My Name Is Eva

by Suzanne Goldring

only the girl knew how much information was buried deep inside her head, beneath her silvery-grey hair. But she must be careful not to tell her so much another time. She must remember to forget.

‘Money, land, possessions, they’re not important,’ Evelyn cried. ‘Life is important. Respecting it, protecting it, caring for the living. You killed people for their beliefs, but colluded with others who had killed hundreds and thousands.’

The pain of her first suckling was nothing to the pain I’ve felt since giving her away. No mother, anywhere, under any circumstances in the world, can ever find it easy to abandon their own offspring. Parents in London evacuating their children to unknown families in the countryside, far from the threat of bombs, persecuted Jews in Europe waving goodbye to the Kindertransport, not knowing whether they would ever meet again. But none of them could have done it without stifling their cries as their hearts tore into pieces.