I wriggled in my seat. “I’ll leave you in peace. I’ll come back and see you later.”
“All right, thank you again. Can I ask you something?”
“Yes, professor?”
“Where’s my violin?”
I paused as I tried to remember.
“I picked it up on the beach, I was holding it as we dragged you to the car. No, you were holding it. I remember that you refused to let go of it. It must be in the car.”
“It would mean a lot to me if you could find it.”
“Don’t worry.”
I walked over to the door and was just about to open it and go out when I heard him say, “A strange thing happened yesterday.”
I turned and looked at him.
“In my sleep I thought it was Nadia beside me. She put her arms around me. I could feel her as if she were alive, I could even smell her and feel her kiss my shoulder.”
He turned and looked out the window.
“It was as if all those years hadn’t passed, as if we were young again.”
“Who is Nadia?”
He turned and looked at me for a moment, and then said, “I’ll tell you later. You deserve to know.”
After I left him I looked around for Filiz, and when I couldn’t find her I walked for a while in the garden. It was unsettling to have been mistaken for Nadia, for a woman I’d never met. It was also unsettling to think about having embraced a stranger’s naked body.
I’d only been to bed with two men so far: my husband Ahmet and Tarık. Wagner had been the third, and this experience had given me an odd sense of peace, a peace that had nothing whatsoever to do with sex. The feel of his body next to mine had woken a deep tenderness within me. What Süleyman had found obscene had been perhaps the most genuine moment of decency I’d ever experienced. I wouldn’t have thought it possible to lie still with my arms around someone for so many hours, but yesterday I hadn’t been aware of the passage of time at all. I also have to confess that at one point I began to kiss him on the shoulder.
It had been completely different with the other two men I’d been to bed with. With them, there’d been sex, but not this tenderness and peace. With them it had been almost the opposite of intimacy. I’d been physically joined to another person but at the same time felt completely alone. Nor, I have to say, did I experience much physical pleasure.
I left the hospital grounds and caught a taxi on the main street. It was killing me to pay as much as I was for taxis, but what could I do? I was also feeling stressed because I’d lost half a day and was going to have to spend the afternoon rushing to catch up.
No one I passed on my way up the stairs and down the corridor to my office treated me any differently than usual. Hasan the tea man, Suat Tunç the assistant rector, and Professor Suna Kalaycı all gave me friendly greetings. I glanced at the pile that had accumulated in my in-box, then picked up the phone and called the rector’s secretary to ask if I could get in to see him. Even that grumpy old bitch was pleasant and helpful. I sensed none of the scorn I’d expected from her, and she even smiled when I passed her on my way into his office. So it seemed Süleyman hadn’t told anyone. Yet somehow rather than making me feel relieved this worried me. I had the sneaking suspicion that he was going to try to use what he knew to his advantage.
The rector was on the phone, and waved for me to sit down. He turned to me when he’d hung up.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“I’m afraid Professor Wagner got sick and I had to put him in Çapa Hospital.”
“What’s the matter!? What happened?”
“It’s nothing serious. He just got a severe chill. I thought that because of his age it was better to be cautious.”
“Oh, good! How is he now?”
“He’s fine. But I’m not sure when they’re going to discharge him. We might have to change his plane ticket.”
“Oh, that’s no problem, we can take care of that. The important thing is that he get the rest and care he needs.”
“There’s something I need to say, but…”
“Go ahead.”
“For the past few days I’ve had to do a lot of running around for the professor, and I’ve had to take a lot of taxis.”
“I understand. Süleyman took the Mercedes to the mechanic. This time it needs some major repairs. Tell the general secretary to assign you another car.”
“Thank you.”
Just as I was going out the door he called me back
“Wait a minute, there’s something else I almost forgot.”
“Yes?”
I walked back to his desk.
“I’ve been invited to a reception at the British consulate this evening but I’m not going to be able to make it. I’d like you to go in my place.”
“Wouldn’t it be more appropriate for one of the assistant rectors to go?”
“You’re right, but when I told them I couldn’t come they asked for you.”
“Me?”
“Yes you, and by name.”
“There must be some mistake.”
“No mistake,” he said, and handed me an envelope. “It says formal attire.”
Back in my office I opened the thick envelope that had been addressed in an elegant hand. Below the royal coat of arms was a gracious invitation to attend a reception that evening at 7:30. RSVP and black tie and evening gown. I was flabbergasted. I’d never been invited to anything like this, and I had no idea why I was being invited now. I was pleased, and at the same time terrified. I wouldn’t know anyone there, and I had no idea how you were supposed to behave at this kind of thing. But why would they invite a lowly clerk like me, and me specifically? And was I going to be resented for this by the people who were usually expected to stand in for the rector?
