Neither Vittorio nor Amelia nor Marchetti left Carla’s bedside; she seemed to be struggling between life and death. It wasn’t until the next morning that the doctors managed to lower her fever.
Dr. Bianchi fulfilled his promise of visiting Carla every day.
It was clear to Vittorio that Carla would need quite some time before she was in any state to sing, so he cancelled all her appearances for the next two months.
“And now we’ll see what happens,” he said sadly.
Professor Marchetti did not want to go back to Milan. He felt responsible for Carla, he was her father in all things musical, and he asked Vittorio to let him stay in Rome. Amelia, of course, did not doubt for a moment that her place was at her friend’s side, and she did not leave the hospital.
News about Carla’s health was published in all the newspapers. The diva could not inaugurate the season at La Scala, and had needed to cancel many other engagements as well, so the press was extremely interested in her illness. Vittorio told the journalists every day how she was progressing, and the hospital filled up with hundreds of bouquets sent by friends and well-wishers.
On October 18 Cecilia Gallotti turned up at the hospital and insisted on seeing Amelia. Carla was still in the hospital, but out of danger. When a frightened nurse came to the room to say that Cecilia Gallotti was threatening not to leave unless she could speak to Amelia, Carla first grew angry, but then seemed to think twice.
“Go on, my dear, go and see her, or she’ll set up camp in the corridor,” she said in the faintest of whispers.
“For goodness’ sake, don’t speak!” Amelia begged. “They’ve told you not to try to speak. You have no voice! I don’t want to see Cecilia or anyone else; the only important thing is that you get better.”
But Carla insisted. Every word was a torment to her, but she finally managed to convince Amelia to go.
“If you make me insist any more I’ll have a relapse.”
Amelia went down to the entrance hall in a bad mood, and met Cecilia there.
“Oh, my dear Amelia, I’m so happy to see you! I imagine that Carla got our flowers. Guido and I are so upset about what has happened. We were so looking forward to seeing her as Isolde! But she will get better, I’m sure she will get better. And you, my dear, have you managed to see anything of Rome? I came to invite you to have dinner with us. A group of our friends will be there, and I would so like to have you with us...”
Cecilia wouldn’t stop talking, and she seemed excited by the idea of having Amelia as a guest.
“We would love Carla and her husband to come as well, but I imagine that must be impossible. Will she be ill much longer? I hope not and that she will get better soon. But will you come? Please, Amelia, say that you’ll come!”
At this moment Vittorio arrived. He had just been speaking to the doctors, and came to greet the two women.
“Who is with Carla?” he asked worriedly.
“Professor Marchetti is in her room,” Amelia replied, “and I’m just going up myself.”
“Dear Vittorio,” Cecilia interrupted, “I came to find out about your wife, you know how fond we are of her. We are so sad that it will not be she who starts the opera season... But Amelia tells me she is much better, and that is very good news. I came to ask Amelia to come to dinner at my house tomorrow. It will be a select dinner, with very special guests. Do you think you can do without her for a couple of hours? I will send a car to pick her up. Is that alright?”
Amelia tried to protest, but without any success, and Vittorio, tired of Cecilia’s constant yapping, and wanting to get rid of her as soon as possible, decided to agree to everything she said.
“Yes, yes... Amelia will go to your house... It will be good for her... take her mind off things... I don’t see any problem.”
Carla was of the same opinion, when they told her why Cecilia had come.
“You have to go,” she said, in the faintest of whispers. “Don’t forget why you’re here.”
“I don’t have anything more important to do than stay here by your side,” Amelia said sincerely.
“I know, I know, but you should go.”
At the arranged time, the Gallottis’ car came to pick Amelia up and take her to their house in the Via Appia Antiqua, a luxurious residence hidden from prying eyes by a high wall.
There were fifteen people seated round the Gallottis’ table. Amelia saw that it was the butler who seemed to be taking care of everything, and that Cecilia didn’t seem to care too much about how things were organized.
As she was introduced to the other guests, Amelia started to realize that these were the most important of Il Duce’s diplomats.
Cecilia presented Amelia as if she were a trophy.
“Allow me to present Amelia Garayoa, she is a very close friend of Carla Alessandrini, she’s even staying in her house, isn’t that so? Amelia can bring us good news about Carla’s health.”
Amelia gritted her teeth, because Cecilia’s appropriation of Carla annoyed her, and it was an effort for her not to walk out and leave her hostess high and dry.
To begin with the conversation moved on trivial matters, and it was not until halfway through the meal that Guido, in response to questions from one of his friends, said something that made Amelia prick up her ears.
“Il Duce has told his son-in-law, our dear Galeazzo, that he is intending to teach Greece a lesson. But we must be discreet about this. Il Duce is going to give Hitler a surprise.”
“But Hitler will be furious!” a gray-haired elderly man said.
“Yes, Count Filiberto, I suppose he will, but Il Duce knows what he is doing. He wants to make it clear to the Führer that we are his allies, but also that we have our own interests.”
“And what does Galeazzo think about this?” the woman who was sitting next to Count Filiberto asked.
