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‘If they do, my parents don’t seem to care and neither do yours.

Between them they think this is a great union for the families.’

‘I wish I could just fly away,’ she said, thinking of the pilots. ‘If it was me, would you agree?’

She stared at him with soft exasperation. He was so sweet, so kind, but she didn’t want to marry him either. She chose her words carefully. ‘If I had no choice but to marry a Falzon, it would be you.’

His face brightened. ‘Well, let’s make that happen. I shall say something… again.’

‘Robertu, they are never going to allow the younger son to marry over the older one. You know how it is. They chose Lawrenz for me almost at birth. Both our families have been in agreement. Short of one of us dying in a bombing, there’s no way to avoid me becoming Mrs Lawrenz Falzon. I’d just hoped it would take longer.’

‘Then I’ll kill him for you,’ Robertu said.

She clicked her tongue in admonishment. ‘Don’t talk like that. There’s enough killing by the Germans without us killing each other.’

‘I don’t want him to have you.’

‘Neither do I, but we have no choice. Our parents have decided. Now, let’s change the subject. What would you do if you didn’t have to run a bar like your parents want you to?’

‘I’d like to be a ship’s captain and sail the world.’

‘Bravo, Robertu,’ she said.

‘And you?’

This too was not a new conversation, but they liked indulging in it. Robertu sometimes wanted to do other things, teach or be a doctor, and each time she would encourage and congratulate him. Her own aims never changed, but Robertu didn’t seem to mind or notice.

Valentina sighed loudly as she closed her eyes and joyfully imagined herself as a mature student of history, learning about Valletta’s colourful past and finding a way that she might contribute to its future. She could get involved with⁠—

The daydream was dramatically pierced by the low but urgent moan of the air-raid siren cranking up, like a wounded animal. It then imploded on itself, almost immediately rising to become the all-too-familiar wail of a different creature, this time in terror. It was the sound of fear and the few people around them responded immediately.

‘Come on, Leni, let’s go,’ Robertu said, reaching for her hand again.

She pulled away slightly.

Footsteps began to clatter on the pathways, the horses began to clip-clop faster and people began scurrying away from the bastion. No one tarried but Valentina.

‘Leni, come on!’ Robertu shouted now.

‘You go ahead,’ she urged. ‘I just want a few moments more.’

‘You can’t,’ he tried again. ‘Please, it’s dangerous.’

‘They don’t bomb here. They go further in,’ she assured him. ‘You’ve seen the state of the Opera House! They’re trying to smash our spirits by flattening our city and our grand buildings, not here. You go. Don’t get into trouble. I’m used to it.’ She grinned. ‘And I promise to leave soon.’

He looked uncertain. ‘This isn’t being brave.’

‘I’m not trying to be brave! I just want to be up here for a few moments longer,’ she repeated, without explanation as to why. ‘Now go. I want you to. I’m just steps behind you.’

‘Promise?’

‘Promise.’ She knew he was used to her capricious ways and trusted everything she said; in truth, she didn’t plan to linger long but she did want some time alone. The dirt and the fleas, the smell and the despair of the tunnels could wait for her, as could the flickering lights, the blasts finding their way underground to lift the skirts of the women as they blew through, and the masonry and other debris that covered them in a dust that got everywhere, even beneath clothes, where it chafed against skin. The noise was deafening, the screams of women and children were chilling and the wails of frightened babies heartbreaking. Through the suffocating dust, everyone looked like sightless wraiths, feeling their way around, hacking and coughing. She hated it. And she hated the Germans for decimating their small city.

‘See you underground,’ Robertu said, his face serious.

She nodded. ‘I’ll run to the closest tunnel.’

Reluctantly, he turned and left, following everyone else who was hurrying away. He looked back once and she waved, then turned to face the sea. She should have followed; she’d promised her mother she would. Every good sense told her to flee. And yet something was holding her back. She didn’t understand it, but she felt herself rooted to where she stood as if she was meant to be here, as if she was meant to dare Fate.