I looked at my watch. It was already after three, and I had to get moving. I went to the general secretary and told him the rector had authorized a car for Professor Wagner. He grinned and ogled my breasts. A lot of men do this on the sly, but this man enjoyed making it obvious that he was looking. I ignored him.
Ten minutes later I was climbing into the back seat of a navy blue Ford Focus. The driver was a polite young man called Ilyas who’d driven me once or twice before. I told him to take me home, and we made fairly good time because the rush hour hadn’t started yet. But just as we were nearing my street I changed my mind and gave him another address to go to.
Mehmet the hairdresser expressed surprise and pleasure to see me during office hours. I’d been going to him for years and we’d developed a nice, comfortable relationship. I knew what he could do and he knew what I liked, so we didn’t have to waste time discussing, and I was never disappointed. He was also a genuinely goodhearted person, one of the very few I knew.
“I’m in a terrible hurry. I’m going to a reception at the British consulate this evening.”
“In that case let’s put your hair up, Maya!”
“Do whatever you like,” I said. “I have every confidence in your taste.”
The hairdresser’s was full of women having their hair colored, having manicures, pedicures, and waxing. I seemed to be the only woman with black hair. One the assistants turned my chair around, gently pushed my head back, and washed my hair in a small basin.
Later, while I was having my hair done and sipping my coffee, I called Filiz at the hospital and learned that the professor’s condition was improving. They would keep him one more day for observation and would probably discharge him the following day.
Mehmet created a wonderful chignon, but I wasn’t used to wearing my hair up and felt naked with my neck exposed like that.
“The necklace will do the trick.”
It was getting dark as I left, and the street was filled with people doing their evening shopping. I bought some cheese pastries from the patisserie on the corner,
and then, feeling like a rich woman, sauntered to my chauffeur-driven car.
When I got home I found Kerem at his computer, but he didn’t have his usual air of gloom. When he heard me come into his room he looked up and smiled.
“You’ll never believe what I’ve found.”
His printer was churning out paper and there was already quite a pile.
“Look,” he exclaimed. “Did you know that Einstein wrote a letter to Atatürk?”
“No, I didn’t. But what has this got to do with us?”
“Not with us but it does have something to do with Maximilian Wagner.”
I promised that I would read it all when I came back in the evening, and then I put the pastries on a plate and went into the shower, taking care not to get my hair wet. Then I went into the bedroom and put on the black dress I’d worn two days ago when I’d had dinner with Wagner. I put on my makeup and then took my grandmother’s necklace out of the safe and put it round my neck. When I looked in the mirror, I was very pleased by what I saw.
When Kerem told me how good I looked, which was something he never did, I felt even more pleased.
“You look just like a model in one of those magazines.”
“Don’t do any more research,” I said. “You’ve given me more than enough to read for the time being. Why don’t you watch television or something?”
He rubbed his eyes, and it was clear that he was very tired. Indeed, he seemed happy to have an excuse to get away from the computer. But before he turned off his computer he wanted to show me some of the printouts he’d kept separate from the others.
“Look, this is what I found out about that ship.”
The first page was headed:
“Confidential GENERAL DIRECTORATE OF SECURITY, MINISTRY OF THE INTERIOR Number: 55912-S /13 September, 1941”
“What’s this? Is it about that Romanian ship? The Sutuuma?”
A smile of pride spread over his face.
I was curious and wanted to read it right away, but I didn’t have time, so I put it in the bedroom and, once again feeling like a rich woman, went and got into the chauffeur-driven car that was waiting for me.
The British consulate, which is very near the Pera Palas, is a large, imposing building, a palace really, built as an embassy when Istanbul was the capital of the Ottoman Empire. I held out my invitation to the guard at the consulate gate and he respectfully opened the gate. I climbed the marble steps and entered a large hall lit by chandeliers, where a valet dressed in black took my coat and led me upstairs.
The hall was quite crowded. The consul and his wife were standing at the entrance greeting guests as they entered, shaking hands and exchanging a few words of banter. Some, clearly, were old acquaintances, but they were no less gracious to those they didn’t know. When I gave him my name he smiled, but when it was clear he had no idea who I was, I added that I was from Istanbul University. He shook my hand vigorously, turned to his wife to say, “The professor is from Istanbul University,” and she smiled warmly and shook my hand as well. I didn’t think it the right moment to correct them and say that I wasn’t a professor, so I just smiled.
Everyone, the men dressed in dinner jackets and the women very elegantly turned out, stood chatting in small groups while waiters circulated with trays of drinks and hors d’oeuvres. I took a glass of red wine and a little meat ball with a toothpick in it, and as I ate the meatball I realized I was very hungry. I hadn’t eaten since the eggs and sausage this morning, so I began taking something from each of the trays of hors d’oeuvres that passed within my reach.
