a snake pit when she saw the number of SS officers and fascist officials seated in the restaurant. She had styled her hair so that a curl hid one side of her face in case she needed to turn away if she saw someone she knew. The women in the restaurant were mostly the diamond-clad German mistresses of the high command, but she did see one Italian woman feeding a German officer a fig. Rosa lifted her chin and did her best to hide her disgust. Not all Germans were bad people; she understood human nature well enough to know that. But all Germans were the enemy, and anyone who took one as a friend or a lover was a traitor as far as Rosa was concerned. Besides this, the SS officers were the worst of the worst. Rosa was surprised a partisan hadn’t finished them off with a bomb thrown in the window one evening. But perhaps the thought of the reprisals the townspeople would suffer deterred them from action.

Orietta was sitting in a booth by the window with a man in a silk suit. She had chosen the most conspicuous spot in the restaurant for anyone passing by, but Rosa guessed that she had her reasons.

‘My darling sister,’ she said, rising to greet Rosa. ‘I hope it wasn’t too arduous for you to travel at night? I was worried the bus would be shot at or bombed if you travelled during the day.’

Rosa returned Orietta’s embrace. ‘Not at all,’ she said, playing her part. ‘I’m so happy to see you.’

‘This is Emanuele,’ said Orietta, introducing the man. ‘He’s been very keen to meet you.’

Emanuele was in his late thirties with a receding hairline and large, wide-set eyes. Rosa’s heart dropped when she saw the fascist insignia on his lapel until she realised it was only for appearance. He rose from his chair to greet her and took her hand.

‘I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Signorina Gervasi,’ he said, using Rosa’s undercover name.

Rosa, Orietta and Emanuele sat down and made fictional chitchat about mothers and fathers, aunts and uncles who didn’t exist. Orietta introduced Emanuele as a banker. Rosa wondered what he really did. He spoke with a slight lisp. Rosa was intrigued by the gold-and-ruby signet ring on his finger. He had smooth skin and good teeth. He didn’t look like someone who was starving through the war, but perhaps that evening none of them did. Orietta was wearing a silk taffeta dress with a sweetheart neckline and looked the part of a wealthy young woman. Her code name in the Flock was the Canary.

The waiter brought them the dinner menus. Rosa had not seen so much food in years. The prices were black market but the variety was plentiful. She chose the carrot soup and the
tortelli di patate
, which was the speciality of the town. She thought it was sufficient to look like a healthy, feminine appetite without spending too much of the Flock’s hard-won funds. Orietta also ate elegantly but modestly while Emanuele tucked into the beefsteak, the most outrageously expensive item on the menu, with gusto. Rosa wondered if it was what he thought necessary to keep his cover. Luciano had said that the best resistance work was done right under the enemy’s nose.

When they were ready for dessert, the waiter returned with the menu. Rosa was dismayed when she saw all that was available were peach dishes: baked peaches, peaches in wine, peach cake and peach custard.

‘The chef apologises,’ explained the waiter. ‘But all we have is tinned peaches.’

Before the war, there was nothing Rosa enjoyed more than to eat a peach picked straight from the tree. She loved the bright colour, the fragrant smell, the soft, moist flesh. She even liked tinned peaches in winter. But the standard Allied food drop to the partisans always included tinned peaches and eating the slimy, half-frozen fruit from the can in winter had nearly turned Rosa off them for life. But to maintain appearances she chose the baked peaches.

During dessert, more small talk ensued. Rosa was careful not to look around the room. She didn’t want to catch anybody’s eye and raise interest in herself. She continued to be intrigued by Emanuele. His manner was smooth, yet there was something about him that made her uneasy. But then, Rosa had to allow they were in the midst of the enemy. It would be difficult for even the most levelheaded person to remain completely at ease.

Emanuele paid the bill and excused himself to go to the men’s room. Rosa took out her compact and powdered her nose. Her heart skipped a beat. She saw the Marchesa Scarfiotti in the mirror’s reflection. She was leaving the private dining room with a fascist officer and they were heading towards the coat-check. Rosa was out of their direct view, but then an official car pulled up outside the restaurant and in a moment the Marchesa and her companion would pass by the window to reach it. Rosa dropped her bag as an excuse to hide herself. A comb slid under the table. She fumbled around on the floor, pretending to be searching for it. Her hands were trembling.

