Finding Eva

By P J Long

It is 1946: Olivia boards a ship with her family and begins a journey home to Gibraltar. Evacuated during World War II when she was an infant, Olivia looks forward to meeting her father for the first time.

On her journey, Olivia makes friends with a girl named Eva. They eventually go their separate ways, but Eva has left her scarf behind.

Olivia arrives in Gibraltar: her father is not waiting for her

In time, Olivia writes a letter to Eva informing her that she in possession of the scarf, and waits desperately for her reply. Eva is living in Spain - a country coming to terms with the horrors of the Civil War; Olivias instincts suggest that Evas family has been affected by the unrest there.

Olivia desperately searches for Eva and in time finds herself back in London and a short walk away from where her lost friend may be living. Loss and death continue to keep Olivia at bay, though.

Fate still has a hand to play, howeverand finding Eva will bring Olivia a sense of order and understanding to her topsy-turvy world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Aug 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524631826

P J Long

P. J. Long was born in Buckinghamshire, England, and has worked as a photographer, musician, and actor. In addition, Long fundraises for the protection of wildlife. His mother was born in Gibraltar and evacuated to England in 1940. Finding Eva, his debut novel, is based on his mother’s early life.

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© 2016 P. J. Long. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 09/29/2016

ISBN: 978-1-5246-3181-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-3183-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-3182-6 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Part I

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

Part II

10

11

12

13

14

Part III

15

16

17

18

19

Part IV

20

April 1954

‘YOU can’t wear that,’ Mum shouted at me as I buttoned up my coat in the hallway. I had been in a good mood up to that point, and felt that I was dealing well with my nerves for the upcoming performance that afternoon. ‘It’s going to rain later; that thing won’t keep you dry. Take it off,’ Mum went on.

‘It’s fine,’ I replied, not hiding my agitation.

‘No it isn’t.’

I stubbornly pushed the last button through its allocated slot, and then felt Mum’s stern eyes heavily upon me. ‘All right then, have it your way: get wet and ruin your ballet dress,’ she said.

‘I’m not wearing my ballet dress.’

‘Later you will be.’

‘I won’t.’ I said this quite forcefully, and half-expected Mum to strike me across the back of my legs for being insolent. She hadn’t smacked me since I was a very young child. Only the other day I had explained to Mum that we were wearing hired-in ballet costumes for the performance of Serenade. I reminded her again. ‘The costumes will be in the theatre dressing rooms when we arrive, and we leave them there at the end - okay?’

Of late Mum had been forgetful, and a little detached, as if something was bothering her. Mum was nervous for me of course, and her anxiety was revealing itself in her fumbled logic.

‘Whatever you say,’ Mum concluded.

I opened the front door of the house. Carlos was waiting outside in his car, revving the engine, and I could sense that he was losing patience. It was a Saturday afternoon, and he wouldn’t want to miss the kick-off at the football match.

I got in the passenger seat; as we drove off, I thought back to when I was a little girl, leaving England and heading to Gibraltar to meet my father for the first time.

PART I

1

May 1946

RUBY and I stared out and across at the brick rubble and broken-down buildings that splayed away besides the entrance to the port. Ruby’s left eye fluttered as she observed the cloud of dust that now shrouded the other side of the window and our view to the outside world. Then Ruby slipped out of my hand, and went dashing to the floor below; I rummaged under the seat in front and retrieved my precious little doll.

Aunt Elena, sitting alongside me, was awake now. Behind the two of us were Mum and Gran – invisible - but I felt their fidgety movements against the back of my seat. Across the narrow corridor were my two older sisters: Sofia and Gabriella. Sofia was twenty-four years old, and Gabriella, eleven. Somewhere else on the bus was aunt Angela, whom I’d almost forgotten about: she was Mum’s other sister – the middle one; I hadn’t seen Angela since we boarded the bus at Victoria station.

It was time to get off, so I put Ruby into the inside pocket of my jacket. The bus was packed full of people, and there was suddenly a frantic rush as everyone decided to try and disembark at the same time.

‘Stop it, you two!’ Mum shouted. ‘Gabriella, why didn’t you get Olivia’s case down for her?’ Mum didn’t wait for an answer. Her look gave the instruction for my sister to turn back and reach for my case immediately.

Gabriella reluctantly pulled my case down, straining her back as its weight overpowered her feeble and lightweight figure. Then she shoved the case into my chest and stamped on my toe.

The others had moved towards the door at the front of the bus, and Gabriella and I were overtaken by the last group of passengers. Sofia called from the doorway for us to hurry up and then quickly disappeared after Gran and Mum and our two aunties.

Gabriella and I were left to wobble along the aisle with our suitcases, which were incredibly heavy and felt like they contained rubble from the war-torn buildings outside. With deliberate intent, I let Gabriella get slightly ahead of me, not allowing her the opportunity to elbow me or force me to bump into her.

We followed the others across the uneven and swampy surfaces of the port. My white socks had now been splattered with puddle water and displayed large, light-brown wet patches. We went inside a dull-looking concrete building.

In the waiting room, space was at a premium. I searched for a friendly face but just saw Mum, Gran, and my two aunties. Gran sat sandwiched like a slice of ham between Mum and Angela, whose well-fed and buxom figures defied the food rationing regime we all had to conform to here in England. I felt extremely hungry and hoped that soon we might be able to tuck into the real ham sandwiches that Mum and Elena had made.

Climbing onto Elena’s ample lap, I noticed Gabriella opposite me squeezed between two very fat women. Why are all these women so large? I wondered. Then I curled up into Elena’s soft fleshiness and shut my eyes.

