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She blinked.
‘Brave,’ he said, making a fist that made her smile. ‘That’s you, the way you ran down from the top of the battlements to tell people I’d baled out. I’m very grateful for your courage.’
She wasn’t used to compliments, he noted, and was glad to see her face light up. It saddened him that she was having to live through this war when she was obviously so intelligent, with a mind craving enrichment and education. He thought that living underground right at the age when your whole being desired freedom and experimentation would be like torture.
‘After the war, what would you most like to do?’ he asked.
He was expecting her to say something like going to the beach, having parties again or visiting friends freely, but she surprised him when her forehead creased in thought and she then said, ‘I know what I’ll be doing after the war. I’ll be a waitress for the rest of my life. Soon I shall be married, and I’m expected to start a family immediately. Preferably I’ll have some boys to carry on with the bar, maybe expand our family business. But if you’re asking me what my dreams are, well, if it was up to me to choose what happens, then my dream is to go to university.’
‘Oh,’ he said, trying to hide his shock. Married and having babies so young? ‘And what would you like to study?’
She didn’t hesitate, he noticed. ‘History and languages. And art, definitely, although I’m not very good at it. But I like learning about its history and the great masters.’
‘Bloody hell.’ The words were out before he could censor himself. ‘Sorry, I mean, that’s amazing! I remember now you told me that you enjoyed these subjects.’
She frowned a little. ‘Aren’t Maltese girls allowed to have ambition for themselves? Are marriage and babies all that we’re permitted to think about?’
He put his hands up in defence. ‘If it were up to me, I’d insist that every single young person in the whole world – male or female – attended university to broaden and enrich their minds.’
Her dark eyes shone. ‘Did you go to university?’
‘I did. Now I lecture in the history of art. Well, I used to anyway.’
She gave a soft gasp. ‘Truly? You’re not teasing? The history of art.’ She repeated the last four words in awe.
‘Cross my heart,’ he said, making the gesture over his chest.
‘I didn’t know there was such a thing. So you study paintings?’ Her tone was one of wonder.
‘Well, art is vast, of course, but yes, my area of knowledge is in painted art. Specifically the art of the Baroque period, like your marvellous Caravaggio at the cathedral. He’s my specialty, actually.’
She looked back quizzically at him. ‘What is this?’
‘The Beheading of Saint John the Baptist?’ he qualified. At her blank look, he said, ‘Oh, Valentina, you haven’t seen it?’
She shrugged, frowning. ‘I don’t know. Maybe when I was much younger. The cathedral has been closed to services for years.’
‘The painting is in the oratory.’
‘We were never allowed in there as children, even on the rare occasion we did go to the cathedral.’
‘We must rectify that. I will rectify that!’ he said with largesse, making her smile.
‘I would like to see it.’
‘Would you like to study art?’
‘Yes,’ she gushed. ‘I’m just learning to sketch with pencil and some old paper my father had in the bar. I’m teaching myself, though I’m not very good. I don’t actually wish to be an artist.’ She frowned again, looking like she was trying to find the right words to articulate her hopes. ‘I’m more interested in other artists, but drawing helps me to understand them. And I suppose it also helps me to disappear when we’re in the tunnels and it all feels so… so…’
‘How does it feel?’ he asked.
‘Hopeless, I suppose. I don’t know whether it’s wise to dream about the future too much.’ Her shoulders slumped as she looked away.
He hated to see someone so young looking so burdened, though of course the situation was dire; he knew as well as anyone. ‘Valentina, listen to me. I don’t want you to think like this. I’ve never met a child with as much ambition and drive as you, though to be honest, I haven’t met a lot of children in recent years…’ He grinned. ‘But you are so determined in your passions. Don’t ever lose that. Don’t let anyone, whether they’re German or Maltese, take that away from you. Truly, I admire your disobedience and defiance – but please don’t tell your parents I said that.’
She giggled then, changing her serious expression to one of lightness. ‘I won’t.’
‘Just keep believing in yourself. Keep practising your art so you can keep escaping to here.’ He touched his temple. ‘Escape into your imagination… and the past.’
