Anne Hampson
Page 11
'Mark told me about your collection....' She caressed it almost lovingly. 'This is the first time I've touched one.'
Eventually, he took it from her and, replacing it, he picked up another.
'I like this one; it's smaller, but the colour is quite unbelievable, don't you agree ?'
Jeanette nodded, catching her breath. It was not just the colour or the shape which dazzled her, but also the great age of the bowl.
'The ninth century?'
'Yes - it's about eleven hundred years old.'
Jeanette sighed and replaced it; they stood by the cabinet for a while, talking, and then Craig's Turkish housekeeper announced that dinner was ready.
The sun had dropped and the enormous eastern moon had appeared to light up the strait and the hills across on the Asiatic shore. It was all so familiar to Jeanette by this time, and still she found it new and exciting.
Even when dinner was over they lingered there, sometimes talking, sometimes silent. The time flew and Jeanette felt a queer sense of loss when Craig said it was time he took her home. The evening was gone; she had only the memory.
The following day he called for her early. They both had shopping to do, so they decided this should be done first. Then they would have lunch in the city and go up in the afternoon to Eyup, one of the most important places of Moslem pilgrimages.
Jeanette had made no definite date with Cetin, but she thought he might be free, in which case he would be almost sure to pall, so she rang him to say she would be out for the whole of the day. Naturally surprised, he asked where she was going. Jeanette told him and when next he spoke his tone was almost savage.
'It's him again! Is he forcing you to go or are you going of your own free will?'
'Certainly I'm going of my own free will, Cetin.' She was determined to be patient, realizing that his anger stemmed from jealousy. Moreover, she must avoid any unpleasantness, owing to Cetin's friendship for Gwen and Sally, and all the rest of the crowd. 'I've already told you that Craig can't influence my actions.'
'He has before - and he's doing so now! If he hadn't come along you'd have been going out with me!'
'No, Cetin. I had already made up my mind to tell you that I didn't want to go out with you again. I'm sorry - very sorry.' She felt convinced now that her suspicions had some foundation. Cetin would not have been content to let their relationship remain on a purely friendly basis.
'You're telling me that you never want to see me again?' His voice was low now, and knife-edged.
'Don't be silly; of course I shall see you. We'll all be going around together again just as soon as Sally and Gwen return. It's just that I don't think it is ... wise for you and me to go out on our own.' That wasn't the whole truth, but she could scarcely say she found no enjoyment in goirig around with him. She wasn't being very tactful, even so, but Cetin was making things difficult for her. Also, she was seized by a strange uneasiness, an uneasiness that almost amounted to fear. She saw Cetin now, not as he'd been on the night he declared his love, but as he was when first they had set out on the climbing expedition - ruthless, almost cruel. This strange fear caused her hand to tremble, and as the receiver shook she chided herself for her stupidity. What harm could Cetin possibly do to her?
Even as she asked herself that question she heard his voice again, still low, but sounding almost evil, and her apprehension grew.
'When can I see you, Jeanette?'
She hesitated, finding herself cautiously searching for words which would mollify while at the same time leaving him in no doubt as to her determination not to see him again until they resumed the practice of going about in a crowd.
'I don't know when I shall be in, Cetin.' She looked up as Craig passed the window. He raised a hand and smiled, then passed on and she heard him enter through the side door. 'We really must leave it until the others come back,' she told Cetin hurriedly. 'Please don't come here, I really mean that.' She. waited a few seconds, but, as he did not reply, she said good-bye and replaced the receiver.
There was a worried frown on her face as she joined Craig in the sitting-room; he looked at her searching but, to her relief, made no comment.
Murad, brown-faced and stolid, drove them into the city. As usual, chaos reigned supreme on the Galata Bridge, but Jeanette never seemed to mind the delay, for there was always so much to see. Before them was a little cart, loaded so that it seemed to sag under the weight, and drawn by a tired-looking horse whose driver appeared to have fallen asleep. Trudging along the sides of the bridge were the hamals, harnessed human beasts of burden carrying their fantastic loads, their backs bent double. On the side, too, the familiar spectacle of the Anatolian peasant with his wives in the rear, the numerous bootblacks, the usual array of fish being sold, freshly caught by the fishermen sitting around in their- boats tied up at the side of the bridge.
