by Hodge, Sibel
‘Two years.’ Kalem stared at the house, looking confused. ‘But it looks more like twenty.’
I gnawed on my quivering lip. It would take more than a clean to make it OK. It needed one of those TV shows to come along with a bus full of people and do a complete makeover. Or failing that, a bulldozer.
‘Well, this is certainly simple,’ I said, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice and failing miserably.
Kalem hugged me into his toned chest. ‘It probably looks worse than it is. Maybe the inside is a lot better.’
‘Mmm,’ I agreed, although, judging by the outside, I wasn’t quite convinced.
Kalem dug a key out of his pocket and slipped his fingers through mine, leading me towards the front door. At one time, it would’ve been a traditional Cypriot wooden door, etched with carvings on the outside, with a small opening in the front to let the air ventilate through whilst keeping the door closed. Now, it was just a rotten chunk of wood.
He slid the key in the lock, and the lock fell out, landing on the other side of the door with a loud thud. I heard something inside squeak and the patter of tiny claws scurry away.
Great. It was probably infested with rats and cockroaches and lots of other nibbly, squeaky creatures as well.
Kalem pushed the door open but met with some resistance on the other side. He barged his shoulder into it, and it gave way, sending him hurtling into the house at twenty miles an hour.
He managed to put the brakes on, and we surveyed the large hallway and derelict kitchen in front of us.
‘OK, so probably not better inside,’ I murmured, wandering around. One room was worse than the last.
‘I don’t remember it being like this.’ Kalem shook his head.
‘Yes, but you were only ten when you last came here.’ I flipped the light switch on, but nothing happened.
I tried again another couple of times really fast to see if that helped. Maybe there was a knack to it. No. Still nothing happened. No electric? How was I supposed to live with no electric? What about hair straighteners and epilators? Not to mention essentials like a fridge, cooker, washing machine, and air conditioning.
Agh!
I forced down the lump in my throat.
Things were just going from bad to worse. All I wanted was the perfect wedding and a happy new start to our life in an exotic country abroad. Was that too much to ask? It was that bloody curse of Queen Cleopatra that had jinxed everything. Bitch! How dare she jinx me. I hadn’t done anything to her. I was just a normal person with normal dreams. What had I done to deserve a dose of jinxing?
This was all getting too much now. We’d only left the UK twenty-four hours before, and it had been the worst day of my life. How could our lives go so badly wrong in such a short amount of time? Should I tell Kalem that I couldn’t take any more? That we should just go back to the UK after we’d got married. I know he’d have to give up his dream job and ideas about the simple life. But I didn’t think I could stand it here.
I thought about my list and added this house onto it. Now I had some overwhelming reasons not to stay here:
1) Crazy extended family.
2) Involved in assassination and art heist.
3) Cursed by Queen Cleopatra’s statue.
4) Spooky demons and giants running around mountains scaring the shit out of people.
5) Haunted, derelict house full of yucky things (well, didn’t know if it was haunted, but it probably was, if the goat was anything to go by).
6) No convenient superstores or big shopping malls.
7) French Fancy wedding dresses.
8) Erol Hussein.
9) No custard creams.
Compared with the reasons to actually stay here:
1) Kalem and his dream job.
2) Sunshine.
3) Beaches.
4) A Disney Castle.
5) The Holy Grail and Indiana Jones (who might visit again, and I quite fancied him).
6) A dual carriageway.
7) Picturesque harbour.
8) Steeped in history and ancient buildings.
9) Golf course (didn’t actually play but never say never).
10) Relaxing, unstressy pace of life.
11) Undeveloped countryside.
12) Space and light.
13) Sheepy goats roaming countryside willy-nilly, giving birth (was very sweet).
14) Organic food.
15) Cheaper.
OK, so my second list was longer, but my first list was a lot scarier.
Kalem’s voice cut into my thoughts of doubt. ‘No, I’m sure the house wasn’t even this shape. It had more windows, and it was more of a rectangle.’ He rushed out through the kitchen door to the back of the house. ‘And it had a swimming pool.’
