'No... well, if you do think of anything, make a list; it's only three weeks; we break up at the end of June, you know.'
Gwen had not been gone many minutes when Mark came in, a couple of books under his arm. He looked tired and pushed a hand through his dark wavy hair.
'Have you a headache?' she asked anxiously as he threw down the books on the bed.
'It's that blasted odos again. It blew up from Marmara so strongly today that it stopped the car ferries, and it's so hot. The air's leaden, and everyone seems so irritable - I suppose I'm lucky, it's given me the most damnable headache, but that's all.' He glanced at her critically. 'Are you all right?'
'Yes, it doesn't seem to have affected me this time.'
'Good. It's dying down now.' He picked up one of the books again, handing it to her, saying, without much expression,
'Craig's sent these. This one's a sort of guide book, describing the treasures of Topkapi, and the other is the history of the Ottoman Turks. He said he'd promised, some time ago, to lend it to you.'
'Yes, he did.' Jeanette swallowed hard. Thank him for me, won't you, Mark?'
'He's coming over tomorrow, when you're up, so you can thank him yourself.' He looked straight at her, then away again, and she hoped he hadn't noticed how the colour tinged her cheeks or her fingers trembled as she took the guide book from his outstretched hand. Craig had called twice only, during the past fortnight; on both occasions his manner was cool and remote, reminding her again of that first month when he had seemed so determined to keep her at a distance. His first visit was on the Monday, immediately after his arrival from Buyuk Ada. Jeanette had steeled herself, expecting to see censure in his eyes and be subjected to a cutting reproof for not heeding his warning. This, she discovered with a slight sense of shock, would have been far preferable to the stiff impersonal inquiries which sounded perfunctory and devoid of any real concern.
The following week-end he had gone again to the island, remaining until Tuesday, but this week-end he was obviously staying at home. He came after lunch on Sunday; Jeanette, sitting in the garden, her leg still swollen and heavily bandaged, saw him in the distance, striding along the narrow waterfront, intent on the busy traffic - vessels of all shapes and sizes, plying through the waters of the Bosphorus, north to the Black Sea and south to the placid, sub-tropical waters of Marmara.
He entered through the small gate at the end of the garden, seeming to walk more slowly now, yet covering the distance rapidly with his long and easy strides.
Reaching her, he stood looking down, his dark face proud and set, his shoulders erect. But he had a rather drawn expression, and lines around his eyes. She wondered if he had been working too hard; or perhaps he hadn't slept, thinking of Diane. He must be missing her terribly, Jeanette thought
His eyes flickered, noting the bulge in her dress caused by the swelling in her thigh and by the protecting wad of cotton wool beneath the bandages.
So confident and self-possessed he looked, despite the tiredness round his eyes. She wondered if there'd ever been an occasion in his life when he'd lacked this cool composure as, awkwardly, she indicated a nearby chair, inviting him to sit down. She glanced back, wondering what her brother and Tony were doing and hoping fervently that they had not become engrossed in anything which would keep them too long indoors.
'Thank you for the books, Craig.'
'That's all right. There are plenty more there if you want them.'
'Thank you,' she said again, looking down at her hands in her lap; then she lifted her eyes again to glance beyond him to the ships passing through the strait.
'You look much better than when I last saw you. Mark informs me that the wound is healing quickly now.'
'Yes - I didn't walk downstairs, but I did walk about inside. I haven't any pain at all now.' Such a flat uninteresting conversation. Jeanette looked round again. What had happened to Mark and Tony? They had said they were following her out, in a moment or two. She returned her attention to the water traffic.
'They're here,' said Craig sardonically, reading her thoughts. She blushed hotly; he did not spare her. 'Perhaps you'll now relax.'
'I'm sorry—' Mark sat down, looking anxiously at Jeanette. She stared. She had the most curious impression that he was apologizing for leaving her alone with Craig!
Tony came up and to Jeanette's dismay he mentioned the accident and the conversation became centred on that for the next ten minutes or so.
