A steward came around the corner and looked at them, slightly askance. ‘I am sorry,’ Harry said in the smooth tone he summoned at moments of crisis. ‘We seem to have taken a wrong turning.’
‘You have a ticket?’ The steward was definitely suspicious.
‘Yes, of course. Darling, can you find our ticket?’
She thrust the paper into the steward’s hand and his attitude changed immediately. ‘Please, madame, monsieur, come this way.’
Her fingers were still crossed that the compartment would be empty.
Chapter Thirty Five
They smiled at each other in relief when they opened the door. ‘We needed some luck.’ Harry stored their bags beneath the small let-down table. ‘I’ll leave you to settle in while I search for my friendly chief steward. I shouldn’t be long.’
‘Make sure you come back with a ticket.’ She wasn’t certain he would, and it worried her.
He said nothing but gave a small wave and was gone. What if the man refused his money? she thought. Even worse, if he insisted Harry leave the train? But she must not waste energy in this way, she needed to be practical. Charlie had woken a short while ago, and had been gazing at his new surroundings with interest. Now, though, he was growing restive and she thought it time to bathe and change him into the night clothes Elise had packed. The small basin that lay behind the polished wood cupboard proved a challenge, and the bathing took far longer than she expected. She was worried her fumbling might upset a baby used to more practised hands, but he seemed not to mind and when she dipped his toes in and out of the water, he gurgled with pleasure.
Flushed by her success, she burrowed into the bag that Elise had given her and found food. There were several small containers of minced vegetables and she peeled open one and began to spoon its contents into a happy Charlie. Thank goodness he was old enough to eat solid food. There was a glass bottle in the bag, too, but Alice was sure she had heard stories about babies’ bottles. She remembered some dire tale that Dora had told her about a friend of a friend whose baby had caught some dreadful infection and died. The doctor had suggested an unclean bottle might be the culprit. She must be sure to ask the room steward to scald the bottle clean each time she used it. And what was she to do for milk? Evaporated milk, that must be the answer, and the Orient Express was bound to keep it on board. There was something, too, buzzing in her mind about sugared water, but she could not recall exactly what. Caring for a small baby was a journey in itself and she knew she would make mistakes. But she would do her very best to ensure Charlie thrived.
A knock at the compartment door and their steward put his head into the room as she was wiping the baby’s mouth clean.
‘Would you care to eat, madame? I can bring a tray to your compartment.’ She realised then how hungry she was. She had barely touched her supper in the palace, and the terrors of the past few hours had driven any thought of hunger from her mind.
‘I could eat a small meal,’ she said.
He handed her the supper menu. ‘I will be back to take your order. And you can tell me then what the baby will require.’
‘Thank you,’ she said gratefully. But as he was shutting the door, she called after him. ‘Before you go, can you tell me where we are?’ She could not lose the dread that while they were still in Turkey, Boucher’s reach might extend even to the train.
‘We have just crossed the Bulgarian border,’ the steward said.
‘Thank you, thank you so much.’
He seemed surprised at her pleasure, but smiled and went away. The relief was huge. Now they were over the border, they must be safe. She would tell Harry as soon as he arrived back.
When he came through the door, though, he had news of his own. ‘All well,’ he said, when he saw her expectant face, and waved a slip of white paper. ‘My acquaintance was a tad hesitant. Buying a ticket on board is extremely unconventional, but he took the money nevertheless, and here we are.’
‘Thank goodness. I was beginning to have visions they would leave you behind at Bucharest!’
He sat down beside her. ‘There is one thing you might not like as much. The train is full to capacity and I will have to share this compartment with you both. Charlie isn’t going to complain but—’
‘And neither am I. We are in Bulgaria, Harry! We are all three of us safe! I daresay I won’t sleep anyway. Charlie is bound to wake through the night.’
‘Three days is a long time not to sleep. I suggest we alternate the spare bunk between us.’
‘Nonsense. You can take the top bunk and I will have Charlie with me down below. He takes up very little room.’ She looked lovingly down at the child beside her. ‘He is such a good boy. I haven’t been exactly skilful, but he hasn’t once complained. By the time we get to London, I may even have mastered how to pin a napkin.’
