Head Over Heels

by Felicity Price

  ‘You’re better off out of it,’ Chuck said. ‘It’ll still be a war zone over that way.’ He indicated the direction in which the bomb had gone off. ‘Police and army will be crawling all over the place. Why don’t you come with us, if you’ve nothing to do? We’re heading off in the other direction, away from all the cordons and nasty officials. We have a favourite local bazaar we like to go to.’

  ‘That would be a nice distraction,’ I said. ‘Simon told me to stay away from the harbour area and the touristy places, so anywhere off the beaten track would be great.’

  They took me at their usual fast stride through a series of narrow lanes all bordered with tiny shops and street stalls selling everything from ironware to soap, until we reached a covered market, a bit like the one in Istanbul, only a lot smaller and more makeshift.

  Feeling somewhat distracted about Simon, I didn’t feel up to searching for bargains, and the sheer scale and variety of the bazaar overwhelmed me — quite an admission for someone like me, who was born to shop. However, I couldn’t resist the pleas of the first Turkish delight seller we passed. I bought four small gift boxes as well as a mixed bag.

  ‘For friends back home?’ Sandra asked.

  ‘In theory, but now I’ve been so good in thinking about them I really feel in need of a reward myself. Besides, it’s a scientific fact that you don’t put on weight from eating food bought for someone else.’

  We sat down at one of the stalls and bought mint teas, which went very well with the mint-flavoured Turkish delight.

  ‘You certainly know your way around,’ I complimented Chuck as we sipped our tea.

  ‘We should do by now,’ he chuckled. ‘This is our sixth year in a row.’

  ‘We wouldn’t go anywhere else, this time of year,’ Sandra said.

  ‘Not even after the bomb?’

  ‘No, I’m not going to let those bastards put us off. Mind you, we’ve brought forward our gulet booking a couple of days. We’re going tomorrow night instead of later in the week.’

  ‘Yes, Chuck said it might be the safest thing to do and I agree. We’re better off out of this town for the next few days. It’s going to be impossible to go anywhere or do anything.’

  ‘What about you, Penny, are you and Simon going to stick around?’

  ‘I don’t know. We were supposed to get on the boat in three days’ time, but Simon’s keen for us to go earlier.’ I looked at my watch, wondering how he was getting on. ‘Heavens, look at the time. I hadn’t realised we’d been in that market for so long. I’d better be getting back.’

  • • •

  ‘Faxes for you, madam,’ said the hotel receptionist when I went to pick up the key.

  I opened the proffered envelope. There was a fax from Stephanie and another from Nicky. Stephanie’s told me she was relieved I was okay and reiterated her plea to get out of town as soon as possible.

  After all, I’ve taken your advice and am due to fly home tomorrow morning. The least you can do is take my advice and do the same.

  Nicky’s fax said they were all glad I’d avoided the bomb and also suggested I should catch the next plane home.

  Let us know as soon as you find Simon. We’re all worried. Then please come home. Ginny says we need you alive. She also says she wishes La Stupenda had been hit by a bomb. She’s still causing trouble, believe it or not. Ginny has promised champagne (what else!) all round when the woman gets on the plane out of here.

  I realised with a jolt that I hadn’t let anyone know I’d found Simon. On my way up in the lift, I texted Stephanie and then Nicky, letting them know that Simon was alive and well.

  He was in our room to prove it. And so was Ray who, leg in a foam splint, was yelling down the phone.

  ‘… had to get out of that hospital. It was worse than a night in the cells after a student party. And I hadn’t even had any fun before I ended up there.’ Ray winced and held onto his head with his spare hand.

  ‘Hi, Penny, welcome back,’ Simon said above Ray’s raised voice, coming forward to give me a kiss on the cheek and steering me away from Ray, who was clearly having trouble being heard.

  ‘Yeah, can’t bend my legs now — you could put a rod through my chest and play foosball with me,’ he was saying.

  ‘Sorry I took off early,’ Simon continued, ‘but that hospital really isn’t a place you’d want to be. It’s still truly awful out there.’

  ‘Did they give you a clean bill of health?’ I said, deciding it was fruitless to complain.

