My Name is Eva(75)
And of course my biggest mistake was pressing Brigitte to tell me where she had been taken. I should never have asked, but I simply had to know. I had to be sure she would be safe and would be loved. And once I knew she was so nearby, I couldn’t help walking past their cottage, strolling beside their fence to see her in the garden playing with a ball or singing to herself. And in the summer, I saw her pick raspberries with the woman she calls Mutti, eating the berries that stained her mouth and her white dress. It saddens me that she can never speak to me, kiss me or call me Mummy.
Eva stayed at the back of the church, hidden partly by the dim light and also by the heavy scarf pulled low over her forehead and tied tight under her chin. She didn’t speak to the child, nor to her adopted parents, but she heard them speaking to the little girl, just as she had many times before. That was how she knew the name they had given her daughter. ‘Lieselotte,’ she mouthed. That’s what they named her. Sometimes they called out ‘Lottie’, too, and ‘liebchen’.
She watched the little family greeting neighbours with warm smiles, shaking hands with the priest and then departing. They appeared to have no other children, just Lieselotte, who grasped the hands of her adoptive parents and trotted between them, chattering about the supper of carp, fried potatoes and Lebküchen she had helped to make. And I will never share her Christmas celebrations, show her how to roll pastry for mince pies, give her a stocking filled with secrets or cook her roast turkey, and she will never know the joy of finding a sixpence in her plum pudding.
As she watched them go, committing every happy skip and every laugh made by that golden child to memory, Eva became aware of an old woman in a threadbare coat and shawl staring at her with an intense gaze, her eyes absorbing her. Eva lowered her head, as if in prayer, but was conscious that she was still being watched and after a minute or two, looked up. The woman was now standing close by. In a feeble voice, she croaked, ‘Peter, wo ist Peter? Ich habe mein Kind, mein Sohn, verloren.’
She reached out with a weak scrawny hand, trying to grasp the sleeve of Eva’s coat, but Eva turned away and pushed past her, pulling her scarf across her face, and left the church, disappearing into the chattering crowd on their way back to warm homes for their Christmas feast. As she hurried away in the cold air, which promised a clear night filled with stars for the children to claim as theirs, she couldn’t help but feel pity for Peter’s mother. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered as she walked with brisk steps along the snowy roads. ‘I’m so sorry I can’t comfort you and tell you that your son is dead and you now have a grandchild you will never meet. We’re both mothers and we’ve both lost our children. I know I should tell you, but I can’t. Please forgive me.’
Part IX
At the end of the day… (3,6)
69
Wildflecken
15 January 1951
My darling one,
I will soon be returning to England for good. Our work here is nearly done and Mama needs me at home. She has not been herself ever since Charles died and I feel it is my duty now to be there with her.
The child thrives, so I can leave here knowing that my work is done there too. Without revealing myself to her or to her parents, I have walked through the village often and have seen her growing strong and sturdy. She will have a happy life and be loved, I am sure. It pains me to think I may never see her again, but I know I must go. Besides, Kingsley is calling me and I long to see trees in bud in an English spring. But in due course, I hope I can make another contribution to improving the good of the world. As I thought at the time, Bad Nenndorf was an evil place and there has been an investigation, but Robinson has been acquitted of any wrongdoing, despite what I and others there witnessed. I am frustrated that he has been let off without severe admonishment or punishment, so I will think carefully about what else I can do to rid this earth of the man I blame for your unnecessary death. I despise those who hate mankind and cannot love their fellow human beings.
Your loving Evie, xxxx Ps I love you
70
Eva, 30 May 1951
Leaving At Last
‘Na zdrowie,’ Irene Komorowski said as she and Eva clinked their glasses of plum brandy. ‘To your health, my dear, and long life.’
It was time at last for all to go home. Eva and her friends had done all they could and the Wildflecken camp was destined to cease healing and feeding the deprived and displaced, stop mending broken souls and become a base for American soldiers raised on golden breakfasts of orange juice, easy-over eggs and sweet waffles awash with syrup. Hundreds of thousands of lost souls had come to Wildflecken hungry and forlorn, broken in both body and spirit, but thousands had also left full of hope for the future.
Brigitte and Sally were now long gone and with them her secrets. Both had tended to Eva when she was heavy with child and held her hand as she laboured, coaxed her through her pain and held her in their arms, her tears soaking their uniforms, when she was parted from her baby. Brigitte left to continue working with the Red Cross and wrote saying that she was helping new mothers in other war-torn areas and was responsible for drawing up policy guidelines for the organisation. Sally hugged Eva the day she left to return to Scotland, saying, ‘Come and see me when you get back. There’s always a spare room for you.’ But that was two years ago and now Sally was married with a baby of her own and Eva did not want to visit her and be reminded of her own childlessness.