Later, they walked on to the bridge; this was even more exciting to Jeanette, and this time she had no anxiety about Craig's being bored. He seemed quite willing to stop and stare just whenever she wanted to, although he did remark, with a hint of amusement, that he would have expected her to be used to it all by now.
'I don't come into the old city that often,' she said, and after a slight hesitation, 'Can we go to the Grand Bazaar when we've done our essential shopping?'
'I suspect you're plotting an antique hunt—' He took her arm, urging her to one side as a grinning, toothless fishmonger thrust a lufer almost into her face. 'I wasn't thinking of spending the full day in the city, you know.'
She glanced up quickly, struck by the indulgent note in his voice. His dark eyes smiled at her teasingly.
'It's so tempting, Craig. Don't you find it impossible to come away, once you're there? Don't you feel excited when you've suddenly come across a bargain?' Even as she said that she thought of the Celadons. Craig would undoubtedly scorn some of the things she collected. 'I expect you have no need to search for bargains,' she added, while at the same time thinking that much of the pleasure must be lost if you could always afford to buy just whatever you desired.
'Now why should you think that? Of course I need to search for bargains — everyone does.'
'But... the Celadons?'
'My grandmother's collection mostly. Bought long before prices soared to what they are today. I myself have added a few, but they are now so rare, and so expensive, that my collection will grow very slowly, I'm afraid.'
The shopping completed, and their purchases taken back to the car, Jeanette and Craig made their way to the Bazaar. It was a city in itself, having grown from a small market built by the Sultan in the fifteenth century. There were numerous alleyways and streets, all narrow and pulsating with life. Stalls and shops lined these alleys, their goods spilling over into the roadway. Often their proprietors would be sitting together in groups, smoking narghiles and watching the passers by without any apparent interest.
'They don't look as if they, want to sell anything,' Jeanette remarked as they jostled their way between baskets and ropes, carpets and leather goods - to say nothing of the masses of tourists who now added their numbers to the already overcrowded city.
But if these particular groups of traders could sit contentedly smoking and chatting, it wasn't so with many of the others. Runners came up by the dozen, demanding to know what they wanted, and literally ushering them into the Inner Market where the dealers came out to meet them. At one time, as the crowd thickened, it seemed impossible that they would not be separated, and Craig took Jeanette's hand.
'What would you like?' he asked when, having managed successfully to convince the various traders that they were 'only looking' they found themselves unmolested and free to wander in peace. 'How about some jade?' He drew her towards a shop where, on the stall outside, there were some lovely jade and alabaster figures and vases.
See felt suddenly shy. It seemed wrong, somehow, for Craig to be buying her a present. But he had picked up a charming little Buddha which she had already noticed. Smilingly he
held it out to her, asking if she liked it. She paused for a long moment.
'Yes, I do, but—'
'We'll have it, then.' Without further ado he paid for it and they were soon on their way again, into the alley of jewellers. The windows dazzled, packed to capacity with glittering gold and silver and precious gems. There was a row of these shops, so brilliantly lighted that the heat from the windows could be felt in the middle of the alleyway.
'Are we going over there?' asked Jeanette, glancing at her companion uncertainly.
'You're determined to search through the junk?'
'Not if you don't want to,' she answered agreeably. But Craig steered her to where she wanted to go. They made slow progress, stepping over a miscellany of clothes and shoes and household articles scattered on the pavement, side-stepping the hamel laden with a great bale of cloth, evading the rather dignified approach of the young stall-holder bent on making a sale. It was excitingly oriental and colourful, teeming with movement amid a confusion of sounds.