I had no idea how long I’d been asleep, but I was woken by what felt like someone’s hand pulling on my right shoe. A little girl in a cherry-red coat was kneeling beside my feet. Instinctively, I reached out to grab her, but as I made the slightest contact, she dashed off into the crowd of fellow passengers. I took this as a sign to chase after her and made my pursuit. The girl was giggling, and she weaved and curved her way through the sea of legs obstructing her path. This was great fun.

After a moment or so of chasing, I caught up and grabbed the back of her coat, bringing the girl to a halt. There was a brief pause. I looked at the girl. She was wearing a red scarf that was almost camouflaged by her coat. The scarf created a cosy cushion for her chin. We giggled, joined hands, and then ran off together.

Soon, we dropped the link our two hands had made. With me following slightly behind, we hid underneath one of the overcrowded benches.

In our dark space where passengers’ legs acted as blinds, letting in thin rays of light, the girl and I whispered to each other. I didn’t understand English and just nodded agreeably to everything my new friend said. I pointed out my family, although she probably just saw them as a mass of compressed bodies attached to miserable-looking faces. Mum’s eyes were shut.

A few minutes passed, and without warning, the girl ran off again into the busy and congested room. Before I could begin another chasing session, I was startled by an ear-splitting announcement blasting out of a loudspeaker above me. Elena jumped up from her sitting position as if she had been bitten on the bum by a vicious dog. Then she tugged at Mum’s arm.

‘Where’s Olivia?’ Mum said, turning her head one way and then another, looking around for me. With my face feeling as red as my friend’s coat, I crawled out from under the bench.

‘Hurry!’ Sofia shouted, catching sight of me. ‘The boat leaves in ten minutes. If we miss it, we have to wait another two weeks for the next one. Come on!’

With that, Gabriella freed herself from the two gigantic ladies that pressed her from either side and moved towards me. ‘We spent ages looking for you. Why did you run off?’

I remained mute, not wishing to waste energy in a reply.

‘Why don’t you do what you’re told?’ Gabriella went on.

Before I knew it, we were aboard our ship. I was desperate for the toilet and ready for my ham sandwiches.

2

MUM said that Dad was a sailor. I liked the idea of him saluting his men and telling them to head west to the promised land. Desperate to understand what my father was actually like, I created my own image of him inside my head: he was tall and handsome, and would take me out on long train journeys. We would travel to the seaside and play games on the beach. With me basking in the hot sun, Dad would read a story about a princess kissing a frog and the frog then turning into a handsome prince. Later on, Dad would treat me to a scrumptious lunch in a magnificent restaurant, with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and waiters depositing a never-ending series of dishes onto our table. The finale of our feast would always be chocolate mousse served in a ten inch high glass bowls, with whipped cream brimming over their crystal rims. And then I would imagine the same scenario all over again, until I was interrupted either by Gabriella shouting at me, or Mum telling me to help with the washing.

Now we were heading to our promised land. In the meantime, however, I had to contend with the putrid aroma of ship fuel, and I could taste its residue on my tongue. I blocked my nostrils but found I could only keep my finger and thumb in place for limited spells. Soon I forgot that the smell was there at all.

Ruby and I escaped from the others and ended up on the top deck of the ship. A glamorous-looking lady with a soft, milky complexion was sitting on a white metal bench. The clothes she wore were entirely different from the practical daywear of my mother. Aware of me, the woman smiled. I felt embarrassed, and hid Ruby behind my back.

‘Hello,’ the woman said in English. Her voice sounded welcoming, befitting the smile she had presented a moment earlier. Her right hand slipped into the pocket of her unbuttoned coat, and she beckoned me towards her. As I slowly approached, the woman lit up a cigarette. I was unfamiliar with ladies smoking and was slightly taken aback by this. She flipped open the lid of a tin and motioned for me to help myself. Inside were Mint Imperials. I was no stranger to the little white sweets: in London we had often purchased them using our ration book; Mum, Elena, and Angela tended to keep them for themselves, though.

I took one of the mints and popped it into my mouth. The lady signalled for me to take another. Still sucking on the first mint, I found the strength overwhelming, but after a moment or so this settled down and the flavour became decidedly pleasant. Feeling slightly self-conscious, I ran off.

‘Adios, Señorita!’ the woman shouted out.

I headed back to our cabin area, still thinking about the mysterious lady. A scene developed inside my head: this woman was a German spy and was trying to obtain information from British children, luring them with sweets and a pleasant smile.

When I arrived back, Mum saw me sucking on the Mint Imperial and grinned. I was a little surprised that she didn’t ask me the origin of the sweet and concluded that she must have thought it a gift from Elena or Angela.

Gabriella saw me sucking the sweet too. ‘Where have you been this time? You can’t keep disappearing. We need to know where you are. Who gave you that sweet?’

‘Elena,’ I said.

*

It was early evening on the ship, and we still hadn’t been fed. I was bored with sitting around in the cabin listening to Mum and my aunties, so I ignored my hunger and jumped off the bed, ready to head out again.

‘Where are you going now?’ asked Gabriella rudely. I didn’t answer her.

‘She’s fine - she can’t go far. And we’re surrounded by water,’ Angela curiously stated. I was not as close to Angela as I was to Elena. Angela was kind and relatively approachable, but we didn’t instinctively connect. Like Elena, Angela had no children of her own. Unlike Elena, Angela was married; her husband was Uncle Humberto.

‘See you in the dining room’, shouted out Mum, her words fading behind me as I ran along the poorly lit corridor outside the cabin.

I ventured up a few flights of stairs and along a maze of passageways. Then there was the sound of a bell ringing. I saw people gathered in small groups moving along together in a similar direction. Intrigued as to where they all might be going, I followed, eventually arriving at a dining room. It was a highly impressive