He smiled broadly. ‘If not, your mother can teach you.’
When she looked startled, he said, ‘She had three children and unless she had a separate nursemaid for each of you, I imagine she learned how to change the odd napkin.’
His words made Alice realise how rarely she thought of her mother as a young woman. Somehow the frail invalid had become her abiding image of Edith, as though her mother had lived no life before these last few unhappy years. The notion that she might help to care for the baby felt strange, but when Alice allowed her mind the freedom to wander, new possibilities began to emerge. A new way, perhaps, in which her family might live.
‘I’m not sure she would be well enough to do much,’ she said at length, ‘but do you think she would want to help?’
‘My guess would be that once she sees Charlie, you will have to stop her from taking over.’
‘Oh, Harry, I have to tell them.’ She was struck by sudden grief. ‘And it is worse than I ever imagined. I thought I would be saying that Lydia was missing, but now I must utter the most terrible words. That she is dead and that this is her baby.’
He took both her hands in his. ‘You will do it, Alice. No one could do it better and I will be with you when you do.’
‘But how will they react? I am so frightened this news will affect their health for the worse. Don’t forget, my father has had a massive heart attack and my mother’s nerves are shot to pieces.’
‘You’ll find a way,’ he comforted. ‘A way to tell them the full truth, but perhaps only gradually. For the time being, we can think of a story that will explain Charlie’s presence. Maybe his parents died in an accident together, but the palace knew them very well and wanted to help.’ He thought for a moment. ‘The Valide Sultan asked you to take the baby back to England with you, that’s it, and look after him until his relatives arrive.’ The furrows on Harry’s brow deepened. ‘I think the relatives would have to be living at some distance – that would explain the delay.’
Alice could not help laughing. ‘How did you think that up? Far-fetched is not the word!’
‘Of course it’s far-fetched, but it will give your parents time to know Charlie and time for them to accept that Lydia is not coming back. When you feel it’s right, you can tell them he is Lydia’s child. Gaining a grandson will seem a gift they could not have expected.’
‘I’m still not sure about your story, but I agree it’s wise not to confess everything at once.’
‘So we have a plan – and we will soon be home. I hope that makes you feel a little happier.’
‘I do try hard.’ There was a suppressed sob in her voice. ’But I cannot lose the thought that I am going home and leaving Lydia behind. It breaks my heart. And she has only a rough wooden cross to mark her grave.’
He jumped up then and began to walk up and down the small space, his hands in his pockets. He seemed suddenly nervous, and she wondered why.
‘I don’t know if I have done the right thing.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I hope you will think so. Before we left the cemetery, I paid the man – I believe he is guardian of the place. I paid him sufficient money to order a headstone. A Christi
an headstone. I thought that when you felt able, you could decide on the carving you wanted. Then I will send him details and I know he’ll make sure it’s done.’
She was the one to jump up now, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him close. ‘Thank you, Harry. It is the right thing to do. I have been harbouring the wild idea of bringing Lydia’s body home to England – if only for my parents’ sake – but realistically I know it’s not possible.’
‘I doubt it is. And not realistic, I’m afraid, for your parents to visit her grave. But we could go back – when the dust settles – which it will, given time.’
‘Quite some time, I think. And will you still know me by then?’ She was only half teasing. The advent of Charlie had changed everything.
‘There is something else I have to tell you.’ He had hardly noticed her remark.
‘No more news. I can’t cope with more. I am exhausted.’
‘Dear girl, don’t you think I know that? But this is something I have to say, and I am hoping you won’t find it upsetting. I had to tell Gustave, my friendly chief steward, that we married in St George’s a few days ago. The Orient Express seems keen on policing morals – or maybe it’s just Gustave – but it was the only way he was going to sell me a ticket.’
‘Oh, is that all.’ She yawned. ‘Luckily, I bought my jewellery with me. I don’t have much but I know there’s a ring. I’ll make sure I find it before I meet Gustave.’
‘And then we can play the old married couple.’ He laughed and gathered her up in his arms.
‘Careful,’ she warned, ‘or we’ll topple over onto Charlie.’
‘And how is the little chap – after your ministrations?’
‘I wasn’t that clumsy,’ she objected. ‘And he is doing well. Look at him, Harry, isn’t he the most beautiful child you have ever seen?’
