Elise had shown courage, and now she must do the same. She had little to pack for herself, which was as well since the trunk she had brought to Topkapi was stored elsewhere in the haremlik and she could hardly ask for it to be found. Her cloak bag would have to suffice. She would leave behind most of the cumbersome dresses she had brought with her; the dress she wore and one change of clothes was all she would take. It took a while to unearth the bag from the top of the vast wardrobe, but a few minutes only to push into its depths a dress and underclothes, together with Alice’s letters and the several family photographs she cherished. Then she buried the bag into the furthest corner of the cupboard and sat down to wait.
Sevda came to the door at midday. She would have loved to talk to the girl who had become such a fast friend, but she knew she dared not. Instead she must lie to her and leave without saying a word of goodbye.
‘I am sorry to hear Charlie is unwell,’ the young woman said.
‘There’s no need for worry. He’s not too poorly – just a little cold. It could be the rapid changes in temperature, but I want to keep him quiet. Do you mind if I don’t ask you in?’
Sevda nodded wisely. ‘No, the little one must sleep. But here, I have brought you food. You must eat.’ She pushed a tray into Lydia’s hand. The grilled aubergines and tabbouleh were normally favourites with her, but not today. Sevda was right, though. She must eat even if the food tasted of ashes. She must stay strong for her child.
‘Thank you, my dear. You are a generous friend.’
She bent her head and gave the girl a kiss on the cheek. She wanted so much to confide in her, but she could not risk Charlie’s disappearance becoming news and circulating the palace. A few whispered words would be enough to sound the alarm. Naz had ears that could hear all the way to Pimlico, she was convinced. Sevda looked surprised at the kiss, but then smiled and whisked herself back along the corridor.
One by one, the dreary hours passed. She counted them off on the wristwatch her father had given her as a farewell present. For a moment the image of Theo couched in his armchair, slippers on his feet, pince-nez at the end of his nose and a newspaper in his lap, almost destroyed her resolve. How had she come so far from what was right and ordinary and decent? But she had, and she must deal with the consequences. Just before six o’clock, she closed the window, pulled the shutters tight and barred them. She could not risk anyone climbing through the window or seeing the empty cradle standing forlorn to one side. Then she slipped out into the corridor and relocked the door from outside.
She hurried down the familiar blue and green corridors, but this time followed a path to the entrance of the harem that avoided passing through the women’s meeting chamber. The prayer before sunset was over and most of the women would be gathered there. She had discovered the new route one fortunate day just before the girls left for Dolmabahçe Palace. In fact, it was Esma who had shown her. It brought a smile to her face for the first time that day, remembering the young girl’s pride as she had shown Lydia what she called her secret way to the schoolroom. And from the schoolroom to the harem entrance took Lydia a mere minute.
Ibrahim was already there, kicking at the loose gravel with a frayed shoe. He brightened when he saw her. It meant his day was coming to an end. He waited for her to speak and she tensed herself to deliver her message. But she had nothing to fear from the servant, she told herself, only from the man who sent him.
‘Good evening, Ibrahim,’ she said formally. ‘I have a message for your master.’
He nodded impatiently, evidently wanting to deliver the message and find his way home.
‘You must tell him that my answer is no.’
‘No?’ he queried, as though he had not heard her correctly.
‘I decline Monsieur Boucher’s proposal. I do not wish my son to be adopted. He will stay with me.’ She could not have said it plainer and it was clear that Ibrahim had now digested her words – his eyebrows had risen sky high.
He gave an indifferent shrug. ‘Very well, Mees Werinder. I tell.’
When she once more stood outside her bedroom door and tried to fit the key into the lock, she realised her hand was shaking. Delivering defiance had taken its toll, but she would soon be out of Boucher’s reach. Elise would find her rooms on the outskirts of the city where she would be safe – where Charlie would be safe – and at dawn tomorrow she would be on her way. Night had fallen quickly and a sliver of the moon’s silver was creeping through a crack of the shutters. She was exhausted from last night’s wakefulness but doubted she would sleep. More hours of waiting, and then, freedom. For an hour she tried to read – really, she must find something more interesting than this history book – but when its black and white characters began dancing in front of her eyes, she put the book aside and lay down on the divan. Within seconds, she was asleep.
It was a brief respite since once again she was woken by a noise coming from the window. Elise? Elise had come back, but why? Something must have gone wrong. She was struggling to her feet, trying to see through the gloom, when a hand came out of the dark and grabbed her, pinning both her arms behind her back. Something rough was being tied around her wrists. She went to cry out and a second hand, large and sweating, clamped her mouth shut. She fought furiously, but there were two men and she was no match for them. No, there were three, she realised, hearing the baby’s cradle overturned.
‘Where baby?’ one of her captors demanded, very slightly releasing the hand he held over her mouth, but ready to silence her again if she called out.
‘I don’t know,’ she gasped. She had been thoroughly winded by his companion’s assault.