“What do you think! He supports the Duce’s decision, of course. Galeazzo is sure that Greece will not find any strong supporters. It cannot rely on Turkey or Yugoslavia; and as far as Bulgaria is concerned, the king of Bulgaria supports the Axis,” Guido Gallotti replied.
“But what about the English? Do you think that they’ll just stand around with their arms folded?” asked one of the other guests, a middle-aged diplomat named Enrico.
“It will be too late when they find out, and anyway, they’re having enough trouble with the Luftwaffe’s attacks on London,” Guido replied.
“But they do still have a powerful navy... ,” Count Filiberto murmured.
“But Greece is a long way away. No, my friends, you don’t need to worry about anything, Il Duce knows what he’s doing.” Guido was euphoric and unequivocal.
Amelia didn’t dare say a word. She understood more Italian than her hosts and their guests imagined; she had let them think that she spoke barely a word, in order that they might talk among themselves more freely.
“And what does the Army High Command think about this?” asked one of the other guests, an older woman with bracelets on her wrists and her fingers heavy with rings.
“Romana, you are always so astute!” Enrico said.
“I am certain that the Duce can see a good way into the future,” Romana said, with mild irony, “but it is the army that must decide if we are in a good enough state to face the Greeks; if you are going to fight a battle you need to be sure that you will win, and if not, it’s better to stay at home.”
“Well, well, well! I’ll tell you how things are in Greece, but you will need to assure me of your complete confidentiality. We have agents in Greece who have bought good will toward Italy; a bit of money has ended up in the right hands and that will help people to be on Italy’s side,” Guido said with a smirk.
“Money can buy the goodwill of some people, but not of all of them. I know the Greeks, you know that we have spent our summers in Greece for very many years, and I don’t think that we will be met with applause and cheers. The ones we have bribed will cheer, but not everyone. The Greeks are very
patriotic,” the woman said.
“If you tell me a secret I’ll tell you a secret,” came a voice from the other side of the table. It belonged to a man named Lorenzo, who had been prudently calm for most of the meal.
“Ah! And what do you know that you haven’t yet told me?” an impressive-looking woman said, tossing her hair and staring fiercely at the man who had spoken, who was her husband.
“I didn’t know... Well, I thought that Il Duce’s decision was top secret... ,” Lorenzo said to his wife.
“Well, tell us... ,” his wife insisted.
“As far as I know, the Army Supreme Command has a few objections to the operation,” Lorenzo said.
“Why?” Romana asked.
“Well, for one, our man in Athens is not as optimistic as our dear friend Galeazzo, and they think that they would need a very large invasion force,” Lorenzo said.
“And when are they planning to attack?” Enrico wanted to know.
“In a matter of days,” Guido said.
“What I don’t understand is why Il Duce hasn’t told Hitler,” Count Filiberto insisted.
“He’s tired, tired of Hitler presenting him with constant faits accomplis. We are his allies, but he never uses us when the time comes to act, we only find out about things after they happen. Il Duce is going to give him a taste of his own medicine. Hitler will have no option but to help us. Calm down, Count, Il Duce will write to Hitler to tell him of the attack, but we will already be in Greece by the time the letter reaches Berlin.”
“Heaven help us!” Romana murmured.
Amelia arrived back at Carla’s house after midnight. She was trembling and did not know what to do. She was aware of the importance of the information. But how could she leave Carla?
She went to the hospital early in the morning to see Carla. Vittorio rubbed his red eyes when he saw her.
“It’s good you’re here so early. If you take over from me now, I can go back home and get a bit of sleep and change my clothes,” he said in greeting.
When Vittorio had left, Amelia went to Carla’s bedside.
“I’m sorry, but I need to go to Madrid straight away.”
Carla opened her eyes wide and stared at Amelia. She held out her hand and Amelia took it between hers and squeezed it.
“Will you come back?” the invalid asked in a faint little voice.
“Yes, or at least I will try to.”
“What’s happened?”
“I was in Guido and Cecilia’s house last night, and I heard that Il Duce is going to invade Greece.”
“He’s a madman... ,” Carla muttered.
“Will you forgive me?”
“What is there to forgive you for? The sooner you go, the sooner you will come back,” Carla said, forcing herself to smile.
Amelia was lucky, because there was a plane to Madrid two days later. When she arrived, she went immediately to the address that Major Murray had given her, a house near the Paseo de la Castellana, the same address where she sent her letters.
Amelia asked herself who would live in this house. She was surprised when the door was opened by an older woman with a faint, unidentifiable accent.
“Señora Rodríguez?” Amelia asked the woman, who stayed looking at her in silence.
“That’s me, and who are you?”
“Amelia Garayoa.”
“Come in, come in, don’t stand there in the doorway.”
The woman asked her in and invited her to follow her through to a large salon whose windows gave onto the street. It was a plainly decorated room: a sofa, a pair of armchairs, a fireplace, and a few low tables with photographs in silver frames.
“Would you like a cup of tea?”
“I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble, it will only take a moment.”
