The goddess of Mavisu

by Rebecca Stratton

  Delia said nothing but merely smiled, for it was doubtful if either of the two young men referred to saw her as a goddess, certainly not Kemal Selim, to whom she could have been no more than an unwelcome guest in his grandfather's home.

  But she did not take offence, for she liked the little Frenchwoman and found her easy to talk to and very ready to be friendly. Despite having spent more than thirty years in Turkey she still delved into her own tongue quite often, and especially for terms of endearment. She was short and stockily built with greying brown hair and light brown eyes, and she had a rather impish sense of humour which Delia felt sure must have been little exer-

  cised during her years of exile.

  Madame Renoir's sister had married Sadi Selim's only son during the second world war and they had both been killed, along with her own husband, when Kemal was still a babe in arms. As soon as she was able to travel freely she had brought to Sadi Selim his only grandson and the hospitality he had offered her in gratitude had persuaded her to stay on.

  She had cared for Kemal with as much devotion as if he had been her own son, even though she had seen him grow into a man as completely Turkish as his father and his grandfather were. She seemed to have no regrets about her long sojourn in an alien land, and indeed she fitted into this very Turkish household perfectly and seemed very happy.

  As she looked at Delia her brown eyes sparkled. 'You like to dig?' she asked, as if such an occupation was beyond her comprehension. 'Do you really enjoy it, ma chère?'

  Delia laughed, shaking her head to deny any serious participation in the actual excavating. 'I mostly just keep the records, madame,' she said, 'that's why I'm here. Sometimes I'm allowed to actually help uncover the finds, but to be perfectly honest, I'm not very good at it.'

  'Ah! ' Madame Renoir smiled her understanding, but it was obvious that the appeal and fascination of archaeology was a closed book to her and she shrugged her ample shoulders in resignation. 'I would become very bored,' she said. 'Do you not long to see something more exciting than old ruins,

  Delia?' She used her hands to try and convey her meaning. 'Would you not like to drive, perhaps, and to see some of the beauties of Anatolia?'

  Unsure just how serious the question was, Delia took a moment to consider. She would like to see some of the countryside, she could not deny it. Perhaps even go shopping in Antalya or drive along the coast to Side or Alanya; there was so much to see and she only now realised how restricted her activities had been lately.

  It had not occurred to Clifford to offer to take her driving and sightseeing, but she couldn't really blame him for that, her uncle was dedicated to his task and he expected the same single mindedness in his assistant. It was not that Uncle Arthur would have no sympathy with the idea of Clifford taking her out somewhere occasionally, but it simply did not occur to him that anyone would want to do anything else, and Clifford was not bold enough to suggest it even if he thought of it.

  `I—I'd enjoy going out somewhere for a change,' Delia said, and realised as she made the admission that Kemal. Selim was looking at her with obvious interest.

  `Then we will go!' Madame Renoir decided with a smile. 'And since your uncle and Monsieur Aitkin are occupied with the digging, I think that Kemal will drive you and me for a tour of the sights, eh?' She looked along the table at her nephew, her eyes twinkling merrily. 'Will you not, chere?' she asked.

  Delia hastily avoided the steady gaze of those dark eyes, her breath caught in her throat. The

  company of Kemal Selim was something she had not counted on and she doubted very much if he would be as amenable as his aunt suggested. Either way would prove a source of embarrassment to Delia, she felt sure of it.

  `If Miss Crompton agrees to the arrangement,' Kemal Selim answered quietly, but without hesitation. 'Do you, hanim?'

  Delia scarcely believed her own ears and she hesitated, though only briefly. She was aware suddenly that Clifford had apparently abandoned his interest in the conversation between her uncle and their host and was looking across at her with a faint frown between his brows, as if he was unsure what was being said but suspected it was not to his liking.

  Her heart was thudding heavily in her breast and Delia found the prospect of being taken sightseeing by Kemal Selim much more exciting than she could have imagined, even with Madame Renoir to chaperone them. 'Of course—I'll be very grateful if you can spare the time, Mr. Selim, thank you,' she said in a not quite steady voice, and he inclined his head in a brief gesture that somehow mocked her thanks.

