The Italian Villa: An emotional and absolutely gripping WW2 historical romance by Daniela Sacerdoti

Author:Daniela Sacerdoti [Sacerdoti, Daniela]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781838880095
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2020-02-17T00:00:00+00:00

March 14, 1940

Caro Diario!

Finally, I made it home!

The atmosphere has changed in Montevino. Those Blackshirts, Mussolini’s henchmen, are everywhere now. They watch everyone closely, more closely than they used to. It’s disquieting. Part of me thinks I should be careful about what I write in this diary, but part of me thinks, what nonsense! Who would read these pages? It’s not like they search homes to look for dissenters. And I’m not a dissenter. I don’t like them, don’t get me wrong; Mussolini seems to me full of hot air and pretenses, with those stupid faces and gestures he makes, like he wants to give the impression he owns the world, and instead looks like a clown. But there’s no way I’m rocking the boat or speaking out. No way. I must finish my course. Politics can sort itself. It usually works that way – governments come and go, and we little people get on with our lives.

Papa disagrees, though. He’s developed a keen hatred of the Blackshirts.

I was home on the weekend, and I saw the Conte had people over for dinner, men in uniform and their wives. I was in Papa’s workshop in one of the outbuildings chatting to my parents. The Conte looked like someone who was walking on thorns; I could tell he wasn’t exactly happy to be entertaining these people in the castle. He was showing them the grounds, the women’s heels sinking into the grass, the men affecting military stances, looking around like generals on a campaign. A thin, tall man seemed to be the leader – I suppose I would have recognized him had I read the newspaper more, because he seemed to be someone high up in the ranks. They passed by Papa’s workshop, but the Conte steered them away. I was thankful. Papa is just not one for holding his tongue.

“That lot!” Papa grumbled.

Mamma was sweeping the floor. Is there ever a time when she is idle? Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen her sitting down during the day, except when she sews or mends.

“Shhh, Luigi, please,” she urged him. To no use, of course. Papa is a sensible person, usually, but he believes that a man should be able to speak his mind in his own home. Which would be right, if we didn’t live under a dictatorship. Because we all know that this is what it is.

“Don’t shush me, Maria,” Papa said crossly. “They’re bullies. Bullies in black shirts and fancy boots. And if we don’t do what they say, we get thrown in prison. I cannot believe we all have to hold their party cards!”

“Without a card, we don’t get the rations,” Mamma reminded him. “And now, hush, please…”

“I don’t care about that! I’d rather starve. But if they put me in prison, who will provide for the family? I’m just happy I’m too old to go to the front. At least I don’t have to fight on their behalf. And not because I’m a coward! Because what they fight for is wrong.

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