My Name is Eva(41)

There’s no going back now. I’ve burned my bridges, as it were. I feel absolutely no remorse in dispatching him – it felt just and right. And he felt no remorse either. I think I made it clear why he had to go, but he didn’t even apologise for my losing you. I doubt he even remembered you: lives meant nothing to him.

I had a slight pang of regret that I didn’t make him suffer longer. Maybe I should have winged him and left him there for a bit. It would have served him right. But I couldn’t take the risk – it had to be finished then and there.

So the deed is done and if there are consequences to be faced, I will face them.



Yours always, Evie

Ps I love you





Part V





Eric’s partner in Louis’s world is both

clever and brilliant (4,3,9)





39





Mrs T-C, 13 November 2016





Miss Scarlet





‘What I’d like to do this time,’ says Inspector Williams on his second visit, ‘is ask you a bit about your time in the forces. I believe you joined up after you lost your husband, when he was killed in action. In 1943, wasn’t it?’

‘Is that when it was? I can’t remember dates. Hugh wasn’t at all keen for me to join. He wanted me to wait for him, but I so wanted to do something useful.’ She looks across the room at Pat, who is sitting with her arms crossed, looking irritated. ‘Can you remember, dear? When my poor Hugh was killed?’

‘How on earth would I remember? I wasn’t even born then.’ Pat stands up and addresses the Inspector. ‘I can’t see you getting anywhere today. I’ll go and see if they can bring us some tea.’

When she has gone, Evelyn says, ‘I did rather think I’d like to join the Wrens.’ She puts her hands to her hair, mimicking a cap. ‘They had awfully smart little hats and I rather fancied that would suit me. We all thought their uniform was so much more flattering than the Women’s Army Corps, too. All that ghastly khaki, so unbecoming for an English complexion. I don’t think any of us ever looked attractive in it.’

Inspector Williams smiles at this admission, then says, ‘I wouldn’t say that. Your niece has been able to give us a very nice picture of you in uniform.’ He selects a photograph from a clear plastic folder and holds out the studio portrait that Pat had found in the biscuit tin, a week or so before. ‘That’s you in this picture, isn’t it?’

Evelyn peers at the photo he is offering for her consideration, but she has also noticed his file contains copies of other pictures, the photos of a rustic village, of gardens with fruit bushes, of laughing children and one child in particular. Please don’t ask me about them, please don’t ask if I know that little girl, she pleads inwardly. But all she says of the studio portrait of herself is, ‘That cap isn’t nearly as attractive as the one they gave the Wrens. I really should have joined the Wrens, I think, but by then they just wanted women to join the ATS.’

‘Well, you look very smart in this photo. Had you had done any of your training when this picture was taken?’

Evelyn manages to look blank for a second or two. ‘Training? Well, we all had to learn to drive and I learnt typing and shorthand. You should do shorthand, young man. It would be very useful, as long as you remember to use a sharp pencil.’ She sighs. ‘Those skills will always be useful, Mama said. And of course I was always very good at languages.’

‘You were a linguist, were you?’

‘At home we had a governess who taught us French and German. Both were considered suitable for a young lady in my day. Then I continued with those languages at school when my parents were abroad. And my grandmother taught both Charles and me a little Russian. Such fun – we used to send letters in code to each other once we’d learnt their alphabet. Mama could never get the hang of Russian, so she couldn’t understand what we were saying or writing. And my parents sent me to Munich when I was older, to be finished, as we called it in those days. I stayed with a lovely Graf and Gr?fin in Bavaria.’ Evelyn sighs. ‘I went there with a couple of other girls. Such fun it was, though we did get into a bit of bother.’

‘Bother? You mean in trouble?’

‘The National Socialist Party, you’d know them as Nazis. They produced an awful newspaper and pinned it up on public display in the village there. Horribly anti-Semitic. We tore it down several times and then we got caught one day.’ She giggles. ‘We were all sent home in disgrace, but we didn’t regret doing it.’

‘Well, I’m sure your German must have been very useful when you were working in the country later on. How long did you stay at Bad Nenndorf?’

‘No, it wasn’t there. I went to Bavaria, not far from Munich.’

‘I meant when you were older, after you’d joined up. You were assigned to the British interrogation centre in Bad Nenndorf, weren’t you?’

‘Is that where I went?’

‘Service records indicate that you were there. Did you take part in any of the interrogations yourself?’

Evelyn pauses and is silent for a while, picturing a bruised and bloodied face, then says, ‘I think I might have done some filing and taking notes. Nothing very important, I’m sure.’