Last Train to Istanbul Read online

  “What’s retired, Grandma?”

  “Old people retire when they get old. That’s to say they don’t work anymore. They stay at home, like Grandpa.”

  “Will my father spend time with us when he re…re…whatever it’s called?”

  “There’s a long time to go yet, darling, but of course he’ll always be at home then.”

  “I think it’s better if he doesn’t. Whenever he’s at home there’s a quarrel.”

  “I’ve never heard your parents quarrel,” Leman Hanım said in a severe tone.

  “That’s true; they haven’t, since you’ve been here. Oh! Granny, why don’t you always stay with us? I wish you’d never leave. When you’re not here, my mother is always ill. She keeps on sulking and crying.”

  Really! Out of the mouths of babes, thought Leman Hanım. Hülya was giving her grandmother some facts she hadn’t known. She tried to elicit some more information without giving the impression that they were gossiping.

  “Is Mummy ill often then?” she asked in a soft voice. “Sabiha suffers with bronchitis; it’s possible that it gets worse in the winter.”

  “No, I don’t think so. She hardly ever coughs. She spends a lot of time in bed and never allows me into her bedroom. What’s more, she doesn’t go to the hairdresser or whatever that often either.”

  “Well, I never! She hasn’t been ill at all since we’ve been here.”

  “That’s what I’m telling you, Granny. Please don’t ever leave us. If you do, my mother will shut herself in her room and I’ll be alone again.”

  Leman Hanım put the photographs back in the box, tied the silk ribbon, and pushed it to the back of the second chiffonier drawer, beneath her underwear. There were things going on that she obviously didn’t know about. One thing was certain: her daughter was unhappy. She might not even realize it herself. Could Macit be involved with another woman?

  “Let’s go next door, my pet; let’s see what Mummy’s doing. Maybe if we ask her, she’ll play us a Chopin nocturne on the piano.”

  Macit took the ciphered message from the administrative officer, put on his spectacles, and read it. It was a reply from the Vichy government in response to the Turkish government’s note. In the message the Vichy government insisted that, as far as they were concerned, Jews were Jews no matter what their nationality.

  “Our Government is honored to inform the Turkish Embassy that the persons in question are guests in France and as such are indirectly subject to this country’s laws. Following this principle, the actions directed by us toward the Hebrew race include Jews of French and other nationalities.”

  Damn them! thought Macit. Damned thugs! For years, we have considered them the apostles of civilization and independence. We have envied them and taken great pains to emulate them. Just imagine this is the brave French nation that produced the best art, the best poetry, the best wine in the world! Brave! What bravery? They weren’t able to last more than forty-six days under German pressure. They surrendered immediately! Now they expect others to die for them to save their skin. And if that weren’t enough, they look down on us. Their arrogance is unbelievable! My name isn’t Macit if we can’t rub their noses in the fact that we fought against all odds and won our war of independence with only a makeshift army. Damned collaborators!

  Macit pushed his chair back noisily, got up from his desk, and took the ciphered message out of his room. Walking down the corridor to the secretary general, he kept turning over in his mind how they should respond to this message. He believed that they should protest against the Vichy government’s discrimination laws. Surely there was no other way for an honorable country to respond. Maybe, in order to be more effective protesting the sending of Jews to labor camps, they should form a consensus with other countries. How aggravating this was when he already had so much on his plate. The first thing was to prepare the response. He believed that Turkish Jews forced to go to labor camps should apply to the Turkish authorities for their papers and resist as long as possible.

  “Macit! Macit!”

  Macit turned around. Nihat was running down the corridor toward him. “Can I have a moment please, I need to tell—”

  “Yes, yes, I already know. The Turkish-German negotiations are about to start. The minister has asked me to attend the preparatory meeting. I’ll be there, but I need to see the secretary general for about twenty minutes to discuss our reply to this message. I’ll be with you shortly.”

  Macit kept walking down the corridor.

  “Macit, please wait…just a moment…”

  Macit reluctantly stopped and turned around.

