Effie's War - Softcover

Paris, Philip

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1785301950 ISBN 13: 9781785301957

Publisher: Black & White Publishing, 2018

Synopsis

The Scottish Highlands, 1943
A family torn apart by the secrets of war.

In a remote corner of Scotland something momentous is underway. When Effie's father receives a government notice to quit Kirk Farm, the lives of the Ross family and those of the whole community are utterly disrupted.

But for Effie – irrepressible, beautiful, vital – wartime changes bring her close to Toni, an Italian prisoner of war sent to work on the farm. Before long, the young couple are planning a future together when the war is finally over.

It’s a future that's under threat from the start. For there are those among them who cannot quite be trusted. Someone is determined to find out what lies behind the upheaval – and to pass those secrets into enemy hands. To stop them will create devastation beyond anything anyone could have imagined.

Based on true events of the Second World War, this evocative novel captures the emotions, dangers and atmosphere of the days when the world faced its darkest hour.

From the bestselling author of The Italian Chapel and Casting Off (as P.I. Paris), Philip Paris reveals the depths to which human beings are driven to by passion, loyalty and resentment.

"Effie's War is an intriguing, twisting and turning journey and an outstanding page-turner that you won’t be able to put down." – MILLIE GRAY, author of Silver Linings

About this title

About the Author

PHILIP PARIS is the bestselling author of The Last Witch of Scotland, Waterstones' Scottish Book of the Year 2024 and Blackwell's Edinburgh Book of the Year 2023. His hugely varied work is often inspired by events or issues that have previously had little coverage. Men Cry Alone, a novel about domestic abuse against men, won the Scottish Association of Writers Barbara Hammond trophy in 2019, while his non-fiction book Orkney's Italian Chapel: The True Story of an Icon is recognised as the leading authoritative work on the history of the famous WW2 building.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Effie's War

By Philip Paris

Black & White Publishing

Copyright © 2018 Philip Paris
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-78530-195-7

CHAPTER 1

11 November 1943

Edward Ross sat at the large kitchen table and chewed his favourite pipe with such force that it was pure luck that neither the stem nor his dentures broke. He had read the letter once in total confusion, twice with a growing dread and a third time with a smouldering anger that few people would have believed possible of the quietly spoken elder of the kirk. His wife, Martha, was washing the breakfast dishes without any knowledge of the despair growing only a few feet away.

`Damn ... damn!'

Martha turned around in surprise at hearing such language.

`Edward! Whatever is the matter?'

Ina had just walked through the doorway and stood open-mouthed at her father's utterance. He saw her staring.

`Where's Effie?' he said.

`Upstairs,' replied Ina.

`Fetch her.'

`What's happened?'

`Fetch her! You need to hear this together.'

Ina had never seen her father so distraught and rushed to get her sister, who, at seventeen, was almost three years younger. Mr Ross slid the letter across to Martha. It was only right that she should have the chance to read the contents before they were discussed. She was still trying to understand the implications when their two daughters burst into the kitchen in a way that would normally have resulted in them being chastised sternly. Mr Ross looked at the sisters standing side by side, as exactly alike as an apple and pear can be.

`Father,' said Effie. `What's wrong?'

`Sit down.'

The girls sat at the table while their mother collapsed into the nearest chair.

`We've received notice from the authorities that we must leave the farm by the twelfth of December.'

`Leave?' said Effie. `Why? Who's going to look after the livestock?'

`We'll have to get rid of it ... cattle, sheep, pigs, even the hens.'

Martha put a hand to her mouth and laid down the letter. Effie reached over and snatched it, scanning the text frantically while Ina looked on.

`There must be a mistake,' said Effie. `They're giving us one month to move or sell everything, in addition to processing the crops. It's not possible in such a short time. We would need a small army of workers.'

`Why do they want our home?' said Ina, close to tears. `What possible use is it to them?'

`We could move the stock until we return,' Effie cut in. `This letter seems to imply it's temporary.'

