Page 14 of Daughter of Genoa (Escape to Tuscany)

I woke up what felt like hours later, my eyes dry and my mouth foul with sleep.

Tiberio had moved up the bed to stretch out on my pillow – his fur tickled my ear and made my nose itch – and The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes lay open on the floor where I’d let it fall.

Somehow, I felt worse than I had when I lay down.

I pushed myself up and went to the window: pulling the curtain aside, I saw bright sunshine over the roofs of Genoa.

I couldn’t have been asleep for all that long, but I felt as groggy and bewildered as if I’d been shaken awake in the small hours.

I understood now, better than ever, why my mother had been so strongly against afternoon naps.

It should be a crime to waste daylight , her voice rang in my ear. Go to sleep now and you’ll only lie awake all night!

Well, I would listen to her, even if she wasn’t here to nag me. I would wash my face and brush my teeth, and I’d take Sherlock Holmes and read it sitting upright, in the parlour, like a respectable citizen.

But when I opened the door, I found Teglio sitting on the sofa. Stacks of identity cards were set out on the table before him, and he was absorbed in applying a small rubber stamp to each one.

‘Oh, sorry,’ I said, and he looked up at me. He’d taken off his jacket, rolled up his cuffs and loosened his tie – his horn-rimmed spectacles were discarded on the arm of the sofa. It was strange to see him so informal, and I had to suppress the urge to turn and bolt back to my bedroom.

‘Marta! Am I clogging up your reading room? I do apologise.’

‘No, no, it’s fine.’ I was clutching Sherlock Holmes to my chest like a shameful secret. ‘Unless I can help, of course. Is there anything I can do?’

‘No, no, this is all very boring. But this is your home. If you want to sit in here and read, then that is what you must do.’

I still wanted to bolt. But the idea of getting to see him work, of understanding a little more of the whole forgery business, was tremendously compelling. ‘If you’re sure…’

‘I wouldn’t say so otherwise. What’s that you’re reading?’ he asked as I settled into the nearest armchair. He leaned over to look at the book in my hand, and I caught the scent of his cedarwood cologne. ‘Good, good. I’m glad my little offering was some use. Are you enjoying it?’

‘I am, thank you. It’s lovely to revisit these stories. I hadn’t read the Italian version before.’

‘Haven’t you? Oh, of course,’ Teglio said. ‘You wouldn’t need to, would you?’

‘No, but that’s what’s so interesting about reading them now. It’s like seeing them from a new angle.’

‘Excellent stuff. Well, you sit and read, and I’ll get on with these.’ He leaned forward and pressed the stamp against the ink pad, lining up a fresh card. I opened my book and held it in my lap, keeping my head bowed. But from the corner of my eye, I was watching him.

I tried to observe, to leave him to it while I pretended to read.

I really had no intention of muscling in.

But he was clearly tired, or simply unused to this kind of work, and the irregular, slow thud of the stamp began to wear at my nerves.

Worst of all, it kept drawing my attention to his hands, and I hadn’t really looked at them before; hadn’t noticed his capable fingers, the heavy silver watch on his left wrist, the dark hair exposed by his rolled-back cuffs.

Now they were the only thing I wanted to look at, and I found myself taking refuge in my book.

He’s just a man , I told myself sternly. There’s no need to gawp at him just because he happens to be close at hand. Just because he’s including you in his work. Just because it’s been five years since you went to bed with anyone.

My nerves frayed and snapped. ‘Why don’t you let me take over?’ I asked – as politely as I could, but not nearly as politely as I ought.

‘It’s quite all right. There’s no need.’

‘But there is,’ I said. ‘You’re being terribly inefficient.’

‘Now, steady on—’

‘I’m sorry, but you are. You’re paying the whole process far too much attention, and that wastes time and energy. I can get through these much faster. And you can have a rest,’ I added. ‘I don’t suppose you get to rest very often.’

‘That’s true,’ he admitted.

‘Then leave it to me. Just show me where to put the stamp. Come on,’ I said. ‘I wore Silvia down and I shall wear you down, too.’

‘I suppose it’s more efficient to admit defeat, then.

Very well.’ He picked up one of the already-stamped cards to show me.

The details had been filled in and the mayor’s signature applied – only the photograph was missing.

‘The stamp goes here,’ he said, pointing to the bottom right corner.

‘It should partially cover the signature, like this.’

‘All right. It’s probably best if I sit where you are.

’ I gestured at the couch and he obligingly got up and moved to the armchair on the other side, leaving me to settle into his abandoned spot, which was warm and smelled of cedarwood.