I had a hard time seeing anything through the two metre weeds towering over the garden, but Kalem grabbed an old plank of wood lying on the ground, beating the weeds down.
I could hear an electric pylon humming loudly nearby. Great. On top of everything, we’d be living next to a loud, and probably dangerous, electric pylon!
‘Why haven’t we got electric when I can hear that bloody pylon so loud?’ I asked as Kalem worked his way around the garden.
‘It’s not a pylon. It’s the cicadas.’
‘What are they?’ I poked a finger in my ear to try and lessen the deafening hum.
‘They’re little bugs that come out in the summer. They click their wings together to make that noise. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. It’s probably so loud because it’s in the garden somewhere.’ He finished beating down the weeds to reveal a garden with no swimming pool at all. He held his hand out to me. ‘Let me see that magazine with the directions.’
I handed it to him.
He studied it for a while. ‘I don’t think this says fifteen. I think it says sixteen. Dad’s got such messy handwriting.’
I grabbed the paper off him, scrutinizing it for dear life. Please say sixteen. Please say sixteen. Oh, no, hang on a minute. What if sixteen is even worse?
‘I don’t know. It’s hard to tell.’ I scratched my head.
‘It’s definitely sixteen. Let’s go and find it.’ Kalem’s long legs were halfway to the Land Rover.
Please don’t be worse than fifteen!
We crawled further up the hill until number sixteen came into view.
I exhaled with relief. Finally, something seemed to be going right. From the outside, the house looked old, but it had obviously been lovingly renovated in the last ten years or so. It was a one storey whitewashed bungalow, with masses of huge windows and dark wooden shutters. A cobbled path led from the gate to the solid wood door. And the flourishing garden…well, even Alan Titchmarsh would’ve been proud of it. It was positively blooming. I spied pink and white oleander bushes, deep red bougainvillea trailing around archways and walls, and tall palm trees, rustling their leaves in the gentle breeze in front of a shaded terrace area that wrapped around the entire building.
I sniffed the air, my nose tingling with the intoxicating scent of Cyprus jasmine, frangipani, and lemon trees. Ooh, I would get my early evening G and T after all.
‘Wow!’ I grinned.
Oh, yes. This was much, much better.
‘Ah, yes. This is definitely the place. I remember it now. All my boyhood memories of holidays here are coming back to me.’
We wandered around the garden. It had a small swimming pool, surrounded by more plants in various stages of bloom. And the view!
I rushed to the garden wall to the right of the plot, staring into a ravine on the other side of the wall that dipped low and then climbed up again in the distance. It was dotted with pine and old olive trees with gnarled trunks. A couple of straggling sheep (or goats) grazed in the bottom of it. From the front of the garden, I could see the sea. Imagine! I’d lived in a claustrophobic city all my life, miles away from the sea, where the air was heavy with traffic smells. Yes, there was countryside nearby, but at that moment, I di
dn’t think anything could compare to the unspoiled beauty before my eyes.
To the rear of the house were uninterrupted views of the mountain range, ripe with green trees and bushes.
Wow. This was going to be so fantastic. I didn’t think I could ever get tired of this view. I could sit on the terrace in the morning with my cup of coffee, staring at it forever.
Unless we got whacked by Ferret Face, of course.
No, I couldn’t think about that now. I wanted to enjoy this spectacular moment. Even if it wouldn’t last.
‘Look, fresh olives.’ I pointed to an olive tree at the bottom of the garden with a collection of black olives on the ground underneath that had fallen from its branches. I’d never actually tasted fresh ones before. Normally, I bought some off the deli counter from my local supermarket. How cool would it be to have your own olives to slip into a martini? I reached down to pick one up as Kalem busied himself staring at the rest of the garden. The olive looked a bit dry. Maybe they were better if you picked them straight off the tree. Oh, well, I’d have a try anyway. Maybe it was a good idea to start embracing the living off the land thing. I was just about to pop it in my mouth when Kalem yelled, ‘No!’ with a horrified look on his face.
‘What?’ I asked. Were they poisonous if you ate them fresh rather than deli’d to death?