  ‘You bet. And Ray is doing okay too. In fact, better than okay. They got around to x-raying him this morning and his leg’s not broken after all, so he just has to wear that thing for a fortnight.’ Simon paused and looked at Ray for a moment. ‘Mind you, it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s making it all up. You never know with Ray. He’s a typical Pommie joker.’

  ‘So I hear.’

  ‘I tell you what, though, he couldn’t wait to get out of there. He had to sit in a chair all night while they waited for the x-ray people to take him, and he looked like he’d fused to it by this morning.’

  ‘I’m feeling much better now,’ Ray said, phone call finished. He limped forward with the aid of a rough-hewn stick and held out his hand, which was a patchwork of sticking plaster. His face, though marked with several small cuts and a large bruise above his right eye, lit up in a broad smile and his eyes sparkled cheekily. Though the physical opposite of Simon — short, stocky, mostly bald and clean shaven — I could see why he and Simon had hit it off.

  ‘Ray Thurso,’ he said. ‘Glad you could make it. It’s good to know we’re not the only Fear Factor contestants in town.’

  ‘Penny Rushmore,’ I said, taking his hand in mine.

  ‘Sorry I held Simon up. You know how it is, everything in life takes longer than you expect — except sex.’

  ‘I shouted Ray lunch,’ Simon said, changing the subject and indicating the remains of a burger and chips on the coffee table. Ray picked up his near-empty beer and polished it off with one gulp.

  ‘That was good.’ He burped loudly. ‘Puts a chap back on his feet, before knocking them out from under him.’

  ‘Well, there’s no time for another one,’ Simon said, then turned to me. ‘Penny, how would you like it if we went on the boat this evening? The captain is talking about leaving early, if the research team is ready.’

  ‘I’m okay with that. Under the circumstances, I think it’s the safest thing to do.’

  ‘You don’t mind if we miss the castle?’

  ‘No, I don’t mind at all. It’s probably closed for security reasons anyway.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t let a small thing like a terrorist attack stop you from sightseeing, mayte,’ Ray said, imitating an Aussie accent. ‘This place is packed with attractions that’ll just blow you away.’

  Simon laughed. ‘You’d make a joke out of anything,’ he said, winking at me. ‘I’ll let the hotel know we’re checking out early. We probably won’t get a refund, but who cares?’

  ‘But what about your check-ups? Are you supposed to go on seeing a local doctor to make sure you don’t get an infection?’

  ‘There’s a paramedic on the ship. He’s got mountains of antibiotics. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure …’

  ‘He’s got the hide of a humpback, that man of yours. I wouldn’t worry about him,’ said Ray. ‘Besides, he’d be better looked after by the paramedic on board than by some of these quacks here.’

  ‘You could well be right, mayte,’ Simon said, copying Ray’s Aussie accent and slapping him on the back so hard he nearly lost his balance — doubly precarious now with his gammy leg.

  ‘That’s right, finish off what the Kurds couldn’t do,’ Ray snorted as he struggled to stay upright.

  ‘So it’s ship ahoy then,’ I laughed. ‘Our great sea adventure is about to begin.’

  ‘Pity,’ Ray grinned. ‘This place was just starting to warm up.’

  • • •
>
  I didn’t feel any regrets as we boarded the research ship later that day. I’d been so looking forward to getting to Marmaris and meeting up with Simon, but the explosion had put paid to my dreams of a romantic reunion.

  We had to drive right around the outside of the town to get to the marina and then endure tight security at the gates, with one of those metal-detector wand thingies and even a rough body search. Mine was carried out by a very stern-faced woman who didn’t even crack a smile.

  Once through all that, with traffic still disrupted and no taxis in sight, we had to walk along the marina road to where the ship was tied up. Simon took my bag, shouldering it rather than adopting my wussy way of pulling it along behind me, while I laboured with my carry-on bag, which grew heavier by the metre. In the sweltering heat I was soon embarrassingly dripping with sweat. The marina was enormous, and some of the boats looked like they belonged to the very rich.