  'Bir sey degil, hanim!' He murmured the words softly, but even so her uncle looked across at him curiously. Meeting his gaze, Kemal smiled faintly. 'I am to take your niece for a drive, professor,' he told him. 'With your permission, of course and in the company of madame, my aunt.'

  `Oh! ' For a few seconds the professor looked

  vaguely startled, as if he had suddenly been pitched into an alien world. 'A drive, you say? Oh yes, of course, Kemal Bey, that's very kind of you! ' He turned his short-sighted eyes on Delia again and smiled. 'You go and enjoy yourself, Delia my dear,' he told her. 'There are some magnificent sites all along this coast. The—the theatre at Aspendos, you must see that, and the city at Perge. They're both only a few kilometres from here and you'd find them most interesting! '

  To Delia it was no more than she expected and she barely restrained a smile. It was useless to expect her uncle to show an interest in anything other than archaeological ruins, but Madame Renoir was shaking her head at him in gentle despair. 'No, no, monsieur,' she chided. 'It is to make a change for Delia that we wish to take her driving. Some shopping perhaps, or to visit the beaches and swim —there is much to see and do.' Her bright, mischievous eyes turned again to Delia. 'You would like to swim, eh, chérie?'

  'Oh yes, I'd love to ! ' Delia said, and Madame Renoir nodded her satisfaction.

  'It is agreed,' she declared firmly. 'Tomorrow we will go!'

  Delia looked at her uncle almost apologetically. He would be at a loss to understand why she wanted to get away for a while and see something more of Turkey than the limited confines of Sadi Selim's property, no matter how beautiful it was. The need for outside distractions would not make sense to him when they were daily growing more close to

  proving a theory, and she felt almost guilty as she looked at him.

  'I won't be gone very long, Uncle Arthur,' she told him. 'But I'd love to go shopping with Madame Renoir, and go swimming as well, if it's possible.'

  'It is possible,' Kemal Selim interposed quietly, 'and I am a strong swimmer, hanim, you need have no fears.'

  'Oh! Oh no, of course—I haven't!'

  Delia curled her hands tightly into themselves. The possibility of such personal attention had never even entered her head and she found her heart racing wildly when she contemplated the idea of that strong, lean body swimming beside her in the warm sea. Even in imagination it was a dizzying thought and she hastily shook herself back to common sense before her emotions got out of hand.

  'Lara is little more than twenty kilometres from here,' Kemal Selim was saying, and his strong hands dismissed the distance as unimportant. 'It has an excellent beach and it will not be over-populated at this time of year.'

  Meaning that there would be fewer intrusive foreign visitors, Delia thought ruefully, but refused to be tempted by the obvious bait. Hesitantly she met his eyes, quite incredibly excited at the prospect of going out with him. 'I'm sure it's lovely,' she said, 'and I'd love to go.'

  Once more he inclined his head in that half

  mocking bow. 'Then you shall go, hanim! ' he said.

  Her uncle still looked vaguely puzzled by it all,

  but Madame Renoir was smiling, a wide beam of

  satisfaction that gave a glow to her brown eyes, and it was only as she resumed her meal that Delia noticed Clifford's frown. He had never before shown signs of jealousy, but she could think of no other explanation for that frown other than dislike of her going with Ke
mal Selim.

  `If I'd known you wanted to go swimming, Delia,' he ventured in his quiet voice, 'I'd have taken you —why didn't you say?'

  Uneasily aware that everyone at the table was waiting to hear what she had to say, although ostensibly getting on with their meal, Delia shook her head. `I—I didn't like to bother you, Clifford,' she told him. 'You're so busy, you and Uncle Arthur, and I didn't like to take you away just when things are going well.'

  Clifford's grey eyes studied her curiously for a second, as if he too found her desire for change beyond his understanding. 'Things are going well,' he agreed, 'that's why I can't understand why you suddenly want to go off somewhere, just when we've made a breakthrough!'

