‘When you hear your name, don’t move. Don’t even move your eyes. Keep looking downwards. Study your hands. Concentrate on your lips, on keeping them still. Even when you want to laugh. Especially when you feel like screaming. Try to let your thoughts wander, because it’s easier to keep this pretence going if you’re really not listening. Whenever possible, pick up a book. But even then, don’t let your guard down. Once you understand a language, it will always find a way through to you. You can’t shut it out.’
The closest call Jeannie had during her last three weeks in Turkey was on the 17th of May, and there was a reason why she remembered the date. The gang had gone out to Burgaz that day. Sinan’s mother was back from Paris and staying on the island with her two dearest friends. They’d invited out the ‘children’ for a day of ‘sun and sea.’ It was only on the ferry that Jeannie found out one of Sinan’s mother’s ‘dearest friends’ was Suna’s mother, and the other Lüset’s.
The house to which they had been invited belonged to Lüset’s family. And here was another piece of news: Lüset’s family was Jewish. How could it be that no one had thought to mention that? A pout and the shrug of the shoulders. ‘It is perhaps not significant.’
The house was a sprawling modern bungalow with verandas on several levels and its own landing. Across the channel were the forested hills of Heybeliada. The season had not yet begun and there were two maids busily shaking out dust covers when they walked into the sitting room. In the kitchen, another team was rolling böreks. On the television set in the corner – a trophy set, one of the first in the country – they were giving the latest about the terrible earthquake in Burdur Province several days before, in which a thousand people were thought to have died. The maids stopped shaking their dust covers for a moment to shake their heads. They were surprised when Jeannie did not do the same. ‘She’s a foreigner,’ said one to the other, ‘She doesn’t understand.’
‘Don’t foreigners have hearts?’ the other asked.
‘Of course! They must! But when the man spoke, it meant nothing to her.’
‘What sort of life is that?’
Exactly, Jeannie thought. Exactly! She fled the room. She had no idea where to go so decided it must be the bathroom. She opened a door – not the bathroom. Suna was sitting on a bed with her back to her. And what was that on the chest of drawers in front of her – a jewellery case?
She jumped. Looked around. Such fear in her eyes, but then she saw who it was. ‘Excuse me,’ Jeannie said. Shutting the door, she moved on to the next room. This seemed to be a study. Lüset was sitting at the desk. ‘I’ll be out in a minute,’ she said in Turkish without looking up. ‘I just need to make a call.’ But after Jeannie had closed the door, she heard Lüset opening up the filing cabinet.
‘Enough long faces!’ said Suna’s mother, bounding down the corridor ‘The sun waits for no man! Into the sea with you, at once!’ So began the slow procession to the sea. When they returned, dripping, an hour or so later, the mothers were waiting gaily with large towels and tall glasses of apricot juice. They were dressed in short, bright shifts and sang along to every song they put on the stereo. Jacques Brel, Adamo, Christophe, Peppino di Capri, Jose Feliciano, Petula Clark, the Monkees. From time to time, one stood up to try out a new dance step. Then she would beckon for the other two to join her. And to the children: ‘What is haunting you? What is youth except a chance for endless fun?’
Over lunch, Sinan’s mother reached into her handbag and produced a little red book. It was the little red book. ‘Sinan. Darling. Look what I have.’
‘What’s more, my dear boy. I have read it. I cannot, however, say I understand a single word.’ She opened at random. ‘“The revolution is not a dinner party.” Is this a code, or a metaphor? A deep thought, or a senseless rambling?’
Switching into Turkish, he told her that if she kept it up, he was going to walk out that door and she’d never see him again. Turning to Jeannie, Sibel said, ‘What am I to do with this boy, if he says such things to his own mother? Tell me, Jeannie darling, what propels the youth of today to such drivel?’
‘It isn’t drivel,’ Suna informed them.
‘It’s worse than drivel – it’s nonsense!’ her mother cried.
‘Is it nonsense to wish for a better world?’
‘What world could be better than this?’ she said, gesturing at the sea, the forested hills of Heybeliada, the cloudless sky. ‘What more could you want?’
‘I could want freedom,’ Suna said. ‘I could want to choose my own life.’
‘Ah. How American this school of yours has made you!’ Suna’s mother turned to her friends. ‘Who would have thought it? My daughter! An American!’
‘Is it American to wish for human dignity?’ Suna cried. ‘Is it American to wish for simple freedom of expression – or ask why our beloved country is the slave of the West?’
‘Terbiyesiz,’ hissed her mother. ‘Watch your manners.’
‘Bırak, canım,’ said Lüset’s mother. ‘Let it go. We are here to have fun.’
So suddenly it was time to swim again. This time the mothers came down, too. ‘Let’s have a race,’ Suna’s mother said. ‘How far shall we go?’
Suna said, ‘China.’ She jumped into the sea first. The three mothers followed her. Jeannie headed off in the opposite direction, stopping to rest on a float. When Sinan joined her, they sat in silence, watching a ferry crossing over from Heybeliada. He reached for her hand. ‘Do you remember, last summer, when the ferry stopped in Burgaz?’ he asked in a soft voice she’d not heard for some time. ‘And you saw people’s stories trailing after them like comets?’
‘Well, I don’t any more,’ she said.
‘How could you? You’re stuck inside one.’
She had not been planning to say this. But the words rushed out.
‘I saw Suna going through some jewellery.’
‘Oh?’
‘And Lüset going through a filing cabinet.’
‘How strange,’ Sinan said.
‘Tell me what they’re up to.’
Silence.
‘For God’s sake, tell me what is going on!’
A sigh. ‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘I promised not to.’
‘Look. You’ve got to decide. If you can’t trust me…’
‘It’s not you. I think you know that.’
‘Then prove it to me.’
‘Let me think.’
‘Okay, then,’ he said finally. She was right, he went on to explain. Something was up. Something important. So they had to be ready. Ready for anything. To this end, they were ‘gathering’ money for an escape fund. When he swam back to shore, Sinan was hoping to get into his mother’s handbag and avail himself of the key to the safe she kept in her bedroom.
Could Jeannie create a distraction for him? Did she love him that much? But by the time they reached house, the commotion had already been created.
The entire household was gathered around the television. When the man on the screen repeated the news – that the Israeli consul in Istanbul had just been kidnapped – Lüset’s mother let out a shriek.
On the screen now were several harried looking men and women who’d also been taken hostage but had managed to escape. They were describing their captors. Students, they said. Students! Jeannie thought. Why did they blame everything on students? Turning to Haluk, she said, ‘How can they be so sure?’
Haluk turned to look at her. ‘So sure of what?’ he asked.
‘That they’re students. How did they find out the names so fast?’ Haluk paused before replying. ‘You understood all this?’ He scratched his head. ‘And Sinan knows?’