‘That’s not an olive. It's sheep’s plop!’
‘Ew!’ I threw the plop on the ground and went in search of a sink to wash my hands.
Inside was home to lots of cream Turkish marble floors, black wrought iron, hand-carved wooden furniture, and curtains made of muslin. I found functional ceiling fans in every room for the scorching summer heat, and a kitchen decked out in wooden units and worktops. It was all fresh and clean and bright.
‘This is lovely.’ I clapped my hands together.
‘I preferred the first house. It was much simpler.’ Kalem grinned at me.
‘Oh, I’d better check the electric.’ I flipped on a switch as dusk descended outside. ‘Hurrah! Electric as well. Never thought I’d get excited about something I normally take for granted.’
‘They do get a few power cuts here, though, so we’ll need to make sure we’ve got lots of candles in the house.’
‘How many power cuts?’
‘Well, a few. You have to sacrifice a few things for the simple life.’ He kissed me softly on the lips. ‘Mmm. Just think of the plus side. No electric, just ambient candle light and a bottle of wine, staring at the stars with the woman I love. In fact, they’ll be doing us a favour. Think of all those romantic nights.’
‘Oh, yes. Now you look at it that way. Bring on the power cuts! Hey, what’s this?’ I noticed a bottle of wine on the worktop, a card propped against it with our names on. ‘Is this in preparation for the power cuts?’
Kalem read the card. ‘It’s a welcome present from Mum and Dad. It says the whole family spent the last couple of days cleaning it up for us before we got here, as a surprise.’
‘How sweet of them.’ I smiled.
He rummaged around in a draw, trying to find a bottle opener. ‘How about a nice glass of wine on the terrace, watching the sunset?’
I raised an eyebrow at his suggestion. ‘Now that’s more like it.’
Chapter 7
In my daydreams, this was exactly how I’d pictured an idyllic new life abroad (and I’d had quite a few, believe me).
Sitting on the edge of the terrace, leisurely drinking wine, and watching the colour of the sun turn from lemon to citrus to orangey red with my future husband. For a moment, I could pretend that I didn’t have any worries at all. I could forget that we were mixed up in some crazy plot that would probably affect our lives in an irreparable way.
And I wanted to forget.
So when Kalem set down his empty glass on the patio and gazed at me with his intense dark eyes, flecked with green, I couldn’t think of anything more perfect than to make love outside under the flickering stars, with the crickets singing in the distance, and the warm air stroking my naked skin.
He cupped my chin and drew my lips towards his.
Oh, God, yes. Just like that. Mmm. Fantastic. Nice and slow.
He gently pushed me down onto the warm terracotta tiles.
Ooh, hello, nipples springing to attention. Down a bit, down a bit. Bit lower. There! Right there. Wow! Yes, yes…
I sat bolt upright. ‘Agh!’
Kalem leaped up. ‘What? Have you been stung by something?’
‘Oh, my God!’
‘What? Bitten by a snake?’
‘I’ve just had an idea.’ I grabbed my clothes and started pulling them on.
Kalem rubbed his forehead. ‘What?’
I kissed him hard on the lips. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can’t concentrate until we get this thing sorted out. I thought I could, but I can’t. And I’ve had another idea we can try.’
Kalem pulled on his shorts, trying to manoeuvre them over his own one-eyed trouser snake. ‘Ouch!’
‘We can go to the Plaza and warn Ibrahim Kaya ourselves. Now. Tonight.’
‘OK,’ he drawled. ‘Good idea. And then that will be the end of it, and we can get back to this.’
‘Yes. Then we won’t have anything else to worry about. We can definitely get back to this. Right, come on. Start the Land Rover,’ I said as we jumped in.
‘I’m trying.’ Kalem turned the key in the ignition.
Once. Twice. Three times.
Nothing but a clicking sound.
Kalem frowned. ‘Strange. Land Rovers are usually so reliable.’
‘Yes, your rusty old heap of junk never had a problem starting, and this one’s a lot newer than yours. Come on, come on.’ I jigged up and down in the seat.