`It's not just our farm, so there'll be a surplus of animals and no one in the area will have the capacity to take on other people's,' said Mr Ross. `We might find someone to look after the horses, but as for the rest ... And it'll be a sad day indeed when we lose Alastair and his family.'

`Barbara will be heartbroken,' said Martha. `Their boys were born on Kirk Farm. Our cottage is all they've ever known as home.'

`Alastair will have to find new employment at the end of the term,' said Mr Ross, shaking his head. `He won't have any choice.'

They fell silent, reflecting on the enormous changes that were about to be forced upon their lives. Effie eventually broke the stillness by jumping up and pacing around the kitchen in a state of great indignation and irritation that was so ... Effie.

`This is not right,' she said.

`It's the war,' said Ina.

`I know it's the war!'

`The letter says there's a meeting this afternoon at Inver hall, so perhaps we'll get some answers there,' said Martha.

Effie turned to her mother. Martha was a practical, down-to-earth woman, not given easily to weeping, yet she looked close to tears now. Effie's father, grandfather and great-grandfather had meticulously bred the best livestock possible. The careful records they had kept meant they could trace the lineage of some of the cattle and pigs for more than eighty years. They were a part of the land as much as the ancient horse chestnut tree that overshadowed the drive.

`If we sell the stock then so much will be lost,' said Ina.

`People are losing sons, brothers and husbands,' replied her father, sitting up straight in his chair as he began to pull himself together. `If we survive this war and only lose our animals, then we should thank the good Lord.'

`Can't Christopher do something?' said Effie, never one to back down without a fight. `Surely it must be some use having an officer living here.'

Captain Christopher Armstrong had been billeted with the family for three months. Mr Ross had been horrified when he had been informed that they would have to provide accommodation for a young British officer. He readily acknowledged that plenty of other families in the area had been ordered to give room and board to military personnel, but with two beautiful, trusting daughters in the house the idea of a stranger living in such close proximity made him very uncomfortable.

The move had been a double-edged sword. Christopher had been polite and respectful, behaving like a caring older brother to seven-year-old Hugh, who had taken to him immediately. In fact, everyone liked him; Ina a little too much. She had fallen hopelessly in love, ignoring the advice given during their father's frequent lectures on the subject of `hasty wartime romances', and how uncertainty about the future was putting too much pressure on couples to commit.

He liked to remind them that there was a lot of wisdom in the saying `Marry in haste, repent at leisure' and how, when he was young you courted for months before you even held hands with a girl — and as for kissing! His daughters always listened politely without comment, and the advice had been easy to follow while there was no one to fall in love with.

`I don't see how Christopher can help, it's nothing to do with him,' said Ina bristling, yet there was a hesitance in her words. Effie guessed she was thinking the same thought — that surveying the surrounding land for this evacuation was precisely what Christopher had been sent to the Tarbat peninsula to do.

* * *

That afternoon Effie accompanied her father to the nearby village of Inver.

They entered the packed hall to be greeted by the grim faces of neighbours and friends and got the last two seats together. Effie knew everyone, by sight if not by name; other local farmers and crofters, people from Inver, Constable MacKay, the postman and Doctor Gray, who had last called four months earlier when Hugh had been ill.

Her gaze rested on the imposing figure of the Reverend Smith. As her father had often commented, the minister was a tower of strength in these worrying times, a true man of the cloth who worked tirelessly on behalf of his parishioners, as willing to chop firewood for someone as he was to sit by their bedside, with a prayer or a blessing, when they were dying.

Effie saw the minister turn his head towards her, as if sensing he was being watched. She smiled and he nodded, his expression appearing sombre. She thought that the huge responsibility he already had for his flock was about to increase significantly.

Christopher sat to one side of the small stage, normally used by the local band on dance nights. He also looked nervous, staring at the floor as if trying to avoid having to make eye contact with anyone. On the stage were two strangers. One of them stood up and the hall fell silent.