‘Can I help you, signorina?’ asked the waiter.

‘It’s all right,’ said Rosa, holding up the comb. ‘I’ve found it.’

She straightened when the car outside the window pulled away. Orietta had sensed something was wrong but Rosa communicated with her eyes that the danger was gone. Yet somehow it wasn’t. The sight of the Marchesa had caused a queasy feeling in Rosa’s stomach that wasn’t the result of over-eating. It was because of what she knew was going on at the Villa Scarfiotti, but was powerless to stop.

It had been arranged for Rosa and Orietta to stay in a hotel overnight and for them to part publicly at the bus station before daybreak the following morning. Emanuele walked them to the hotel, then bade them goodnight before continuing to his own accommodation.

The hotel room wasn’t heated but its floral wallpaper and overstuffed furniture were homely. Orietta checked for listening devices and found nothing. But the walls were thin and the women
spoke softly to each other. Despite the chill, Rosa washed herself in the bath with lukewarm water. She had not slept in a proper bed for months and the clean sheets and the soft pillows were luxuries to her. Orietta climbed into the same bed with Rosa; it was the only way to keep warm. The women intertwined their feet together.

‘You’ve got to enjoy comfort when you’ve got it,’ said Orietta, fluffing her pillow and looking up at the ceiling. ‘That’s what I’ve learnt. I seem to do most of my sleeping on crowded trains these days.’

Rosa turned to her. ‘Who is Emanuele? Am I allowed to ask?’

Orietta shook her head. ‘Honestly, the less you know about anyone the better it is for you and the network. He’s been working for the partisans since September and has proved himself to be very clever. His only weakness is that he loves the high life and isn’t good at depriving himself if the occasion calls for it.’

‘I noticed that,’ said Rosa.

‘Now,’ said Orietta, rubbing Rosa’s frozen hands, ‘tell me how Luciano is faring and how things are in the mountains.’

Rosa told Orietta about camp life, and described how Luciano had rescued her and the villagers. The women would have talked all night, but soon the comfort of lying in a bed and the tension of the dinner overtook them and they fell asleep.

In the morning, while they were dressing, Orietta gave Rosa the money for the partisans. It was hidden in a hollowed-out book.

‘Now, I believe you have a fully loaded pistol with you?’ she said. ‘That’s for me.’

Orietta’s job was a dangerous one so Rosa wasn’t surprised that Luciano had used her as a courier to deliver a weapon to his sister. Rosa was going to be met at the bus station by Woodpecker, so she’d have her own armed protection back to the camp and didn’t require the gun. She handed it over carefully, the way Starling had taught her.

‘Thanks,’ said Orietta, tucking the pistol into a scarf and pushing it into her purse. ‘Someone has been befriending Allied
soldiers in the forest and telling them that he has a stash of weapons and food in a barn. When they follow him, they find the militia waiting for them. Whoever he is, he’s slippery, but I’ll find him.’

A chill ran down Rosa’s spine. ‘You’re going to kill him? I thought you were only a
staffetta
?’

‘If I have to, yes,’ said Orietta, straightening her collar in the mirror and slipping on her shoes. ‘This person knows too much about the Allied soldiers and the partisans around Florence. Sometimes a
staffetta
needs to become an assassin.’

‘Does Luciano know you are doing such a dangerous thing?’ Rosa asked.

Orietta laughed. ‘Luciano has his old-fashioned views of women, but this is a war. Everyone has to fight.’

Rosa was shocked but didn’t say anything. Orietta was right: this was a war and everyone had to do what they were called to do. A series of images of the former Orietta played in her mind: the woman who sewed an exquisite baby dress for Sibilla; played the violin beautifully; and polished Antonio’s antiques to a high shine. This was what war did. It changed people. It had changed Rosa too. She’d almost triggered a grenade when she’d thought Luciano was a Nazi and she and the villagers were going to be shot. Starling had drilled her to be able to pull out and fire her pistol in seconds if she needed to defend herself. But Rosa wasn’t sure that she had changed enough to hunt somebody down and kill him.

