Anne Hampson Page 2

  'What was Diane like?' Her question must sound strange, she thought, but to her relief Mark showed no surprise as he looked up, his eyes oddly bright and eager. 'I told you, she was something special - every man's dream of the perfect girl. She must have been fully aware of herself because everyone loved her. The most amazing thing was that she remained completely unaffected by all the adulation which was bestowed upon her. She and Craig made a handsome pair; wherever they went people turned to look at them.' His thoughts seemed far away and Jeanette found herself saying gravely, and with some concern, 'Were you hurt? — when she chose Craig?'

  'Oh, no. We all knew there was no hope for any of us.' He spoke quickly, carelessly. 'You know how it is, though, when you're young; you get these crushes. But we were all too wise to fall heavily.' Again his thoughts seemed distant, and Jeanette watched him in silence for a while.

  He had the same build as Craig, and the same dark hair, but there was about him an attractive gentleness lacking in Craig. The lines of his face, too, were softer and he smiled more often. He was extraordinarily good-looking, she thought, with a little access of pride. He glanced up, as if expecting her to continue the conversation.

  'Have they met since? I mean, recently?'

  'At first they made a clean break, which was of course the only sensible thing to do; they didn't know of Roy's illness at the time. But from what Craig has said it would appear that they did meet fairly regularly before he left England. I don't suppose they actually went. out together - Craig would not have done anything to hurt Roy - but they probably met at his mother's home. Mrs. Fleming and Diane have always remained friends and they visit one another. It broke Mrs. Fleming's heart when they parted, and I'm sure she still thinks there's no other woman good enough for her son.'

  'And you? Have you seen her?' Jeanette immediately wondered what had prompted the question, for it seemed quite irrelevant.

  'I saw her last year—' Mark broke off abruptly and sat musing for a while. 'She'd been shopping and was having lunch at a small cafe where I usually took mine. It was a pleasant surprise for us both, and of course we talked a lot about the old days. She looked as attractive as ever, though older, but you would never have taken her for thirty-four. Considering the trouble she's had with Roy, and the responsibility of bringing up those kids, she looked remarkably youthful. There are no money worries and I suppose that helps.' He paused; and Jeanette noticed the admiration in his eyes, and wondered at it. 'She asked me to go back with her and have a chat with Roy. He was in a wheelchair, poor devil, but as happy and cheerful as you please. He adores Diane, and whatever she feels for him, she has given him some very happy years.' There was another pause before he went on, 'They appear to be suited and content — Roy obviously is, but Diane... well, I sometimes wonder.'

  'She could have come to love him,' suggested Jeanette, and her brother smiled.

  'I don't profess to know much about women,' he said wryly, 'but I imagine it would be difficult to love anyone else after Craig.' Jeanette glanced sharply at him, struck by an odd note in his voice, and he continued quickly, 'There's respect, no doubt about that. It couldn't be otherwise, the way he suffers without complaining. And Diane must be exceedingly grateful to him, for he's given those children everything. I told you how well they had all done?'

  She nodded. One of the boys was a doctor and the other a partner in a firm of lawyers. The two girls had their own beauty salon, bought for them by Roy.

  'The children must be very grateful, too,' murmured Jeanette, thinking that Roy must be a truly wonderful person, and wondering why such people had to suffer.

  'They are, and I'm glad to say they show their gratitude.' He went on to say that Diane's task was now completed and, as Roy's illness was progressing more rapidly, it could not be long before Diane was free to find happiness. 'I think I mentioned that Craig had said Roy was much worse when his mother last wrote?'

  'Yes.... And then Diane will come out here and many Craig, do you think?' Jeanette's voice was not quite steady, and a dryness caught her throat.

  'I suppose so.' Mark's tones were sharp and his brow creased in a frown. 'At least, that's what everyone expect will happen, and yet....'

  'Yes?' Why did she sound so breathless? And why should she wait so expectantly for her brother's reply?

  'Well, fifteen years is a long time; people change.'

  'But if they were really in love?'

