Gordon Ferris - The Unquiet heart

Instead I’d been holding on to the tatters of a dream. That she’d come out of jail and we’d be able to pick up again. That with everything out in the open, we could at last be ourselves. But it seemed that her self wanted nothing to do with my self. I was a jilted teenager. And it stung.

“Sure, Eve. Just wanted to make sure you were all right. Check that Wilson had left you in one piece.”

She opened her eyes and stared at me. I shrugged.

“I’ll leave you to it. Call me when… Call me if you need anything. Otherwise…” I turned and made for the door.

“Danny? Wait. I’m sorry. I’m being a bitch. How’s your head?”

I rubbed the new marks on my brow. “Hasn’t spoiled my good looks.”

“The arm?”

I waved my bandaged wrist at her. “You wouldn’t have a knitting needle would you? I have a terrible itch.”

It got a faint smile from her. “I heard we were lucky.”

“And the flyboys weren’t. Shame it wasn’t the Redcaps. We could have made a run for it.”

We went quiet again. I was at a loss. “Right, I’m off,” I said.

“Do you want a cup of tea?” she asked.

We muddled about until we found the kitchen and the kettle. Someone had been thoughtful enough to provide a teapot, two cups, a strainer and a packet of tea.

There was even a bottle of fresh milk in the pantry. Jam and a loaf and some butter in a dish. We made tea, and strawberry jam sandwiches.

“Was it bad?” I asked.

She sipped at her second cup and took a pull on her cigarette. “Was it bad?” She let the silence gather. Her big eyes filled. She kept brushing them with her cuff until they were red and puffy. She wasn’t going to give in to tears.

“They put me in solitary. A little cell. Away from the others. Said it was for my own sake. They wouldn’t let me sleep. Called me names. Nazi shit. Jewish whore. Better if I’d died in Belsen.”

I reached out but she moved her arm. She kept going.

“I didn’t mind what they called me. But then he started on my people. He made up lies about Gideon, said he was a deserter. A murderer. A child molester. Gideon?

The man who won the Military Cross with the Jewish Brigade? He told me they knew what had happened to my parents. Knew where they were buried. Said he would tell me if I told them the truth.”

“Eve. Who’s he?” fearing the answer.

“Wilson. The one you said was at my flat. He hates you. He kept telling me you were scum.”

“From him that’s a compliment,” I hissed.

“He wouldn’t listen to the truth. My truth. Didn’t want to hear about the warnings. Didn’t want to listen when I said they had Arab spies in the British Mandatory Government. That they’d been the ones who’d deflected the warning. The ones who’d said it was a rumour.”

“Is that true? Arab spies in Palestine, working for us?” I could believe it. We Brits have always had a thing about the desert. Rudolf Valentino in white robes, making the girls swoon.

“We know who they are. We know them by their terrorist names. I can give you details. But not Wilson. He wouldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to.” She took some more tea. With her coat off I could see the bones of her shoulders. I wanted to hold her.

“What happened to MI5 and your pals there? The ones who ran, what was it, the Double Cross unit?”

“B1A? Yes. I asked for them. Asked for Tar himself. Tommy Argyll Robertson. The colonel in charge. They just laughed. Said I was making it up. They’d never heard of such an outfit.” She shrugged. “Washed their hands of me, I guess. A Nazi spy is one thing, but a Jewish agent…”

Her voice was quieter now. “I kept trying to get some sleep. And every time I dropped off, they woke me. He told them to wake me. That was bad. I begged them for sleep…” She broke off, searching for the words.

“And the woman. One of the warders…” She couldn’t get it out. “She kept doing a search. A body search.” Her eyes blazed. “The others held me. She made me stand naked. And she touched me. She put her fingers in me. She enjoyed it!”

Her chest was heaving. “And all the time… all the time… he was there. Behind the grill. Watching me. I can see his eyes…”

She gathered herself after a while and started again in a whisper. “I couldn’t take it, Danny. I couldn’t help it. They made me. I was out of my mind…”

I whispered, “What? What did they make you do, Eve?”

“I told them I knew about the bomb. I told them about Menachem Begin. Told them he was the leader of Irgun. Told them he didn’t give a warning. I betrayed him.

How could I?” She broke apart again. I pulled her to me and held her for a long time till the sobs stopped. She pushed back and went to the bathroom and washed her face.

I was pacing the room when she got back. “We’re going to file a complaint, Eve.

They can’t do this to you. I won’t let him get away with it. That bastard!”

She took my hand. “But he can, Danny. You know he can. Who’d believe me?”

I calmed down. I decided to go. Take the pressure off. Let her sleep. The sun was dropping behind the trees.

“What will you do now?” I asked.

“See Jim. See if he’ll print the truth. See if I still have a job.”

“Then?”

She shook her head. “We’ll see.”

I couldn’t help myself. “Do you want me to come round? I mean…”

“Let’s leave it, Danny. For a bit. I’ll call you if I… You know.”

I left her, left the building and walked into the park. I sat on the wall watching the river, going over and over what she’d told me. Why had Wilson let her go? Why hadn’t he charged her? He could have pinned a murder on her. He could have charged her with accessory to commit terrorist acts. Had he got all he wanted? It wasn’t much of a confession. They probably already had Begin’s name against this action anyway. At least she was out. Why look a gift horse?

When the parkie ushered me out I went home. Then I went to the pub. Maybe the lads needed a beer. I did.

I didn’t expect to hear from her any time soon. Perhaps ever. So her voice on the end of my phone, two days later, was a shock, like a call from the spirit world.

“Danny, can you talk?”

“Yes. Where are you? Are you all right?”

“Can you come round? I mean here to my flat in Battersea? I mean sometime, when you can…”

“Put the kettle on.”

It took me the best part of an hour and three buses. I was still economising after that taxi ride from the prison. I buzzed her flat number and she let me in. When the lift reached her floor I found her waiting by the door. She still looked fragile but her face had a hectic flush. I soon found why.

“They won’t print it! Hutcheson won’t touch it, Danny. Wilson got to him. He showed Jim my confession! The bastard, bastard! Jim said he didn’t believe it but it was too late anyway. No one would believe it. He didn’t want to rake it all up again.”

I opened my arms and she fell into them. She stood sobbing against me for a while. Her thin back and arms made me curse Wilson and all his kin. Finally I pushed her back gently from me, but held her by her shoulders.

“Eve, are you surprised? Forget the confession. You’re a reporter. You know when a story goes cold. It’s been nearly six weeks.”

She freed herself from my hands and went and stood by the window. “I’m not a reporter. He won’t give me my job back. He asked me how it would look if the paper had an ex-Nazi on the payroll.”

“Wilson put in a good word for you, then?”

“What do you think?”

I walked over and joined her at the window. I looked out into the street. Two men were talking. Both wore coats and trilbies though it was mild and dry. One of them walked away. I pulled back, dragging Eve with me.