Ayshe and Atila arrived at the same time as the room service.
‘Hi, everyone.’ Ayshe rushed over to me. ‘Well, what happened? What did they say?’
‘Here you go.’ Kalem kissed the top of my head and handed me a glass of red wine, then proceeded to pile up a plate of chicken shish kebab, salad, and moist bulgur wheat with tomatoes, fresh chillies, and olive oil in it.
I downed the wine in one go as the others looked on expectantly.
Charlie eyed my now empty glass. ‘That bad?’
‘Worse.’ I slowly filled them in on the day’s events as I picked at my food.
‘I know why Dad and Erol Hussein’s dad don’t get on any more,’ Ayshe said.
‘Why?’ Charlie’s ears pricked up at the whiff of a bit of gossip.
‘Erol’s dad was in love with Mum,’ Ayshe said. ‘They all used to hang around together when they were younger. Apparently, he never got over it when Mum fell in love with Dad instead of him. That’s why they fell out.’
‘Ooh! So your mum was a sought after woman.’ Charlie’s eyes widened with excitement.
‘Look, guys, I think we need some kind of a plan,’ I said, trying to steer them back to the problem at hand.
‘I’d say that was an understatement,’ Atila said.
I pushed away my half-eaten plate, willing my brain to go into overdrive plan-thinking mode. I wasn’t very good at planning. I’d tried to plan the perfect wedding and look what had happened so far.
Kalem stared out to sea, a pensive look clouding his gorgeous face.
Ayshe rubbed her stomach distractedly.
I gave a defeated shrug. ‘Well, if someone in the police is involved and Erol Bloody Hussein doesn’t want to know. What else can we do?’ I asked to no one in particular. ‘Storm the President’s office and demand to see the big man himself?’
Kalem shook his head. ‘We’d just get arrested.’
‘Take out a newspaper ad?’ I said.
‘They probably wouldn’t even print it,’ Ayshe said. ‘They’d think you were a nutcase.’
‘She is a nutcase,’ Charlie said. ‘But in a nice way,’ he added with a grin.
‘Well, what then?’ I got up to fill my glass, weaving around everybody. ‘Anyone else want one?’ I wiggled my glass in the air.
Everyone agreed except Ayshe.
I filled a couple of glasses that were left over from the champagne the night before, and just after I’d refilled mine, I noticed a newspaper on the room service trolley, sandwiched in between the empty plates. The headline read: President to Open Apricot Festival.
I grabbed the paper and read it, my eyes devouring the information with heightened interest. The article mentioned various apricot facts – they’ve been around for four thousand years; astronauts ate them on the Apollo moon mission; they’re related to peaches – and ended with details of the annual three-day festival to celebrate the abundant Cypriot fruit.
‘Hey,’ I cried out to the others. ‘The President is opening the annual apricot festival tomorrow night at six. Why don’t we try and talk to him there?’
‘What’s an apricot festival?’ Charlie shrieked. ‘Is it anything like the Gay Pride festivals but people have to be smeared in soggy apricots?’ His eyes lit up at the thought of that. ‘Kinky!’
‘They have lots of festivals here – apricots, olives, sheep. It’s just a celebration, really,’ Ayshe explained.
‘There will be stalls selling local produce and wares, traditional dancing and singing, little restaurants set up – that kind of thing,’ Kalem added.
‘Oh, so not quite Gay Pride then.’ Charlie looked a tad disappointed. ‘Still, I think it’s a fab idea trying to speak to him there. What have you got to lose?’
‘I don’t know if we can get close enough to have a conversation with him. But I suppose it’s worth a try,’ Kalem said.
Ayshe nodded. ‘I agree. It sounds like a good plan.’
‘I can’t think of anything else you can do,’ Atila said.
‘Right. So we can’t do anything until tomorrow evening. It’s only five days until the wedding, and I’m not confident that I’m ever going to get my wedding dress back in time at this rate. I still need to look for a replacement one, just in case. And that means I need to get back out there and go shopping.’
‘No,’ Charlie said. ‘I’m the wedding planner. Leave it to me. I’ll go out and do some research. I know the kind of things you like. If I find any possible dresses, I’ll let you know, and you can come and have a look. You need to try and relax before the big day.’ He smiled at me. ‘Capiche or not capiche?’