'Cetin should have given them some drill,' Mark asserted after Tony had said some disparaging things about the young Turk. 'It's absolutely stupid to take inexperienced people up a mountain without advising them how to act in the face of possible danger.'
'It was just unfortunate,' submitted Jeanette, avoiding Craig's eyes. 'It isn't quite fair to blame Cetin.'
'Cetin is to blame! He's an expert climber and knows the hazards. Why he wants to take people like you I don't know!' Craig spoke harshly, all his dislike of Cetin revealed in his tone. Jeanette said nothing; she still avoided his gaze.
'That wasn't all, from what Sally and Gwen told me,' laid Mark, turning to Jeanette. 'I believe you were soaked to the skin crossing some river—'
'No, it was only a stream,' Jeanette put in quickly.'
'But you did get soaked?'
She had to admit that they did, whereupon Craig wanted to know bow they had dried their clothes.
'It was only our jeans,' she said faintly. 'They — they dried on us.'
'They—!' Craig's lips compressed, but whatever else he had in mind was left unsaid, for Mark was now relating the incident of the scorpions. But it wasn't the scorpions that interested Craig. 'Jeanette,' he said in tones of utter disbelief, and apparently forgetting the presence of the other two, 'do you mean to say you slept in the open?' Into his voice had crept that authority, that disciplinary inflection which had so angered her on the night he had sent Cetin away, and Jeanette's eyes flickered in bewilderment. He had said he would never interfere again, but it seemed that he had completely forgotten that previous assertion, for he was certainly interfering now. But why should he? Why should he care what she did or where she went? 'You actually slept in the open ... three men and three girls?'
'Oh, I say, Craig—' Mark broke off, his eyes remaining fixed on Craig in puzzlement He, like Jeanette, seemed baffled by his friend's attitude.
Forcing herself to meet his gaze, Jeanette searched Craig's face, afraid of what she would see there. His opinion was of no consequence, she told herself ... and yet she felt she couldn't bear it if his eyes held cold contempt, disgust. What she did see made her gasp and suddenly recall his wrathful comment about doing her an injury.
He certainly looked as if he could do her an injury now!
He was awaiting a reply, too, but although Jeanette had difficulty in speaking she was surprised to find that her embarrassment was due to the presence of Tony and Mark, rather than to that of Craig himself.
At last she began to explain, saying they hadn't really slept owing to the storm, but at the same time endeavouring to skip lightly over their discomfiture. Noting the outraged expressions that her narrative brought forth she dismally concluded that she'd failed, and it certainly didn't help when Tony exclaimed,
'And your clothes again dried on you!'
'The sun came up... it didn't take long.'
'Really, Jeanette. ...' It was Mark who now regarded her in disbelief, and for the first time his dark eyes held stern censure. 'The three of you appear to have shown an amazing lack of common sense. Why, in heaven's name, didn't you come home?'
'At midnight? We couldn't have found our way down.'
'It seems to me that you'd had plenty of warnings long before then,' Craig began wrathfully when she interrupted him.
'Please....' Her glance embraced them all. 'Can we change the subject?' Her plea succeeded, but as the conversation drifted into other channels Craig remained silent, his lips tightly compressed. Why was he so furiously angry? Jeanette ponde
red over this for some time and then, suddenly, the explanation became quite clear. It was the book again. She could understand just how he felt - that she would have been far better occupied at the yali helping him than undergoing these unnecessary hazards.
He did relax, however, as the afternoon wore on, and even accepted Mark's invitation to stay to afternoon tea, which they had in a little arbour, under the shade of the Judas trees. And it was while they were having tea that Jeanette learned of the holiday planned by Tony and Mark. They were going to Lake Van in eastern Turkey, along with two other lecturers from the university. The round trip would be about two thousand miles and they would be away for six or seven weeks.
'You'll be all right,' said Mark, unconcernedly. 'I expect you've arranged something with Sally and Gwen?'
She glanced up quickly, about to tell him that her friends were going home, but she refrained. Mark would not hesitate to forfeit his holiday if he thought she was going to be alone.
