“You want to give up?”
“We came in the wrong season. We should have waited at least for the flowers to bloom before rushing over. Besides, if I ever want to be able to pay you for all the costs we’ve incurred, I’ve got to get back to work. This has been an extraordinary journey, and I’ll go home my head buzzing with new ideas, but I have to turn them into something concrete.”
“You know full well that we didn’t come here for your perfumes.”
“That’s not true . . . I’m not sure what brought me here. Was it the fortune-teller? My nightmares? Your insistence? The opportunity to escape my daily life for a while? In the beginning, I wanted to believe that my parents had come to Istanbul. The idea of following in their footsteps made them seem closer. But we haven’t heard anything from the consulate, and it’s time I started acting like an adult. Even if my entire being is resisting it, I have to face the facts. So do you, for that matter.”
“I disagree. I admit we may have overestimated the consul’s capacities, but think about the life the fortune-teller promised, about the man waiting at the end of your journey. I’m the one who promised to take you to him, or at least to the second link in the chain. I’m a man of honor. I keep my promises. It’s out of the question to give up in the face of adversity. We haven’t lost any time. On the contrary, you have new ideas, and I’m sure others will soon follow. One of these days we’ll find that second person.”
“Be reasonable. I’m not asking for us to go home tomorrow—I just think we should start thinking about it.”
“I’ve thought about it. And since you ask, I’ll think about it some more.”
As Daldry spoke, Can returned, cutting short their conversation. It was time to go back to the hotel.
Day in and day out, from churches to synagogues, from synagogues to mosques, from sleepy old cemeteries to lively streets, and in the tearooms and restaurants where they ate every evening, Alice, Daldry, and Can shared a little more about themselves and about their pasts. Daldry and Can had come to an understanding. A certain camaraderie had even developed between them, thanks to their common endeavor.
The following Monday, the hotel concierge caught Alice’s attention as she was returning from a busy day in the city to tell her a consular courier had delivered a message at the end of the morning.
Alice turned to Daldry with feverish excitement.
“Well, go on. Open it.”
“Not here. Let’s go to the bar.”
They took a table at the back of the room, and Daldry sent away the approaching waiter.
“So?” He was bubbling over with impatience.
Alice pulled open the flap, read the few lines of text, and put the note on the table.
Daldry looked back and forth between Alice and the telegram.
“It would be indelicate of me to read your private correspondence, but it’s cruel to make me wait a second longer.”
“What time is it?”
“Five o’clock. Why?”
“Because the consul is about to show up at any minute.”
“Here?”
“That’s what he says. He has something he wants to tell me.”
“Well, in that case, I’ll leave you to it.”
Daldry started to get up, but Alice put her hand on his arm to show he could stay. She didn’t have to ask twice.
A short while later, the consul walked into the lobby, saw Alice in the bar, and came to meet her.
“You received my message in time,” he said, taking off his coat, which he passed, along with his hat, to the waiter. He took a seat in a club chair between the two of them.
“Something to drink?” asked Daldry.
The consul glanced at his watch and asked for a bourbon, which the waiter swiftly brought to him.
“I’ve got an appointment in the neighborhood in about half an hour. The consulate isn’t far, as you know, and since I had news for you, I thought I’d deliver it in person.”
“That’s very kind of you,” said Alice.
“As I had anticipated, our friends the Turks weren’t much help. It’s not that they didn’t want to be helpful. A connection of mine at the Turkish equivalent of our Foreign Office called me the day before yesterday to say that they had tried everything, but that visa requests from the old Ottoman days were never even archived.”
“A dead end,” said Daldry.
“Not quite. I happened to ask one of my intelligence officers to look into your affair. He’s a young fellow, but extremely effective. He said that with a bit of luck—for us, not them, of course—one of your parents might have lost their passport during their stay, or perhaps had it stolen. If you think Istanbul is chaotic today, I assure you it was far worse forty years ago. Had this been the case, your parents would have certainly gone to what was, back then, the British Embassy.”
“Somebody stole their passports?” Daldry was more impatient than ever.
“No, I’m afraid not.” The consul swirled his drink in its tumbler, making the ice cubes tinkle. “However, they did come to the embassy during their stay. Your parents were in Istanbul, not in 1909 or 1910, as you initially thought, but at the end of 1913. Your father was finishing a study on Turkish medicinal plants for his pharmacology degree. They lived in a little apartment in Beyo?lu, not far from here, as it happens.”
“How did you learn all that?” asked Daldry.
“Well, I don’t have to remind you of the chaotic state of affairs leading up to the beginning of the war in August 1914, or the unfortunate decision made by the Ottoman rulers in November to side with Germany and the Central Powers. As subjects of His Majesty, your parents found themselves, ipso facto, enemies of the Turkish regime. Your father anticipated the risk he and his wife were taking and signaled their presence to the embassy in hopes that they might be repatriated. Alas, in wartime, travel was not without risk, and they had to wait a long time before they were able to return to England. Their request to take refuge in the embassy in the event of an emergency created a paper trail that allows me to tell you all this today.”
Alice’s face had grown progressively paler as she listened to the consul’s story. Daldry was beginning to worry about her.
“Are you all right?” he asked, taking her hand.
“Should we call a doctor?” asked the consul.
“No, it’s nothing. I’m fine,” she murmured, trembling slightly. “Please, do go on.”
“In the spring of 1916, our embassy managed to exfiltrate about a hundred British citizens by hiding them aboard a cargo ship flying the Spanish flag. Spain was a neutral power, and the ship made it all the way to Gibraltar without a scratch. From that point onward I don’t have any information, but your presence here today would seem to indicate that they made it home safe and sound.” He took a sip of his drink. “Now you know as much as I do, Miss Pendelbury.”
“It’s impossible,” she said, her voice broken.
“Miss Pendelbury, I’m afraid everything I’ve just told you is quite official.”
“But I was already born. I must have been with them.”
The consul eyed her skeptically. “If you say so, but I’d be surprised. There’s no trace of you in the ledgers and logbooks we consulted. Perhaps your father simply didn’t mention you when he contacted our services.”
Daldry couldn’t resist interjecting. “I’d be surprised if her father bothered going to the embassy to seek protection for himself and his wife without mentioning their only child. Were children recorded in the books at all?”
“Well, of course. We are a civilized country, after all. The children were listed along with their parents.”
Daldry turned to Alice. “Perhaps your father purposefully omitted mentioning you for fear that the authorities would consider the voyage too risky for a young child.”