‘I’ve come about the ride to Milano,’ he started and the priest nodded.
‘Yes, yes. The Red Cross asked me about it. It is all organised. You come here tomorrow before sunrise. The truck leaves at dawn. All right?’
‘It is perfect. I will come early tomorrow.’
‘Good, good. You look thin and pale. Come, I’ll give you breakfast.’
The priest gave him no chance to reply but ushered him out of the dimly lit church into a small cottage at the back. The door opened directly into a tiny kitchen where a woman was cooking up some eggs. ‘Any chance of cracking another egg for our friend?’
‘Of course, Father,’ the woman said obligingly and reached into a basket full of eggs to add two more to the pan.
‘Sit down, have a glass of apple juice. Sorry I don’t have anything stronger.’
‘I don’t have a s
