My Name is Eva An absolutely gripping and emotional historical novel - Suzanne Goldring Page 0,32

smiling and concentrate on her act, knowing that she must carry it off with utter conviction. But she wasn’t looking forward to the next step.

The following morning, she decided she would make sure there could be no doubt. After collecting her bowl of breakfast porridge in the mess, she sat where she knew she could be seen clearly by Robinson and his closest cohorts. She stirred the sticky grey sludge with her spoon, toying with the food but not eating it. After pressing her hand to her stomach a couple of times, she sat back, taking deep breaths with her eyes closed. Odours of cooking fat, fried bread, Brylcreem and stale sweat filled her nostrils. It wasn’t hard pretending to be nauseous.

‘I say, are you feeling okay?’ a girl at the next table asked. And that was Eva’s curtain call. She stood abruptly, knocking her dish to the floor as she rose, and then let her knees weaken and she fell down into the swill of porridge and broken crockery.

When she opened her eyes, she was being helped onto her chair by two members of staff, who were wiping breakfast off her uniform and placing a glass of water in front of her. She lifted her head a little as she sipped and looked across the room. It appeared to have worked. Robinson had noticed her and he was frowning. ‘I think I’d better report sick,’ she said.

Later that day, while she was lying down in her room, waiting for a response to her star performance and her report to the centre’s medical officer, armed with the note provided by Joliffe’s contact, one of the other girls knocked on her door. ‘The Colonel’s asked to see you right away. Do you feel well enough to go on your own?’

Eva swung her legs off the bed and stood up, brushing her skirt and reaching for her jacket. ‘I’m ready to face the music.’

Robinson didn’t look at her when she entered his office. He continued to stare at the documents before him, crossing out a line here, adding a word there. She stood before him, her face impassive, arms stiff by her side.

Eventually he murmured, ‘Sit down, before you fall down.’

So she sat upright on a hard chair on the other side of his desk, till he deigned to lift his head and acknowledge her. He leant back in his seat, staring at her, hands bridged together, fingertips tapping his lips. And then he finally spoke. ‘Kuscheck, I’m disappointed in you. Wouldn’t have thought you were the type to get yourself up the duff. Though after seeing you sneaking out of that hotel the other week, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.’ He paused, still in his prayerful pose. ‘Damned annoying, though. You’re a good interpreter. You know you’ll have to go, don’t you?’

‘Yes, sir.’ She hung her head, as if contrite.

‘If there wasn’t a shortage of interpreters I’d never agree to recruit women. You’re to leave immediately, you hear?’

‘Yes, sir.’ She bit her lip to stop herself laughing. She didn’t care what he or anyone else thought of her, she had achieved her objective and would soon be free.

‘A driver will take you to the station in one hour. And you can forget all about what goes on here. Keep your damned mouth shut, you hear?’

He dismissed her without further questions about her plans for the future or her welfare. He didn’t care whether she was sick or pregnant. She was of no consequence to him; her departure was just an inconvenience. Outside in the corridor she muttered under her breath, ‘I damn well won’t forget what goes on and I won’t forgive, either. Humiliate me, disgrace me all you like. I’m free of you and I’ll make sure you get what you deserve one day.’

She packed her case quickly, eager to leave. Brian Joliffe had given her instructions when she phoned him and soon she would be leaving one kind of hell and entering another, where those who had been to hell and back could at least be helped and even saved.

25

Germany

15 November 1945

Darling,

I rather feel that if you were still here you would tell me I’d been foolish and naive to ever think I could cope with that posting. What a fool I was, not to see what was coming. The very title of the division should have alerted me in advance – Combined Services Detailed Interrogation Centre.

I know that it is important to find the most guilty people