The woman left the room and came back a few minutes later with a tray of tea and plum cake.
“Try it, I make it myself.”
“I think that you might be able to put me in touch with a friend... Mr. Finley,” Amelia said, lowering her voice.
“Of course, when do you want to see him?”
“Today, if possible...”
“Is it really that urgent?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’ll do what I can. You can wait for me here if you want.”
“Here? I thought I might go home...”
“If it really is that urgent, then I am sure that Mr. Finley will come and find you straight away, and it’s not really convenient for him to track all over the city. There are lots of eyes in Madrid, looking at things, seeing things we don’t even imagine. I’ll tell my maid to look after you while I am away, which will not be for too long. It’s better like this.”
The woman rang a little china bell, and soon afterwards a perfectly uniformed maid came into the room.
“Luisita, I am going out for a moment. Please look after the young lady, I will not be very long.”
The maid bobbed and waited for Amelia to give her instructions, but she said that she needed nothing and would be happy to wait for the lady of the house to come back.
It seemed to take a long time. Señora Rodríguez was away for an hour, and found Amelia very worried when she returned.
“Don’t be upset, Mr. Finley will come and find you.”
“Here?”
“Yes, here. It’s the most discreet way. There are no spying eyes in this house. Better this way. Would you like another tea, or something else?”
“No, no... maybe... well, no...”
“What do you want to ask?” It was as if the woman could read Amelia’s thoughts.
“I’m just being curious, but are you from here?”
“Am I Spanish? No, no I’m not, although I’ve lived in Madrid for more than forty years. My husband was Spanish, but I am English. Sometimes people think they hear an accent when I talk.”
“It’s almost impossible to hear it, if you had said that you were from Madrid, I would have believed you.”
“Well, it’s as if I were. Forty years in a country make you feel as if you belong to it. I was only away during the war. My husband insisted that we leave, and then when we were back in London he sadly went and died.”
“And you work with...”
“Yes, an old family friend asked me if I could help them, let my house to be used as an address for letters that I could then pass to Mr. Finley. I accepted without a second thought. I know that what’s happening at the moment is far more important than we can imagine. And I am a great admirer of Churchill.”
After a while, the maid announced Mr. Finley.
“Come in, come in, I want you to meet a friend of mine, Miss Garayoa.”
“I’m Major Jim Finley, and frankly I’m a bit surprised to see you here.”
“Well, I’ll let you talk,” the older woman said, leaving the salon.
“When they were alone, Amelia did not waste any time, and told Major Finley everything that she had heard in the Gallottis’ house.
When she had finished, Jim Finley asked an endless series of questions in order to be sure that he had heard everything Amelia had to say.
“What should I do now?” she asked.
“You should go back to Rome. You’ve done a good job coming here. This is very important information, and it needs to be added to as quickly as possible,” Finley replied.
“I’ll try, but I don’t know if I’ll be lucky enough to hear another conversation like this one.”
“You should make friends with Cecilia Gallotti, I am sure that she’ll like boasting to you that she knows what is happening.”
“I don’t know if Guido will tell Cecilia all the details of his work.”
“You have to try. But go and see your family now, it’s the best possible alibi for justifying your trip to Madrid. The Italians aren’t as neurotic as the Germans about security, but it’s better to be careful. Of course, you mustn’t stay longer than is necessary to justify your a
libi. You should get back to Rome as soon as possible.”
“What should I do the next time I have urgent information?”
“I have a telephone number for a friend in Rome, but you should only use it if it is absolutely impossible for you to come to Madrid and get in touch with me directly.”
“Who is this friend?”
“An artist who loves Rome. He’s a painter, a sculptor... He does a little bit of everything.”
“Is he Italian?”
“Swiss.”
“Swiss?”
“Yes, his brother is in the Swiss Guard. The family moved to Rome a few years ago. He’s the family artist.”
“And he works for the Admiralty?”
“He’s an odd man, a man of principles... and we pay him well. But you should only get in touch with him if the situation absolutely demands it. Otherwise you should come to Spain.”
Amelia followed his instructions to the letter and only stayed a week with her family, much to her regret. As he had said, they were her alibi.
When Amelia got back to Rome, Carla was still in the hospital, although she had gotten a little better in the past few days.
Vittorio was very pleased when he saw Amelia come into the room. Carla missed her friend’s ministrations; it was good for her to have Amelia near.
Mateo Marchetti also seemed happy to see her return.
“I haven’t argued with anyone for too long,” he greeted her, smiling.
Carla asked the two men to leave and to let her spend some time alone with her friend. She wanted to know what had happened.
“They asked me to get to know the Gallottis better. The British think that the Italian invasion of Greece will only serve to lengthen the war.”
“We have to stop it.”
“Do you think that Cecilia will suspect anything if I call her?”
“No, I think she’ll be over the moon that you’re getting in touch with her. Tell her that you want to invite her to have lunch as a way of thanking her for the dinner she gave you. I’m sure she’ll tell you whatever you want to hear.”
“If she knows anything, of course.”