Last Train to Istanbul Page 14

  “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!”

 
; PARIS

  Tarık Arıca had been living in a cheap hotel ever since he set foot in Paris. Sitting in a taxi with his two suitcases, on his way to his new apartment, he was very happy. Moving to rented accommodations meant that he no longer had to live in a cell-like room with just a bed, a bedside table, and a wardrobe. His new home had two bedrooms, a small sitting room, a kitchen large enough for a small breakfast table, and a big bathroom with a huge bathtub and a bidet. What was more, it was also fully furnished and close to both the Métro station and bus stops. It was almost perfect. As far as Tarık was concerned, his only problem was financial: because of the high rent, he would have to share the place with someone. That someone was Muhlis, his colleague at the consulate. When Tarık told Muhlis about the apartment he had seen, and mentioned it was too expensive, Muhlis, who was looking for a convenient apartment himself, immediately offered to share it with him. As there were two bedrooms, Tarık thought it was a good idea. Now, on the day they were to sign the contract, he suddenly wasn’t so sure. Would he be able to share a place with someone he worked with day after day? Would he be able to cope with this person who never stopped talking, who was always telling jokes?

  But the decision had already been made. They signed the contract and paid the deposit.

  On the day they were due to move, Muhlis had to take some documents to the Turkish embassy in Vichy, so Tarık had to move his things on his own. After putting everything in the appropriate cupboards, he went out for a stroll. He sat in a café having some Pernod and enjoying a cigarette. He had planned to celebrate this day for a couple of reasons. More important than moving to a new apartment, Sabiha had telephoned!

  It had been almost two years since he had heard Sabiha’s voice. He was so surprised and excited that Muhlis, who was sitting at their desk, made signs to ask what was happening.

  Sabiha was asking Tarık to protect her sister and her family who had moved south. Tarık wondered who could protect anyone from Hitler. Did she think he was God? Tarık explained that both Selva and her husband were in possession of perfectly valid documents and could therefore return to Turkey if they wished. Sabiha had also told Tarık about her father’s heart attack. If anything should happen to Selva and her son, the old man’s heart wouldn’t be strong enough to stand it.

  Tarık took in everything that Sabiha said, as if he were receiving news of his own family. It took him a considerable time to console Sabiha and convince her that Selva would be all right. He promised to let Selva know the timetable for trains from Paris to Istanbul. He would insist that she leave Marseilles. He would try to protect her and her family.

  He had said all that on the telephone, but how he was to achieve it was a different matter. All he could do was contact Nazım Kender in Marseilles and ask him to keep an eye on her. Come to think of it, wouldn’t Nazım Kender consider it odd that Tarık was asking him to protect a married woman?…No, he certainly couldn’t do that.

  As soon as he put the phone down, he felt obliged to at least check the trains going to Istanbul, because of his love for Sabiha. Train journeys through occupied countries were very dangerous. Because of the skirmishes en route, the timetables were haphazard. He couldn’t force Selva to take such a journey, but while making inquiries he stumbled on something that gave him a glimmer of hope. He found out that Turkish diplomats were in the process of trying to gather all those Jews in Paris they had saved from the labor camps and send them by train to Istanbul, and then by sea to Palestine. It was the Turkish ambassador in Vichy who told Tarık of this scheme. It wouldn’t be easy to accomplish. According to the plan, the Turkish government would hire a carriage and attach it to one of the trains going toward Edirne. Turkey was a neutral country, so she would exercise her right to take the train car under her protection. A lot of effort was being spent to bring this plan to fruition. This meant that he would actually be in a position to do something for Sabiha.

  There was something else that pleased Tarık.

  Sabiha told him on the phone that she had begun to see a psychiatrist. Apparently he had qualified in Austria and was a very unusual doctor, not one of those psychiatrists who simply treated their patients by prescribing sleeping pills and tranquilizers. On the contrary, he spent hours talking to them and as a result reached the root of their problems. Sabiha was going to see him twice a week and she was very pleased with him. He wasn’t judgmental, he didn’t apportion blame, he didn’t even give her advice; he simply listened to her.

  Sabiha had finally found someone she could talk to about her inner fears and doubts. Feeling a little jealous, Tarık had asked her what sort of man this specialist was—was he old, was he handsome? No, he wasn’t old. Yes, he was handsome. “Really!” Tarık had responded. Sabiha’s voice was like music to his ears. She reminded him that the psychiatrist was a doctor, after all, and he would never be able to take the place of a loyal friend. She missed Tarık’s warm friendship.

  Toward evening, Muhlis arrived at the new apartment loaded with shopping, which he took straight to the kitchen and put away on the various shelves.