‘Where baby?’
It was the turn of the man holding her from behind, and as he spoke he twisted her arm until she cried out again. The clamp was back on her mouth and she bit at it, sinking her teeth into hot flesh. He let go of her with a smothered howl and cursed at her in Turkish. He raised his hand and she knew he would strike her if she dared fight back again.
‘Baby,’ he snarled.
‘As you can see, he has gone.’
The men muttered among themselves. Then, ‘You say where.’
‘I have told you, I don’t know.’
The man who had overturned the cradle had been standing to one side, but now moved close to her. ‘You tell,’ he barked, and swung his hand, landing a blow against her cheek that sent her reeling. It was only his comrade’s imprisoning hold that kept her upright.
‘Bad things for you. You tell,’ he threatened.
So, this was Valentin Boucher’s reprisal and it had come far sooner than Elise had predicted. She should have left with her and taken the chance they would reach safety together. She could see that now, but it was too late. She had no notion of where Charlie was, but she would not have said if she had. They will have to torture me, she thought. And they probably will.
‘Who take baby?’
This was another tack. And it was something else she would not say. Elise had put herself in danger to help and she would do nothing that would make the woman’s plight worse. And Elise had Charlie. If she should die… but she wasn’t going to. She would fight these thugs. With a stupendous effort, she kicked out, catching the man who stood closest to her on the shins. He gave a soft yelp of pain. At the same time, she dug her elbows backwards into the other man’s ribs and for an instant he loosened his grip. She tore herself free and ran for the window. The men had broken through the shutters and they hung limply to one side. She reached up and hooked her fingers into one of the wooden slats, pulling herself upwards in a vain attempt to climb to the sill. The shutter swung fully back, moonlight flooding the room, and its brightness momentarily blinded the men. Then two of them cannoned across the floor towards her and grabbed her by the waist, flinging her to one side. Her head caught the sharp edge of the shutter as she went down. Her last thought before blackness overcame her was of Alice. Charlie would need her.
Chapter Thirty
ALICE
Constantinople, March 1907
Alice had decided against breakfast and walked through the palace gates before her watch showed eight. It was two days since she had spoken to Elise Boucher, two days since Harry had kissed her. In the hours since, she’d had plenty of time to feel pain and feel joy, too. Pain that she might never see her sister again or even discover how she fared, and joy that the man she had come to love loved her in return. Or so she hoped. She had not visited the library again, worried that her presence might harm Harry further, but had hoped for a message. When it hadn’t come, she thought he must be busy but would be sure to contact her soon.
The sentries on the gate took little notice of her, and she set out towards the market with a bounce in her step. As always when she escaped the palace, she felt a heavy curtain being rolled back and the fresh air of normality return. She walked to the market entrance, where several carriages stood in line at the side of the road, the lead horse kicking at the dusty ground, impatient to be gone.
‘Telegram,’ she said simply to his driver. He nodded and helped her climb the steps into the carriage.
It was a short drive to the post office, but a slow one. The streets were already bustling with people and animals, and the carriage was forced to negotiate a path along several winding roads before they came out onto the broad highway that led to the Sublime Porte. The driver dropped her at the large arch that fronted the government buildings and she paid him off before mounting the steps of the post office, her mind concentrated on the message she was to send. Somehow she had to combine reassurance and apology with the confirmation that she was coming home. The telegram took a long time to compose this time and a large number of forms ended as crumpled balls, stuffed out of sight in her handbag. In the end, she decided brevity would be her friend.
Am well and catching train tomorrow. Will be home in four days. So sorry for worrying you.
Love Alice
It was the best she could do and she felt a good deal better having done it. Home in four days. It was difficult to envisage, surrounded as she was by a very different world. And once she was home, she would have to adjust fast to life in London. There would be little sympathy for her experiences at Topkapi and she deserved little. She had deceived her family badly, allowing them to believe she was safe in Venice. Even worse, she had conspired for months to keep Lydia’s disappearance secret, and despite the worry she had lately caused, was no nearer telling them where their beloved younger daughter might be.
She decided to make her way back to the palace on foot; for a short time at least it would keep her mind occupied. She walked briskly – the sun might shine from a cloudless sky but there was still a nip in the air – and had nearly reached the palace gates when, to her surprise, she saw Harry.
He came towards her, his expression strangely subdued. ‘You are up and out very early,’ he said. She had the impression he was not happy about it but dismissed the thought as soon as it arrived. This was the man who only hours ago had kissed her passionately.
‘I had to visit the post office. A telegram home to say I’m on my way. But should you not be at work?’
‘You have forgotten. The library is closed today.’
‘Ah, yes, the Sultan’s new divan.’
‘The very same. But the weather is too good to be indoors and I thought to take a walk.’
‘What a good idea – I haven’t a great deal to pack, so may I join you?’
‘Yes… yes, do.’
