My Name is Eva An absolutely gripping and emotional historical novel - Suzanne Goldring Page 0,3

Evelyn murmurs, ‘Marjanna Maria Hutchinson,’ tracing the curling letters with the tip of her finger. She holds the hairbrush to her nose, and it seems to her that deep within the bristles there is still the faint scent of lavender water.

She thinks of Mama often when she sits here to brush her hair, powder her nose, apply some cold cream. ‘A lady always has a fresh handkerchief,’ her elegant mother would say, admonishing the child before her, with grass seed in her hair and grazed knees, as she brought a clean square of lace-edged linen from her pocket to wipe her daughter’s smeared and grimy face.

Evelyn still has some delicate hankies, but they are more for show than practical use; a wisp to tuck into a cuff, a message to drop into a handbag. Everyone uses tissues now. Much more practical, but so much less significant, Evelyn thinks. No one’s going to convey anything other than germs with a dropped tissue; people will shy away from it or throw it in the bin.

A last check reassures her that she is presentable. Her hair is tidy, her lipstick is red and she blots it to avoid smudging. So common leaving marks on cups. But she lets her collar crumple and slip inside her cardigan, so Pat can fuss and straighten it for herself.

Evelyn steadies herself with her walking frame as she rises from the dressing table stool, then checks that all the drawers in her room are closed. Such a blessing that she was able to bring her own furniture here and didn’t have to accept the light oak and beech furnishings used in most of the home’s other rooms. Not the bed, of course; they like residents to have beds that can be adjusted when there are problems and Evelyn now has a rippling wobbling water mattress to soothe her aches and pains. Sometimes she tells herself it is talking to her as she turns in the night and it automatically bubbles and readjusts to her position. But the other furniture, the dark mahogany that gleams and tells her if any hands other than hers have pried, that bears traces of white talcum powder (so much more convenient than a slip of paper), the chest of drawers, bedside cupboard, dressing table and mirror, are all old friends from home and glow with remembered firelight.

A final look reassures Evelyn that all will be the same when she returns. She bids goodbye to the silver-framed photograph of the handsome man on her bedside table and checks that the photo she always keeps hidden is safely stowed in the drawer beneath, then she shuffles into the corridor with her walking frame to meet her niece.

4

16 December 1939

My darling,

Thank you so, so much for the gift of the L’Opera perfume and for the beautiful little manicure set. How you are able to find such treasures at the present time, when you and all the boys are so short of essential clothing, I cannot imagine. All the girls here are madly knitting and I have sworn to join their ranks although I fear their efforts will far outstrip mine. But I cannot bear to think of my darling husband down to his last pair of decent socks and facing the prospect of being barefoot by Christmas. And if, as you say, the Company cobbler is now out of leather, you may be truly barefoot, all of you, before very long.

Now I don’t want to bore you with my own petty grievances when yours are so much greater than mine (I had my shoes mended and bought new stockings), but I have to say I am terribly fed up with this job and keep wishing I was doing something more worthwhile. You know how tired I am of office life and would like a change if I can, despite your objections.

I have been thinking I would like to join the A.T.S (they are paying £2 a week, 1/6 food allowance daily & all uniform & board provided) or the Women’s Land Army (you’ve always said you think I look attractive in jodhpurs) or the River Ambulance or something. So I have decided I will go up on Monday & have a look around. The British School of Motoring are offering special courses at reduced fees for women who will do National Service & the Motor Transport Training Corp said when I enquired that they would place me (where secretarial knowledge was useful) if I could get