  “Macit, there was a call for you, sir. It seems that your father-in-law has had a heart attack.”

  Macit entered his father-in-law’s room at the same time as the doctor. Fazıl Reşat Paşa was lying on his back on the floor beside the bed. His face was as white as chalk. Sabiha was wiping the beads of perspiration from his forehead with her handkerchief. Leman Hanım was squatting next to her husband, looking desperately anxious.

  Dr. Fahri asked the old man to sniff from a bottle he took from his bag; he unbuttoned the patient’s shirt and, taking his pulse, asked Macit to call an ambulance. He also asked for some cologne.

  Sabiha responded at once. Leman Hanım, with trembling hands, tried to place a pillow under her husband’s head. Dr. Fahri told her not to, and she pulled away.

  “We need something to calm you down. Do you have anything like Nevrol, for instance?” asked the doctor.

  “No, no, don’t give me anything,” protested Leman Hanım. “I want to go before him,” she added, starting to cry. “It’s because of me that he had this attack. If he dies I’m to blame.”

  “You’re in shock,” said Macit, clasping her shoulders. “What on earth are you saying? Come on now; let’s get you up on your feet and out of here.” Macit supported her under the arms and tried to lift her up.

  “I’m all right. I don’t need any help. Don’t feel sorry for me, Macit; he’s the one to feel sorry for,” she said pointing, to her husband. “I’m the one who caused this. Can’t you see? I forgot those photographs under the pillow.”

  “Now, now, Mother, calm yourself down. What photographs?”

  It was only then, right as he asked the question, that he noticed his father-in-law clasping some photographs to his chest. As he tried carefully to pry open Fazıl Reşat Paşa’s fingers, the photographs fell to the floor. Macit bent down, picked up the pictures, and then realized they were the wedding photographs that he had taken of Selva and Rafo.

  Macit was confused. “Where did these come from?” he asked.

  “I wish I hadn’t taken them out. How was I to know? It’s all my fault, I’m telling you. It’s all my fault!”

  Dr. Fahri was totally confused.

  Macit explained: “Years ago, my sister-in-law got married without her father’s consent. These are wedding photographs taken at the registry office.”

  “Leman Hanım, rest assured, heart attacks aren’t triggered by such things. Lots of other factors are involved. Don’t punish yourself this way.”

  Dr. Fahri tried in vain to calm her, but she continued sobbing. Sabiha returned with a bottle of cologne, which the doctor proceeded to dab on Leman Hanım’s forehead and arms. He was busy massaging her arms when the doorbell rang.

  “Wouldn’t you know, today of all days happens to be Hacer’s day off,” Sabiha said as she went to answer the door.

  “Macit, my son, that must be Hülya. Don’t let her in here,” Leman Hanım said between sobs.

  Loud footsteps and voices were heard in the hallway outside the room.

  Sabiha was heard saying, “Don’t go in there, my beauty…Stop, for God’s sake!”

  Hülya pushed her mother aside and dashed into the room. She threw herself on her grandfather lying on the floor and started to hug him, “Grandpa, dear Grandpa…Please don’t go. What would I do without you? I couldn’t bear being without you. Please don’t leave me all alon
e.”

  Macit walked to the hospital holding his little daughter’s hand tightly and trying to work out how to approach the subject weighing on his mind.

  “Now, my darling, Grandpa is much better, but you must remember not to tire him,” he warned.

  “I promise I won’t, Daddy.”

  “He’s still very fragile, so you mustn’t clamber all over him, smothering him with kisses. We must be careful.”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “I knew you would, my bright little star. Mummy is leaving Granny with Grandpa, so I thought I could take the two of you to Karpiç for lunch. How’s that?”

  “No thanks, Daddy.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’d like to stay with Grandpa at the hospital. Besides, you must be very busy at work.”

  “Of course I am, but I asked my assistant to hold the fort for me today. I thought it’s about time the three of us spent some time together.”

