The Turkish Trap: A tense and intriguing action thriller.

by Jack Dylan

  He was a bit in awe of her combination of English Literature degree with her current accountancy studies. His long-forgotten General Studies degree and basic book-keeping certificates felt just as irrelevant as in reality they were. She had an air of quietly and unfussily doing something with her life. He realised that he probably looked at her too much, and would have to stop himself doing that.

  But she looked interested when he spoke. There was an encouraging, genuinely interested smile when she looked at him. She often agreed with what he said and helped to make it sound intellectually worthwhile. When he said that something read as if it was not based on the author’s experience, she would jump in with some literary arguments to back up his elementary comments.

  James however was firmly stuck in the frame of mind where close relationships with women didn’t work for him. He was too scarred by old emotional damage, too afraid of the uncontrollable helter-skelter of emotions and potential failures to allow himself for a moment to dream or to imagine that in reality a relationship with Sinead was possible. He allowed himself to fantasise, but it was strictly in the realm of fantasy, with no potential connection to an actual future reality. He enjoyed the warmth of the feelings she created in him, but didn’t even consider risking spoiling the present with an inevitably clumsy move to take things further.

  Sinead, meanwhile, had found the relationships with Lavinia, Steve and William liberating and mind-expanding. It was as if they each in different ways gave her insights in to other lives and other privacies.

  Lavinia had unexpectedly become a warm supportive friend, with whom she could talk about anything. It was her conversations with Lavinia that were most perspective-changing. They allowed her to see her other lives with a clarity and comprehension that was both disturbing and confirming. She could see how right she had been to take the bold step of starting the accountancy course, and with Lavinia’s encouragement she could believe more actively in the future career she could have. When she described the work relationships with ‘the girls’ and confessed the frustrations with the others in her flat, Lavinia didn’t make her feel stupid or incompetent. She made her see them in a warmer and less frustrating light. She saw the patterns in her life and in the others’ lives for the scripts that they were. She and Lavinia shared the same great, overwhelmingly and delightfully exciting task. When they were together they could understand and encourage one another in what they were doing, which was a bit like sitting back from the play in their directors’ chairs and deciding to manipulate the script. They were deciding that they had the power to stop following the next inevitable lines and the predictable stage direction. They were no longer prisoners of the script that had been unwittingly handed to them by parents, neighbours, schools, churches, and the whole oppressive history of who they were and where they lived. It didn’t have to just trundle on as it had been doing. They genuinely felt that the mind-opening insight into what they could do was real. It was liberating, but it wasn’t fanciful.

  Lavinia helped her believe in the changes that she was making and helped her to be less limited in her vision. She helped Lavinia to be realistic and practical. They worked well together and what made it delightful was that they knew it, and they loved each other for it.

  Sinead’s relationship with Steve was different. She first of all didn’t think that any of ‘the girls’ and certainly none of her flat-mates had any real insight into or contact with the gay parallel universe that surrounded them. For whatever reason, she and Steve were immediately at ease with one another. It was Sinead and Steve who exchanged eye-contact most during that first tentative book-group meeting. It was she and Steve who compared notes afterwards and uncomplicatedly agreed to meet for a drink between the formal meetings.

  She found that Steve reacted easily and with a light, amused but uncondescending style to her naïve questions about the gay way of life in Dublin. She knew vaguely that some bars were known as gay bars, but had no insight into the intricate networks of contacts that formed an instantly accessible social scene for gay men in the city. He laughed when she asked about gay women, for it was then a much less developed and much less accessible network.

  Steve was able to tell her about life with his mother. He found in Sinead a listener who could fully understand the contradictions, frustrations, and warmth of that relationship. Steve’s mother was a widow who had seen her life shaken from one script to another with a cruelty that might have killed a lesser woman. Without self-pity of any sense of resentment Steve described the unexpected transformation of his life from the comfortable wealth and social connections due to his father, to the free-fall from grace that followed his death. With the death crumbled the façade that had been plate-spinningly maintained. Foolish investments, bad luck, worse timing, and a flawed personality had left Steve’s father maintaining a front he didn’t confess even to his wife. It was only when they met his solicitor after the funeral that Steve and his mother realised that they were in effect destitute. There was no house to sell, it was already owned by the bank to cover old debts. There were no more investments. There was literally nothing but debt.

  Ten years later and Steve was sharing a neat little terraced house with his mother, and they were both doing work that they had never imagined they would have to do. Sinead could have cried in her empathy for the overwhelming waves of disaster that seemed to have engulfed the mother and son, but somehow she knew that such self-indulgence on her part would spoil the relationship with Steve. He didn’t want her sympathy. He allowed her to see inside his life as part of the two-way process that built the bonds, enriched the understanding, and strengthened both participants.