I managed to raise a slight smile. ‘Capiche.’
‘Anything else you need me to do?’ Charlie asked.
‘Have you managed to find a CD with Love Me Tender on it yet?’ I said.
Charlie nodded. ‘Yes. Well, it’s not actually a CD. It’s on tape.’
‘Tape?’ Atila looked shocked. ‘Do people actually still use tapes?’
‘I was talking to the really helpful lady on reception, and she said she’s got a copy of some of Elvis’s greatest hits on tape and Love Me Tender is on there. So, no need to panic anymore. Anything else you want me to do?’
‘No, thanks,’ I said.
‘Right. In that case, I’ll scoot off and get started on the wedding dresses. No French Fancies and no meringues.’ Charlie ticked off the list on his finger. ‘Check.’
‘Do you want to relax by the pool or go and look at Mum and Dad’s house?’ Kalem asked.
Hmm. Difficult question. On the one hand, I wanted to laze around, drinking cocktails in the swim-up bar, pretending that I was having a normal, pampering pre-wedding couple of days. On the other hand, I was excited to see the house that we’d be living in after the wedding until we found our own place. Yasmin had actually been born in the house, so it had been in her family a long time, although in recent years they hadn’t used it much as a holiday home.
‘Ayshe and I haven’t actually been out to stay there since we were about ten,’ Kalem said. ‘And the last time Mum and Dad stayed there was a couple of years ago. So it might need quite a bit of cleaning and tidying up.’
I suspected it would need more than a bit after all that time of being uninhabitated. ‘Maybe it would be a good idea to see the house – ooh! And I want to go and have a look at Bellapais Abbey as well. It looks a fantastic wedding venue from the pictures, but I want to make sure it’s as nice in real life. And let’s do some exploring. I want to check out the amenities here.’
‘You mean more shops?’ Kalem shot me a knowing look.
‘Well…not just the shops. What about supermarkets? I need to know where to get food. Food is important, isn’t it?’
‘We don’t need supermarkets. We’ll be living off the land. We can plant lots of fruit trees to sustain us. We could even have a couple of chickens and stuff.’ Kalem’s eyes lit up at the thought of getting back to nature.
I had a vision of The Good Life again. Me in wellies, with one arm up a cow’s backside – like I’d recently watched on a vet documentary – and not a spikey-heeled boot in sight. Yuck. Horrible thought. ‘Er…maybe we should check them out anyway. I mean, do they have a Finest Range here? And what about custard creams? I need to know where to find them if I’m going to survive.’
‘OK, let’s explore and check out the local custard cream spots.’ Kalem gave me an amused smile.
‘Atila and I had better stay here in case Mum and Dad need anything, or they take a turn for the worse,’ Ayshe said.
‘OK, we’ll just go and say hi to them and find out how they’re doing before we go.’ Kalem pushed the food trolley into the hallway.
I grabbed my handbag and herded Atila and Ayshe out.
A red Do not disturb sign hung on the outside of Deniz and Yasmin’s door, and a note had been left on the floor in front.
Ayshe picked it up. ‘This is Dad’s handwriting. It’s addressed to the maid.’ She rea
d through it, her eyebrows furrowing.
‘What does it say?’ I said. ‘Are they asking for a doctor or something?’.
‘It says, “Dear Maid, I am experiencing a problem with the mini-bar selection. You have placed mild curry flavour condoms in there, and I really wanted spicy flavour. I will use the mild flavour condoms under duress, but can you please supply ten spicy flavour packets. If you have no spicy flavour, do you have any cheese and pickle? Thank you.”’ Ayshe glanced up at us, her own look of horror mirroring ours. ‘What the hell are they up to in there? They’re supposed to be ill.’
Kalem pulled a lemon-sucking face and banged on the door. ‘I don’t know. But I’m not asking them.’
‘Me neither,’ Atila said. ‘Gross.’
‘I’ll just stay out here in case it’s catching.’ Ayshe hovered outside the door.
‘Dad? Mum? How are you?’ Kalem banged on the door.
