She goes into the shower with a wry, bitter smile on her face. Standing for a while under hot water will do her good.
She carefully blow-dries her hair and puts on her usual light make-up. A woman must be well groomed and beautiful on the night of her birthday! Especially if she is going out with a man … The term ‘going out with a man’, not the idea, seems funny to her. She likes her reflection in the mirror. Lilac, purple and mauve have been her favourite colours ever since she was young. Ömer does not pay much attention, but he knows my colours. The lilac silk blouse was a present he brought from China.
She puts her jacket over her arm and walks to the stairs. It’s not worth taking the lift for two floors. Elif does not like elevators. Electricity might be cut off when you are inside, or there might be a fault and then you would get stuck in the thing. Even the thought of it gives her palpitations.
Her English colleague is seated in the lobby that is furnished with simple elegant Scandinavian furniture of teak, thumbing through the newspapers while he waits.
Instead of hello he says, ‘You look very smart. It’s impossible to park around here at this hour. I left the car in a car park some way away. I won’t make you walk that far. Let’s call a taxi so that your clothes are not spoilt by the rain.’
He asks the young woman at reception to call a taxi. They wait by the hotel’s glass revolving door. The rain continues to fall gently. The man is well dressed, neither too carefully, nor carelessly. Just as he should be. He holds a large umbrella in his hand. They had learnt at primary school that the British always carried umbrellas.
The man notices that Elif is looking at his umbrella and laughs. ‘You think I’m a typical Englishman, don’t you? It rains every day in England, so everyone carries an umbrella. Half the Englishmen are homosexual, and half the Englishwomen are frigid. They never miss five o’clock tea. They all drink Scotch and spend much time in the pubs. They have no sense of humour and so on … Let me tell you immediately that most of these stereotypes don’t apply to me.’
Just as she is about to ask which do apply to him Elif changes her mind. ‘Yes. You know there are stereotypes like that for every country. For some reason we like to put the whole of mankind into boxes, into moulds.’
‘It makes things easier, that’s why. Just like our lab experiments. If we were to think about the individuality of each guinea pig, it would be impossible to us to finish the test.’
The taxi pulls up directly in front of the hotel door. They have only to take a few steps but even so the man opens his umbrella and holds it over Elif’s head. Without waiting for the taxi driver he helps her to get into the car.
‘So the adage that all Englishmen are gentlemen is not wrong,’ says Elif by way of thanks.
The driver waits for them to give him the address.
‘What sort of restaurant would you like to go to?’ asks her English colleague. ‘I know the city well, and I’m fond of eating and drinking. Well, there you have another deviation from the norm. You know they say that the slimmest book in the world is The English Cuisine.!
‘It’s my birthday today. You are my guest. I don’t want any argument on the subject. I leave the choice of venue to you. It would be nice to have dinner at a good restaurant with a champagne menu. Somewhere where we can talk; quiet but decent.’
The Englishman gives an address to the driver and the taxi moves off.
‘I know of a very good French restaurant: Le Coq Rouge. Incidentally, half the French restaurants outside France are called the Red Cockerel. But it’s still very early. It’s not even dark. Let me take you to a Scandinavian bar first. From there we’ll reserve a place at the restaurant.’
What a good thing I thought of my English colleague, thinks Elif. I could not have stood being in that hotel room tonight. He’s really nice, has a good sense of humour, is natural and courteous. And we have subjects in common to talk and argue about. There is no reason for it not to be a good evening.
But what is this feeling of guilt, this uneasiness? She seems to hear the ring of a phone from the depths. She puts her hand to her bag, and then she remembers that she left her mobile in the hotel room. First I turned it off so that no one called, but then I turned it back on. Why? No, I didn’t forget it, I left it behind on purpose, knowingly, so that I didn’t have to bother with anyone. Be honest with yourself, Elif! You took precautions against the possibility of Ömer phoning you. Every moment you would be waiting for him to call, and the evening would have been spoilt. But still, if only I hadn’t left the phone at the hotel. Now it would be rude to say that I’d forgotten my mobile, so let’s turn back. Let others ring. Let those who phone learn to call and not get me every time.
When they get out of the taxi in front of the bar they realize it has stopped raining. There is a faint smell of the sea in the air. The sky is a milky grey and the clouds are gradually dispersing. Elif looks at her watch. It’s just past seven thirty. It must be about nine thirty in Turkey. Her date opens the door of the bar with unexaggerated, natural courtesy and waits for Elif to pass through first. Then lightly touching her back he directs her to an empty table in the corner. As she settles herself in the chair that he has pulled out, she decides to be free of the vicious circle of anxiety and doubt and make the most of the evening. Let’s see what happens. Don’t get tense. Don’t bottle up your feelings. Enjoy the evening as the fancy takes you. If you get bored, go back to the hotel. If you enjoy yourself, then carry on. Drink and eat as much as you like. After all, you won’t get fat in one night. Listen to your heart and not your mind — if only for one night. If you like the man, prolong the evening, but, if you start finding him tedious, then leave saying you’re tired. Make life simple. Don’t tense up. Relax.
‘What would you like to drink? They have good beer here.’ Her companion’s question brings her out of her reverie.
‘I’ll start with wine, so as not to mix drinks too much. A dry red wine please — sometimes when you ask for wine they bring a sweet one.’
The waiter takes the order.
Her English colleague broaches the subject of work immediately. ‘In your paper you made reference only to your most recent experiments. Your subject was the ethical dimensions of gene technology and its limits of acceptability. For that reason you did not enlarge on your research. I think the work I am doing is very similar. That is why I wanted to speak to you.’
A typical Englishman, she thinks to herself. This man really does want to talk about science. Gracious me! And what was I expecting?
Ömer received Elif’s message as he was waiting for news of Jiyan at the chemists. He did not get perturbed because he already was. He only remembered that it was 13 July. At that moment he did not even think of answering. What could he write? What could he say to Elif?
They were following him. They were after him. There were problems. He had to leave as soon as possible. He did not give a damn about any of this. He had left the Commander and gone straight to the chemist’s shop to see Jiyan, to touch Jiyan, to speak to Jiyan and to be quiet with Jiyan. Not to become involved with her world and solve her secrets but to be buried in secrets and be part of them. She was a beauty whose attractiveness did not draw its power so much from what it showed but from what it concealed. Her impish intelligence, her forceful femininity and surprising self-confidence seemed to whisper, ‘There are things that I keep a secret. You won’t be able to reach them, and the more you fail to discover them, the more you will be committed to me. Just like this land, these rivers and mountains.’