The Tuscan Daughter by Tessa Harris

Author:Tessa Harris [Swift, Deborah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2023-11-21T17:00:00+00:00

Chapter 28

Lizzie cried herself to sleep that night and when she woke at dawn and remembered what had passed the night before, she cried some more. But she knew what she had to do and, drying her tears, she rose from the bed.

The sun was cresting the far hills as she slipped into the same plain black dress that once belonged to Franco’s wife. In front of a cracked mirror, she caught sight of a weary, life-worn woman. Her eyes were red rimmed and the surrounding skin was puffy. After splashing cold water on her face, she scraped back her fair hair and hid it under a black scarf. She needed to look Italian. No one must suspect she was English. It was vital to blend in with the other women in the region in case they encountered any German patrols. Vincenzo’s comment about being more English than Italian echoed in her head. She had always known that with her privileged upbringing in England came responsibility. Her late mother had taught her that. She’d never intended to take her own comfortable circumstances at the villa for granted and, seeing the suffering and resilience all around her had made her feel far more Italian than English.

Over in the corner she could hear Cristo’s gentle breaths as he slept. She’d managed not to glance over at him right up until the moment it was time to leave. She knew that if he woke, her parting would only hurt them both even more. Instead, she slipped off the silver St Christopher medal she always wore around her neck and laid it gently on his pillow.

‘May God protect you, my Cristo,’ she whispered and kissing her fingers, she blew towards the child. For a second, he stirred, as if he felt the kiss land on his cheek. But then he rolled over and Lizzie picked up her bag and hurried towards the door, before tears blurred her vision.

‘Come on, Elizabeth.’ Hugh beckoned impatiently. She hurried down the corridor where he was waiting at the end, but instead of letting her pass, he took her in his arms. ‘This is it,’ he whispered into her ear. ‘We’ll soon be free.’ He found her cheek and planted an unwelcome kiss.

Choking back her emotion, she noted he was wearing a slouch hat and patched clothes. His once-neat moustache was still unruly, and Lizzie thought he could just about pass for an Italian. On his back was a rucksack full of provisions and a blanket, and in his hand, he held a long wooden staff.

‘Will I do?’ he asked her, looking down the length of his own body.

‘You’ll do,’ she agreed, brushing off the moment with a laugh, even though inside she was in turmoil. The one-hundred-mile journey to La Spezia on the coast would be hard. They were on the run from the Nazis. That would be terrifying enough, but Lizzie knew she was also on the run from her old self. It would be so easy to slip back into her past ways with Hugh, especially after the hardship of the convent.

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