I’d like to show you around Istanbul one day. We’ll take a walk down Istiklal Avenue, and I’ll show you the building I once lived in. We’ll go for a walk along the Bosporus, you’ll play your trumpet, and the people will be able to hear the music all the way across the water in the hills of üsküdar.
See you soon, Anton.
Fondly,
Alice
Alice woke as the sun was rising. Watching the waters of the Bosporus light up and sparkle made her want to escape into the morning.
The hotel dining room was still empty, and the waiters in their silver-trimmed uniforms were still setting the tables. Alice sat in the corner and read an old newspaper she had found on a side table. The news from London slowly slipped from her hands and into her lap as Alice’s thoughts wandered from the luxurious hotel dining room in Istanbul to Primrose Hill in London.
She imagined Carol walking down Regent’s Park Road to catch the bus to work, and she could see her jumping onto the rear platform and chatting up the conductor so that he’d forget to charge her fare. Carol would tell him he looked pale, introduce herself, and then tell him to come visit her at the hospital. About half the time it worked, and she’d get off the bus in front of the hospital having had a free ride.
Alice thought of Anton walking with his knapsack over his shoulder and his coat open, even in the cold of winter, his hair disheveled and his eyes still half-closed with sleep. She saw him cross the courtyard of the building where he had his workshop, set up the stool in front of his carpenter’s bench, and look over his tools, sorting through the chisels, caressing the rounded handle of a plane, before glancing at the clock and setting to work. She thought about Sam, entering the back door of the bookshop in Camden, taking off his overcoat, and putting on his gray smock before going to dust off the rows of books and stock take while waiting for the first customers to arrive.
Finally, she imagined Eddy, sprawled across his bed and snoring his head off. It made her smile.
“Am I bothering you?”
Alice jumped and looked up to see Daldry standing in front of her.
“I was just reading the paper.”
“You must have pretty good vision; it’s lying on the floor.”
“My thoughts drifted elsewhere.”
“Might I ask where?”
“Oh, to London.”
Daldry turned to the bar and tried to flag down a waiter.
“Tonight I’m going to take you somewhere incredible. One of the best restaurants in Istanbul.”
“Are we celebrating something?”
“In a sense. Our trip together began in one of London’s finest restaurants, and I thought it would be fitting if my leg of the journey ended in a similar manner.”
“But you’re not leaving until—”
“My plane takes off.”
“Yes. And it doesn’t take off until—”
Daldry interrupted her again. “What does a man have to do to get a coffee around here?” He waved until a waiter came to their table and took Daldry’s order for an enormous breakfast.
“Since our morning is free, what do you say to going to the Bazaar? I have to find my mother a present, and I’m sure you’d be of great assistance in helping me decide. I haven’t the faintest idea what she’d like.”
“Maybe some jewelry?”
“I doubt the jewelry here would be to her taste.”
“Perfume?”
“She’s worn the same perfume all her life.”
“An antique?”
“What kind of antique?”
“A jewelry box? I saw some that were inlaid with mother-of-pearl that were very pretty.”
“Why not? Though I’m sure she’ll tell me she much prefers English things.”
“Or a piece of silver?”
“She’s more of a porcelain person.”
“You should just stay a few days longer and paint her something. You could work on the big intersection at the Galata Bridge.”
“Yes, that’s not a bad idea. I’ll make a few sketches today and I can start work on it when I’m back in London.”
“Or you could do it that way.” Alice sighed, disappointed her ruse to keep him in Istanbul a bit longer hadn’t worked.
“It’s settled then. We’ll take a walk on the Galata Bridge.”
As soon as they were done with breakfast, Alice and Daldry took the tram to Karak?y and got off near the end of the bridge that stretched out over the water and connected Galata, across the Golden Horn to Emin?nü.
Daldry took a little black notebook and a pencil from his pocket and made a careful sketch of their surroundings, noting the taxi rank and capturing a few lines of the quay where the ferries for Kadik?y and the Princes’ Islands docked, as well as the coast of üsküdar. He added the little pier where the boats that went back and forth across the water drew up on the other side of the bridge, and the oval-shaped plaza where the trams for Bebek and Beyo?lu stopped. He took Alice over to a bench, where they sat together as he continued to cover the pages of his notebook, drawing people’s faces, a peddler selling watermelon, a shoeshine man seated on an old wooden crate, a knife grinder turning the wheel of his sharpener. Then he drew a little cart drawn by a potbellied mule and a car that had broken down, with its owner bent over the bonnet trying to repair it.
After about an hour, he put away his notebook, remarking that he had captured the essentials. The rest was in his head. Just in case the painting didn’t work out, they decided to go shopping for a gift in the Bazaar as well.
Alice and Daldry navigated the narrow streets of the Grand Bazaar until about midday. Alice bought a little box with a lacy mother-of-pearl inlay, and Daldry found a pretty ring, set with a piece of lapis lazuli. Perhaps his mother would wear it; she liked the color blue.
They had kebabs for lunch and went back to the hotel at the beginning of the afternoon. When they arrived, Can was waiting for them in the lobby. He looked disappointed.
“I’m sorry; my work is without success,” said Can.
“What?” Daldry wasn’t in the mood.
Alice translated. “He didn’t find anything.”
“How do you expect me to understand that?”
“With a little patience and tolerance?” Alice suggested.
“As I promised you, I found myself this morning in the Saint Michel School, where I met the headmaster. He was very sociable with me and I consulted his books. We looked at every class for every year, and it wasn’t easy with the old writing and old paper. It was very dusty, and we were always sneezing. But we looked at every page and read every name and there was no rewarding our efforts. No Pendelbury, no Eczaci. We separated very disappointed. I am sorry you never went to Saint Michel School. The headmaster is incontestable.”
Can’s story finished, Daldry spoke to Alice under his breath. “I don’t know how you keep calm.”
“I’d like to see how you’d fare in Turkish,” Alice said to Daldry.
“You always take his side anyway.”
Alice turned back to Can. “Maybe I was in a different school?” she suggested.
“That is exactly what I thought when I left the headmaster. In fact, I organized a list. I will go this afternoon to the Chalcedony School in Kadik?y, and if I don’t find anything, tomorrow I will go to Saint Joseph’s, in the same area. There is also the girls’ school in Ni?anta?i. We still have many resources ahead of us, and it is precocious to imagine failure.”
“With all the hours he’s going to spend in these schools, maybe you could suggest ducking in on a few English classes,” said Daldry.
“You’re the one who should go back to school,” Alice replied.
“I don’t claim to be the best interpreter in town . . .”
“No, but you’re the right maturity level.”
“As I was saying, you always take his side. It’s reassuring, really. At least when I’m gone, you won’t miss me much. The two of you get along so well.”
“How can you say that?”
“I think the two of you should spend the afternoon together. Go with Can to that school. Who knows, maybe the place will stir up a few dusty old memories for you.”
“Because you didn’t get your way? You really are a child.”
“Not in the least. I have two or three things I want to attend to that would only bore you. Let’s do what we have to do, and I’ll see you at dinner. Can is welcome to join us if you’d like.”
“Are you jealous, Daldry?”