  ‘My God, look at that enormous motor boat,’ I cried as we passed a long, sleek, white ship with uniformed crew scuttling about their duties. ‘It looks like one of those multimillion dollar gin palaces that came over for the America’s Cup. Only bigger.’

  There was a big petrol tanker parked alongside with a hose going into the side of the ship.

  ‘By the look of it, the entire contents of that petrol tanker will be going inside her — and then some,’ Simon said.

  ‘Imagine how much that will cost!’

  ‘It’s another world, isn’t it? People here think nothing of spending a few million on their summer holidays.’

  ‘And there are several boats that size here. Where do people get that sort of money from?’

  ‘Who knows?’ Simon shrugged. ‘Oil money, maybe. Or the black market. There are a lot of Russians here with a pile of money. I suspect not all of it is entirely kosher.’

  We kept going until we found Simon’s research ship, RV Lamicaoglu — it sounded like an embarrassing disease. She was much bigger than I expected, even bigger than the luxury yacht we’d seen a few moments ago.

  ‘She’s just over forty metres long,’ Simon told me.

  Looking up at the dark blue steel hull of the vessel that was to be my home for the next ten days, I hoped she was as sturdy as she looked.

  The bridge, crew and research party quarters arose pristine white from the deck in the middle of the ship. Atop this was a mast containing a whole bunch of antennae that Simon told me included radar, GPS and radio transmitters. Sticking up high at the rear of the ship was a huge trawling net frame and beneath it a series of big winches for hauling out the tuna. I had been reassured that we didn’t eat them (not that I would have minded — if it’s edible, it’ll do me) but they were checked, tagged and returned to the sea.

  I wobbled up the gangway, glad that Simon was carrying my bag, and picked my way over each of the wooden grips. I surreptitiously pulled out a tissue to wipe away the perspiration while I waited with Simon for Ray to catch up. The long walk around the side of the marina to the ship’s berth had virtually done me in. I was sweating even more profusely after we completed a formal check-in procedure that included a further security sweep of all my belongings and myself. At least I didn’t have to go through another body search — there was one of those machines that detected metals instead. The air-conditioned foyer was a welcome relief.

  ‘There’s air conditioning through most of the accommodation and laboratories,’ Simon said as the three of us stepped inside and the doors shut behind us. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve.

  ‘Thank heavens for that,’ I said.

  ‘But with a nice sea breeze and a good distance between us and this town, you won’t need it. You wait, it’ll be absolutely magic.’

  ‘I dare say I’ll find out tomorrow afternoon when we set sail.’ My faith in the magic of Turkey had long gone.

  Built in the 1980s, the interior of RV Lamicaoglu was like a cross between a utilitarian cruise ship and a high-tech research facility. Its walls were all gleaming white, as if newly painted, and its long corridors were punctuated with large windows, revealing banks of computers and gadgets for Africa, including things Simon called spectrofluorometers (I earned no points by asking, ‘Aren’t they something doctors or dentists use?’), as well as the traditional microscopes and stuff you associate with a biology lab. Difficult as it was, I managed to keep my unbounded enthusiasm for scientific gadgetry in check.

  At the end of the corridor we went up two flights of narrow, steep stairs to the accommodation level. Our starboard-side room, very much in the ultra-utilitarian cruise ship mould, was simple but perfectly comfortable, with the ubiquitous white walls and two single beds on either side of an oblong porthole. Underneath the window was a desk and chair, and on either side of the door were cupboards and shelves for clothes and other gear.

  It was absolutely no frills. There was nothing remotely resembling a dressing table and not a mirror in sight. Nor was there an en suite.

  ‘I’m afraid we have to share bathroom facilities,’ Simon said as he tossed my bag at the end of the right-hand bed. ‘But we did get a double room.’

  ‘Even if there’s no double bed,’ I said ruefully.

  ‘Can’t have everything,’ he said, closing the door behind him and giving me the Simon smile treatment. ‘But who needs a double bed?’ It didn’t take much persuasion for me to follow him to one of the beds. We sat on it together and I snuggled into him.

  ‘I’ll leave you to unpack.’ He indicated the locker to my right. ‘That’s for all your stuff, if you can fit it in. Though I don’t suppose you brought much of your shoe collection, so you should be all right!’ He grinned.

