Eva, Part Four

Everything seemed to be heading swimmingly as the taxi dropped Eva at her home and then took me to mine. I remember sitting back as the car weaved its way down the country lane and thinking that I had acquired a damned fine poke that I hoped would last me for a while. Little did I realise that things were about to go pear-shaped on the Eva front.

It started late the next morning when I fell out of bed and wandered to the mechanic's to pick up my car. Then I drove to my usual breakfast spot and spent a leisurely hour breaking my fast. Finally I paid the bill and called Eva from the payphone that stood on the street outside the restaurant.

She picked up the receiver after the first couple of rings, and I could tell from the tone of her voice that something was wrong.

"I told mummy about you and she said that I should get my head out of the clouds," Eva told me. "She said that I can do better than a married man, even if you are from Britain. You are not going to take me there, are you? That's what mummy said, she concluded, defiantly, as if I was going to disagree with anything she had said.

"I never said that I would take you anywhere, did I? I said that I would help sort out your German papers and that I will do. . ." That was as far as I got as the telephone receiver was taken by a creature of the female persuasion who began screeching down the line in my ear:

"You have betrayed my daughter's trust! How dare you build up her hopes like that! I will complain to the police and get you deported! You have no right!" On and on the rancid old slapper went, and after her first sentence I held up my left wrist with the watch on it to time the bitch's rant. She managed an incredible forty-five seconds before she paused for breath, which I think is some kind of record for hysterical females who take their cues from the crappy soap operas that they watch all fucking day.

"Fancy a kick up the cunt? It would be my pleasure, you rancid little minger," was my calm and considered response as soon as those forty-five seconds were over.

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. Taking a deep breath I went on to patiently explain the politics of the situation to mummy:

"As I was explaining to Eva, before you grabbed the 'phone, I will come over to her house today and review the papers. Then I will take her to the German consulate and start the ball rolling on her passport. After that she is on her fucking own. Alternatively," I went on, speaking between clenched teeth, I could hang up here and now and you can both go and fuck yourselves." It is always nice to give people an option I think, but with a typical peasant suspicion,  the hag decided to ask the obvious question that types like that always come out with:

"How can I be sure you won't pull a fast one?"

"Don't be fucking stupid. I have already fucked Eva once and I want to have her again. That is not going to happen if I do not keep my side of the bargain, is it?

"Very well, now you listen to me you arrogant piece of shit. I have seven brothers in Tamaulipas, and they will cut your balls off and make you eat them if you do not keep your word."


I know Tamaulipas as an arid lump of desert that breeds hard men who believe in the concept of la vendetta, so I believed every word that the bitch said - not that it concerned me in the least.


"I will come over to the house right now to look at the papers. I need Eva's birth certificate, your marriage certificate and any documents from Germany that you might have," I told her.


"When will you arrive?"


"In about an hour."


"The papers will be ready," she said very quietly, but firmly.


I arrived on time and was shown into the small but rather nice house that was obviously going downhill now that the old man was no longer around to pay the bills. The mother was as I expected her to be, a slab of blubber in her early forties that even drunk I would think twice about touching. We greeted each other warily and I sat down at the table to inspect the paperwork.


There was Eva's birth certificate with both her parents listed on it. I noted that the paternal grandparents were listed as German, but was puzzled to see that the father's nationality was down as Mexican. I raised that with Eva who silently passed me her father's Mexican naturalisation document which clearly showed that he was born in Germany. Finally, I was shown his German birth certificate and a Spanish residence card, which listed him as stateless. I could see what had happened in 1945 as the Spanish had let him in and then probably jollied him along into seeking a more permanent refuge in Latin-America. I decided that the Spanish bit might confuse the ever so pedantic Germans and thought it best to leave that to one side.


"Right, put these documents in a  folder and tomorrow morning we shall drive to the city centre and get things moving," was what I told Eva. That was it - I left the house there and then because quite frankly her old bitch of a mother was making my flesh crawl.


The next morning I drove Eva over to the German consulate and showed her how simple things can be in the west if you have all the correct papers. I explained on her behalf what the situation was and then made my excuses and left Eva to sit and chat with the consular staff member. About half and hour later she emerged with a big grin on her face and told me that the consulate was checking her papers to make sure that everything was in order, and once that had been done she could apply for her new birth certificate and with that get a passport.


"The only problem is the cost," she explained. "What do you think I should do?" She has a grin on her face that ran from ear to ear as she asked that silly question.


"Well, I am sure that a pretty girl like you can come up with something," I replied.


"Will you help?"


"I might be tempted to make a contribution to this worthy cause. It really depends on how enthusiastic you are the next time we go to bed."


"I am always enthusiastic with you," she replied, coyly.


"Will you say that after I have tanned your backside properly this time?"


"Nooooo, why do you want to do that? What have a I done?"


"You haven't done anything, but your mother did.


"Well, then you should spank her, said Eva, with a nice tough of daughterly duty I thought.


"Naah, she's too fat. Besides, I don't want to fuck her, I want to fuck you - after I have blistered your backside."


"This isn't fair."


"Life is not fair. Shall we go to a hotel?"


"If you insist."


"I do," I said, and off we went.


To be concluded.