“I’m sure she does, there’s no older man who doesn’t like to show off in front of a younger woman.”
“But Cecilia is his wife,” Amelia said with a laugh.
“Yes, and she cooks his meals, so I suppose he thinks it’s a good idea to make himself look big in front of her.”
Following Carla’s advice, Amelia invited Cecilia Gallotti to have lunch with her. She accepted with alacrity.
Amelia chose a very popular restaurant in Aventino, Checchino dal 1887, through whose windows filtered the last rays of the autumn sun.
After asking about Carla Alessandrini’s health, the two women chatted about unimportant topics. Amelia didn’t know how to turn the conversation so that Cecilia would give her some political information, but in the end the Italian broached the topic herself.
“You have no idea how happy I am that you’ve invited me to eat with you, today of all days. Guido has been locked away in the ministry for two whole days, they’re preparing... Well, I suppose I can tell you, Guido told you when you came to eat with us anyway. We’re going to invade Greece. Anyway, it’s not really a secret anymore, there are lots of people who are already in the know.”
“And do you think Italy is ready for such an undertaking? It would mean entering the war fully and completely.”
“Yes, but it’s going to be easy. As far as I understand from what Guido said, they’re going to attack via Epirus... Yes, I think he said Epirus. And we have enough forces to do it; you’d have thought that for something like that you would need at least twenty divisions, but the Greeks are so backward that we’ll only need six.”
“You know so much about strategy!”
“Don’t you believe it, I don’t know anything about war, and I’m not interested in knowing, either, but I hear so much about it that something’s bound to stick. It was just the other day that Guido was talking to Count Filiberto about the divisions, and my husband said that the General Staff thinks that the six divisions that are already in Albania will be more than enough, especially with General Visconti Prasca in charge. They say he’s a very good general.”
“And what will Hitler say?”
“Il Duce is a genius. He has sent a letter to explain what his plans are, but because Hitler is in Paris, he won’t get it until he gets back to Berlin. He cannot blame Mussolini for not keeping him informed, but Il Duce has made the best decision for Italy, without having to ask the Führer for permission. We’ll have Greece in a week or so. I told Guido that as soon as the occupation is a reality, we should go there on holiday. I’ve always wanted to visit the Parthenon, haven’t you?”
“I would love to.”
“Let’s do it! Let’s go to Greece together! All of Guido’s friends are so old... I really like having someone my own age around. But would you be able to leave Carla?”
“I hope that she’ll keep getting better, they say that she’s improved a lot over the last couple of days; if she carries on like this then the doctor will give her the all-clear in a day or so. I’m sure that’s what will happen.”
“And wouldn’t she be able to come with us? It would be good for her to have a holiday after all she’s been through, wouldn’t it?
“It’s a good idea, I’ll ask her, although it all depends on what the doctors say, she’s very weak still...”
When lunch was over, Amelia went to Carla’s house. She wrote a coded message that explained everything that Cecilia had told her. Murray had to know as soon as possible that Il Duce was intending to invade Greece via Epirus. When she had finished writing the message, she went to the Trastevere; when she got there she looked for the Piazza di San Cosimato, which is where Jim Finley had told her that the artist lived whose brother was in the Swiss Guard.
Rudolf Webel’s studio was on the ground floor of a building that looked as if it were about to fall down. The door was half open and Amelia pushed her way into the building. She found herself in the presence of a middle-aged man, tall and with blue eyes, his beard as blonde as his hair, looking at a woman covered by a purple cloth.
“Stay still, can’t you, Renata? I can’t work like this,” the man grumbled.
“Caro, you have a visitor!” Renata said, pulling the cloth as close around her as she could.
“Well, tell him to go away, because I’m busy,” the Swiss said without even looking at the intruder.
“I’m sorry, Herr Webel, may I speak with you please?” Amelia asked.
“No, no you can’t. Go back where you came from. Can’t you see I’m working?”
“I’m sorry, but I have to speak with you. I was sent by a friend of yours from Madrid.”
“From Madrid? I don’t have friends there. Well, I do, but the only thing I want you to do now is to go away. Come back another day.”
“If you don’t mind, I will wait until you have finished,” Amelia said stubbornly.
Rudolf Webel turned round angrily to glare at her. He had never allowed himself to be contradicted in anything. He was surprised to find himself face to face with a young woman, who seemed clearly in no mood to be browbeaten.
“You’re not welcome here, what do you want me to say?”
“I’m not asking you to welcome me, just to listen to me.”
“Why don’t you listen to her?” Renata shouted.
“Because I speak with who I want, when I want!”
“I don’t believe you, Herr Webel, I think that sometimes you need to speak with people you don’t want to talk to. And I must insist. I have something urgent to tell you. If it were only up to me I would never have chosen you as an interlocutor.”
“You’re ruining my inspiration!” he shouted.
Amelia shrugged and the model stood up and wrapped herself in the purple cloth.
“Talk with the signorina and let me rest for a bit. And I’m cold. Maybe you should do your nude sculptures in summer.”