  William was different. Sinead couldn’t stop herself smiling a little when she thought of him. Normally she would react strongly against the pomposity and what she always thought of as fake Anglo-Irish style. Bur there was something so innocently transparent about William that it was amusing rather than offensive. At first Sinead felt guilty about being amused, but quickly realised that it was almost a conspiracy with William to react in this way rather than a conspiracy against him. He colluded in maintaining the amusing fictions and stances. It was as if his style of dressing was not so crazy. She felt an unexpressed wink of collusion with William at the over-the-top datedness of the occasional cravat, the yellow jumper, and the pressed jeans. At some level she felt that he too had been let into the secret about writing one’s own script, but that he was enjoying playing along with the script as it was.

  Sinead had really laughed and relaxed the first time she unthinkingly and unpremeditatedly punctured one of William’s pomposities. He often made statements or put forward views that were obviously fabricated on the basis of quickly picking up what other people had just said. He had a funny knack of sounding quite pompously self-opinionated, but at the same time self-parodying. When Sinead unexpectedly said,

  “Really William, I don’t think you’ve even read it,” and immediately put her hand to her mouth in shock at what she had just said. William paused only for a moment and then laughed,

  “You’re absolutely right, old thing. Totally bluffing. Thought I was getting away with it!”

  And they all laughed because they all knew, and because it was all right.

  And that left James.

  When James first joined the group she didn’t really know what to make of him. He was of a type outside her experience. His family was a familiar Dublin name, and she expected the well-schooled politeness and propriety. She didn’t expect the vulnerability and sadness that oozed from his smoky blue eyes. For the first few sessions he seemed hesitant, not used to giving his views, or perhaps not used to having them listened to. When she quizzed Lavinia about him she realised that James’ and Lavinia’s families would have known each other over the years, so it was natural that James was part of Lavinia’s wider social network. She heard about James losing his job in the bank, one of an older generation and style who didn’t seem to fit in the new order that was marching t
hrough all the old family bastions of nepotism and privilege in the city. No wonder he looked a bit bewildered. Somebody had changed the rules of the world and he’d found himself left behind, with no seeming role in the forceful new Ireland. It didn’t seem fair to Sinead and she instinctively wanted to help him.

  The help she found she could give him was to encourage him in the reading group. When he tentatively suggested a possible view, usually at Lavinia’s prompting, she made a point of trying to help and support him. She realised he watched her in anticipation of some support and encouragement. It was becoming another symbiotic arrangement and it was good for both of them. She felt better for helping him and also felt richly appreciated if not by words at least through warm eye contact. He felt encouraged, and because of the positive response to his comments he became more and more likely to express a view without waiting for someone to prompt him. It was an unusual experience for him, and one that gradually overtook the years of negative reinforcement he had received during meetings in the bank.

  Sinead knew that he was more than ten years older, but when she realised that the thoughts she had about him were actually of a fondness and hopefulness that was beyond the normal social reaction, it somehow didn’t matter at all. She routinely met Lavinia for coffee, and uncomplicatedly met Steve for a quiet drink, but she didn’t see how she could prompt such a thing with James.

  Lavinia laughed delightedly when Sinead confessed the strange mixture of feelings that she was experiencing, and at once wanted to engineer something that might actually allow these two inexpert and tentative people to get together.

  “I know what I’ll do,” she enthusiastically proposed to Sinead. “I’ll tell James that you and I are meeting for coffee, invite him, but I won’t turn up.”

  “Don’t you dare,” exclaimed Sinead, terrified at the prospect. “I won’t turn up either and the poor man will be all on his own.”

  “What about the three of us meeting but I’ll need to leave unexpectedly early?”

  “No, this is pathetic. I, or rather he, should be able to get things started without you having to act as matchmaker.”

  “It’s just a question of timing really. I’m only trying to help you along. I’ll stay out of it if you want.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. He doesn’t look as if he would ever have the nerve to ask me out, but I don’t want to feel it is set up. Promise me you won’t do anything unless I ask you to.”

  “Of course, I promise, but I’m ready and willing to help if you ask. I’ll be watching.”

  “Thanks Lavinia. Let’s just see how things go on their own. Better not to complicate them.”

  ***

  “James?”

  “Yes, this is he.”

  “James, it’s Lavinia.”

  “Hello Lavinia. What can I do for you?”

  “Well actually James, this is a bit tricky, I’m starting to think I shouldn’t have phoned. I don’t quite know how to put this.” Lavinia had of course planned every move of the conversation.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to spit it out Lavinia now that you have started. You can’t leave me hanging.”

  “Perhaps you’ll be cross with me for interfering. I really shouldn’t I know.”

  “Lavinia will you please tell me what you are talking about.”

  “Well if you insist. It’s rather personal and totally secret. You must swear you will never, ever, tell anyone about this.”

  “Lavinia you have to tell me.” James was intrigued, worried, out of his depth, but experiencing a vague uncertain excitement and hope that surprised him. He didn’t dare really frame the hope that was flickering but waited for Lavinia’s next words.

  “Promise me.”

  “Yes, I promise not to tell.”

  “Cross your heart?”

  “Lavinia!”

  “It’s about Sinead. And you mustn’t, mustn’t tell her I’ve said anything.”