'There'll be something to do,' she returned lightly, and then, 'I believe Lake Van's marvellous. Sally and Gwen went there, soon after they came over.'
'Yes, it is a wonderful place,' agreed Tony. 'The other two have already been, but Mark and I are quite looking forward to our first visit.' He turned to Craig. 'Are you going anywhere special ?'
'I shall be at the yali for most of the time, but I had thought of a flying visit to England, just to see one or two friends.'
One or two friends... and Diane.
Jeanette now regarded with dismay the long holiday to which she had so eagerly looked forward. It had never dawned on her that her friends would go home, and she had contemplated a round of sightseeing, with Asiatic Turkey as the main objective. There was so much to see over there, especially the archaeological sites which, unlike those of Greece, had scarcely been explored. Gwen and Sally had told her about one they set out to find. The vicinity was known, but the actual site was grown over and no one had bothered very much about it. To the girls' delight they found it, and after Jeanette had been shown the exciting slides she had vaguely imagined that some similar exploration would form part of her holiday activities.
All this would take her mind off Craig - perhaps she'd be completely cured by the end of the vacation. But now it seemed that she would be quite alone, and for the first time since she had come out to Turkey Jeanette experienced that old feeling of loneliness and despair. She tried to think of Ned, but his image still eluded her. 'Time will heal, despite your present conviction to the contrary,' her mother had said, and it was so. But what of this other ache that had come so quickly to take its place?
Suddenly, for no apparent reason, she recalled that Craig had promised to take her over to the Asiatic side, had enthused about the beauties to be found there, quaint villages and ruined castles, and that lovely stretch of country... the Sweet Waters of Asia, where the ladies of the aristocracy, yashmaked and bejewelled, had once drifted idly along in their gilded barges.
She wondered if her unhappiness showed on her face, for quite abruptly Craig looked across at her and said,
'You're tired, Jeanette. I should go to bed if I were you.' His tone was cool, impersonal, but his eyes seemed to hold a hint of concern and a smile fluttered as she rose, agreeing that she did feel tired and saying she would take his advice and lie down, though on the couch in the sitting-room.
'I don't feel like going to bed yet,' she added, still smiling up at him. 'I've had enough of that bedroom for a while.'
'Of course,' he agreed, on a surprisingly sympathetic note. 'Can you walk all right, or shall I help you?' He had already risen, but she cast a quick imploring glance at her brother. Far too disturbing to feel Craig's arm on hers.
He noticed her glance; his hand dropped to his side and his eyes glinted, cold as steel.
'Ah... you'd better sit down again,' said Mark. 'Here come your friends.' They all turned as the car drew to a standstill in the drive and Sally and Gwen appeared. They knew she would be up on Sunday and had said they might call, although no specific time had been stated. Gwen carried a large spray of flowers which she immediately presented to Jeanette.
'Cetin sends his love and says will it be all right if he calls tomorrow evening? He would have come sooner, but he's been on duty non-stop for a fortnight.'
'They're beautiful...' Bending her head, Jeanette enjoyed their perfume for a moment, thinking there was no gift quite like flowers. ... Suddenly her thoughts defied her stern control - the control she had successfully kept upon them for the whole of the afternoon. Before she could prevent herself, she had raised her head to look at Craig. If only it were he....
She encountered a look of icy contempt, heard his voice saying stiffly that it was time he was going. She saw him stride away, his shoulders square and set; and then she heard Gwen mention her name, and was drawn into the conversation going on around her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cetin was full of apologies for the accident, admitting that the blame was mostly his. Although agreeing with her brother that Cetin should have given them all some idea of what might happen, Jeanette was so impressed with his obvious sincerity that she took the blame on herself, saying she had been very stupid not to realize at once that the cry was in fact an urgent warning.
'In any case, it doesn't matter now,' she said with a smile. 'I'm very much improved and the doctor says that in a couple of weeks I'll be able to walk about the house and the garden as much as I like.'
