Daughter of the Winds

by Jo Bunt

  “A girl, yes, of course. I do remember now.” Her voice was uncertain and shaky but she was sure now that this couldn’t be her baby. Her baby had been a boy. She’d known it all along, throughout her pregnancy. Pru closed her eyes as she opened her arms to the tsunami of realisation and understanding that her baby was dead. Her son had died. She was all alone in the world.

  Carefully placing her hand behind the baby’s tender head, Helene lifted the baby out of the cradle and after a moment’s hesitation, offered the baby to Pru.

  “God, no.” Pru wrapped her arms around herself to keep her arms for reaching for the child. There was no doubt, thought Pru, that everything she touched withered under her hand. Her existence was noxious, poisoning everyone who came into contact with her.

  Helene smiled sympathetically but failed to hide her relief in her face entirely. Mrs Kostas started clearing up the broken glass carefully and silently as if this was the kind of thing that happened daily.

  “I’m sorry. About the glass, I mean. And everything else. Sorry. So,” said Pru trying to lighten the mood “does she have a name yet?”

  Mrs Kostas helped her to her feet and into the chair by the table.

  “No,” smiled Helene sadly. “I am waiting for my husband. He not know he has daughter. I have sent letter to the villages.”

  Even though the words were sad, Helene still wore happiness on her face as she looked down at the squirming pink bundle in her arms. Settling down in the arm-chair she deftly unbuttoned her dress with one hand and settled the baby at her breast. Pru’s own breasts started to ache and throb at the sight of this natural maternal act and another pang of grief coursed through her body when she realised there was another momentous event she would be missing out on.

  “You have more baby,” Mrs Kostas asserted.

  “Actually, I won’t.”

  “Tsk. You will.”

  Swallowing down the unwelcome lump of agonising despair in her throat she concentrated on the now empty bassinet rather than the old woman’s milky brown eyes.

  “No. I won’t.” And stopping the other woman before she could interject she continued “They did an operation at the hospital. I willnever be able to have children.” Her voice cracked as the words came out of her mouth for the first time.

  To Pru’s annoyance Mrs Kostas swatted away this information with her hand.

  “I see you weeth baby like this. A girl. I never wrong.”

  Pru’s anger was beginning to burn with a searing heat which was gathering intensity. She needed to get some fresh air or she was going to be sick.

  “I’m feeling a bit hot. I think I shall sit outside for a minute, if that’s okay?”

  Mrs Kostas nodded. “I breeng you brandy.”

  Helene nodded briefly in her direction and then went back to looking at the baby. Pru couldn’t bear to look directly at the little girl, for fear she would collapse again and never get up. She hadn’t even realised how much she wanted her unborn child until he was gone. The pain of witnessing a scene that she would never experience was too much for her to bear. She pushed her way through the kitchen to the door and held on to the doorframe. Unseasonably, there was a crispness in the clear night and Pru pulled her borrowed coat tightly around her and tied the belt an extra notch tighter at her middle. What would Betty think when she realised that Pru had stolen her coat and left the hospital? How would she explain this to everyone. To Marjorie? To Eddie? What would they think of her if they knew that she had intended to take another woman’s baby?

  Pru nursed the shame in her heart. She allowed herself to feel every ounce of pain and humiliation that she deserved. What kind of person was she who, not only lost her baby, but intended to take someone else’s too? She was disgusted at herself. No wonder Eddie was nowhere to be found. He couldn’t stand the sight of her either. She had spent most of her life blaming other people. She blamed Mam’s bitterness at her own miserable life for her kicking Pru out of home. She blamed Dad’s weakness for him not getting in touch with her before he died. And Eddie. She blamed him for pretty much everything else. But as she stood in the night air in the coat she’d stolen from a well-meaning friend, outside the house where she’d been planning on taking her neighbour’s baby, she realised that she was the common denominator in all of these relationships. They’d all failed because of her. That, she realised with a snort, was why the ‘powers that be’ had decided she shouldn’t be able to bear any children. It was all starting to make sense now.