‘Rosa,’ Orietta said, as if reading her friend’s thoughts, ‘would it ease your conscience if I told you that this person who is helping the fascists capture Allied soldiers is the same person who denounced Carlo? An insider?’ Orietta’s face remained hard but her voice rose in pitch.

Luciano had informed Orietta about Carlo’s death, but Rosa didn’t know how much he had told her about the nature of his torture and she didn’t want to bring it up.

‘You and Luciano have lost so much,’ she said quietly. ‘Your family has sacrificed a lot to fight for freedom.’

‘You too, Rosa,’ said Orietta, brushing back her hair from her face. ‘You’ve suffered too. What happened to Antonio broke my heart.’

Rosa sighed. ‘Antonio will survive. He’ll come back to me. That’s what I tell myself, although I can hardly bear to think about it. A prisoner of war joined the Flock a week ago. He’d escaped from the camp near Orvieto. The conditions he described were terrible.’

Rosa looked out the window at the still-dark sky. If she was cold in a hotel room, what was Antonio enduring? She turned back to Orietta. Her heart jolted when she saw the expression on her friend’s face. She looked aghast.

‘You don’t know?’ Orietta asked. ‘Luciano didn’t tell you?’

The floor seemed to shift under Rosa’s feet. Despite the chilly air, she felt hot and faint.

‘My God, you don’t know,’ Orietta said, sitting down on the bed.

‘What?’ Rosa asked, struggling to keep her voice low. ‘What don’t I know?’

Orietta wrung her hands and looked at Rosa. ‘Luciano asked me to find out what happened to Antonio after you arrived at the camp. I was to pose as your sister and get him out of prison. But when I went to Le Murate, Antonio and several other political prisoners had been sent to Germany.’

Rosa took a breath. It was what she already knew. But the pained look on Orietta’s face told her that there was more. She dug her nails into her hands. ‘What are you trying to tell me? Was he sent…was he sent to a concentration camp?’

Orietta shook her head. ‘I traced the train he was on. Luciano intended to somehow stop it by blowing up the tracks further up the line. He wanted to rescue Antonio. Starling told him that he was crazy and I had to agree. I was afraid that if they stopped the train, the guards would automatically start shooting the prisoners. But Luciano wanted to try. There were six hundred men on the train: Italian soldiers mostly. Luciano said if they were free, many of them would join the partisans.’

Rosa stared at Orietta. The blood was pounding in her ears.

‘Before we could get anywhere near that train,’ Orietta continued, ‘the Allies…You see, they didn’t know it was a train full of Italians. They thought it was transporting German soldiers. They bombed it as it crossed a bridge. Several carriages tumbled into the river. The passengers couldn’t get out. They were drowned.’

The room turned white. Rosa couldn’t see. When her vision returned she realised she had stopped breathing. Pain ripped at her insides. She choked back a sob. ‘All of them?’ she asked.

Orietta stood up and clasped Rosa’s hands. ‘About one hundred Italians survived the crash. Those who could made a run for the woods. I’ve used all my network contacts to find out if Antonio was one of the men who escaped but his name or description has never come up once in my enquiries. He might have been one of the injured who were then sent on to Germany, but according to our intelligence reports many of those men later died from not receiving proper medical treatment.

Rosa sat down on the bed. The New Zealander she had cared for at the hospital had told her that he hadn’t felt anything in the first moments after losing his legs. He’d simply heard a deafening noise and been blown backwards, landing in a ditch. When he looked down and saw his legs were gone his first thought was,
Oh dear, no more cricket
. Rosa was feeling that sort of dreamlike shock now.

‘Antonio’s still alive,’ she said. ‘He has to be. We all use false names, don’t we?’

Orietta put her arms around Rosa and looked into her eyes. ‘Most of the Germans were in the carriages that didn’t fall into the river. They fired on the prisoners escaping. Only a few men made it to cover. It is very unlikely that Antonio is alive. If he was, I know he would be doing everything to find you.’

Rosa barely remembered her trip back to the camp. With each mile that passed, her invented hopes turned to dust. Antonio’s train had
been bombed and all but one hundred of the passengers had perished. Out of those, only the prisoners without injury had been able to make a run for the woods. Many of them were shot in their flight. What was the chance that Antonio was among the small number that remained alive? Orietta was right when she had said that if Antonio were alive he’d be doing everything possible to find her.