Last Train to Istanbul (19 page)

Selva’s face dropped. She vented her anger on Fazıl, who was carrying all of his toys from the bedroom into the sitting room.

“I want you to take those back where they belong immediately!” she shouted at her son. She got up and took the half-empty cup from the small table. “Well, I’m pleased to have met you. Now I have things to do.”

It was obvious this woman hadn’t expected such a reaction.

“I’m sorry if I offended you, madame,” the woman said shakily.

“I’m not offended,” Selva said.

“Can I possibly call on you again, in a week?”

“No, please don’t come again.”

“Can I telephone you?”

“No, don’t.”

“I can see I have offended you. I can assure you, I didn’t mean to. I’m so desperate, please forgive me.”

“There was no offense taken.”

“Still, I’d better leave my telephone number in case you change your mind.”

She took a pencil from her bag and wrote the number on the back of the children’s photograph. Selva stood waiting by her side. Finally the woman got up and walked to the door. She and Fazıl followed, and stood by the door. The woman patted his head.

“You’re a mother too,” she said, almost in tears. “I have faith in you, only because of this…only because you are a mother.”

Selva closed the door, picked up Fazıl, and, as she walked back to the sitting room, she muttered through her teeth, “Insolent woman!” She put Fazıl down, picked up her unfinished coffee, and glanced out of the window. There was a commotion at the crossroads. Opening the window, she heard the shouts. On their motorcycles, the Gestapo were gathering at the corner. She could see people running here and everywhere.

Selva leaned out of the window and called out, “Madame…Madame…Madame Afnaim.”

The woman had just stepped out of the front door. When she heard Selva calling, she looked up.

“Come back,” called Selva. “Come back upstairs immediately.” She rushed to the telephone without even closing the window and dialed Rafo’s number.

“Rafo? Rafo, is that you? Hide yourself. For God’s sake, hide yourself immediately; don’t dare come out of the storeroom until I call you again.”

She put the telephone down and went to open the door.

“It’s incredible; they sprang up from nowhere. They’re harassing people at the crossroads. You’d better wait here until the coast is clear.”

The woman was shaking in front of the door. “God bless you, my friend,” she said, walking toward the corner window without even taking her coat off. “There are far too many Jews living in this neighborhood. That’s why we haven’t a moment’s peace. Unfortunately, those who aren’t Jewish have to contend with this too.”

Selva and Camilla jostled one another to get into the narrow space at the corner window, and Fazıl started to cry because he wanted to sit on his mother’s lap.

“Stop it!” she scolded. “This is no time to cry. Stop that at once, do you hear me?”

Fazıl heard the piercing sound of the sirens. He got frightened and stopped crying.

Selva knelt down beside her son. “Come on, why don’t you go and play with your red truck in the bedroom, my darling.”

“Madame Alfandari, look what they’re doing! My God! No, no, surely that’s too much!”

Selva stood up and tried to look out over the woman’s shoulder. Two German soldiers were grasping the arms of a young man who was screaming at the top of his voice. A third German forcefully pulled his trousers down. With a burst of energy, the young man struggled to prevent them from pulling down his underpants, but
to no avail. Selva shut her eyes tightly. When she opened them, they were dragging the young man, shoving him into an army vehicle.

“Look over there, on the left, they have lined up all the men. Do you see that? They’re at it again!”

Selva changed places with the woman, and leaned slightly out the window. The woman was right. The men were being forcibly stripped and checked. A little boy was running down the street, hiding himself in the doorways.

“Have you got any binoculars?” asked the woman.

“What on earth for?”

“I can’t recognize the men in the lineup from here. Maybe I could with binoculars. I’d like to know if there are any friends of mine.”

“I don’t have binoculars,” said Selva. “Madame Afnaim—your surname is Afnaim, isn’t it?—please keep away from the window. What good would it do even if you did know some of them?”

She closed the window and drew the curtain, but the woman continued watching the street.

“Look! Look, they’re taking one more away; they’re dragging him by force. My God! The poor man’s pants are hanging around his ankles!”

Selva put her arm affectionately around the woman’s shoulders. “Come on, madame, don’t watch this brutality. Give me your coat and sit down over here.”

“Please call me Camilla.”

“Camilla, let me warm up the coffee you didn’t finish before.”

“Madame Alfandari…”

“Please call me Selva.”

“Selva, don’t you think we should do what you did before? Even though they refused your offer, I think we ought to call the people down your street to warn them. I can call those in my street and warn them not to go out.”

“Excellent idea! You start calling your friends while I look for my telephone numbers.”

As Selva went to the bedroom to find her notebook, Camilla had already dialed her first number.

“Menahim, this is Camilla. The Gestapo are at the crossroads and carrying out circumcision checks by force. Call the school and tell them that on no account should they send the boys home. Warn the Razons too, and tell them to warn those in their street; everyone should call one another. I’ll call the Marcus family…”

ANKARA

Dr. Sahir Erhan tried to remember where he had met this handsome man who had insisted on a lunchtime appointment. He couldn’t figure it out, and he looked again at the card in his hand.

Macit Devres
Ministry of Foreign Affairs
Political Department
Director

“I’m sorry,” he said, “your face is so familiar to me, but I can’t remember where we’ve met. Ankara’s not a big city. Our paths must have crossed somewhere.”

“Actually, you have an excellent memory. We played bridge at Dr. Celal’s house about two years ago.”

“Really!”