  Pru furtively looked about her. She had to get away from it all. Get some distance between herself and that baby. Before Mrs Kostas could come out and stop her, Pru launched herself down the dusky road in the direction of the sea. This was a walk she had completed many times before but today the distance seemed insurmountable. Her legs thrummed with fatigue and her knees threatened to give way with every step but she pushed on until there was enough distance between her and the house.

  She had to sit a couple of times on walls and benches before she reached the beach. Mrs Kostas would have discovered by now that she wasn’t sitting outside. She hoped that they wouldn’t come out to try to find her. She desperately needed to be alone. On the empty shoreline, there was meagre light being thrown out by the taverna and the noise was bearably low. Pru slumped just above the tide-line on to the welcoming sand and rolled onto her side. She pulled her knees up to her chest as much as she could, ignoring the angry pains in her stomach as her stitches rubbed and pulled. At first she tried to clear her mind of all thoughts but as she felt calmness lapping at her toes with every tender caress of the sea, she allowed herself to think more clearly.

  She sank deeper into the pool of her own pity as she concluded that there was no point in her existence. If she wasn’t able to have children, what could she possibly achieve with her life? When she died no one would mourn her passing, even if she lived to be one hundred years old. She was alone and would never be anything else. She couldn’t see the point of going on any more.

  Her mind landed lightly upon Mrs Kostas’ comment about her having a baby in the future and she permitted herself to be momentarily led down the path that the doctors could perhaps perform a miracle that would allow her to have a baby. “Please Lord, I will do anything you ask of me if I could just...” but she couldn’t stand to hear her own whining voice, calling out to a God that she hadn’t served in many years.

  From somewhere in the distance, a sharp rapport of laughter pierced the silence but then died down just as quickly. Pru was confused at how people could still be laughing and joking and getting on with their lives when Pru’s own was in tatters. She felt entirely removed from the world around her, but in a peaceful way. There were no tears left to fall. Her well of emotions had run dry. She didn’t want to be part of this world anymore. She had no place in it.

  It took some time for her to manoeuvre herself into a standing position. She didn’t seem to have functioning stomach muscles anymore. She brushed the sand off her clammy bare legs and fixed her sights on the sea in front of her. Pru felt her pain become part of her, rather than a sensation to be fought, as she walked towards the sea. She could barely see it now that the darkness had fallen in earnest. The sky held aloft a sliver of moon which cast little illumination on the sea below but she could hear the water rushing impatiently to and fro and whispering to her. She headed down the slight incline into the sea and felt the tide soothe its gentle fingers around her aching legs as if encouraging her to come in deeper. She was surprised by how cold the water felt on her legs but did not find the sensation unpleasant. She loosened her coat and tossed it up further onto the beach, hoping it wouldn’t get wet. She didn’t want to ruin Betty’s coat after all she had done for her.

  Pru took a step forward and then another as the tide ebbed and flowed around her, pulling and pushing her in turn. The sea, however, was so shallow that she would have to walk some way out to be completely submerged. Her mind made up, Pru now felt entirely at peace. She had made the on
e decision that would free her entirely from all of her pain. It would also free Eddie up to be able to marry someone who was worthy of him and have children of his own some day. Everyone would be better off.

  She inhaled deeply as she waded out towards the thin moon’s reflection. The smell of salty sea air was comforting and she was pleased that it would be the last thing that she would ever smell. A few more steps now and she could join nature and perpetually swim in the arms of the shadowy depths.

  Chapter nineteen

  “What are you doing?” I whispered urgently. “You can’t be in there! Anna, come here now!” I beckoned her towards me. “Come!”

  She fluttered her hand at me in a childish wave and then disappeared around the side of the building.

  “Bollocks!” They wouldn’t shoot a young girl would they? She was almost certainly safe. Almost certainly. I should probably alert someone so that she could be found and escorted to safety. I looked frantically around me not knowing what I should do next.

  “Where’s a UN patrol when you need one?” I whispered to no one in particular.