I was contemplating a large tapestry on the wall when the consul called for everyone’s attention and made a short speech. When he’d finished everyone applauded, and more food and drinks were served. I wandered around, and once or twice approached one of the groups and tried to join in, but it was as if I were invisible. So I grabbed a glass of champagne and took an interest in the paintings and tapestries on the wall. As I was contemplating a large and dramatic painting of a naval battle, I became aware that someone was standing behind me looking at the painting over my shoulder. I turned and saw a tall, slim Englishman with horn-rimmed glasses.
“Are you bored?” he asked.
“No, it’s all very lovely.”
“You don’t seem to know many people here.”
“In fact I don’t know anyone here.”
He smiled politely.
“But I know who you are.”
“You mean that you know I’m from the university.”
“No, I mean I know who you are.”
I smiled.
“Well then, in that case what’s my name?”
“Mrs. Maya Duran,” he said, bowing slightly.
“How do you know who I am?”
“Haven’t you noticed that a lot of people seem to know who you are lately?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“May I offer you another glass of champagne?”
He took my empty glass and signaled to one of the waiters to bring me another. As soon as I’d taken my glass he lifted his.
“To the famous Maya Duran.”
“Who are you?”
“Forgive me. I’m the consular attaché, Matthew Brown.”
He took a card from his jacket and presented it to me with a flourish.
“I’m not a professor,” I confessed.
“I know.”
“I’m not the rector’s assistant either. I’m a simple clerk.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you invite me to this party?”
“Because I wanted to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“About Professor Maximilian Wagner.”
“What do you want to know about Wagner?”
“What he’s been up to, why he came to Istanbul.”
“Why should I tell you?”
“Of course, you don’t have to tell me anything. We are just having a friendly chat.”
“He used to teach at the university and he came back for a visit. The rector invited him to give a talk while he was here. That’s about it.”
He lifted his eyebrows for an instant and lowered them.
“That’s not all,” he said.
“That’s all. At least that’s all I know.”
“In that case what were you doing in Şile yesterday?”
“Now I’m going to ask you something. Why is this man so important?”
He became serious and looked at me thoughtfully.
“It’s better if you don’t know,” he answered.
He said it so firmly that I understood I wasn’t going to get anything more out of him.
My head was aching and I was in a daze from all these questions.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have to go. Good evening.”
“I’ll see you to the door,” he said.
We passed through the noisy crowd and went downstairs. A valet brought my coat and Mr. Brown kindly helped me put it on. Then he saw me to the car.
Before I got in he said, “Mrs. Duran, if you tell us what this man is up to, you’ll be doing the British government a favor that we won’t forget.”
When I didn’t answer he said, “You know that a friend in need is a friend indeed. You have my card. Please call me.”
He helped me into the car, gently closed the door, and bade me farewell.
As we drove off down the lively, brightly lit streets of Istanbul, I unpinned my hair, took off my high heels, opened the window, and let the wind blow on my face. I had no idea what was going on, what I was involved in, and why so many people were suddenly interested in me, and I was becoming increasingly uneasy. I was alone and had no one to turn to. I couldn’t trust my brother, my ex-husband, or the rector and there were no friends I could rely on. My only
ally was a young boy surfing the internet.
As we passed the Pera Palas Hotel I realized that I wanted to confront Wagner and get him to tell me what it was all about, but he was still in the hospital. I must have been frowning because Ilyas asked me if I was all right.
“It’s nothing, Ilyas. I’ve just got a bit of a headache.”
“If you like I can find a pharmacy that’s open.”
“Thanks, I’ve got some aspirin at home. Thank you, Ilyas, you’re very thoughtful.”
“Thank you.”
When I entered the house, I took off my shoes and picked them up. Kerem was still at the computer.
“I keep finding more and more stuff.”
“We’re not writing a book, all we need to know is who Wagner is.”
“Where is he now?”
“He’s in the hospital now, but they’re letting him out tomorrow.”
“When is he going back to America?”
“Probably in a few days. Why?”
“I want to ask you for something.”
“In return for all your research?”
“No, but I’ve spent so much time on this man I want to meet him before he leaves.”
“Why?”
“Well, I’ve never met anyone that important.”
“Important in what way?”
“He has to be important if he has all these spies after him.”
In the kitchen I took two Alka-Seltzer from the cupboard, dropped them into a glass of water, and watched them fizz. If I’d had a migraine I would have taken Relplax, but I knew the difference between a regular headache and one that would turn into a migraine.
Then I took a hot shower and held my neck under piping-hot water for a long time. I also washed my hair; I decided I didn’t want to keep the chignon.
In the shower, as I thought about Matthew Brown and wondered why he was interested in Wagner, I found myself whistling, and was surprised to realize I was whistling the introduction to the lyrical serenade Wagner had been playing on the beach. He’d played it over and over again so many times it had imprinted itself in my mind. Then I stopped whistling at the same point where he’d stopped, again and again. He’d never managed to get beyond that point.
Serenade for Nadia Page 10
