My Name is Eva(81)
‘Blimey, Mrs T-C! Walking halfway across Europe? I get puffed just walking round Guildford on my day off.’
‘They were very determined men. And many of them skied across the Alps on their journey.’ Evelyn is quiet for a second. ‘I did a bit of skiing in Germany after the war – Skilaufen, we called it.’
‘I bet that was something. All those snowy mountains and lovely scenery, eh?’
‘It was most interesting,’ says Evelyn. And after a moment’s pause she adds, ‘It’s a time I can never forget.’
75
Mrs T-C, 30 November 2016
The Truth
‘I’m having visitors this afternoon, Mary. I’d like to see them in the library on my own, so could you see that we are not disturbed?’
Evelyn shuffles along the dark patterned carpet in the corridor and stops by the gilt-framed mirror on the wall. She pats her curled hair and studies her grinning reflection so she can check no spinach from her lunch has caught in her teeth and that her lipstick hasn’t smudged. It hardly matters, does it, applying cosmetics, having one’s hair set? She knows she has not made a great impression on the male sex for many years, yet she still wants to look well groomed. She shuffles a little further, then sits waiting in the muffled book-lined room for her guests, waiting for the sound of voices, hearing only the steady ticking of the mantel clock echoing her heartbeat.
‘Here we are, Mrs T-C,’ announces Mary in a loud voice, ushering in Pat and Inspector Williams. ‘Now, shall I fetch all of yous some tea and cakes?’
Her visitors both look as if they’d rather rush away unfed and unwatered, but Evelyn says, ‘That would be lovely, Mary. And would you have any mince pies for us today, perhaps?’
‘We won’t be staying long, Aunt. This isn’t a social call, you know.’ Pat is shrugging off her grubby raincoat.
‘No, dear. But I do like to be hospitable to my guests.’ Evelyn smiles at both of them. ‘Please take a seat, both of you.’ Pat shakes her head in annoyance.
‘I understand you wanted to see me, Mrs T-C,’ says the Inspector. ‘You’ve remembered something, I believe?’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ Evelyn says, diving into her handbag. ‘Now, where have I put it?’ She glances up to see Pat rolling her eyes. Perhaps it would be fun to tease them a little. Not for long, just for a few minutes. It would be a shame not to use this opportunity, as it will probably be the last time she can play the game.
‘I’m sure I had it right here a minute ago.’ She removes the contents of her bag, very slowly, one by one. A pen, two newly sharpened pencils, a powder compact, a lipstick, a clean handkerchief, a small pack of tissues and a purse. Then she delves deeper and brings out a slim black diary and a pencil sharpener. She looks over at Pat and dangles the handkerchief in front of her: ‘You’d better have it, dear. I know you never bring a clean hankie with you.’
Pat snorts, but takes the piece of lacy white fabric and sits wringing it tightly in her fingers. ‘I hope you remember where you said you’d written this vital bit of information. You’d better not be messing around with us today and wasting our time. We’re all far too busy for that.’
Inspector Williams leans forward, his arms on his knees. In a soft voice, he says, ‘Do you want to tell me what you think you’ve remembered?’
Evelyn flicks through the pages of her diary, turning them one at a time. ‘Oh yes, here we are,’ she says. ‘Stephen Robinson.’
‘That’s right. I was asking you before about Colonel Robinson. Have you remembered meeting him again?’
‘I think so.’
‘And can you tell me when you think that was?’
‘I’m not sure exactly when. Is that important, Inspector?’
‘It might be. But why don’t you just tell me what you’ve remembered anyway?’ He smiles. He is such a nice-looking young man. Evelyn finds him very pleasant and understanding, quite different to Pat. She wouldn’t mind spending more time with him, but the game must come to an end at some point.
Evelyn looks down at the page in her diary. It’s almost completely blank; there are no words written there, just the letters SR. But then she really didn’t need to write anything down, she remembers it all too well. Then she looks up and smiles. ‘Yes, I will tell you what I’ve remembered. I think you said that he had disappeared a long time ago and nobody knows what has happened to him.’
‘That’s right, I did say that, when we last met. He never turned up again. We believe he left his flat one day in early 1986 and disappeared. No one’s heard anything and nothing has been seen of him, ever since.’
‘Well, I know what happened to him.’ Evelyn drops her diary back into her handbag and then adds the other items, one at a time, deliberately placing everything in the right compartment and fumbling to fit her pencils into a narrow pocket. She hears Pat heaving theatrical sighs as she does this, but doesn’t react to her.
‘Really? And are you going to tell me what you know?’
Evelyn completes her repacking, clicks the handbag clasp shut, then smiles, as if she is going to deliver a wonderful surprise. ‘Because you’ve been so kind and patient, I am going to tell you. You see, I remember what happened quite clearly. I couldn’t possibly forget.’ She pauses for a moment, then says, ‘I killed him.’