  `Perhaps you grow tired of history, Delia Hanim,' Sadi Selim suggested quietly from the head of the table, and Delia hastily shook her head, seeking an answer that would be both truthful and polite.

  `Oh no, not at all! ' she denied, and smiled at the old man reassuringly. 'It's simply that I—I'd like to see more of your lovely country, Sadi Bey. I'm sure there's more to Turkey than one ruined temple! '

  `Very much more,' Sadi Selim agreed, and nod-

  ded his head as if he recognised her tact and it pleased him. 'Also you will find my grandson an excellent instructor in many things, Delia Hanim. There is much you will discover about our country and our people under his guidance '

  It sounded, Delia thought a little dizzily, as if he anticipated her spending the rest of her stay in Kemal Selim's company, and she was quite sure that the younger man had neither the intention nor the desire for that. Glancing at Kemal briefly, she shook her head. 'Oh, but I couldn't put Kemal Bey to so much trouble too often,' she denied in a deceptively meek voice. 'I'm sure he has other and more important things to do.'

  'And I can take you anywhere you want to go,' Clifford insisted, speaking up swiftly before Kemal had time to either agree with Delia or to support his grandfather's suggestion.

  Her uncle, apparently following the general gist of the conversation, peered at Clifford over the top of his spectacles and frowned. 'Oh, I don't think so, my dear fellow,' he told him. 'We're getting on very well, but I need your help now more than ever when we're nearing our goal.' He looked at Delia with a vague, kindly smile on his face. 'Besides,' he added cheerfully, 'Delia doesn't need you to run around after her, do you, my dear?'

  Between two stools, Delia looked at Clifford with sympathy and understanding. She would have liked to have his company, but she could not honestly claim that his not being there would spoil her enjoyment, whereas there was an exciting sense of

  anticipation about Kemal Selim being her guide—always providing he agreed, of course.

  Quite unconsciously she glanced again at Kemal, but he was getting on with his meal and apparently not taking the slightest interest in what was being said. 'Oh, I'll be all right, Uncle Arthur,' she assured him, and was not quite fast enough to avoid Kemal's eyes when he suddenly looked up.

  `Naturally you will be—all right, hanim,' he told her. 'Have I not given my word?'

  CHAPTER TWO

  MADAME RENOIR had had no second thoughts about the promised outing, as Delia discovered the following morning just after breakfast. Her uncle and Clifford had already left for the dig, although Clifford had given her a backward glance as he went out that she thought was meant to convey a dislike of the situation—the same dislike he had implied last evening at dinner.

  The big salon with its countless mirrors and brightly coloured hanging rugs was one of Delia's favourite rooms and spelled the very essence of Turkey, she thought. An ornately carved ceiling and various brass and gilt ornaments made it exotic, and wide open windows, their shutters

  fastened back, let in a blessedly cool breeze from the not too distant ocean.

  It was delightfully quiet and peaceful and Delia sat beside one of the windows looking out over the gardens, curled up on one of the huge traditional floor cushions, still unsure whether or not she looked forward to several hours in the company of Kemal Selim. His aunt had more or less commandeered his services as chauffeur and Sadi Selim had given him little option about acting as guide. Kemal himself had seemed willing enough, but Delia still had reservations about it.

  Madame Renoir's appearance put an end to her speculation and she looked up hastily and smiled, then lazily got to her feet. Madame Renoir swept an approving glance over the light blue cotton dress she wore and nodded, apparently satisfied with her appearance, although Delia herself had wondered if it was not a little too simple for shopping in town.

  'Charming,' Madame Renoir declared smilingly. 'You look quite charming, ma chère!'

  'Thank you, madame.' Delia looked across the room, wondering where Kemal could be and if he had, after all, changed his mind.

  'Kemal is fetching the car,' she was told, as if the older woman had followed her thoughts. 'We will see him in a few moments.'

  She checked that Delia had sun-glasses and a shady hat against the sun, and that the large canvas bag she was taking contained a swimming costume and everything else she was likely to need. 'First we will visit Antalya and perhaps do some shop-

  ping,' she decided, 'and then we will find a good beach for you to have the swim, ma there.' Her round face smiled and the bright brown eyes hinted mischief as she looked at Delia slyly. 'This day will be good for you and for Kemal too,' she decreed. 'You do not have the gift to—relax, huh?'