“You think that an artist should do what his model tells him to? If you’re cold, you put up with it, it’s what I pay you for!”
“Pay you? The pasta we ate today came from my mother. If it weren’t for her then we’d both be dead of starvation.”
Renata left the room and left them alone. Webel carried on ignoring Amelia, looking at the block of marble that he was turning into the pale body of his model.
“Are you going to listen to me or not?” Amelia insisted.
“What do you want?”
“Jim Finley told me to come to you if I had no other option, and sadly enough I don’t.”
“Finley’s just a troublemaker.”
“You tell him that, I’m only surprised that he trusts you.”
“He doesn’t, but let’s just say that he doesn’t have all that many options in this city, so he has to make the best he can with what he’s got. Which is me. Now tell me what you need to say.”
“You have to take a letter to Switzerland, today.”
“I can’t go today,” he said obstinately.
“Herr Webel, I am not impressed at all by your attitude, so stop playing the artist and do what I’m telling you to do. This is not a game, and you know it.”
Webel was surprised by Amelia’s tone of voice. He stared at her, and saw a young woman whose face showed that she had lived through a lot.
“Alright, I’ll take the letter to Bern. Do you have it here?”
Amelia gave him the letter, but Webel didn’t even look at it. He put it in the pocket of his trousers.
“Where shall I go if there’s a reply?”
“I’ll come and find you. If it’s alright with you, I’ll come back here in a few days.”
“I don’t like you coming and snooping round my house.”
“I don’t want to snoop anywhere, especially not if it has anything to do with you. And let me say again that this is not a game, that the letter has to get to its destination as soon as possible.”
Webel turned his back on her and started to rummage in the back of the room. Amelia left and shut the
door behind her, wondering how Finley could trust someone like him.
On the morning of October 28, the Italian ambassador in Athens presented himself at President Metaxas’s residence and submitted a formal request for him to authorize the presence of Italian troops on Greek soil. The president’s response was unequivocal: No.
But General Metaxas did more than just say no to the Italian demands: He asked for help from Britain. Meanwhile, the Julia Division crossed the border between Greece and Albania. The General Staff’s plan was to send part of its forces over the Pindus toward Thessaly, while sending other divisions toward Jannena in order to control Epirus from there; the remaining troops would start marching toward Macedonia.
Mussolini was euphoric. Finally he could present himself in front of the Führer after having taken the initiative in something.
What Il Duce had not counted on was the Greeks fighting heroically to defend their independence. The Greek chief of staff, General Alexander Papagos, had gathered the majority of his troops in Macedonia, and forced the Italian troops to retreat. The Italian forces advanced in Epirus, but Papagos managed to surround the famous Julia Division and decimate it.
At the beginning of November the British reinforcements arrived, destroying part of the Italian fleet at its base in Taranto.
The Royal Navy sent an aircraft carrier, the Illustrious, and used it to launch its Fairey Swordfish biplanes and destroy a large part of the Italian navy.
By the middle of November it was clear that Il Duce might lose his war against Greece.
Carla Alessandrini carried on getting better, having moved back to her house in Rome. Amelia stayed by her side, and carried on cultivating the friendship of the Gallotti family. Cecilia was now an inexhaustible source of information, and Guido was apparently happy with his wife’s friendship with the Spaniard, whom he imagined to be a committed Francoist. He assumed this because Amelia always avoided talking about politics, making them believe that she didn’t really care about it.
Without warning, Albert James turned up at Carla’s house in Rome one morning. Amelia was extremely pleased to see him. Carla, with her habitual generosity, insisted on inviting him to stay with them. Albert resisted as much as he could, wanting to be alone with Amelia, but he soon realized that it was important for Carla to have Amelia nearby; she felt that Amelia was like a daughter to her.
When they could at last be alone for a few minutes, Albert confessed that he had come to take her back to London.
“I cannot go now,” Amelia said. “Not just because of my mission, but because of Carla as well.”
“I think Uncle Paul must have different plans for you. He wouldn’t tell me what they were, but he sent me with a letter for you from Major Murray.”
“And that’s why you came?”
“No, I came to see you and to be with you, because I love you. Nothing else. But I must say that I am happy that they’ve ordered you back to London, even though, knowing Murray and Uncle Paul, they won’t let you stay there for long.”
Amelia introduced Albert to the Gallottis, who were pleased to meet the famous journalist, even though Guido had read some of his articles and knew of the criticisms he leveled at Hitler and Mussolini himself. Even so, the couple seemed pleased to be able to show themselves off with the American journalist. Guido even managed to arrange an interview with Mussolini’s son-in-law, Foreign Minister Galeazzo Ciano.
Amelia could not ignore the orders in the letter from Major Murray. She had to go back to London, even if it meant leaving Carla.
“Why don’t you drop it all and come and live with us?” Carla asked.
“Are you going to adopt me?” Amelia said, laughing.
