Robert Craven - Get Lenin

Then in a sudden flare of anger Mosley launched into a diatribe against the Soviet Union, the Communists and repeated the ‘fact’ that he, Hitler and Mussolini were bulwarks in Europe against this menace.

Bounding athletically onto the stage as he spoke and striding to the podium, he gripped it in white-knuckled rage. The microphone carried his voice, giving it a tinny quality. Eva removed the flash from her camera and, clipping on the customised B5b wide angle lens, took discreet photographs of those attending. The room offered sufficient light she judged as she captured the German and Italian delegates speaking to the assembled guests. Lords, ladies, businessmen, some from the munitions industries, and bankers were captured on film. Some openly posed for her, believing their faces would be in periodicals across Europe the following week.

De Witte enquired as to how the BUF was being funded, the rumour being Mussolini was their big backer. Mosley laughed this off as ‘Communist propaganda’, saying it was the British working man in the street funding them, with generous private donations.

Some of the journalists scoffed out loud and Mosley’s smile, though broad, slipped smoothly to a sneer. Eva noted that’s where the similarities with De Witte ended. De Witte again raised a question as to the whereabouts of William Joyce, whether or not he was still a party member returned to America or now living in Nazi Germany? Mosley stared evenly at De Witte who inclined his head to improve his hearing. Joyce hadn’t left the BUF but was actively liaising with the German High Command on behalf of the party, replied Mosley.

There was a growing sense of suspicion creeping into his voice in his replies toward De Witte.

De Witte continued, ‘As in the case of Ernst Rohm, right hand men have a habit of coming to a sticky end in Fascist movements. Is Joyce possibly floating in the Thames somewhere?’

Some of the press laughed again. Mosley insisted that Joyce was alive and well and working with Dr. Josef Goebbels. As he spoke, several Blackshirts moved in toward De Witte, summoned with a nod from Mosley. Eva tapped De Witte’s knee with a warning code and he flashed a smile to Mosley that was both immediately disarming and charming. Naturally it’ll be off the record, he assured him. Mosley grunted into his pewter tankard and waved the men away. They dumbly obliged.

Diana and Unity Mitford stood beside her in breathless admiration of Oswald, his coconut oiled fringe flying free with every head shake. He held his audience in thrall and, at the end, all the guests raised their right arms in straight-armed salutes. Taking a deep breath he expanded his arms out in welcome and the assembly sat down to the meal. Diana was in raptures at the table and whispered into Eva’s ear like a breathless schoolgirl, ‘Please, please, Eva, come with us. Berlin is so beautiful, Adolf has done such wonders to the city. He has shown Oswald and me his plans for the New Berlin he plans to build. Really, really quite breath-taking,’

She studied Eva, a truly beautiful young woman and clearly in thrall to her older, handsome, blind companion. Eva had approached her weeks earlier asking to photograph her for a Dutch periodical. She had driven to Wooten Lodge through the rolling, beautiful countryside of Staffordshire and Diana had met her at the doorway personally. Eva glanced around at the tasteful furnishings and followed Diana into the drawing room.

Eva got the impression this frail girl spent a lot of time alone. Diana had warmed to her instantly, making her feel comfortable and remarked that she was surprised such a beautiful woman hadn’t tried for the movies. With a blush, Eva had confided she had been studying for theatre and had toured Europe and was trying to break into the German film industry.

She had sent her portrait photo and resume to Dr Joseph Goebbels in Berlin, reading that he was planning to establish a European film industry to match Hollywood. He had screen-tested her a few years earlier and her resume was ‘on file’.

The magazine shoot had gone well and in the process Eva and Diana had developed a friendship.

‘Leave it to me, dear. I’ll get Unity to talk to Adolf. They’re very close,’ She leaned in toward her, patting her knee. ‘You belong on the silver screen, Miss Molenaar.’

Eva noted that Diana clipped the vowels in her name short. It sounded like ‘Milner.’ Eva decided she would use that as a pseudonym at some later stage.

Diana became a dedicated pen pal, sending letters to Eva regularly, the address a PO Box set up by M15 and B5b section. Once her letters were reviewed by Chainbridge, Eva would reply and would, where possible, slip in a direct query as to Oswald’s whereabouts and plans. Diana knew she was being monitored, so little or no new information ever featured in her replies.

Eva felt guilty using Diana like this. She was drawn to the eccentric girl and found her fun to be around. Being an only child, Eva sometimes found it hard to build friendships, especially with women. Those who weren’t intimidated by her beauty could be counted on one hand.

She watched the Mitfords with a hint of envy. She would have loved to have had a sister, be part of a big family. In time she vowed she would have one of her own as she watched the Mitfords laughing at a private joke.

Eva realised at that point she was lonely. Suddenly she wanted to flee home, a growing feeling she couldn’t shake.

The banquet finished with Mosley and his men standing to attention, straight arm saluting and singing ‘God Save the King’ at the top of their lungs.

To Eva and De Witte it meant nothing; they had seen this scene across Europe. Diana was singing the loudest with tears in her eyes. Her sister Unity ran up to her and they hugged and cried together. Wiping away the tears, they turned to Eva and pleaded with her to fly to Berlin.

Amid the chants and shouts and belligerent songs Eva told them she would. The two girls posed for a photograph for Eva, two shimmering beauties amid the sea of black, red, white and blue.

Once she had the photographs she needed, Eva left, driving the car assigned to her and De Witte, handing the camera directly to Chainbridge’s chambers for processing.

They flew into Berlin on a private charter funded by the BUF. Mosley sat a few rows ahead, flanked by his bodyguards, two beefy, shaven-headed Blackshirts. They stared straight ahead mutely while Mosley was reading the Financial Times, enjoying a brandy and a cigar. He was dressed in an immaculately cut black Saville Row herringbone double-breasted suit, French tailored shirt and patent leather shoes. In profile he resembled a hawk, with the same merciless eyes skimming the rise and fall of the money markets.

The three women had gone shopping for the visit two days earlier. Eva had enjoyed the whirl of dress shops, shoe shops and restaurants, and had to admit she got swept up in thrill of flying with such wonderful companions.

They were chauffeur driven through London and, as the streets glided past, Eva noted that sand bags had started appearing at the doorways and windows of certain government buildings.

Being in the company of the Mitford sisters, Eva got to see a world beyond her wildest dreams. First to Harrods, with fawning shop assistants and sections of the store closed off for their personal use. Then Oxford Street boutiques presenting them with haut couture gowns, day wear and evening wear, and offers to alter their creations for Eva and the Mitfords.

Trays of champagne and canapes were given to them between showings, whether or not they wished to purchase anything. Every sales assistant told Eva her figure was perfect for modelling and the Mitfords admitted they were jealous of her elegant build. Eva replied that she just wanted to be taken seriously as a photographer, and was envious of their gamine shape. Clothes seemed to hang much better on them.