  “Well, you can have lunch with Mummy; I’ll stay with Grandpa…with Grandpa and Granny.”

  “Don’t you want to have lunch with us?”

  “You know I haven’t seen Grandpa for so many days. I’ve missed him.”

  “Hülya, on that day—the day your grandfather had the heart attack—do you remember what you said?”

  “What did I say?”

  “When you were crying and hugging him, you said that if he left you, you would feel all alone…”

  “I thought he was dead. When I saw Mummy open the door crying, she told me he was very ill. She tried to stop me going into the room. I thought he’d died.”

  “Fine, but that’s not what I’m asking you. What I mean is, even if your grandpa died, it’s wrong for you to think you’d be alone. Surely there’s me and Mummy, isn’t there?” Hülya didn’t answer but Macit felt the tension in his daughter’s hand. “I’d love to know why you feel this way.”

  “I love Grandpa and Granny very much. They care for me. They love me very much. I don’t want them to die.”

  “May Allah bless them. Inşallah, they have long lives ahead of them. But Mummy and I love you very much too. We love you dearly.”

  Hülya remained silent, and Macit persisted.

  “Don’t you know this, Hülya? Don’t you know that we adore you? You’re our one and only little girl.”

  “I do, Daddy.”

  “Didn’t you see how what you said that day hurt your mother? Not only was she distraught because of her father’s condition, she was also hurt by your behavior.”

  “I don’t think she could be hurt by me. She doesn’t worry about me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well…I mean…what I mean is that she has far too many worries of her own.”

  “What do you think she worries about?”

  “About my auntie being away; she worries about not being able to see little Fazıl—things like that. I don’t know exactly, but I do know she doesn’t worry about me.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I can hear her when she is talking.”

  “With whom for instance?”

  “Well…with Granny for instance, with her various friends, even with Hacer. She never stops talking about Auntie Selva.”

  “Is that so unusual? Of course she misses her sister. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about you.”

  “But she has no time for me at all. Just like you, Daddy; you have no time for me either. You’re always busy working. She’s always worrying about one thing or another. It’s just as well my grandparents are here now. Grandpa is all right, isn’t he? He’ll be coming home soon, won’t he?”

  This time it was Macit’s turn to be silent. He didn’t know when his father-in-law would be coming back home; what he did know was if Hitler occupied the South of France, it would be devastating for his family. The Germans had carried out attacks all over Europe and the occupations of Athens and Crete meant they were on Turkey’s doorstep. As if that wasn’t enough, now the Vichy government was rounding up Turkish Jews and sending them to camps. He was well aware of the significance of this for his family. Since Fazıl Reşat Paşa’s heart attack, it was as if this damned war were actually encroaching on his little daughter’s heart.

  “I wasn’t aware of how much we’d been neglecting you,” he said affectionately.

  The child didn’t respond. She simply continued to walk along beside her father.

  Macit decided not to insist on having lunch with his daughter. After all, it might be better to have lunch just with Sabiha. It would give him an opportunity he hadn’t had for some time to chat with his wife in a different environment, away from his mother-in-law.

  Anyway, since Hülya had been born, there hadn’t been many opportunities for private conversation. If they were in the drawing room, there was always the possibility of being overheard by the maid or Hülya’s nanny. It was just as well that the nanny had been sent packing when Hülya started school. But then Macit puzzled for a moment, realizing there hadn’t been the need for private conversation since their marriage. By the time Fazıl Reşat Paşa and Leman Hanım came to stay with them, they had gotten out of the habit of using the drawing room unless they were entertaining at home. Sabiha would retire to her room to read while he either sat by the radio or went to his study to examine the files he’d brought home from work. It was almost as if they had forgotten how to speak to one another. Macit wondered how they would cope later over lunch at Karpiç.

  The smell of disinfectant filled the air in the hospital as father and daughter climbed the two flights of stairs. They found Sabiha and her mother sitting along the corridor outside Fazıl Reşat Paşa’s room. The morning sun shone through the window behind Sabiha and created a halo around her blonde hair. Hülya pulled her hand away from her father, ran toward her grandmother, and hugged her. Sabiha waited patiently for her turn, but it didn’t come. Hülya only complained at having to wait outside the room.