Fourth time and hey presto! We were off and rolling down the hill.
****
We sped up the long, palm tree lined driveway to the Plaza and parked at a slightly wonky angle. A humongous gold lion statue and an even more humongous shiny black horse greeted us at the entrance. I said hello to the horse (the lion looked a bit scary) and raced to reception.
Ooh – very plush! Purple and silver everywhere. Lots of soft velvet cushions, sofas, and thick curtains. Exotic potted palms that looked so glossy they must have been polished every day, marble pillars galore, a silver piano, fountains, sparkly lights, galleried silver ceiling with shiny diamondy thingies hanging down; lots of chrome, a couple more horses, and something that looked like a silver shark, but couldn’t possibly have been (only got a quick look, was in big hurry). You name it, they had it. And this was just the reception area. Even the white marble floor had glittery silver flecks in it. This was the height of plushness.
‘We need to see Ibrahim Kaya,’ I said breathlessly to the receptionist.
‘Do you have an appointment?’ She smiled a genuinely sweet smile at me.
Oh, no. Not this again!
‘No. But it’s very urgent,’ Kalem said.
‘Very.’ I nodded vigorously.
‘Are you guests here?’ she asked.
‘YES!’ I said, which came out slightly higher pitched than I intended.
‘And which room number are you?’
Quick! Pick a number! ‘Two hundred and thirteen.’ I gave another vigorous nod, just to get the point across. Ouch. Neck ache. I hoped I hadn’t given myself whiplash on top of everything else.
‘I’m sorry, madam, but you must be mistaken. We don’t have any number thirteens here. Some guests think it’s very bad luck.’
‘No! I meant two hundred and fourteen,’ I gushed, turning to Kalem. ‘It’s two hundred and fourteen, isn’t it, darling?’
‘Absolutely,’ he agreed.
‘And what exactly is the problem, sir, madam?’
I thought about telling her the truth, but it would probably end up in some totally bizarre mix-up, knowing my luck, and we’d get thrown out. Or even worse, arrested.
‘I want to make a complaint.’ I leaned in closer to her over
the reception desk.
‘Can you tell me what the complaint is regarding? I’m sure someone other than Mr. Kaya can help you with that.’ She smiled at me again.
Stop smiling and just go and get him!
She didn’t. She just waited patiently with that annoyingly helpful smile.
I glanced round the lobby area, hoping for a sudden flash of inspiration, and spied a bar to the left. ‘Er…it’s about the mini-bar in our room.’
‘Yes, madam, and what’s wrong with the mini-bar?’
Uh-oh. What could I say? It was too mini, too bar-ish? She’d probably think we were a couple of complete nutcases on day release from the nearest mental home.
That’s it! ‘It’s the nuts,’ I blurted out.
‘The nuts?’ Her eyebrows flickered up in surprise. ‘What’s wrong with the nuts?’
Oh, stop being so picky and just get him!
‘They’re too nutty,’ I said.
‘So if you could just go and get him, we’ll be able to put in our complaint. Thank you very much,’ Kalem said.
‘Too nutty?’ She furrowed her brow and made a note on a piece of paper. ‘Anything else?’ She looked up again, smile plastered all over her face.
‘Yes, they contain nuts,’ I said.
‘But they’re supposed to contain nuts.’ She paused, pondering this for a minute. ‘You know, I think our Housekeeping Department can help you with this simple problem, madam. I’ll just give them a ring.’
‘It’s not simple at all!’ I said. ‘It’s a very serious problem.’
She looked at us both with bewildered eyes. ‘Because the nuts are too nutty?’
‘Yes! I’m allergic to nuts.’ I gave her my best shocked look, like she should really know this already. ‘Even the smell of nuts can give me a severe allergic reaction. In the UK, the packets of nuts always have a label stating “may contain nuts” but these didn’t.’
The receptionist looked confused. ‘So in the UK, you have warning labels on packets of nuts that say “may contain nuts”?’
I could sense she wanted to burst out laughing at the absurdity of this nut-labelling revelation, but I had to hand it to her, she maintained her professionalism very well.