“But we weren’t sitting at the same table.”

“In that case, my memory is far from excellent. That’s awful. I don’t know how I could have forgotten.”

“I probably wouldn’t have remembered you either if Dr. Celal hadn’t reminded me of that summer weekend when we played
bridge. To tell you the truth, I couldn’t picture you from his description, but I did recognize you as soon as I walked in.”

“So, you play bridge too. You must play well if you have earned a place at Dr. Celal’s house.”

“I’m sure I’d get better if I had the opportunity to play more. Unfortunately, we are very busy at the office these days. I’m tied to my desk.”

Eventually, Dr. Sahir put a stop to the niceties and got down to business.

“So, what can I do for you?” He handed a file he took from his drawer to Macit. “First of all, I’d appreciate it if you could complete this form for me. Obviously, there are some details I need.”

Macit refused the file. “I’d rather not, Doctor. You see, I’m not here for myself.”

“Oh!”

“I didn’t want to tell your secretary. My wife has an appointment with you tomorrow, and I decided to come and have a preliminary chat with you beforehand.”

Dr. Sahir was puzzled. Could this be a jealous husband? “Are you someone who doesn’t believe in psychological treatment?”

“Not at all! Quite the opposite, in fact. You can’t imagine what I went through to persuade my wife to see a psychiatrist. Dr. Celal is both our family doctor and a friend. It was he who persuaded Sabiha to come and see you.”

“So what is it that you want to speak to me about?”

“Sabiha, my wife, is coming to see you at three tomorrow afternoon. I believe she’s been going through a crisis for some time now. She can’t sleep at night, and she’s certainly unhappy; she’s always on edge, and is becoming more and more withdrawn. But there’s nothing in our lives to make her feel like this. It is true that, in view of the present circumstances, I’m not in a position to devote much
time to her. Consequently, we’ve drifted apart a bit. But not to the extent that would cause a crisis.”

“You are aware, of course, that there are many details that can affect one’s life.”

“I’m sure my wife will tell you all about her sister in France and her father’s recent heart attack.”

“I see!”

“That’s all true, but it’s not my reason for being here.”

“I’m listening.”

“I am actually here because I am concerned about my young daughter. Our dear Hülya; she’s only eight, but I’m afraid my wife doesn’t…let’s just say that she doesn’t seem very interested in her daughter. The child is very bright and is obviously aware of this. I believe she’s reacting to the fact that her mother doesn’t care about her. She needs affection.
Inşallah
, my wife will get over this problem, but my worry is the repercussions it will have on my daughter. How are we to sort out the damage done to the child?”

“If you don’t mind, I think I ought to see my patient first.”

“Of course, Doctor, I understand that, but I am sure Sabiha won’t be talking to you about the situation with our daughter. That’s why I took it upon myself to explain it to you. You might be able to get to the bottom of her indifference. It seems my daughter desperately seeks affection from her grandparents because her mother can’t give her any. In my opinion, this is not at all healthy.”

“Has it occurred to you that your wife’s condition might be as a result of indifference too?”

“I beg your pardon. I don’t understand.”

“Lack of love damages older people just as much as it damages the young.”

“Of course.”

“You’ve told me that your wife is going through a crisis, and yet you are more concerned about your daughter than her. You told me
that because the child is bright, she’s aware of her mother’s negligence and realizes that maybe her mother doesn’t love her enough.”

“True.”

“Isn’t it possible then that because your wife is bright and intelligent too, she might be aware of certain things that contribute toward her unhappiness?”

“I can assure you that I am entirely faithful to my wife and hold her in my highest esteem.”

“Love and esteem are two entirely different things. From what you tell me, it is possible that you may be withholding love and affection from your wife, even though you hold her in high regard.”

“Really!” Macit replied, feeling confused. He took his watch from his pocket and looked at the time. His lunch break was coming to an end. “It’s true I may have been neglecting my wife because I am inundated with work lately, but then that’s why we invited her parents to stay with us.”

“I wish it were possible to assign deputies to deal with our loved ones; what a shame that mothers and fathers can’t replace husbands and wives. Even you are exasperated because your daughter has more of an affinity with her grandparents than her own mother. There’s a new therapy being practiced in Europe now. It’s for family members who don’t see eye to eye and it’s called, simply, family therapy. It is not being used extensively yet, but I’m sure that very soon its value will be appreciated. The therapist gathers all the family together at the same time; he listens to their problems and tries to find a solution. Would you be interested in this method?”

“Frankly, I’d rather not get involved. I’m against my daughter seeing a psychiatrist at her age anyway. It’s my wife who made the appointment to see you because of her stress. I merely wanted to give you the picture regarding my daughter.”

“It’s up to you; however, I’d rather you didn’t see psychiatrists as some sort of bogeymen. We are here to help people of all ages.”

“I can assure you I don’t see you as bogeymen, of course not. As for that ‘together therapy’ or whatever it’s called…I’m not for it.”

“In that case, I’m very grateful that you took the time to inform me of these details. Let’s hope that after I have spoken to your wife, I might be able to come up with some form of therapy to help all of you. Knowing your wife’s attitude toward her daughter will be helpful; you’ve definitely helped me on that score.” Dr. Sahir got up to show Macit to the door. “I’ll ask Celal to organize a bridge party for us one evening when you are free,” he added, shaking hands.

On his way out of the building, Macit muttered, “Yes, by all means let him organize a bridge party so I can really show you, you smart aleck!”