There had been a definite pause before he replied, and her fleeting sense of unease returned. ‘Where were you thinking of going?’
‘There’s a walk by the Bosphorus that makes for a pleasant stroll.’
‘Then lead the way!’ she said with a brightness she did not feel.
The beautiful stretch of water she had only previously seen from a distance was a good twenty minutes’ walk away. Harry guided them expertly down small side streets and crowded alleyways until they reached the water’s edge, where a broad walkway followed the shoreline for miles. He had hardly spoken on the journey and she was unsure whether to feel angry or sad at his attitude. She thought of those kisses in the library, decided she was angry and resolved to confront him before their walk was over.
‘This path stretches so far!’ she exclaimed. ‘And look how many lamps there are!’ They had begun to stroll along the walkway, a line of illuminations dwindling far into the distance. ‘There must be a thousand lights dotted along the shore. I imagine the sea must look wonderful at night.’
‘It does. The gardens, too. Look to your right and you’ll see how they reach right down to the water – every one of them will be brightly lit.’
She turned to look. A large house, surrounded by enormous grounds, sat atop a gentle slope. She walked over to the iron railings marking its boundary and pressed her face against them. ‘They have a magnificent garden.’
‘All the gardens are magnificent and there are houses like this right along the shore. They are called uyalis – waterside residences.’
‘You must have to be very rich to own one.’
His smile was wry. ‘Valentin Boucher owns one, naturally, and Paul Boucher another.’
The name prompted her to say suddenly, ‘I have to believe Elise. That she doesn’t know where my sister is. That she is sure Lydia will come back.’
‘It sounds as though you might not believe her,’ he said lightly.
‘I want to. She sounded sincere. It’s the not knowing that’s so difficult, but that’s something I must learn to live with.’
Her voice had trailed off unhappily, and for the first time that morning it was the Harry she had come to know who looked directly into her face. ‘It’s painful for you, I can see, and not likely to get easier. But if I hear even a whisper of where Lydia may be, I will tell you immediately.’
‘You will write?’
‘I will, I promise.’
‘Thank you. I know you’ll do all you can to discover her whereabouts.’
They walked on for several minutes, while Alice struggled to find courage enough to speak her mind. But then she turned her face to the sea and took a deep breath. ‘Since I came to Turkey, my life has been turned upside down – in all kinds of ways. I never imagined for one moment I could meet a friend like you.’
He looked away at that, but she had found a new determination. ‘You are my friend, aren’t you?’
‘Of course.’ There was that indifferent tone again. But then suddenly his voice changed and she heard the old sincerity. ‘Alice, I need to apologise. I have not behaved well. I should never have kissed you in the way I did.’
So that was it. He was regretting the passionate embrace and now he was trying to let her down as gently as possible. Could dreams crash? If they could, hers had just done so. But she would go down fighting. ‘I’m glad you did,’ she said defiantly. ‘Even if we are not to be friends.’
He groaned and she looked across at him in surprise. ‘If only you knew.’
‘I want to know – can’t you see that?’ And she took his hand in hers and squeezed it tight.
He stayed holding her hand and said with difficulty, ‘I want to be more than a friend. Isn’t that obvious? I’ve wanted it for days, but it just can’t be.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because… I had planned to take annual leave at Easter and come to England. I wanted to meet your parents. I wanted them to approve of me.’
‘How could they not?’
‘Quite easily. I had an important question for your father but the more I thought of it, the more I could see it was impossible.’
Her eyes widened. ‘An important question? Are you talking of marriage?’
‘You shouldn’t be surprised. You must know how I feel, but since we kissed I’ve come to realise how unfair I’ve been in loving you.’
Alice came to a halt, her expression bewildered.
‘It’s simple,’ he tried to explain. ‘I’m not good enou
gh for you. You know my family’s situation – it’s enough to make any father run. And my own position is little better. I’m a librarian with only a modest future in front of me.’
‘Is that what this is about? The apology for kissing me? The coldness when we met?’
‘I’m sorry for that, too. It was all I could think of to keep you at a distance. I’d decided I mustn’t see you again, but then you were at the gates this morning – that was an accident.’
‘A fortunate one.’ She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. ‘You are talking utter nonsense, you know. It’s that failing of yours.’
It was his turn to look puzzled.
‘You know, the one that says your family being poor matters. It doesn’t. Even if my father were as wealthy as he once was – and he’s fallen on hard times, too – he has always been able to recognise a good man. He will be delighted I’ve found you.’
‘Is that really the truth?’
‘It is, though he’ll be surprised by my news. It’s so unexpected. I believed my chance of finding love was over – and my family believed it, too.’
‘How wrong can you be.’ He wrapped his arm around her waist and hugged her close.
‘So, does that mean you will come to London?’
Another hug, closer still, and they walked on. ‘I will if you say yes to marrying me. And you should – I don’t go around kissing every woman I see!’
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