My Name is Eva An absolutely gripping and emotional historical novel - Suzanne Goldring Page 0,54
went to Bavaria, not far from Munich.’
‘I meant when you were older, after you’d joined up. You were assigned to the British interrogation centre in Bad Nenndorf, weren’t you?’
‘Is that where I went?’
‘Service records indicate that you were there. Did you take part in any of the interrogations yourself?’
Evelyn pauses and is silent for a while, picturing a bruised and bloodied face, then says, ‘I think I might have done some filing and taking notes. Nothing very important, I’m sure.’
‘I see. And do you remember working with a Colonel Robinson? He was the commanding officer in charge of the centre.’
‘Did I?’ Evelyn can’t let her amusement show, but she is thoroughly enjoying these interviews. Such a diversion during the long days, which the staff try to fill with interesting activities, but which often leave her longing for more stimulation. Yesterday they made paper chains for Christmas decorations in the activities room, followed by a word search game in the afternoon. Evelyn enjoyed the game and could easily have won the prize of a bar of chocolate if she’d wanted, but she made sure her paper chain didn’t link up the way it should and kept writing the word ‘blimp’ during the game.
Then Pat returns, bearing a tray of tea and little iced cakes. ‘I’ve brought it in myself this time. I didn’t want to keep you waiting any longer and the staff are all gossiping in the kitchen.’ She glances at the Inspector’s notepad. ‘Well, have you got anywhere with her yet?’
He clears his throat as she passes round the filled teacups, then says, ‘I was just about to ask Mrs T-C another question. Can you recall meeting Colonel Robinson again, after your time in Germany? After you were reassigned?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Do you think I could have done?’
‘He continued in the service for some time after the war.’
‘I think I was in the Civil Service. Is that where he was?’ I wouldn’t mind betting he was involved in that odious interrogation centre in London too. I bet he made sure he enjoyed himself there. The London Cage, they called it. Nasty place by all accounts. The Red Cross heard about it and checked it out, but all their dirty washing was bundled away so no one was ever brought to account. How convenient.
‘Colonel Robinson had a flat in London,’ Inspector Williams says, ‘and he continued to live there after his retirement from active service.’
‘Oh, I do miss London,’ Evelyn says. ‘I used to love shopping at Peter Jones.’ She turns to Pat. ‘Why don’t we go to London soon? Shall I book us tickets for a show? Is there anything you’d like to see? I could treat you.’
‘No,’ says Pat. ‘London’s getting packed out with Christmas shoppers already. It’s the last place I want to go while I’m still trying to sort out the house for you.’
‘Christmas,’ repeats Evelyn. ‘We could go and see the Christmas lights and the lovely window displays. I took you there when you were quite little, didn’t I? We went to Selfridges, to see Father Christmas in his lovely grotto. You screamed the place down and had a tantrum in the toy department, then I took you for a delicious tea and you ate too many cream meringues and were terribly sick on the train on the way home. All down your dark blue coat. Do you remember that dear little coat with the velvet collar?’
‘We’re not talking about that now. You’re meant to be concentrating and answering Inspector Williams’ questions. It’s very important that you try and remember everything.’
Evelyn pushes the plate of cakes towards the policeman, who is trying not to smile. ‘You’ll have an iced fancy, won’t you, Inspector? I’m going to have one.’ She picks up a pink cake with a little sugar flower and takes a bite.
‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘I’ll have one in a moment. Just one more question, if you don’t mind.’ Evelyn nods her assent and carries on eating her cake while he talks. ‘Colonel Robinson hasn’t been seen since the mid-1980s. He was a man of regular habits in his retirement but no one has seen any sign of him since February 1986. When his absence was noted, after a few weeks, other residents at the block of flats where he was living were interviewed, along with former colleagues, but no one had any information on his whereabouts. Do you have any idea what might have happened to him?’