  'They were.' Mark was emphatic about that. 'Only—' He shrugged. 'I suppose they'll do what pleases them.' Rising, he poured himself another drink. Clearly he no longer wished to continue the conversation.

  Jeanette's friends, Sally and Gwen, were decorating. They had moved into the flat at Tophane only six weeks previously, after having lived for eight months under the most primitive conditions in the Fatih district where the old wooden houses were literally falling to pieces around them. This accommodation had been found for them on their taking up their appointments. Soon they began looking round for a more suitable flat, but rents were so exorbitant that the search had taken longer than anticipated. Eventually they had found the charming flat at Tophane, and had moved in, although the rent was out of all proportion to their salaries.

  Having offered to help, Jeanette arrived at the flat early in the evening. Gwen was up the ladder, Sally pasting at the table. Both were being watched by an audience of Turkish gentlemen consisting of Ali, the caretaker of the flats, Selim, his son, and Ismet, the wizened old man who kept the grocery store along the street.

  Staring in puzzlement from Gwen to the three fascinated onlookers, and then to Sally, Jeanette inquired if anything was wrong.

  Gwen, flushed and dishevelled, and swearing softly but genteelly as a corner of the paper came away on her duster, twisted round on her precarious perch.

  'You may well ask!' Her dark eyes laughed with sheer amusement, contrasting with the hint of impatience in her voice. 'Believe it or not, none of these has ever set eyes on a roll of wallpaper before. We never thought when we let Ali in to fix the latch on the balcony window - he almost collapsed when he saw us actually fixing paper to the walls. Then he disappeared, and we assumed he'd taken fright and made a quick getaway from these mad English, but we should have known better. Back he comes rushing, with these two, and we just can't get rid of them.'

  'They haven't ever seen wallpaper?' gasped Jeanette. 'They must have!'

  'Ask them then,' suggested Gwen impishly and Jeanette had to laugh. As she spoke no Turkish and they no English, communication was impossible. She had the greatest admiration for Gwen who, completely undaunted, somehow managed to get through to these people by a mixture of pidgin Turkish, intelligent guesswork and the most expressive miming. Inevitably there were occasions when this misfired, resulting in what Gwen, with her incredible good humour and calm, laughingly described as 'rather disturbing misadventures'. There was, for example, the time when Gwen had instructed Mrs. 'Sparrow', who cleaned for them, to give everything an extra polish, as she and Sally were giving a party. That conscientious lady, with painstaking thoroughness, had turned the hosepipe on the walls — without even the forethought to remove the carpet beforehand!

  'If they don't have wallpaper here, then where did you get it ?' Jeanette wanted to know.

  'From home - brought it back with us after the Christmas holidays,' Sally put in. 'Good thing no one decided to examine the contents of the car. You never know how these people are going to react. Might have thought it was some sort of secret weapon we'd brought over to blow up the Galata Bridge or something.'

  This brought a peal of laughter from Gwen and Jeanette, and they were joined by the three men. Donning her overall, Jeanette began clearing up the scraps of paper adhering to the floor.

  'Can't we just shoo them off?' suggested Sally after a while. 'I never work well when I'm being watched.' She paused, eyeing the men up and down. 'Wouldn't be so bad if they were young and handsome, but a more unprepossessing bunch I've yet to meet!'

  Th
e men apparently thought they were being flattered. They gave Sally a broad grin before settling themselves against the wall as if preparing for a long stay. Always the men here seemed to be leaning against something, idling away their time, Jeanette had noticed.

  She took over the pasting and soon they were working expertly as a team. After a short while Mrs. Sparrow appeared. Small and spare, she wore a black dress buttoned right up to the neck, and on her arms were about a dozen bangles, all gold. This was the way the poorer, working class women saved their money.

  After many vain attempts to pronounce her name, the girls had christened her Mrs. Sparrow, and the reason for this was easy to see. Chirpy as a bird, always in a hurry, she flitted about all over the place. Her small head bobbed this way and that and, to complete the impression, she had a rather long, pointed nose. She jabbered away to Gwen, who was trying to concentrate on what she said while at the same time endeavouring to match the pattern on a wall which was about six inches out of true.