  James felt slightly giddy. His face flushed, he could feel the redness engulfing his face and neck. He sat down on the dining room chair and waited, oblivious to everything in the world other than the silence on the telephone line. The lunchtime news was quietly continuing on the radio. His soup was cooling and developing a congealing layer of something semi-solid looking.

  “Lavinia?”

  “Yes James?”

  “Please tell me about Sinead.” It was the question that Lavinia had been steering James towards all along. Now she could honestly say to herself and if necessary to Sinead that James had asked her point blank.

  “It’s just that I’ve been watching you two, and I know it’s none of my business but you obviously like each other a lot. You exchange more glances than anyone else, and you both make the other smile a lot.”

  “Really? I didn’t think….”

  “Well I do think. And I know that, without meaning this unkindly, neither of you is very good at taking first steps in relationships.”

  “In my case that is something of an understatement.”

  “So I just thought you might need a little prompting, or a little confirmation that you should get on with it.”

  “Oh….”

  “James?”

  “I don’t know what to say Lavinia.”

  “To me or to Sinead?”

  “To either of you.”

  “Well you can say either ‘thank-you’ or ‘mind your own business’ to me first.”

  “Oh, thank you Lavinia, I really do appreciate this.”

  “And in that case you can ring Sinead and suggest that the two of you meet for a coffee – no better to meet for a drink, after work, her work that is, she finishes at 5:00 so you could meet her in one of those nice little places off Grafton Street.”

  “When should I phone her?”

  “Next week. Not this week. She’ll suspect something if you phone too soon.”

  “Oh thank you Lavinia. I don’t know what to say. But thank you.”

  James didn’t think to ask why telephoning this week would have made Sinead suspicious. His mind was in too much of a daze to reach the obvious inescapable conclusion that Sinead and Lavinia had been talking about him. He was too overwhelmed with a strange heady mixture of panic and anticipation to think straight.

  Chapter 26

  Dublin 2006

  James and Sinead together

  “What would you like to drink?”

  “I’m not sure. What are you having?”

  “I think I’ll have a gin and tonic.”

  “That sounds nice. I’ll have that too.”

  James ordered the drinks at the bar, leaving Sinead to sit at the little round table in the corner of the Bailey. It was 5:30, and not busy. There were a few tourists at another table, a few students chatting in a desultory way at the front, and a couple of solitary men reading their papers and sipping occasionally from their pints of Guinness. From time to time someone slipped outside for a cigarette, Ireland having taken an early decision by European standards to ban smoking in public buildings.

  “Here we are,” said James, trying to sound casual and confident.

  “Mmnn, thanks.”

  “Well, here’s to crime,” he toasted for no particular reason.

  “Slainte,” toasted Sinead, understanding completely how bizarre and inappropriate words could pop out when you least expected.

  “You must tell me about your work in Trinity. Somehow we never get to find out things like that when we’re all chatting about books.”

  “Oh, I don’t want to bore you. It’s very basic admin. I don’t think you’d want to know about all the details.”

  “But I would, honestly. I’d like to be able to picture what you do and what the office is like.”

  And so the seemingly innocent factual questions and answers conveyed between them the desire to be closer; the irresistible urge to confide in each other; and demonstrated the unpractised awkwardness of the mature romantic.

  They spent an hour together before Sinead said she
had better go, as the girls in the flat would be expecting her to eat with them. James was disappointed that there was no more time. He had started imagining candlelit dinners within minutes of Lavinia’s phone-call. But he told himself to be patient. He had after all invited her for a drink after work. His disappointment made him bolder and without planning he said,

  “Let’s meet again next week, but why don’t we go to eat somewhere?”

  “Oh let’s,” agreed Sinead without hesitation.

  They parted awkwardly outside the Bailey. Neither of them was bold enough to touch, but both of them were physically primed to touch or even to kiss. James clumsily put his hands in his pockets, Sinead clasped her bag as if expecting a robbery, and they parted reluctantly and uncertainly.

  “See you on Thursday then.”

  “Oh yes. See you at Lavinia’s. Thanks for the drink.”

  “A pleasure. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  They walked off in opposite directions: Sinead to catch a bus back to her flat in Rathmines, James to go in the opposite direction for a moment just to ease the awkwardness. He was still in a state of something approaching hyperactivity, twitchingly ready to do something but not knowing what. He was happier than he could remember being for years. His grin was more genuine, spontaneous and uncontrollable than he could cope with. So he couldn’t go home to his lonely-seeming flat. He felt a man of the world; a chap just coming from a secret meeting with his lover; a romantic hero; a Lothario.

  James strolled nonchalantly into O’Neill’s.

  “Pint of Guinness please.”

  “You have a win on the horses or something?” asked the barman cheekily. Not reacting to the extravagance of the drinks order, but to the unusual extravagance of the happy grin on the face of his usually doleful customer.

  “Something like that,” admitted James, a little taken aback by the observation. He was secretly pleased that he had such a positive air, which was obvious to others, but he wasn’t used to such man-to-man informality, so he withdrew a little clumsily to a far corner of the bar.