  I made my way along the fence, shaking it as I went. At last I found where the fence had been loosened at the ground. It didn’t look like anyone had been through this way recently, so there had to be somewhere else that Anna had managed to get in but I didn’t know whether I had enough time to find it. I dropped my bag to the floor and fell to my stomach muttering “Bugger, bugger, bugger” under my breath.

  As I pulled myself under the fence it caught on the back of my top and I wriggled to free it, hearing the material rip. Of course, if I was caught by the Turkish Army now, the holes in my top would be the least of my worries. I’d be worrying about holes of another nature – bullet holes. I dug my toes into the soil and pushed myself further through the opening. I looked back at my overstuffed bag. There was no way it was going to fit through that slim gap so it would have to stay there. I pushed myself into a crouching position. What the hell was I doing? I half ran, half crawled to the building where I’d seen the little girl.

  “Anna!” I hissed. “Where are you?”

  I worked my way around the back of the building and peered about me. I could see Anna skipping down the street before me with her plaits swinging in her wake and her arms windmilling at her sides. I started to jog as quietly as I could, keeping my stride wide and feet soft. I didn’t want to shout out from this distance, in case it alerted any Turkish patrols.

  She rounded a corner just as I inhaled about to call her name. I quickened my pace, so as not to lose her, but slowed as I reached the corner and ducked down. Anna was nowhere to be seen in the dark, narrow street. I paused, listening out for any movement at all but there was nothing. Even the breeze had died down now and silence was the only pedestrian meandering down the vacant streets.

  “Anna!” I growled. “Where are you?”

  I looked behind me. Should I go back to the fence and call someone for help? I was likely to get us both shot at this rate. She was almost certainly safer on her own anyway. Almost. I gazed longingly the way I came but couldn’t leave this innocent little girl here alone. I felt responsible for her, and who knew what dangers were lurking here? Snakes? Collapsing buildings? Worse?

  I pulled myself up and started walking softly up the street trailing the cool, brittle walls, under my sweating hands. I warily looked up at the hollow-eyed buildings. There were unlikely to be soldiers in these buildings, otherwise they would have spotted Anna. I also believed, naively perhaps, they wouldn’t be expecting anyone to enter the Ghost Town during daylight hours and either wouldn’t be particularly vigilant or, at the least, wouldn’t bother concealing their positions. I hoped to God that I was right as I quickened my step to a silent jog.

  There were several streets leading off this one. None of them were wide enough for two cars to pass but they were too wide to be called alleyways. There were no sounds from these streets either. They held their breath in anticipation of what I might do next. I stood motionless, hoping to hear some footsteps from Anna but still there was nothing but a solid rampart of silence.

  I walked tentatively to the end of the street and came out onto a wide road that would have, at one time, been a busy thoroughfare. There were shops and restaurants lining up tattily down each side of the street. Metal signs advertised Coca-Cola and souvlaki in styles reminiscent of the 1970s. It seemed too exposing to try to cross the road so I headed cautiously along the boulevard, hugging the walls. Torn between searching for Anna, keeping an eye out for Turkish patrols, and the sheer amazement of being so close to buildings that had been left abandoned for so many years, I stumbled warily along the road.

  “Anna?”

  A sound from a building ahead of me made my heart lurch and I melted back into the shadows. I had to will myself to move on in case it was the brown-haired girl but my feet were rooted to the spot. I clenched and unclenched my fists, digging my nails into the palms of my hands to keep me focussed. I slid along the wall, holding on to it for misplaced security. When I reached the bones of what had once been a store of some description, I could see that part of the metal shutter had been torn back, formally saluting the street. I had very little inclination to go in there so got to my knees in front of the gap.

  “Anna, are you in there? Anna?”

  The sound of breathing and light footsteps inside started coming closer to the sunlight. I peered in but could see nothing in the gloom.

  “Anna? Please come here now. I’m not cross with you, I just want to take you home.”