  'What is it all about?' asked Jeanette, puzzled. 'I thought Mrs. Sparrow didn't come in the evenings.'

  'Afraid of missing something,' replied Sally. 'Gwen told her earlier that we were going to decorate.'

  'She has just expressed the opinion that we're quite mad,' interposed Gwen calmly. 'She finds it inconceivable that anyone in her right mind would put paper on a wall.'

  It was Mrs. Sparrow, however, who rid them of their audience. Being less tolerant than the girl, she hustled the men to the door within minutes of her arrival and they made their way reluctantly downstairs.

  'The milk!' Gwen almost toppled off the ladder. Jeanette stepped aside in alarm as she sped like a whirlwind to the top of the stairs. 'Too late.' Gwen returned and went over to the balcony rail, where she stood uttering the most blood-curdling shrieks, while Jeanette listened in astounded silence. Although she had been friendly with the girls for nearly five weeks, she still did not know what to expect next.

  'Just ordering the milk from Ismet,' Sally obliged, sensing her bewilderment. 'All that is Gwen's own particular brand of Turkish for, "as much as you can spare tomorrow, please". You see, Turkish cows go dry for about three days a week, so we have to stock up.' She was on her knees, measuring off a length of paper from the roll which was spread out along the floor. Her eyes were alight with laughter as she looked up to meet Jeanette's sceptical gaze. 'Honest - at least, that's the conclusion we've come to, because there are days when it's quite impossible to buy milk anywhere.'

  When at last the final length of paper was fixed, the three girls stood in the middle of the room admiring the results of their work. Mrs. Sparrow, wagging her head from, side to side, indicated her approval, after which she made them coffee and sandwiches and then went home. They took their supper out on to the balcony. It was early June; the night air, soft as silk, was stirred gently by a faint breeze coming up from the south. The flat had a magnificent view over the outer harbour of the Golden Horn to Seraglio Point and the Sea of Marmara beyond. Numerous small motor-craft and kayiks fishing by the Galata Bridge sent out their flickering lights to mingle with those along the Golden Horn. Cupolas of the mosques stood out sharply in the lights of the city and the slender minarets were silhouetted against an amethyst sky. Gwen leant back in her chair with a contented agh.

  'I'm glad we decided to take it,' she said. 'Always fancied myself in a place with a balcony overlooking the sea. Makes me feel like a millionaire.'

  'Talking of millionaires,' put in Sally, turning to Jeanette, 'how is your friend, Craig Fleming?'

  Jeanette gave a father startled little laugh.

  'Shouldn't think he's a millionaire - he seems to work extremely hard for his money.' And he is not my friend, she added, though silently.

  'Well, those oil managers always seem like millionaires, with their great flashy cars and chauffeurs and yachts.'

  'He writes books.' Sally helped herself to another sandwich. 'We read his last one because it was about an archaeological site in Western Turkey which Gwen and I had visited. Craig Fleming was lucky to get permission to dig there, for the Turks are not like the Greeks. They have even better sites than those of Greece, but seem determined not to have them excavated.'

  Jeanette had also read the book and they discussed its merits for a while and then she decided it was time she went home. Tony had brought her, for he was visiting friends in the old part of the city, but as he was uncertain as to the time of his return, it was arranged that Gwen should run Jeanette home.

  Just as they were preparing to go they heard a call from below, and Gwen invited their visitor to come up.

  'Cetin,'she said, and they all sat down again. They were not surprised at the lateness of the visit, for it was quite customary for people to drop in on their friends after visiting a night club or restaurant. Jeanette was used to it by now, for Mark's friends also came, and went at the oddest hours.

  Cetin Rustem was just one of a cosmopolitan crowd of young people with whom the two girls had become friendly since their arrival in Istanbul ten months ago. Jeanette had first met him at the Italian Consulate, when attending a dinner dance there with Sally and Gwen. She had met him several times since, for he was a frequent visitor to the flat. He was an officer at the Naval Training College, and as Jeanette turned to smile a welcome she thought how handsome he looked in his white uniform which contrasted so strongly with his deep tan and raven hair. Declining Gwen's offer of supper, he said he was just passing and decided to drop in for a few minutes only. His English was excellent, as was that of many other officers of the college, and he had a charm of manner that even Jeanette found most attractive.

