Page 10 of The Art Lovers

‘So, Valentina,’ Peter Fox said once they were settled inside the vehicle, his breath slightly ragged from the pain. ‘Where do you live?’ They started moving; it was only a short drive to the hospital, and Valentina seized the moment to talk to her pilot, even though they were followed by a trail of locals.

‘In the city tunnels,’ she said eagerly. ‘They were originally used for storage by the Knights Hospitaller, but they also made it easy for the Knights of Valletta to move around the city, especially if under attack.’

Valentina could never fully explain her fascination with the Hospitaller Knights who had made Valletta their home back in the sixteenth century, building a fortress first and then a city. The underground tunnels had become a fast method for troops to move around the city but also served as temperate storage for grain and the gathering of water, as much as drainage. To her they were such a clever people, and reading about them was her escape.

‘I find the Knights romantic,’ was her answer when teachers and others asked her about her love for them. This had been a little too mature a rationale for one of her prim teacher’s liking.

‘And what do you know about romance, Valentina Camilleri?’ Sister Theresa had demanded, a pinched look on her face.

Valentina had hesitated. ‘Nothing, Sister Theresa. I just mean they were so brave, defending pilgrims, and the book you suggested we read says that they lived by a code of correctness, even giving their money to the Order.’

It was a good answer and seemed to get her off the hook. ‘Well, I’m pleased to know someone in my class reads,’ her teacher had huffed.

‘So you like your city’s history?’ Peter asked her now.

‘I love it. I want to study history and art and architecture, if my parents will let me.’

‘Brilliant! And your English is perfect,’ he remarked.

Valentina nodded. ‘I speak Italian as well.’

‘We’re here,’ the doctor said, interrupting. ‘Thank you, Nurse Valentina. We’ll take care of Mr Fox from here.’ He gestured for her to join the others standing around. Peter gingerly stepped out of the ambulance, held up by the doctor.

‘Flight Lieutenant Fox,’ he corrected, aiming another bright grin at everyone. ‘Thank you all for taking such good care of me. I must know the names of the men who pulled me out of the drink, Dr Sammut, so I can thank them too.’

‘Yes, yes, all in good time. Let’s get you seen to, please.’

Valentina thought he’d forgotten her, but he turned back before the doctor helped him towards the hospital’s entrance.

‘And, Valentina, don’t you let anyone stop you. History is always the key to the future. It’s a joy to study. And art? Art will set you free.’

And then he was bundled away. She felt the loss as keenly as if a favourite possession had been removed from her life.

When she arrived back at their underground accommodation, which had become ‘home’ since the aerial raids had begun, she was greeted by a look of pure despair from her mother in the dim lamplight.

‘Leni! Where have you been?’

She launched into an explanation about the dogfight and the Spitfire acrobatics, then the bale-out and the rescue, but her mother lost interest in her answer as soon as she realised Valentina had not heeded the siren and taken shelter. Instead, her now-horrified expression was focused on her daughter’s bloodstained frock.