'Oh, dear,' exclaimed Jeanette after about half an hour's futile search among the 'junk', 'I think I've had enough. It's so hot!' She put a hand to her brow, felt its moisture and brought out a handkerchief. She was limping slightly; she hadn't realized until Craig abruptly remarked on it
'Is it aching?' he added, a frown darkening his face.
'No, I don't think so.' Odd, but she could feel it now that Craig had mentioned it.
'It must be; otherwise you wouldn't be limping.' His tone had changed, hinting at anger.
Jeanette bit her lip, aware that he was thinking of the way she had ignored his advice about climbing with Cetin. And that must naturally lead his thoughts on to her letting him down over the book. It must appear, she mused dejectedly, that she had preferred to go with Cetin. Looking up into his stern set face, she wished she could explain. But she could hardly enlighten him as to the real reason for her change of mind about going with him to the island.
His manner remained stiff and cool as, after getting into the car, they were driven back across the bridge and along the Istiklal Caddesi to Taksim Square.
They had lunch at the famous Park Hotel and as the meal progressed Craig's manner relaxed, but he did seem anxious about the afternoon's trip to Eyup, because of course there was a hill to climb.
'I shall be all right,' she assured him. 'It was the heat that made me tired.' r
'It wasn't the heat that made you limp.' He picked up the menu, but wasn't reading it because he added, while still appearing to be scanning it, 'You'll have to take care. Is the doctor satisfied? He's not expecting any complications?'
She shook her head.
'No, he says it will ache for a while, but there's nothing to worry about.'
That appeared to satisfy him, but he warned her that if the leg continued to ache she must tell him and they'd go home at once.
'This rest will do it good. It's nothing serious, Craig.' She watched him as he sat reading the menu. The set line of his mouth had softened and she knew that his concern for her was genuine. He became aware of her intent gaze and looked up for a second and down again, returning his attention to the menu. She caught her breath. How handsome he was! She fell to thinking of Diane, seeing her and Craig dancing together and recalling that she had thought how well matched they were. And for the first time Jeanette felt a tinge of envy. The next moment she shook it off, ashamed. After what Diane had been through, after her great sacrifices for others she deserved a man like Craig, a man who would care for her and make up for all she had missed.
Jeanette turned, to stare out of the window, but she was only vaguely aware of the view; the mouth of the Golden Horn, the slender minarets of St. Sophia and the Sultan Ahmet Mosque and, away in the far distance, across the smooth dark Sea of Marmara, the shadowed outlines of the Princes' Islands. For she still retained the mental vision of Diane, laughing up at Craig as in perfect harmony they glided across the dance floor.
How soon, she wondered, before Diane and Craig were married?
The sudden stab of pain in her heart was almost physical; there was a heaviness behind her eyes, the weight of tears suppressed.
Unexpectedly Craig spoke, the sharpness of his tone jerking her back to her surroundings.
'My dear child, what are you thinking about to make you look like that ?'
Startled, she brought her gaze away from the window, forcing a smile.
'I was... miles away.' She even managed to laugh, though rather shakily. 'Have you noticed the view, Craig? It's- it's breathtaking!'
He looked at her, his eyes kindling, then he gave an exasperated sigh and almost snapped,
'Miles away, were you? In England, by any chance?'
'In England?' She stared at him. 'What do you mean?' Such an odd thing to say.... Had he, judging from her expression, assumed she was thinking of Ned? But why this anger? Why should Craig care if she sat there thinking about the past? Without conscious effort she found herself recalling other occasions when his anger had puzzled her. She remembered also those rare and precious moments when their intimacy was so profound that it seemed no two people could ever be closer. Her heart throbbed. Diane was forgotten as, confounded by the hint of an idea that had crossed her mind, she began to speak, her lips moving with difficulty, her words a mere whisper. 'No, Craig, I... I wasn't in—'
•Never mind,' he cut in abruptly. Tell me what you want, and let's eat.'