‘What I see is that you’re an adoring mother – already.’
‘That’s not so,’ she protested. ‘I am his aunt, not his mother.’
‘His future mother then. Of that, I’m sure. Your sister would want it so, wouldn’t she?’
‘Yes, but…’
‘But what?’
She moved away from him slightly. ‘I am immensely tired and I did not want to have this conversation now, but perhaps we need to. You are right to say that I will look after Charlie, whether as an aunt or a mother. But I am also committed to caring for my parents. If it were just they who were depending on me… but now I have the baby, things have changed. It means, my dear, I am no longer able to marry you.’
‘What! How can you think that?’
‘It’s simple. When you asked me to marry, you could not know you would be taking on a child as well as ailing relatives. It would be unfair on you and I absolve you of your promise.’
‘I don’t recognise those words. I will not be “taking on a child”. I will be marrying you and together we will build a family. Charlie will be our firstborn.’
‘But you cannot wish to burden yourself in that way. It is too much. And think of your own mother and father. Your life will be so far from what they expect for you.’
‘Look at him.’ He pointed to Charlie, asleep now on the lower bunk, long eyelashes resting against a peachy skin. ‘Are you seriously suggesting that my parents would not love him?’
She felt utter confusion. She wanted to do the right thing, but her mind was so encumbered she could no longer think sensibly. He took her by the hand and walked her to the small oval mirror that hung above the wash basin. Standing behind her, his arms wrapped around her slim figure, he said, ‘And look at you. This is the girl my parents will learn to love. How could they not rejoice in my marriage?’
Confusion was still there, and a pain she knew would stay with her always, but looking at their two reflections, her spirits lifted.
‘You are a beautiful woman,’ Harry said. ‘In all senses of the word. How could they want more for a daughter? And how could I want more for a wife?’
She nestled back against him and a small smile touched her lips. ‘I think you mean it.’
‘I couldn’t mean it more. Now,’ he said with decision, turning her to face him, ‘It’s time I stopped adoring you and—’
‘And what?’
‘And ordered supper for us both.’
The October rain has washed itself away and fingers of pink-tinged cloud drift through a sky of blue and mauve and deep violet. The sun is rising, breaking through the dark horizon, spooling the surface of the Bosphorus with gold. Its waters are satin, washing gently against fishing boats already out to sea. In the Eyoub Cemetery beside the city walls, a headstone of shining pink marble stands proud. From its surface, a carved bird takes flight, soaring free above a carpet of wild cyclamen, over the bay and out to the wide sea beyond. Within the city walls, the spires of Hagia Sophia thrust upwards amid the crumbling beauty of narrow streets and winding alleys. A city at peace. Then the muezzin’s call to the faithful, echoed in a thousand mosques. The miracle of another dawn. Another day.
Historical Note
Rahîme Perestû was born in 1826 and was given the title and position of Empress Mother when Abdülhamid II ascended the throne in 1876. She died at her villa in Maçka, Constantinople, on 11 December 1904, but as she was the last Valide Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, I have had her live for a few years longer.
Topkapi Palace was the first home and administrative centre of the Ottoman Sultans and was used until the middle of the 19th century when it was abandoned in favour of the newly constructed Dolmabahçe Palace. However, the Treasury, the Library and the Mint always remained at Topkapi. In the late 19th century, Sultan Abdülhamid II left Dolmabahçe for a new home, Yıldız Palace meaning ‘Star Palace’, built in 1880, because he feared a seaside attack. Dolmabahçe Palace is located on the shore of the Bosphorus strait. The refurbishment of Yıldız, mentioned several times in the novel, is purely imaginary and allows the action of the book to centre on Topkapi.
Haremlik refers to the private portion of an Ottoman house rather than its public rooms. It was where the men and women of the immediate family lived and socialised, although the women of the household were traditionally secluded there. Harem implies a female-only enclave or a seraglio. I have used the terms almost interchangeably, since the harem was a considerable part of the haremlik at Topkapi Palace.
First published in the United Kingdom in 2019 by Canelo
Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
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Copyright © Merryn Allingham, 2019
The moral right of Merryn Allingham to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781788632706
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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