“Jealous of Can? What next? I can’t believe I came all this way to hear such nonsense.”
Daldry told Alice to meet him in the lobby at seven and left without saying goodbye.
An iron gate set in a high stone wall opened onto a courtyard, where an old fig tree languished next to rows of worn wooden benches lined up under a glass awning. Can knocked at the caretaker’s door and asked to see the headmaster. The caretaker pointed them toward his office and went back to his newspaper.
They walked down a corridor, past a series of classrooms that were all occupied by children hard at work. The school supervisor had them wait in a little office.
“Ah, the smells!” said Alice, inhaling.
“What smells?”
“The smells of childhood! The vinegar they use to clean the windows, the chalk dust, the floor wax. It takes me right back.”
“My childhood didn’t smell like those things. There was no vinegar or chalk or wax. It smelled like cramped apartments in the early evening, people walking home from work with their heads hanging low, darkness on dirt paths, and filthy slums. But I’m not complaining. My parents were good people. Not all my friends were good people.”
“I’m sorry,” said Alice. “I didn’t realize you had such a difficult childhood. You’ve come a long way.” Alice paused and realized Can hadn’t made any of his usual grammatical errors. “Why don’t you speak English like that around Mr. Daldry?”
“Because it is so amusing to tease him.”
The supervisor tapped on his desk for them to be quiet. Alice couldn’t help but sit up a little straighter in her chair. This made Can chuckle. The headmaster appeared and invited them to come into his office.
Eager to show that he spoke English fluently, the headmaster ignored Can and spoke directly to Alice. Can winked at Alice and smiled; after all, the results were all that counted. As soon as Alice had explained her request, the director told her that he was sorry, but the school was still boys only in 1915. He accompanied them to the gate and saw them off, saying that he hoped to visit England one day. Maybe when he was retired.
They made their way to Saint Joseph’s, where they met with the priest in charge of the school. There was something alluring about his austerity. He listened attentively while Can explained why they had come, before rising from his desk and pacing the room with his hands clasped behind his back. He went and looked out of the window into the courtyard, where a group of boys was squabbling.
“Why do they always have to fight?” he wondered out loud. “Do you think that violence is an inherent part of human nature? I could ask them in class, I suppose. It would make a good essay topic, don’t you think?” He talked to them without turning away from his view of the playground.
“Probably,” said Can. “It’s a good way to make them think about how they behave.”
“I was asking your friend,” said the priest.
“I don’t think it would serve any purpose,” said Alice, without pausing to reflect. “The response is clear. Boys like to fight, and of course, it’s in their nature. But as they grow up and their vocabulary expands, they will find the right words to express themselves and the violence will subside. Brutality is just the result of frustration, the incapacity to express oneself in words. Without words, people often resort to fists.”
The priest turned around.
“You would have got a good grade. Did you like school?”
“I mostly liked going home from school.”
“I’m not surprised. I don’t have time to look through our records, and I don’t have anybody else to do it for me. If you’d like, you may consult the ledgers in the study hall. Of course, talking is forbidden, and you’ll be sent away if you do.”
“Of course,” said Can, trying to participate.
“I was still addressing your friend.”
Can gave up and looked at the floor.
“Very good, come with me. The caretaker will bring you the admissions ledgers as soon as he’s found them. You have until six this evening, and not a minute longer, so work efficiently.”
“We will,” said Alice. “I promise.”
“Well then, come along.”
He stood aside for Alice to pass and turned to Can.
“You too. Come on.”
“I didn’t realize you were talking to me, headmaster.”
The walls in the study hall were painted gray halfway up from the floor and then blue to the ceiling, from which there hung two rows of flickering fluorescent lights. Most of the students were there as punishment, and they giggled when they saw two adults join them on the bench at the back of the room. The headmaster stomped his foot and silence immediately returned. Soon the caretaker brought them two large black books that were tied shut with ribbon. He explained to Can that everything could be found in them: admissions, expulsions, and grades from the end of the school year. The students’ names were grouped by class.
Each page was divided down the middle. On the left the student’s name was written in Latin characters, and on the right in Ottoman script. Can traced each line with his finger and studied the ledgers page by page. When the wall clock showed that it was five thirty, he closed the second volume and turned to Alice with a look of disappointment.
They took the books under their arms and returned them to the caretaker. As they headed out of the gate, Alice turned and waved at the headmaster, who was watching them go from his window.
“How did you know he was there?” Can asked when they were back on the street.
“The headmaster I had at school was exactly the same sort of man.”
“Tomorrow, we’ll succeed. I’m sure of it.”
“I suppose we’ll find out tomorrow.”
Can took her back to the hotel.
Daldry had reserved them a table at Markiz, but when they arrived at the restaurant, Alice stopped him from going in. She didn’t want to have a formal dinner. The evening air was warm, so she suggested they walk along the Bosporus instead of sitting in a noisy and smoky room for hours on end. If they were hungry, they could always find a place to stop and eat later in the evening.
Daldry agreed. Remarkably, he wasn’t hungry either.
Down by the water, a few other people were out for walks as well. Some were trying their luck at fishing, casting their bait into the black water. A newspaper vendor was selling the morning news at a reduced price, and a shoeshine boy was hard at work on a soldier’s boots.
“You look worried,” said Alice, gazing across the water at üsküdar Hill.
“Just a few things on my mind; nothing serious.” He turned to face her. “How was your day?”
Alice told him about the schools they had visited that afternoon.
“Do you remember our trip to Brighton?” asked Daldry. He lit a cigarette. “On the way back to London, neither one of us wanted to give any credit to that woman. Even though you never said anything—you were being polite, I suppose—I think you were wondering why we were driving so far for nothing, why we were spending Christmas Eve on icy roads in an unheated car. But we’ve traveled together quite a bit since then, and a lot of unexpected things have happened . . . I’d like to continue believing in what she told you, to think that the trouble we’ve taken hasn’t been in vain. Istanbul has already revealed so many secrets, things neither you nor I would have ever imagined. Who knows? Maybe in a few weeks you’ll meet the man who will become your husband and make you the happiest woman in the world. Speaking of which, there’s something I’d like to tell you about that’s been bothering my conscience.”