  ‘You’d be surprised how many high heels you can fit into a cabin bag this size.’ I grinned back.

  ‘You might be stretched to find anywhere to wear them here.’

  ‘It’ll be hard enough finding my sea legs without tottering round on stilettos, don’t you worry!’

  ‘I’ll be back in half an hour. We’ll pop into the lounge before dinner so I can introduce you to the captain.’

  ‘And what should I wear to meet the captain?’

  ‘Anything but stilettos.’

  Chapter 19

  The lounge was a large, light and airy room with windows providing a great view of the nearby wharf and surrounding marina. Like the rest of the ship, it was delightfully cool compared with the heat I’d encountered up on deck.

  ‘Would you like something to drink, Penny?’ Simon asked as we entered.

  ‘Yes, please.’ I felt ready for a vodka and tonic or something similarly restorative. ‘There are plenty of soft drinks and the local beer, but not much else I’m afraid. Most of the crew are practising Muslims. Although I have seen some of them get stuck into the raki. You could always drink that.’

  ‘Raki?’

  ‘It’s the Turkish national drink. It’s shot with aniseed and it tastes like rocket fuel.’ He pulled a face. ‘I’ve only tried it once and that was enough. I don’t know how they can drink it.’

  ‘Sounds like I should give it a miss. What about a glass of wine?’ At home, I’d become so used to a glass (or two!) of wine before dinner, I couldn’t imagine a meal without at least one.

  ‘There isn’t any. I’m sorry, Penny, I didn’t think. I could have brought some on board for you.’

  ‘That’s okay. I can do without.’ I wondered momentarily if this was a lie. How long was it since I’d gone without wine? But I wasn’t addicted, was I? No, I was only a light drinker — I drank when it got light. And alcohol has certain advantages — it gives me something to blame other than myself for things that go wrong. That was going to have to change unless I could cope with drinking beer. I’d never liked it — it gave me terrible gas. So what could I drink instead that would have the same soporific effect at the end of a long, punishing day? Then I realised that there would be no more long, punishing days for a while. I was on holiday. Admittedly, it hadn’t been much of a holiday so fa
r. But now that we were all aboard, surely my days would now be endless sea and summer sun, without a worry in the world?

  Well, that wasn’t entirely true. There was the worry of the lack of wine cellar.

  ‘I guess it was the last thing on our minds,’ Simon continued apologetically. ‘I hope you’ll be okay.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,’ I assured him. ‘What about a lime and soda?’

  ‘Shouldn’t be a problem. This is just the right part of the world for fresh limes. Follow me.’

  I’m not usually a ditz at remembering people’s names but I reckon I must have met over thirty people for the first time that night and I might have recalled only the first three or four. After that I gave up.

  ‘We’ll test you tomorrow,’ said the captain, a good-looking fellow with a grey beard, deeply tanned face and twinkly blue eyes. ‘And then we’ll introduce you to the rest of the crew,’ he laughed.

  He’d correctly observed me struggling to remember who was who. Scientists and crew merged in a blur of men with beards and a few brainy-looking women.

  I did manage to remember the captain’s name: Reshid. But I had absolutely no idea what his surname was: it sounded like someone hiccupping while removing dentures.

  He and his officers were all Turks, most of them hellishly handsome, while the scientific types were a real United Nations. As well as some locals, there were Americans, Irish, English, French and Australians.

  Most of them asked how I’d coped with my onshore experience the day before. I found it therapeutic, in a way, to be able to talk about it ad infinitum. Each time I repeated my story, I seemed a little further removed from the whole nightmare.

  Simon was also in demand, recounting his brush with the bomb again and again. But suddenly a loud sort of whistle went off out in the corridor. I looked around alarmed, wondering if perhaps it was a fire drill.

  ‘It’s okay, Penny,’ Simon said, chuckling at my confusion. ‘It’s the dinner gong.’ He took my empty glass from me and returned it to the bar, then steered me out the door to the dining room. Here we could choose from a row of bain-maries carrying trays of hot chips and fried chicken alongside whole grilled fish and traditional goat casserole.