  “What on earth is all this? What on earth have you bought?” asked Tarık.

  “These things make life worth living—various cheeses, wine, and bread.”

  “I thought that we might go out for dinner.”

  “These are not dinner, my dear friend, these are things from the delicatessen.”

  “Where did you find this cheese? I asked the grocer across the street as I was coming home but there was no Brie. He told me it’s not easy to find these days…My God! Look at all this wine. Who’s going to drink all this?”

  “I can find anything,” said Muhlis. “As for the wine, it’s for us and our guests, of course.”

  “What guests?”

  “Just you wait and see. Ferit and his wife will be here soon. Ferit is a friend from Galatasaray, my school in Istanbul. He was doing his master’s here when the war broke out and he couldn’t get back home, so now he’s teaching at the university. I’m sure you’ll like him. He’s not cheeky like me. He’s serious like you, and let me tell you he’s also very talented. He was a track champion at school and also a very good actor in the school plays. I’ll never forget the night he ecstatically danced a Kazakhstan dance! We were left speechless.”

  Tarık was upset. He’d hoped to listen to the radio or read a book after dinner on his first evening at home. He was looking forward to an early night, and even having the opportunity to think about that morning’s telephone call. He would try to remember the conversation word for word and perhaps manage to read between the lines. He would try to analyze Sabiha’s anxious, but happy, tone of voice with a clear head.

  “I wish you’d asked me first,” Tarık said.

  “You can stay in your room if you don’t want to join us. I thought it would be a good idea to celebrate our first day in our new home.”

  “It would be embarrassing if I stayed in my room, but I’d appreciate it if you would ask me before inviting guests again.”

  “You’d think we were still at school! Look, Tarık, you know that I always treat you with respect as my senior at work, but you have to understand that if we are to share this apartment, we have to have equal status, otherwise it won’t work. Both of us should be in a position to come and go as we please. We’ve got to be free to ask whomever we want to come back home with us, whether it’s female company or guests we want to entertain at home. Is that OK with you? After all, we’re no longer kids anymore, are we?”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to think about this. If I don’t agree, it might be better if we go our separate ways before we jeopardize our friendship,” Tarık said, going to his room.

  He sat in the armchair by the window, not switching on the light; he sat thinking by the light of the streetlamp. Was he being difficult? Muhlis’s words had startled him—what was it that he had said? He said that they should be free to bring back whomever they wished—including female company. He was a young man himself
too, but it had never occurred to him that he might want to bring a woman back, especially when someone was sleeping in the next room. This was the difference between someone raised in Anatolia, as opposed to Istanbul. Just the thought of it was enough to make someone who’d attended a lycée in Sivas blush, but it was perfectly normal for someone who went to the Galatasaray lycée in Istanbul.

  Maybe it was time for Tarık to grow up, for him to realize that life didn’t consist of just going back and forth to work, that love wasn’t about being enamored with a woman who could never be his. Maybe meeting Muhlis was a godsend. Was Muhlis the mediator who could bring him out of his shell, introduce him to new friends and new places? Could he widen his horizons by introducing him to the Paris nightlife, where he could enjoy the company of women?

  He left his room and went into the kitchen, where Muhlis was setting out various cheeses on a plate. Tarık put his hand on Muhlis’s shoulder and spoke to him in his usual calm voice.

  “You’re right, my friend. We’re not at school, we’re in our apartment, our home. You must feel free to come and go just as you please, and of course you should be able to invite your friends whenever you wish. My only request is that you let me know when you’re inviting people so I can make other arrangements if I don’t want to join you. I can go to the cinema or whatever.”

  At the end of the evening, Tarık was pleased to have made the decision to join. Ferit and his wife were very pleasant indeed. They brought a bottle of wine with them and interesting conversation flowed easily. Far from Tarık’s expectations, Ferit turned out to be a sensible and interesting man, not at all the frivolous guy he was expecting. He was exactly as Muhlis had described him. His wife, Evelyn, was a very nice French girl whom Ferit had met at the university; they had known each other for about six years and had finally gotten married six months ago. Evelyn could speak a little Turkish, but with difficulty. However, as the evening wore on and after a few bottles of wine, there was no language barrier. They all felt comfortable together and talked about everything under the sun. Inevitably, the conversation turned to the war that had engulfed Europe and the awful conditions they were living in. Ferit shared their views on the cruel and inhuman attitude of the Germans toward the Jews. He himself had hidden several Turkish Jewish friends from the university in his apartment. Because they were afraid to go to the consulate themselves, he had gone on their behalf and filled out the application forms for them.