“Oh, I wish we could! I wouldn’t mind, neither would Vittorio. You are the daughter we would have liked to have. Think about it, you could do so much with me, and you could be as useful to your London friends from here in Rome. And as for Albert... I wouldn’t tell you to stay if you were in love with him, but you’re not. You love him, but you’re not in love with him like you were in love with Pierre.”
Amelia felt a stab of pain. Yes, she had loved Pierre, and she had loved him so much that she knew she would never love another man again in the same way, even though Pierre had destroyed her innocence, had trampled on the love that she’d offered, and had left a wound in her heart that was so deep it would hurt for the rest of her life.
“I’ll do what I can to come back. It’s like you say, I could be useful from Italy.”
“I’m sure you already have been,” Carla replied.
“End of the story.”
Francesca yawned. She seemed tired. I had not interrupted her even once, and had allowed her to expand on her topics.
“Alright, Guillermo, now you need to carry on ploughing your own furrow.”
“Is that it, then?”
“Looks like it, at least for now. As far as I can tell, you need to reconstruct Amelia Garayoa’s story step by step, without jumping over anything. I’ve told you what happened to your great-grandmother up until the end of 1940 in Italy. I have no idea what happened next. Of course, I could tell you what Carla did, because that’s what matters to me.”
“Did Amelia ever go back to Rome?”
“She left in December 1940. If you carry on with your investigations I may see you again. But you can’t jump around in time, not if you want it to make any sense.”
“Professor Soler has taught you well,” I protested.
“The only thing he has asked of me is that I help you as much as I can, but that I shouldn’t tell you anything that allows you to jump around in time, because the important thing is to know, step by step, what Amelia Garayoa did with her life.”
“It would be easier if you told me all you knew about her, and then I could put the puzzle together myself.”
“Yes, but I’m not going to do that, so...”
So I said goodbye, even though we both knew that we would see each other again. I went back to London without going via Spain. I preferred to try to keep things moving. Also, Lady Victoria had called me to say that she was at my disposal to talk with me, and, knowing that her priority was golf, I couldn’t afford to miss this opportunity.
11
Lady Victoria asked me to lunch at her house, because she said that this way we would have more time to talk.
When I saw her I thought once again that she was a truly impressive woman. Her interest in my research seemed sincere. I told her where Francesca had left me.
“So you are in 1940, December... ,” she muttered as she looked through a notebook.
“Yes, I think that Amelia went back to London with Albert James.”
“Yes, and then they went to the United States.”
“To the United States? But why?” I asked in annoyance. I was getting tired of my great-grandmother’s traipsing from one side of the world to the other. It was tiring for me track her journey over half the globe.
“Lord James had asked his nephew for a favor and he insisted that he would only do it if Amelia went with him. It’s all here, in the notebook,” Lady Victoria said, pointing at its cover.
“May I have a look?”
“It’s part of Lady Eugenie’s diary. It’s thanks to her that we have the information we do about what happened. I don’t know if I’ve said, but Lady Eugenie wrote in her diary every day; it was her way of letting off steam. Albert was a constant source of disappointment to her because of his refusal to break off with Amelia and marry Lady Mary Brian. Are you ready?”
I nodded. I knew that the best thing I could do would be to listen without interrupting until she got tired of talking.
Winston Churchill was trying to get the United States to join in the war. He knew that Great Britain could not hope to win the war without American help and he was trying to use all the tools in his power to convince President Roosevelt to give them his assistance. The United Kingdom was bankrupt and needed money as soon as possible to pay for the gigantic costs
of the war.
Lord James had thought that, since his brother Ernest was a prosperous businessman in the United States, and his sister-in-law Eugenie was capable of gathering all of New York high society in her drawing room, and Albert was an influential journalist, maybe he could call upon his family to convince the leaders in Washington that American aid was vital if they were to defeat Hitler.
Ernest and Eugenie accepted this offer with alacrity to become extraordinary ambassadors for their country, and Albert also agreed to give a series of talks all across the United States to make clear the menace that Hitler posed, but he insisted that Amelia accompany him.
Here is what Eugenie wrote in her diary:
Albert arrives tomorrow. My brother-in-law has convinced him to come. All the better. Even Ernest, who is always so understanding with our son, was furious that he refused to get involved in everything that’s happening. Of course, he’s making us pay the price; he’s bringing Amelia with him, who is a real nightmare. How will we be able to present her to our friends? We can’t say that she is Albert’s fiancée, because she’s a married woman. We can’t say she’s a family friend. We don’t know anything about her, and I think she’s nothing more than an adventuress, for all that Paul has told Ernest that she’s been very useful. I don’t know what she could have done to have been useful, but I’m sure it was not as important as Paul has made Ernest believe. But anyway, whatever the girl has done, that doesn’t make her somebody. Albert says that Amelia comes from a good family, but what sort of family lets a daughter run off and abandon her husband and her son?
It will not be easy to put up with the gossip about Albert and his stupid insistence on having Amelia in his New York apartment with him, just as he did in London. My son living with that Spanish woman... What will people say?