I hadn’t anticipated that, and it was very distracting.

But I focused on the task at hand – take a card from one pile, open it, apply the stamp, close it, place it in the next pile – and within moments I was genuinely absorbed.

I worked steadily and didn’t let myself look away until the final card was stamped.

Teglio was stretched out in the armchair with a hand over his eyes. He was clearly exhausted, and my heart gave a sharp tug of sympathy. ‘All finished,’ I said.

‘Thank you, Marta. You were quite right – I did need a rest. And you’ve finished this in record time,’ he added, sitting up and looking at the four neat piles of cards lined up on the table. ‘It all seemed to be over in two minutes.’

‘Not quite,’ I said diplomatically. His eyes were bleary, and I suspected he’d dropped off at some point. ‘But it didn’t take long. Hopefully I’ve saved you some time.’

He looked at his watch. ‘Oh. Yes, as a matter of fact, you have. It’s quite a bit earlier than I thought.’

He said it lightly, but there was a note in his voice, something that might have been surprise or even alarm.

I thought of the walk I’d endured with Vittorio: that brief, stressful immersion in the world outside my lost street.

The dangers everywhere. ‘Do you have to go on somewhere?’ I asked. ‘Another meeting?’

‘Well, yes, but—’

‘Then you must stay,’ I said. ‘Until you have to leave, I mean. If you want to.’

‘Oh, I shouldn’t impose on you any further,’ Teglio said. ‘Not when you’ve helped me so much already. I ought to go and leave you to your own devices.’

‘I get left to my own devices all day long. You wouldn’t be imposing at all, really.

If you want to wait here for a while first – if it’s safer than leaving now – then I shall be glad of the company.

’ It sounded terribly bold when I said it out loud.

But if I wanted to keep him safe, then I had to be bold about it.

‘I really wouldn’t be disturbing you?’

‘You really wouldn’t.’

Teglio smiled. He looked relieved, and I was relieved, too. ‘Then I shan’t argue. Thank you.’ He settled back into his chair and let out a long, slow breath. ‘Do go on with your reading,’ he said. ‘Pretend I’m not here, if you like.’

That was impossible, of course. Because all of a sudden we were alone together, not working, and with nothing we had to discuss. I had practically begged him to stay. It was all I could think about.

‘Could I fetch you something?’ I asked. ‘Coffee? Well, not coffee, but you know what I mean. Or tea? There’s bound to be a pot on the stove.’

‘No, thank you, I’m all right.’

‘Are you sure?’ I felt suddenly desperate, as if I might say something stupid unless I had some innocent distraction. ‘It’s no trouble at all.’

‘I’m quite sure. If I’m honest,’ he said, passing a hand over his face, ‘I could do with something a bit stronger than tea.’

‘I think Silvia keeps a bottle of brandy somewhere,’ I said.

He turned his head and looked at me. ‘Really? Do Waldensians approve of brandy?’

‘I don’t know. It’s probably medicinal.’

‘Of course.’ Teglio thought for a moment. ‘No, I don’t think it’s even the drink I want, not as such. I suppose what I want is… no, it’s far too silly.’

‘I’m sure it isn’t silly at all,’ I said.

He sighed. ‘Well, I think it’s really the idea of going out somewhere and having a drink. If I could – if everything were different – I should walk out of here and just wander along to the Galleria Mazzini. Not as it is now, but as it used to be. Before it was such a dangerous place.’

‘You could walk straight down via Assarotti,’ I said, imagining it.

‘Around piazza Corvetto and to the left by the prefecture.’ The sun on my face, the fresh air, the leisurely sense of freedom.

The great glass-topped arcade ahead, full of people drinking and chatting and enjoying themselves.

I was suddenly full of painful longing for the Galleria Mazzini, even though I’d scarcely spent any time there myself.

It had always been my father’s haunt more than mine.

And now I knew it had been Teglio’s haunt, too.

‘That’s exactly it,’ Teglio said. ‘A nice, gentle stroll, none of this nipping around back streets to avoid the Germans. And then I’d sit down at a bar and drink a glass of something and smoke a cigarette, and I’d do nothing at all for the rest of the day. Does that sound frivolous?’

‘Yes,’ I said, and he laughed.

‘I should have known. I expect you’d rather be devouring a novel on a bench somewhere.’

‘But that’s frivolous, too,’ I protested. ‘I didn’t say being frivolous was wrong.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘I know you understand.’ Of course, he’d been teasing me. I didn’t quite know what to do about it.

‘Come to think of it,’ Teglio went on, ‘maybe it is the drink I want after all. Did you say there’s brandy?’