`Thank you for coming at such short notice. I'm Lord Rosebery, the Regional Commissioner for Scotland, and this is General Sir Andrew Thorne of Scottish Command. We're here to explain the situation and answer questions as much as we are able. You should all have received a letter, instructing you to vacate your properties and land by the twelfth of December at the latest.

`I understand that this great upheaval may be very upsetting for some. However, I can assure you that it is vital to the war effort. If required, help will be provided with accommodation, although it is hoped that those affected will find somewhere close by with friends or family.'

This idea caused a murmur throughout the hall. Didn't Lord Rosebery know that finding room and board was already extremely difficult?

`I know this has been a huge shock,' he went on. `The area being evacuated will extend from just south of Portmahomack and Rockfield to the outskirts of Fearn and Hilton. Around nine hundred people will need to be rehoused and this includes the entire community of Inver.'

At this the murmur rose to a chorus of disgruntled voices, a hubbub which took several minutes to die down.

`Those living north of the affected area will not be required to leave, although access through the restricted zone will be limited to twice a day, at times specified by the military. Farms that have to sell their livestock will be provided with transport to the nearest market.'

`What about the crops?' Effie suddenly shouted.

`They might be gathered, but it's impossible for them to be processed in the time we've been given.'

`It's a good question, young lady ...'

`Don't "young lady" me! I've worked this land ever since I was a child!'

Mr Ross put a hand on Effie's arm, a signal that she was crossing the line from being firm to rude.

`We appreciate the difficulties,' continued Lord Rosebery. `Additional manual labour will be supplied by Italian prisoners of war stationed at the camp in Kildary, as well as the Home Guard and Women's Land Army. The country desperately needs the food you have grown and you can be assured that whatever aid required will be provided.'

`Will the military live in the houses once the owners have left?'

This query was put by the minister and several of those present stressed their concern about this point. From his irritated, somewhat flustered expression, it appeared that Lord Rosebery would have preferred to leave questions until he had finished his explanation, but feelings were running high and he had no choice but to tackle them as they arose.

`No, properties will remain empty,' he assured everyone. `Help will be available to move and store furniture. We suggest that when you leave you take all your valuables and those possessions that you may need in your places of temporary residence.'

`How long are we going to be evicted for?' asked the postman, a man in his fifties. `My mother's over ninety and there are lots of other elderly folk in the parish. This forced move is going to be incredibly upsetting for them, particularly if we can't say for how long it will be. There'll be more than one who will fear they won't live to return home and be able to die in their own bed.'

Despite the postman's plea, the two officials could not give any firm date for a return. However, they provided what details they could. The evacuation would mean the closure of the primary schools at Inver and Geanies, along with the telephone exchange at the latter. Information centres would be opened at each school and people would be able to call over the coming days to request assistance. Assurances were given that the authorities would pay for any damage occurring to property.

The meeting lasted for nearly an hour and when it came to an end the Reverend Smith rose from his seat and asked everyone to join him in prayer for those facing danger far away and for those closer to home who were about to endure these unexpected difficulties.

People mingled afterwards in an atmosphere of frustration and resignation. After all, families throughout the country were making huge sacrifices and there were a great many who had lost homes and loved ones to German bombs. So far, the enemy hadn't appeared interested in the Tarbat peninsula, tucked away in their corner of the Scottish Highlands. There wasn't anything nearby to warrant a bombing raid apart from the small military airfields at Tain and Fearn.

In the midst of the complaints and anxieties being expressed all around her, Effie spotted Christopher slipping out of a side door. She forced her way through the throng at the main entrance so she could run around the outside of the hall and cut him off.

`You knew about this!' she said, barely managing to stop herself from poking him in the chest. `How could you have lived with us for all these months, eating at our table and sweet-talking your way into my sister's affections, while all the time you were sneaking about, planning to have us thrown out of our home!'

