After making four calls, Alice felt as though she had taken the first steps on a long journey. She had made up her mind and she knew she wouldn’t back out. She joined Daldry, who was waiting for her leaning against a lamppost and smoking a cigarette. She took him by the hand and spun him around in an improvised dance.
“Let’s leave as soon as possible. I want to get away from the winter, from London, from my dreary routine. I wish we were leaving today. We’ll get lost in the bazaar, smell the spices, cross the Bosporus . . . You can sketch the junction between Europe and Asia; what better crossroads could you hope for? I’m not afraid anymore! I can’t tell you how happy it makes me, Daldry.”
“Even though I suspect you might be a bit drunk, I’m thrilled to hear it. And I’m not just saying that to butter you up. Let me find you a taxi home and I’ll go to the travel agency. You have a passport, don’t you?”
Alice’s face dropped.
“Don’t worry, neither do I. But a close friend of my father’s works in the Foreign Office. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. But we’ll have to go get our pictures taken, so I suppose the travel agent can wait. I’ll drive this time.”
Alice and Daldry drove to a photographer’s shop. Alice spent so much time fixing her hair that Daldry had to remind her that the only people who would open her passport and see her picture would be border control officers. They probably wouldn’t notice a few stray hairs. Alice finished what she was doing and finally took a seat on the photographer’s stool.
Daldry was fascinated by the photographer’s new camera. Once the photo was taken, he pulled the card of film from the camera and removed a protective sheet of foil. A few minutes later, four identical images of Alice appeared on the photographic paper. When it was Daldry’s turn to take his seat on the stool, he held his breath and smiled like a simpleton.
With their precious photos in hand, they went to the passport office at St James’s. Daldry explained the pressing nature of their travels to the bureaucrat behind the counter and spoke of vague but important business interests that hung in the balance. He didn’t hesitate to reel off the names of various high-placed officials in the Foreign Office hierarchy. Alice was aghast at what seemed to her to be so much blatant lying. The man behind the counter said he would do what he could, and Daldry thanked him before ushering Alice out the door ahead of him.
“Nothing gets in your way, does it?” she said, once they were in the hall outside.
“You nearly did. If he had looked at your face while I was pleading our cause, I doubt whether he’d have given our papers a second look.”
“Well, pardon me for smirking, but I thought it a bit rich to claim that the hobbled English economy would never rise from its knees if we weren’t in Istanbul within days.”
“That poor paper-pusher’s days are probably so dull that he was thrilled to be part of an important mission. We livened up his day.”
“Well, you’ve got a lot of nerve.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more.”
On the way out of the building, Daldry playfully saluted to the guard on duty before opening the door of his Austin for Alice.
Daldry drove Alice home before going to the travel agent. She sat at her worktable and tried to concentrate, but she found it impossible to put any ideas on paper. She was supposed to meet her friends at the pub that evening, and the hours dragged on. She uncorked a vial of rose oil, and her thoughts strayed to imaginary oriental gardens. She could hear the sound of a piano from somewhere in the building, but when she went to the door to better locate its source, the music stopped, and the old Victorian house returned to its usual silence.
Alice entered the pub and her friends were already there, engaged in an animated conversation. Anton saw her come in the door. She smoothed her hair as she came over to them. Eddy and Sam hardly paid her any attention, but Anton rose and offered her a chair before turning back to the topic at hand, a fiery discussion about Attlee’s record as prime minister. Eddy wanted Churchill back, but Sam, a staunch Attlee man, predicted the end of the middle class if the old war leader returned to power.
Alice was itching to jump in, but Carol gave her a knowing look and leaned over to ask what had happened while the debate raged on.
“What are you talking about?” asked Alice.
“You,” said Carol.
“Nothing that I can think of.”
“You’re lying. Something has changed. I can see it in your eyes.”
“Nonsense.”
“I haven’t seen you this radiant in a long time,” Carol insisted. “Have you met somebody?”
Alice laughed louder than she had meant to, and the men went silent.
“She’s right,” said Anton, who had obviously been keeping an ear on their conversation. “Something about you has changed.”
“You’re all being silly. Why doesn’t somebody get us something to drink instead of reflecting upon the supposed sparkle in my eye? I’m dying of thirst.”
The men went to the bar to get another round for the five of them, and Carol took advantage of the moment to continue her interrogation.
“Go on, you can tell me.”
“I haven’t met anybody, but if you must know, I might be meeting somebody in the near future.”
“I don’t follow.”
“I decided to listen to the advice of the fortune-teller. The one you made me consult.”
Carol became excited and took Alice’s hands in hers. “You’re really going? You’re going to Turkey?”
Alice nodded, before gesturing to indicate that the men were already on their way back. Carol leapt up and ordered them to stay at the bar until she and Alice were done with their conversation.
They went speechless, then docilely obeyed.
“When do you leave?” asked Carol, clearly more excited than even Alice herself.
“I’m not sure yet, but I don’t think it will be more than a few weeks from now.”
“So soon?”
“Well, we have to wait for our passports, and we just applied for them this afternoon.”
“We? You’re going with someone else?”
Alice blushed and revealed that she had struck a deal with Daldry.
“Are you sure he isn’t doing all of this just to seduce you?”
“Daldry? Good heavens, no. I even asked him as much, quite openly.”
“You had the guts?”
“I didn’t think about it, it just came up. It’s not very clever to court a girl by taking her to meet another man, is it?”
“True. So he’s only interested in investing in your perfumes? That’s putting a lot of faith in your talent.”
“More than you would, it seems. I honestly don’t know what motivates him, whether it’s the desire to spend his unwanted inheritance, to go on a trip to Turkey, or maybe just the opportunity to paint in my flat while I’m gone. It seems he’s been dreaming about it for ages and I promised him he could. He’ll be back long before I will, probably.”
“You’ll be gone for that long?” asked Carol, visibly upset at the idea.
“I don’t know.”
“Listen, Alice, I don’t mean to be a killjoy, particularly since I’m the one who encouraged you to go through with this in the first place, but now that everything is becoming so concrete, I must admit, it seems rather impulsive to travel so far just because a fortune-teller promised you there might be a lover at the end of the journey.”
“I’m not that desperate. You know I’ve been pacing up and down in my little studio like a caged beast. It’s been months since I’ve created something original, or even had a good idea. I feel so stifled and smothered by life in London. I want to go somewhere new, get some fresh air, discover a new landscape with new odors . . .”
“Promise me you’ll write.”
“Of course. Do you think I’d miss such a great opportunity to make you jealous?”
“Well, you’re the one leaving me alone with three men,” retorted Carol.
“Who’s to say that I won’t occupy their minds from a distance? Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
“I’ve never heard such a ridiculous thing in all my life. When did you say you were leaving?”