'I don't suppose you'll ever come with me again.' His voice held a distinct note of regret which puzzled her. He would persuade others to join him, she felt sure, having heard of his success in arousing people's enthusiasm for climbing.
'I'm afraid my brother would be very much against it,' she had to admit. 'He does feel responsible for me while I'm out here, which is only natural.' She could have added that her experience had in any case cured her of climbing for life, but she refrained.
'And your friend, Craig Fleming?' His voice rasped; the dislike was mutual, obviously. 'What had he to say about it?'
Removing a cushion, Jeanette leant back on the settee, her eyes on the little perfume jar, her mind going back to that evening when Craig had so admired it, telling her, with such confidence, of its great age. She thought with a sudden tightness in her throat that it would always remind her of Craig, and ever in the future she would see those strong brown hands holding it with that gentleness, that almost loving care.
'My activities are not his concern,' was her quiet reply, her eyes still on the primitive clay jar, and her mind giving back those hours at Topkapi with Craig. They had been a pleasant and happy interlude then... they were a very precious memory now.
'You're quite right, your activities are not his concern,' came the grim rejoinder, 'but he thinks fit to interfere. You haven't answered my question, Jeanette.'
'He wasn't pleased, Cetin, I must be honest. But as I've said, it doesn't matter now. You mustn't worry about it, or blame yourself. It's all over, and best forgotten.'
'Did he know you were coming?'
'I can't say; he may have done. If so, he guessed, because I didn't mention that we were going to climb.'
'I didn't think you had, otherwise you wouldn't have been able to come.' He sounded sulky, she thought, and wondered why. He had never tried to carry their relationship beyond the stage of friendship, so he couldn't be in any way jealous of Craig. 'He'd have done something to stop you.'
'He could hardly prevent me from doing anything I wanted to do,' she returned, recalling that, not so long ago, the very idea of Craig's interference had filled her with anger, and wondering why a similar reaction was not experienced now. Had Craig known what she was contemplating? She recollected her suspicions that he'd made a guess. Well, if he had, he'd made no attempt to prevent her from going, and that, she concluded, was the result of her own emphatic assertion that she wished for no further interference in her affairs.
'He stopped you coming out once,' he reminded her, and
a flush leapt to her cheeks.
'On that occasion his action was justified, as it happened. I was badly affected by the odos, as you know. I didn't realize what was wrong, merely thinking it was tiredness, which would pass, but Craig recognized the symptoms and advised me not to go out.'
'Advised?' Cetin's dark brows lifted. 'He made you stay in, and I was damned annoyed about it.'
'Really, Qetin, it scarcely matters now,' she said with slight impatience. 'Don't look so vexed.'
He smiled faintly then, and for the first time Jeanette felt disturbed by his gaze. His next words disturbed her even more, shocked her in fact as, moving closer to her on the couch, he said, a litttle hoarsely,
'Did Sally give you my love?'
'Yes.' She glanced up, startled. 'But I—'
'I meant it, Jeanette - oh, I know this is sudden, but it was only when I held you on those rocks, when you clung to me, imploring me to take you down and looking at me, so scared, with those lovely eyes— Until that moment you'd meant nothing; you were just another English girl - we've had dozens here at the school, for they don't stay long. But you're so beautiful—'
'Cetin - please—' She raised a protesting hand, trying to continue, but he would not let her.
'I have never felt like that - oh, there have been a few Turkish girls, but they meant nothing. If only you knew how I felt, how your fear of being taken up touched me—' He broke off, his face suddenly grim. 'I almost did take you down - me, who knows the best way! I almost took a chance - which would have been madness - all because of your pleading. I wanted to do only what you wished, Jeanette, and it will always be that way.'
'No ... oh, Cetin. ...' She was hot and embarrassed, but at the same time regretful that he should be hurt. Vaguely, she recalled Craig's intense dislike of this man, and began to doubt if there were any real basis for it, because there was no doubt at all about Cetin's sincerity; she knew he spoke the truth when he asserted that she was the first girl who had mattered, and that his one desire was to please her.
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