Christopher towered above Effie, yet she stood her ground inches away, which meant that she had to tilt her head to meet his gaze. The wind whipped her hair into even more of a tangle than it normally was and she had to push it out of her face to maintain her angry stare.

`I'm sorry,' Christopher sighed. `You're right. I simply couldn't tell anyone. This project is top secret and I had strict orders.'

`And did these orders include making my sister fall in love with you?'

`No. And they didn't include me falling in love with Ina. And I do love her, Effie. She's true and loyal and dearer to me than anything in the world.'

CHAPTER 2

Walter shut the front door. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly in order to control his excitement.

Hitler ist ein Genie.

He certainly didn't speak these words or even consciously think them. Instead he felt them, deep in his heart. He stayed where he was, leaning against the heavily varnished wood of the door, and recalled, as he often did, his first meeting with Dieter Stein.

Stein was part of a team that had been handpicked by Hitler to train spies who were destined to become so deeply embedded within British society that their existence was to remain unknown even to Germany's military intelligence organisation, Abwehr. They were a secret within a world of secrets, reporting and responsible only to Hitler via a small group of trusted personnel.

Stein was a sadistic thug who Walter would grow to fear and hate, but he didn't know this at that initial encounter, when this stranger had started barking orders the instant they met.

`From now on you speak only in English, you think only in English, when you take a shit you do it in English and when you come your cry of ecstasy is in English.'

Walter smiled at the comment, a mistake he never made again. Despite Stein's vast bulk, he moved so fast there was no time to react and Walter doubled over from the force of the punch to his stomach. Stein reached down, grabbed his jacket and pulled him upright so that their faces were inches apart, forcing Walter to inhale his stale breath.

`I'm not joking!' he snarled. `And if someone hits you in a fight then you swear at them in English!'

Walter was barely able to speak and desperate to prevent the tears he could feel forming. It took all of his willpower to reply.

`You ... fucking ... bastard.'

Stein grinned. It was the most frightening expression Walter had ever seen on a person. Yes, there was little doubt the man was a psychopath, but in the years following, Walter had been forced to admit that the thug knew his business. The advice he had driven into Walter was ingrained into his psyche and had no doubt helped to save his life on more than one occasion.

Walter forced his mind back to the present, to focus on the immediate issue — why were the British authorities giving hundreds of people a few weeks' notice to move off their land in a remote part of Scotland? He walked into his small study, pulled out a map of the Tarbat peninsula and laid it on the table.

The officials at the meeting that afternoon had announced that the land was needed for battle practice; Walter thought most people would simply accept the statement at face value. However, it didn't ring true to him. He felt sure there must be many more places around the country that could be used without causing such disruption. Feeding the population was a major problem and the British government wouldn't do anything that took so many farms out of action unless it was absolutely vital.

Walter knew the landscape intimately, but by marking out the boundaries he could more easily visualise the evacuation zone. Making some quick calculations, he estimated it consisted of around fifteen square miles. He slowly moved his finger backwards and forwards across the paper, trying to spot what it was that he was missing.

The nearby military airfields fell outside of the designated area. Yet all that remained was farmland, crofts, a few tiny hamlets and the village of Inver. There were plenty of fertile fields, but he couldn't see anything else of specific value.

Walter paced about the study as he went through various possibilities in his head. Unless the authorities planned to build a secret factory, why would they want somewhere so out of the way? He discounted the idea of a building of some sort.

A new airfield, much larger than the existing ones?

He stopped walking and stared at the map from the middle of the room, as if he might reveal the answer by sneaking up on it. The east coast consisted largely of cliffs and stony beaches. He had explored there many times, enjoying the sight of some of the few cliff-nesting house martins in the country.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Effie's War by Philip Paris. Copyright © 2018 Philip Paris. Excerpted by permission of Black & White Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Edition details

• Publisher: Black & White Publishing
• Publication date: 2018
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1785301950
• ISBN 13: 9781785301957
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 256