  A little startled to find herself classed with Kemal in any category at all, Delia smiled doubtfully. 'I can't answer for Kemal Bey,' she told her, 'but I'm perfectly relaxed, madame, and I'm certainly looking forward to our trip.'

  'Bon!'

  Leading the way into the wide coolness of the hall, Madame Renoir squeezed her hand impulsively, her brown eyes bright with anticipation, and for the first time Delia realised just how much it meant to the little Frenchwoman to have feminine company after living in an all-male household for several years.

  Sadi Selim, she knew, had three daughters, but all were married now and had daughters of their own. Since his wife's death some years before the household had lacked feminine company altogether except for the servants and Madame Renoir must have missed it.

  `Do you go shopping very often, madame?' Delia asked, and those expressive plump shoulders shrugged lightly.

  `Whenever I wish to,' she said, then smiled as if she suddenly realised that Delia saw her as a lonely exile. 'But I have friends whom I visit, ma thère,'

  she told her softly. 'And this is my home—I am content.'

  'Oh yes, of course! ' Delia agreed hastily. simply wondered if you ever ' She stopped, seeking the right words, and Madame Renoir smiled understanding as she shook her head.

  'If I ever grow lonely?' she suggested. `Mais non, petite, my life is too full! Of course when Kemal takes a wife I will be happier, for then ' She shrugged those expressive shoulders once more and her eyes gleamed with anticipation for the moment. 'Perhaps I will be allowed to care for Kemal's little ones, hmm?'

  'Oh! Oh yes, I'm sure you will!' Delia assured her hastily, stunned for the moment by the thought of Kemal being on the brink of marriage.

  It was oddly discomfiting being drawn into such a conversation, and Delia found herself in something of a quandary. She was reluctant to appear any more than politely interested and yet she could not deny a consuming curiosity about the man she found at once disturbing and irresistible. She could not imagine why Madame Renoir had spoken so freely on so intimate a matter as her nephew's personal affairs, but Delia's pulses were suddenly hammering so hard that she felt breathless with it.

  `But I'd no idea that Kemal was ' She stopped hastily, appalled to realise how close she had come to betraying the curiosity she felt about Kemal's plans, and seeing the warm flush of colour in her cheeks Madame Renoir smiled faintly and patted her hand.

  'I too have no idea, cherie,' she confessed softly but with a hint of mischief in her eyes. But I am hopeful that soon my Kemal will gladden the heart
of his grandpapa and also his aunt by taking a wife —le bon Dieu knows it is time that he did!'

  Delia merely smiled, trying to make it appear as if the subject was of no more than passing interest to her, but she would have given much to discover whether or not Kemal Selim had some wealthy and beautiful Turkish girl in mind for the honour. That the chosen bride would be both wealthy and beautiful Delia had no doubt—Kemal Selim was the kind of man who would expect nothing less.

  Shaking herself hastily out of a train of thought that she found strangely disturbing, she turned her head to see Clifford coming across the hall. Even at a distance his grey eyes behind their lenses looked darkly unhappy and she felt suddenly and quite inexplicably guilty about the proposed outing.

  He was wearing a pair of well-washed fawn shorts and a faded blue shirt, a combination that did nothing to dispel the air of absentminded untidiness about him. A frown drew his brows together above the dark rims of his spectacles as he came across to where she stood beside Madame Renoir, and it struck her that he had something on his mind.

  'I wondered if you might be gone by now, Delia,' he said, and flicked a brief uneasy glance at Madame Renoir; as if he wished she was anywhere but standing beside Delia at the moment.

  More certain than ever that he had something on

  his mind, Delia shook her head. `Mr. Selim—Kemal Bey's gone for the car,' she told him. She was never sure whether she ought to anglicise Kemal's name or not, and Madame Renoir glanced at her curiously when she changed her mind. 'Is something wrong, Clifford?' she asked hastily. 'Did you want to see me about something?'