  “The nurses are giving your grandfather a sponge bath, so you will have to wait a minute,” Sabiha said to her daughter. Sabiha looked pale from the sleepless nights, and Macit kissed her on both cheeks.

  “How did it go last night?”

  “Fine,” said Sabiha.

  “Well, you’ll be able to have a good night’s sleep tonight.”

  “I can’t stop worrying when I’m not at his side. I couldn’t sleep a wink last night,” said Leman Hanım.

  “So I gathered. You were up and out before Hülya and I woke up.”

  “Doesn’t she have to go to school today?” Sabiha said, looking at her watch. “It isn’t even her lunch break yet. Don’t tell me she skipped school.”

  “I didn’t send her to school today. We have both taken the day off. She will keep her grandpa company, and you, my dear, will join me for a lovely lunch at Karpiç.”

  Leman Hanım gave her son-in-law a disapproving look.

  “You must be joking,” said Sabiha. “Do you expect me to enjoy lunch when my father is in here fighting for his life?”

  “Let’s wait and see how he feels first. Besides, your mother is at his side and there are certain things that we need to talk about.”

  “What sort of things?”

  Macit took her arm and tried to lead her away from his mother-in-law’s prying eyes.

  “We need to talk about Hülya, Sabiha. She seems depressed to me.”

  “She’s only seven, Macit!”

  “Eight…”

  “Anyway, she’s not at an age when one gets depressed.”

  “Maybe so, but she can’t be considered happy.”

  “She’s not the only one, Macit.”

  “Sabiha, we can’t sort out our affairs without talking. Don’t you understand?”

  “So you think we can sort everything out over lunch at Karpiç. Is that it?”

  Just as Macit was about to answer, Hülya came running up to them.

  “It’s OK now. Grandpa is ready. He’s waiting for you.” Then she ran back to h
er grandfather’s room. Macit and Sabiha followed her, walking side by side.

  Fazıl Reşat Paşa lay back in bed, propped up against a pile of pillows. He was unshaven and smiled at his son-in-law with an exhausted look.

  “You look very well,” Macit said, trying to hide his true feelings. The old man waved his hand as if to say, don’t bother.

  “He’s fine, thank God. It seems we’ve overcome the worst; the rest is up to him,” said Leman Hanım. “He has to stop smoking and even give up the raki you have together in the evenings.”

  “Can you believe that?” asked the old man shakily.

  Just as Macit was about to answer, he stopped. He noticed one of the photographs—according to Leman Hanım, they were the cause of the heart attack—on the bedside table. It was resting against the water jug. Not one of Macit’s photos, but the one of Selva signing the register, taken by a photographer at the registry office. Macit gulped and looked at his wife in amazement. Sabiha looked away and Macit did likewise; he pretended not to have seen the picture.

  “So, if the doctors won’t allow us to have raki, then we’ll have to content ourselves with beer, won’t we?” the old man said jokingly. “Macit, when am I supposed to come home? These women aren’t telling me the truth. In fact, I thought we might go straight back to Istanbul from here. I’d hate to burden you any further.”

  Hülya took her grandfather’s hand and kissed it.

  “I won’t hear of it,” Macit said sincerely. “Our home is your home too. Having you stay with us isn’t a burden, it’s a pleasure.”

  “I’m sure Father doesn’t mean that, he’s just being coy,” Sabiha said. “In any case Dr. Fahri gave strict instructions that he has to rest for at least a month.”

  “You can all go back to Istanbul when the schools…” Macit couldn’t finish his sentence. A hospital attendant in white overalls was looking at everyone and then turned to Macit.

  “You must be Macit.”

  “That’s right.”

  “There’s a call for you in the office.”

  “I wonder what’s up,” said Macit, hurriedly following the attendant out of the room and down the stairs.