Their drive to Eyup took them once more across the Galata Bridge, past the Camii of Rustem Pasha, with its vast dome and shining minarets, past Ayvansaray, the narrow part of the Golden Horn, where ferrymen waited to take people across the smooth and tideless water. The mighty land walls of Byzantium, vast and colourful, seemed to sway in the quivering haze cast by the intense brilliance of the sun.
And then they came to the Moslem shrine, the turbe of Abu Eyup, disciple of Mahomet and the Prophet's personal standard-bearer. The change was staggering; from the throng of moving, living things they passed into a fantastic city of the dead, fantastic because of its orderliness, for the dead were lying in rows, and sometimes in squares, massed together.
'All these graves!' Jeanette stared unbelievingly around her. 'There must be miles of them!'
Craig went on to explain that because Eyup was so good., so holy, the desire of all Moslems was to be buried as close to him as possible.
Strangely, there was nothing macabre about this vast city of the dead; on the contrary, perhaps owing to hundreds of years of veneration by devout pilgrims from all over the Moslem world, there was spread around an atmosphere of peace similar to that of which Jeanette had been so profoundly conscious on first entering the Mosque of Sultan Ahmet.
'As we are infidels, we cannot enter the turbe,' Craig informed her with a wry smile. 'You'll have to be content with looking through the grating.'
They then made their way through the forest of graves to Pierre Loti's cafe where, sitting apart from the tourist, several men were drinking coffee or smoking narghiles. Craig, Jeanette noticed, was watching her movement closely and she was not surprised when, after they had found seats, he inquired if her leg were aching.
'No, it's fine,' she answered truthfully, smiling at him across the table. The tension that had come between them at lunch time was gone and Craig seemed just as determined as she to enjoy their outing.
They sipped their coffee, sitting outside the cafe. The proprietor spoke to them, rattling off some well-rehearsed details of Pierre Loti's association with the place, and informing them that souvenirs of him could be bought at most reasonable prices. Craig thanked him politely but refused his offer of the souvenirs.
Below them Istanbul shimmered in the heat, a magic, semi-oriental city like something out of The Arabian Nights. In the other direction, away across the wide expanse of tombs, lay the Sweet Waters of Europe where, it was believed, the first settlement was made by the Dorian tribes almost three thousand years ago.
The sun was beginning to set as they drove
back to Ortakoy. Craig had said earlier that they would dine out, but they had had a tiring day, with the heat and the walking, and he suggested they have dinner again at his house, and he would take Jeanette home immediately afterwards.
About this arrangement she had no complaint; nothing could round off her day more pleasantly than to dine alone with Craig. Again it was an informal meal, taken on the verandah, with the flower-scented air all around and the starlit sky above.
She thought, as she got into bed, that she would always remember it as one of the happiest days of her life but, putting out a hand to snap off the bed lamp, she caught sight of the little jade Buddha that Craig had bought for her. A sickening despair took possession of her; she turned her face into the pillow, trying to ease the throbbing pain behind her eyes.
CHAPTER SEVEN
During the next few days Jeanette and Craig covered hundreds of miles. Their travels took them over to the quieter, rather rustic eastern shore of the Bosphorus; to Scutari where thousands of Anatolian peasants lived in their picturesque wooden yalis. They visited beauty spots and palaces, quaint waterside cafes where they could choose their lobster, still alive, and eat it less than an hour later. They climbed the hill at Kanlica at seven one evening to watch the fantastic sunset, then sat idling in a village cafe eating the yogurt for which Kanlica is famous. They spent an idyllic afternoon exploring the Sweet Waters of Asia, that playground of Ottoman society, haunt of the Sultans whose guests, rowed upstream in ornately gilded barges manned by six liveried kayikei, would picnic beneath the shade of the trees.
In the evenings Jeanette and Craig would visit a night club or restaurant. One evening they went to a concert at the Italian Consulate and Jeanette was introduced to several people who knew Craig. She was eyed with interest and surprise, for, of course, Craig usually went to such functions either alone or with a man friend.