‘Hang on a minute,’ Deniz’s voice said from the other side.
I heard a shuffling sound, and Deniz swung the door open, wearing a dressing gown. He looked rough. His normally olive skin had turned clammy and pasty.
‘How are you feeling?’ I asked.
Deniz wandered back inside the room and climbed into bed. ‘Well, I’ve had eight bowel movements and three projectile vomits today.’
Ew, too much information, thanks.
‘Where’s Mum?’ Ayshe asked from outside the door.
‘In the loo. Again. The good news, I suppose, is that the doctor has confirmed that it’s food poisoning and not something catching. So you can all come in if you want,’ Deniz shouted.
‘Oh, OK.’ I took small steps inside as Kalem, Ayshe, and Atila followed, hovering at the bottom of the beds.
‘I’ll kill whoever gave me that fish. Unless I die first.’ Deniz sank his head back on the pillow. ‘And if the fish doesn’t finish me off, I’m going to die of boredom, stuck in here. Have you got any girly magazines?’
I was swallowing at the time, and I nearly choked. Let’s just say that Deniz had always been unconventional and very un-PC. I didn’t think he could actually say anything that shocked me anymore, but that did. ‘Erm…girly magazines?’
Kalem shook his head to himself.
‘Dad, I think you’re getting a bit old for that!’ Ayshe reprimanded him. ‘And anyway, you should be taking it easy if you’ve got food poisoning.’
‘I am taking it easy, but I’m bored. I’ve been stuck in here, and all I’ve had to read are your mother’s girly magazines, but I’ve finished those now. They’re actually quite enlightening.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m discovering lots of interesting things in these magazines that I never knew before. So, come on, then, have you got any? What are they called? Neopolitan? Mary Cary?’
And then the penny dropped. ‘Oh, you mean Cosmopolitan and Marie Claire?’
‘Yes.’ He held up a finger in acknowledgement. ‘Any of those. I need something to stop the boredom and get my mind off toilets.’
‘I’ve got an OK! Magazine you can have,’ I said.
‘I’ve got Cosmo, and Charlie’s got a couple of women’s mags you can have,’ Ayshe said.
‘Have you got any condoms?’ Deniz asked us. ‘I’ve run out.’
Kalem put his hands over his ears so he wouldn’t have to listen.
‘Do you think it’s wise, you know…doing…when you’re ill?’ Atila said, looking simultaneously horrified and uncomfortable.
Yasmin emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was sticking out in all directions, as if she’d been tossing and turning all night, and her cheeks had a bit of a greenish tinge.
‘How are you feeling, Mum?’ Ayshe asked.
She climbed into bed. ‘Your father is annoying me.’ Yasmin sighed, sounding tired. ‘And I don’t even have the energy to slap him.’
Deniz pulled an over-innocent face. ‘What? All I said was could I have an intravenous drip of whisky to help me recover. What’s wrong with that?’
****
Kalem and I drove out of Kyrenia (single carriageway road) passing lots of five-star hotels, shops, and villas along the main road. There was a mixture of traditional Cypriot styled flat-roofed houses and sparkly new whitewashed villas with pools. No large superstore supermarkets so far, but plenty of individual little butchers, furniture shops, off-licences, petrol stations, roadside stalls selling colourful and ripe-looking fruit and veg, and odd assorted little shops. I particularly liked the off-licences. It meant I could buy lots of wine. God, did I need it at the moment.
Nestled up in the mountains, about four miles out of town, lay the quaint village of Bellapais. The Land Rover climbed a hill with some ginormous luxury villas set in acres of abundant gardens on either side.
I let out a slow whistle.
‘This is the new part of Bellapais. It’s supposed to be the Beverly Hills of North Cyprus,’ Kalem said.
‘Beverlypais. Ooh, I like that.’ Well, this looked pretty chic and cosmopolitan to me. Maybe I could handle this simple life after all.
We rounded a corner and were granted spectacular views of the old colonial style village to our left. The Abbey, surrounded by palm and fir trees, rose up from its mountain ledge like some kind of gothic apparition.
