My Name is Eva An absolutely gripping and emotional historical novel - Suzanne Goldring Page 0,5

day?’ Pat leans forward with an encouraging smile. ‘You know, about the keys?’

Evelyn knows perfectly well what Pat means, but can’t let her think that, so she tries to look mystified before she answers. ‘Keys… what keys are you talking about?’

The smile disappears and Pat frowns. ‘Honestly, it’s so hard trying to get anywhere with you. I asked you on Tuesday if you ever remembered having any keys to that lovely bird’s-eye maple breakfront bookcase. A couple of the drawers are locked and I really don’t want to force them open. It’s such an important and valuable piece of furniture.’

‘It was Mama’s,’ Evelyn murmurs. ‘She kept her letters there. And her diaries. Have you read them?’

‘How can I, if I can’t open the drawers?’

Evelyn’s reply is deliberately slow in coming. ‘I don’t think there’s anything else in there.’

‘You said that last time. But how can you be sure? You can’t remember what you had for lunch half the time. Anyway, you said you’d think about where the keys might be.’

‘Did I?’ Evelyn looks away towards the view of the gardens through the drawing room windows. Smoke is still drifting behind the trees. Anything could be burning there. A bonfire is a very good way of gradually disposing of papers that might prove inconvenient – and other evidence.

‘So, did you think about it? Where the keys might be?’

Evelyn is quiet for a moment, as if she is thinking hard, then says, ‘What about the kitchen drawer? Did you look there? We always threw all sorts of bits and pieces in the kitchen dresser drawer. It was full of junk. They might have slipped down the back.’

‘Of course I tried that drawer, then I tried every other darned drawer in the kitchen, the cellar, the workshop, the whole damn house. Honestly, Aunt Evelyn, the place is a total mess. Please remind me not to leave such a horrendous muddle to my kids when I go.’

‘Then maybe the children would like to have a look around with you, to help you. It would be like a big treasure hunt for them. We always enjoyed a treasure hunt when I was a girl. I remember once, Great-Uncle Will—’

‘Oh, Aunt, really! They’re not kids any more, they’re fully grown adults with important jobs and responsibilities. They can’t take time off work to come and rummage through all your old rubbish. For goodness’ sake, some days I’m sorely tempted to call in house clearance and have done with it. If it wasn’t for the valuables and the family trust, I’d have happily done that straight away.’

Evelyn can see it won’t help matters to let Pat get even more annoyed, so after a few seconds of silence she says, ‘Chicken. I had chicken for lunch today.’

That almost makes Pat smile. ‘Good for you. I’m glad you’re eating well here. You certainly look as if you’re enjoying your food.’

‘I’ve always had a good appetite. Mama always said so. And Mrs Glazier said I had the best appetite of all of us, when we were very young.’

‘Mrs Glazier? She was your mother’s cook or housekeeper, wasn’t she?’ Pat knows that Evelyn can easily be persuaded to talk about the past.

‘Cook mainly, we had Violet to help clean. Mama always said staff were hard to get and keep, but Mrs Glazier was there for years. I loved her steak and kidney pudding and she made delicious apple dumplings. We always had them with custard. Have you ever had an apple dumpling, Pat? Such a treat, I tell you.’

‘No, I haven’t ever had one. And I doubt I ever will now. I don’t think anyone makes that kind of pudding nowadays. It’s all ready-made cheesecakes or packet crumble mix, if anything. Most people don’t have any kind of pudding these days and I certainly don’t need to start eating them.’ She pats her well-padded waist.

‘Oh, we always had a pudding when I was a girl. It wasn’t considered a proper lunch or dinner if there wasn’t a pudding, you know.’ Evelyn pauses, dreaming of puddings past but not forgotten, then says, ‘Have you ever had a Sussex pond pudding, dear? It has a lovely lemon sauce.’

‘No, Aunt.’ Pat sighs. ‘I haven’t had one of those either and I’m really not likely to.’

‘I could ask the cooks here to make one for us, as a treat one day. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? They’re always happy to cater for special requests.’

‘No, no, I haven’t come here to talk about puddings! I need