My Name is Eva(17)
Pat is wearing a creased sweater and dark slacks strewn with dog hair. She glares at her aunt and sips her coffee.
‘We did find some items of clothing in the cases, madam, but that’s not all there was. Take a look at these pictures.’ Inspector Williams holds out two more photographs. ‘This is what we found inside.’ One picture shows a tailored uniform and some papers; the other is a Sten gun, its leather strap coiled in a loop, alongside a handgun and ammunition. ‘Do you recognise any of these items?’
I’m so annoyed I couldn’t clear out those cases, Evelyn thinks. But I did try, tottering on top of that rickety chair in the bedroom, stretching up to the top of the wardrobe, nearly grabbing the handle and then falling. That’s when I knew I couldn’t hide away any longer, when I knew I could no longer cover my tracks. I should never have put the cases up there in the first place. Under the bed would have been much more sensible. Why didn’t I think of that?
But all she says is, ‘What a big gun, Inspector! However did it get there?’
‘Exactly. That’s what we’d like to know, madam. It would be most helpful to us if you could throw any light on the ownership.’
Evelyn is silent. The Inspector takes a picture of an old passport from his file. ‘We found this in the case as well,’ he says. ‘Your niece has told us that the photo in this is you when you were younger. But the passport is in the name of Eva Kuscheck. Can you tell me why you appear to have a passport in that name?’
Evelyn continues staring, then looks at the tea tray on the side table and says, ‘How disappointing. The Bourbons have all gone. Pat, have you eaten them all?’
Pat heaves a sigh. ‘No, I haven’t, but I’ll go and see if they’ve got any in the kitchen. Mary said she’d find some ages ago.’
Evelyn watches her go. ‘She always was a greedy child. Just like her father, Charles. He was my brother, you know. So sad that she never really knew him.’ She twists her handkerchief in her hands and wonders if this would be a good moment to dab at her eyes. But perhaps she should save teary distress for now, save it for when the questions get uncomfortably close to the truth.
Inspector Williams shuffles through his file again, then holds out a copy of a letter, inviting her to visit the Kaiserhof Hotel. ‘Perhaps this will jog your memory.’
Evelyn holds the photographed letter, remembering so clearly how daring she had felt driving to her assignation, how relieved she had been to have this opportunity to escape and how intimidated she had been by his imperious gaze, his arrogance and his assumption that she would never speak about his methods. All pleasure she had taken in the interview and the civilised coffee and cake had been eradicated under his stern, dismissive disdain.
‘I understand from your niece that you were stationed in Germany soon after the end of the war. Can you tell me anything about that time?’
Evelyn continues to stare at the invitation, deciding how best to reply. About that time. That time of horror and uncertainty, immediately after all the horror that had gone before. After a minute, she speaks, looking at the Inspector with a bright smile. ‘Apfelküchen,’ she says. ‘There were still shortages of supplies everywhere at that time, but we had wonderful Apfelküchen. I brought the recipe back with me and often made it at home.’
‘I see. This, this Apfelküchen or whatever… was it served at the Kaiserhof Hotel?’
‘Apple cake, Inspector. It’s apple cake. We ate it with Schlagsahne, when we could get it. Sugar was in short supply in those days, but when I came home in later years, I made it with a sprinkling of brown sugar on top. So delicious. Shall I ask the kitchen here to make some for you?’
‘That’s very kind of you, Mrs Taylor-Clarke…’
‘Oh, Mrs T-C will do, Inspector. Everyone here calls me Mrs T-C.’ Evelyn cocks her head to one side, looking at the baffled man, his pencil poised over his pad.
‘Your pencil isn’t very sharp,’ she says, ‘Would you like me to sharpen it for you?’
He looks down at the blunt stub of pencil, then hands it to her. Evelyn delves into her capacious handbag and pulls out a small silver pencil sharpener. Curls fall onto the coffee tray and when she has finished, she hands it back to him. ‘There, that’s better. You’ll find your writing is much clearer now.’
He looks at some notes in his file, then says, ‘We’ve been doing some background checks and believe you worked for a time at the Combined Services Detailed Interrogation Centre at Bad Nenndorf in Germany. Is that correct?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Is that where I went?’
‘Service records would indicate that you did. Can you tell me anything about the work you were involved in there?’ He sits, pencil poised over his pad, waiting for an answer, as Pat returns with another plate of biscuits.
‘You’re in luck. Danielle managed to find a new packet in the kitchen. Perhaps you’ll be satisfied now.’
‘I had to help this nice gentleman sharpen his pencil,’ says Evelyn. ‘Fancy coming to work without a sharp pencil.’ She smiles at the two of them, Pat sipping her almost cold cup of coffee and Inspector Williams, still waiting for an answer to his question. Evelyn stretches her hand across to the fresh plate of biscuits and takes a Bourbon.
The Inspector clears his throat, then says, ‘We’ve been able to confirm from service records that you were based at the centre at the same time as Colonel Stephen Robinson. Do you recall a gentleman of that name? I believe he would have been your superior officer in those days.’