We followed the narrow, winding road into the village until it forked. To the left, I could see the village square and the amazingly well-preserved ruins of the Abbey in all its splendour. The right led to some even narrower streets that didn’t even look big enough to fit a car through. It looked like the village that time had forgotten. In front of the fork was an ancient-looking mulberry tree and some lovely open-air bistros.
‘That’s the famous Tree of Idleness.’ Kalem pointed at the mulberry tree as we drove towards the car park. ‘Ancient folklore says that if you sit under the tree you’ll become lazy and won’t want to work anymore. The folklore goes on to say that because of the tree, the villagers of Bellapais live for so long that even the gravedigger was put out of a job.’
I got out of the car, surveying the scenery.
Oh, my God! I thought I was going to faint. I couldn’t believe how amazing it was. Charlie was right.
The magical twelfth century abbey, with its masterpiece in architecture and panoramic views over the glistening Mediterranean, was saturated with a sense of peace and tranquillity so powerful I could almost taste it. Nestled in between lush velvety grass, fragrant jasmine and greenery, it was the perfect place for a wedding.
‘Close your mouth.’ Kalem grinned at me.
I finally regained working control of my jaw. ‘It’s fantastic!’ I wrapped my arms around his waist and gazed at the views. ‘Why haven’t you brought me here before?’ I rested my head on his chest.
‘Because we only arrived yesterday, and we’ve been a bit busy trying to sort out suitcases and crooks.’
‘No. I mean before that.’
‘Because we’ve only officially been a couple for the last six months?’
‘Well, yes, but that’s just a technicality.’
‘Mum and Dad asked you loads of times if you’d come on summer holidays here with us when you were little, but you never wanted to.’
‘OK, another technicality.’
He slipped his hand in mine. ‘Come on. Let’s get a ticket for the Abbey.’
****
After touring the arched corridors, refectory, common rooms, and chapter house of the Abbey, I left with a sense of serenity like nothing I’d ever experienced before. We headed back past Beverlypais and carried on along the main road, heading towards Deniz and Yasmin’s house.
‘There!’ I pointed to a tiny supermarket that looked like it wouldn’t even cover a tenth of the floor space in our old supermarket back home. ‘Let’s see what kind of supplies they’ve got.’
We parked up in the minuscule car park, and I approached the supermarket like a secret shopper from a consumer magazine, making mental notes in my head…
North Cyprus Supermarket:
Fresh and organic fruit and veg. Appearance: Lovely looking, ripe, colourful, natural. Some specimens are a bit odd shaped – a potato shaped like a heart (how cute), giant tomatoes, knobbly bent carrots, weird things that look like white willies (just been told they are a Turkish sweet potato).
Sells basic food and drink. The essentials, I suppose. No Finest Range, but nice wine, though. Small, but basic deli counter with fresh, delicious looking hot and cold Turkish mezes.
No custard creams!
No clothes!
No household items!
Estimated time to navigate around the store without stopping: two minutes.
Estimated time to navigate around the store with stopping: twenty minutes.
UK Supermarket:
Car park for about three hundred cars.
Limp, under ripe fruit and veg. All perfectly coloured (possibly painted with something to look nicer). Perfectly shaped as you’d expect – pointy carrots with no knobbles, round tomatoes and potatoes matching the potato and tomato circumference tests, etc.
Sells everything: food and drink, clothes, household and gardening goods, stationery, electrical equipment, cards. Huge deli counter (you’d never have to cook a meal again if you didn’t want to).
Biscuit heaven.
Huge range of clothes.
Estimated time to navigate around the store without stopping: thirty-five minutes.
Estimate time to navigate around the store with stopping: three days.
Well, not quite what I was expecting. Maybe it would mean that I just couldn’t get everything under one roof like I was used to. Maybe I’d just have to stop at three of four supermarkets to do my weekly shop. And how long would that take? I knew I’d have to sacrifice a bit of convenience for living in the sun, but honestly, a weekly shop could now take me a whole week to complete, like a kind of shopping Krypton Factor Challenge. And by then the week would be over, and I’d have to do it all again as soon as I set foot back in the house with my bags.
Six Pack of Sleuths: Comedy Mysteries Page 38