  He was an expert climber and had been trying for months to persuade the two girls to join one of his parties; he looked keenly disappointed as they now refused another invitation.

  'We will come one of these week-ends,' Sally promised, and with that he had to be satisfied. They all chatted for a short while and then; as Cetin was going the same way as Jeanette he offered to see her home.

  He dropped her at the front door, but instead of entering the house she stood for a moment enjoying the deep silence. The night was clear and warm, with millions of stars above and the calm sea gleaming below. On sudden impulse she went out through the garden again, feeling exhilarated as she walked briskly in the direction of Craig's house. She had gone only a short distance when her heart gave a lurch as she sensed she was no longer alone. Turning, she saw a man coming quickly towards her and, although she was not of a nervous disposition, her first impulse was to run. But which way? If she turned back she could not reach her gate before he did, yet there seemed no point in going forward. How stupid to decide on taking a walk at this hour! Making an effort to quell her fears she continued to walk on, but in spite of herself her heart began to race painfully and her legs felt weak. The entrance to Craig's garden offered safety and she hastened towards it, hoping desperately that she would reach it before the man caught up with her. At last, breathless, she entered the path and walked a short distance before stopping in the shadow of the hedge. She must have gained on the man, for he did not appear for a while. Then he passed without even a glance in the direction she had taken; at the same time she heard Craig's voice, deeply concerned.

  'Jeanette, what on earth is wrong? Has something happened to Mark?'

  'No ... no, it isn't anything serious.' Jeanette flushed with embarrassment, realizing how foolish her explanation would sound..'I thought I'd take a walk - then I saw a man behind me and I took fright and came in here.'

  There was a moment's astounded silence during which all his concern vanished.

  'Do you mean to say you had no more sense than to walk along the shore at this hour!' His tone was sharp to the point of anger, but in her relief she took no exception to it.

  'I realize it was silly — but it's such a lovely night.'

  'Silly? It was the height of madness. Don't ever do such a thing again!' He still seemed unable to understand so foolish an action,
and added, 'What made you decide to come out here at two in the morning? Can't you I sleep?'

  'I was already out.' She went on to explain what had happened, but immediately she mentioned Cetin she regretted it, for she knew that Craig disliked him intensely.

  'Cetin!' His tones were even sharper than before. This is no time of the morning to be out with a man like Cetin!'

  The implication brought spots of angry colour to her cheeks, but she managed to control her voice.

  'He merely gave me a lift home. As he was coming this way, it seemed the sensible thing to do. It saved Gwen coming out.'

  Ignoring that, Craig said he would walk back with her and they went down the path to the shore. Jeanette felt grateful for his company, guilty at having brought him out, and miserable because she had made such a fool of herself.

  The sitting-room light was on when they reached the house, and they could see Metat tidying up, but there was no sign of Mark or Tony.

  'They appear to be in bed,' Craig beckoned to Metat to open the window for Jeanette to enter. She thanked him for bringing her home, hoping the slight tremor of dejection would escape his notice. When he spoke again it was in a much softer tone, though with the same stern inflection.

  'You'll be well advised to keep Rustem at a distance, and on no account must you join one of his climbing parties.' His last words were actually an order, which Jeanette resented, but again she remained calm. Friction between them must be avoided, not only because he was Mark's good friend, but also because tomorrow was Saturday, and they could hardly set out on a sightseeing trip in an atmosphere of unfriendliness. However, she hoped her silence would not lead him into the mistaken belief that she intended obeying his order. In fact, she made the firm resolve that, should Cetin wish to include her in one of his climbing parties, she would accept without hesitation.

  CHAPTER TWO

  To Jeanette's surprise Murad, the chauffeur, was driving when Craig called for her the following afternoon. Owing to the large number of thieves in the city he preferred not to leave the car unattended, Craig explained as he took his place beside her in the back seat.