  The footsteps quickened and rushed out of the small gap, knocking me on my back with surprise. As I fell I saw the brown blur of a small dog running across the street with newspaper hanging from its mouth. I lay there for a moment with my hand cupped over my eyes staring into the grey-blue sky as my heart calmed down and the sour taste of bile subsided.

  I was going to have to head back to the gap in the fence. I had absolutely no idea where Anna was now. I could be wandering around the city for hours to no avail. I had no choice but to go and get Stefanos and then he would alert someone to find her. He must have some contacts within the UN. I had no idea if Anna had skipped down this way or if she was still in Varosha. I felt guilty at the thought of abandoning her but I was sure that I was absolutely no use to anyone if I got shot or arrested now. There was a part of me that wanted to stay here a little longer; after all, I had inadvertently succeeded in my plan to get into Varosha, but I really should alert someone to Anna’s presence here.

  I was panting heavily as I sat up and wrapped my arms around my knees. Rocking backwards and forwards I took in the truly incredible sight before me. I felt like I was in an old Western. All I needed now was tumbleweed rolling down the dusty deserted street before the bad guys rode in to town. It was difficult to accept that there was no one living here anymore. How often would I come across a conurbation of this size absolutely devoid of any residents except wild dogs? My mind refused to shake the feeling that there must be some home-makers behind those shutters, or hiding out in the back of the shops. It was simply unfathomable that all of this could be left to decay. One day it had been full of bustle and thriving businesses and the next day jilted like an unwanted bride and left to age, alone and unloved, like Miss Haversham.

  Directly opposite me was a clothes shop with yellow plastic sheeting covering the inside of the window, supposedly to stop the sun from fading the clothes. The clothes stood like wallflowers in neat rows. Dresses that would never find a dancing partner and shoes that would never know what it was like to walk down a road, skipping over puddles from an unseasonable shower.

  There was something so abjectly miserable about the sight I felt the urge to go over and try some of the clothes on, just to give them an outing. I smiled to myself at the thought, but shoplifting, even thirty-odd years since the shop had closed, wasn’t something I would ever feel comfortable with.

  I pushed myself to my feet and brushed the dirt off my denim shorts
. On my way here I had been so intent on searching for Anna that I hadn’t taken stock of my surroundings.

  I was becoming a schizophrenic. I wasn’t just in two minds, I was two almost separate people. The me of old – British me – was hyperventilating at the thought of trespassing and breaking the rules. She was consumed by the fear of being caught and shot. She was convinced that she would never find her way out of here and if the Turkish soldiers didn’t shoot her, then she would find herself at the mercy of rabid dogs and feral cats. The new me – Greek me – demanded to know her birth right and dared anyone to stop her from retracing the steps of her mother. That me wanted to make the most of the serendipitous opportunity that had presented itself and explore a little.

  I stopped my spinning head from thinking about what to do next and stood at the side of the dusty street, sticky with perspiration. In a concept that was alien to me, I allowed myself to simply ‘feel’. I switched off my mind and let my heart propel my feet down the street towards the magnetic lure of the sea. There were more houses now, interspersed with the shops. The terraces showcased bountiful fig trees which were clearly flourishing with neglect. I began to reach out for one of the lusciously green and purple fruits but stopped myself before I could stroke the velvety skin. There was still that ingrained thought that someone would come rushing out from their home shaking their fists at me for purloining their pride and joy. The curtains were drawn in some of the windows as if some of the inhabitants were merely asleep. Perhaps they were. The curtains now hung in rags behind the begrimed, mottled windows.

  I turned to my right and walked up a cracked and uneven path between the houses. Here I could see washing strung out between sun-washed homes sagging on bright plastic lines. Strips of rags unrecognisable as garments hung side by side while a solitary pair of trousers still hung there intact, impervious to the elements and the bombs. They stood still and straight, a lone sentry in defiance of the Turkish presence in these streets. I no longer felt any fear at being discovered. I felt like I belonged here. My feet knew where I was going even though I had never set foot on any of these roads. I was being guided now by something other than my curiosity.