Daughter of the Winds (25 page)

“
Wow Mum, look at you!” I muttered.

Over the next few pages there were pictures of Mum and Eddie at formal dances, Mum in a floor-length mauve dress with
a matching short floral cape around her shoulders. There were photos of Eddie on his motorbike, Eddie in uniform, Eddie kissing a budgie, Eddie smoking a cigarette.

Back to the pictures and I could see that these were snapshots of a simple life, when they still thought that they were living in paradise with a bright future in front of them.
I wondered if either of them had expected any fighting on this posting. Eddie was trained for battle, but had he really expected to see a war unfold around his family and ultimately involve his family so tragically? I doubted that Mum had realised there was a serious threat otherwise she wouldn’t have considered having her baby here.

It was becoming difficult to see the photographs and I squinted at them, realising that most of the light had gone out of the day.
I didn’t have a watch on, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t as late in the day as it felt. I could hear the rain hammering down outside, but it was almost comforting, like a blanket had been wrapped around me, blocking out the outside world. I could have been the only person on the planet for all I knew at that moment.

I pulled myself up using the sideboard as leverage.
I carried the photo albums with me as I went to look at the rest of the house. If the light was fading fast then I needed to see all I could of this place before the light was gone completely. I seriously doubted that there would be any electricity still live in Varosha for me to turn a light on, and even if I knew where to locate candles, I would be afraid to light them in case the glow alerted anyone to my presence here.

With no streetlights, and a heavy covering of cloud to obliterate the stars and moon, it could be pitch black in less than an hour.
I wandered into the kitchen. The first thing that I noticed was the rain coming in through the broken window and slapping the window ledge. I took another step and my foot crunched on something. I stepped back immediately, recognising the sound of broken glass. However, it wasn’t glass from the window, it was curved like a tumbler. It rolled gently from side to side before coming completely to a halt. It lay next to a dark patch on the ground. Even in the gathering gloom I could see the deep rust colour. My first thought was that something had spilled out of the glass, red wine perhaps, but it covered too much of the floor for that to be the case. A bolt of realisation shot through me as it occurred to me that I was looking down at Mum’s blood on the floor from when she was shot in the stomach.

I crouched down and went to feel it.
I stopped just short of the stain and took my hand back, rubbing my fingers on my shorts as if I’d touched something unpalatable.

“
Oh Mum,” I whispered. “I am so sorry.”

I wasn
’t entirely sure what I was sorry for. Sorry for the loss of her baby, because she was shot or that this signified the beginning of the end of her dreams and her marriage? Or sorry for the fact that I had reacted so badly when she told me? Either way, I was sorry.

A gust of wind blew suddenly through the window and an inner door slammed shut.
I jumped and let out an involuntary squeak.

“
It’s just the wind. Just the wind,” I told myself.

Green tiles had fallen from the walls in groups of four or five but still more clung onto the plaster
, refusing to let go. I opened the nearest cupboard to find piles of plates and cups. The shelves were lined with patterned wallpaper that had curled and greyed at the edges.

I was suddenly very cold.
Goosebumps stood to attention up and down my arms. I had an idea and went back down the corridor towards the bedroom. A slight hesitation on the threshold allowed me to take in the gaudy colours of oranges, purples and browns. There was no colour co-ordination in here. Twenty-first century Pru would never have allowed these strong colours in a bedroom. I smiled at the idea of my Mum as a young girl, inexperienced and inelegant. I wish I’d known her better. Paperback books were stacked up on the floor like the leaning tower of Pisa, pages fattened and yellowed with age.

I stepped through the door and went straight to the wardrobe.
The door was hanging limply on its hinges so I opened it with care. The wardrobe seemed full, no empty hangers where clothes had been hastily packed and no gaping holes where once favoured clothes had hung. When Mum left this flat for the last time she couldn’t have known she would never be coming back.

The clothes smelled fusty as I ran my finger over their shoulders.
It was a stale, smoky smell tinged with something vaguely citrus. Already the dust was aggravating my nose to try to provoke a sneeze. I squeezed my nose and wriggled it. There were some beautiful tops in here, mostly in blues and greens, always a good colour on my mother. There were kaftans and sun-dresses and two pairs of ridiculously bell-bottomed trousers. I placed the photo albums on the bed as I rummaged through the clothes. Didn’t Mum own anything warm at all? A cardigan or something? Then on the top shelf of the wardrobe, I spotted a pile of folded woollens.

“
Aha.”

I reached for a soft purple towelling one but three fell out at once with a thud.
I frowned at the sound, they didn’t look heavy enough to make that impact, I lifted them up gingerly, half expecting to see a decomposing bird, but as I shook out the purple top a bundle of letters tied with a red elastic band tumbled to the floor. I swallowed down my thudding heart that leapt into my throat at the unexpected movement and let out a soothing sigh of relief.

I stooped for both the top and the letters.
I didn’t recognise the handwriting on the envelopes. They were written on fine, almost transparent, shiny blue paper with red and blue airmail markings on the front. Some were addressed to my mother in Bedford and some were addressed, in a hand I was familiar with, to Cprl Edward Clarke in Cyprus. These had to be love letters. I so wanted to tear them open and devour their contents but I stopped short of doing so. I had intruded enough on my mother’s life for now. Besides, there might be things in there that I did not want to see.

I squeezed the wad of paper into my pocket and pulled the jumper over my head.
It was a loose, round-necked jumper, hanging below the hips with two square front pockets low down on the front with splits up either side. I inhaled deeply, hoping to still be able to smell my Mum’s scent but all that was left was the pathetic smell of years of neglect.

Picking up the photos I went back into the living room.
On the table were blank postcards, three pens and a small, brown, unopened parcel. Curious, I turned the parcel over in my hands, hesitating. There was only so much that I could carry back with me so I would have to open it to be sure it was worth smuggling out of here. Conscience calmed I eased the string off the parcel and ripped open the brittle brown paper. A plain brown square box was inside. I fumbled with it in my haste to open it and when I did I saw a folded piece of paper. I opened it and read: Dear Prudence. Going through your Dad’s things I found this and thought you might like to have it back. Thinking of you. Mam

I reached into the box and plucked out a delicate watch with thin white straps.
I turned it over and saw that it was inscribed on the back. It was difficult to read in the bleak light and I turned it to one side and then the other trying to decipher the message.

Happy 18th Little Bean.
Dad and Mam.

I couldn
’t help but let out an involuntary ‘Ahhhhh!’ into the empty room which sounded too loud to my ears. The face read 12.15 but had stopped working many years ago. As useless as it was as a tool for telling me the time, I strapped it to my own slender wrist and stared at it some more.

With the sound of muffled rain outside, I picked up the photo albums and began to think about getting home.
Would I be able to find my way back in the dark? If not, I’d have to stay here until dawn and then get out as quickly as possible. I stopped to have a last look around the flat. It was unlikely I would ever step foot here again and even though I felt a little bit sad about that, I was gratified and humbled that I’d had the opportunity to have a look around the place that Mum and Eddie had lived in as a young couple.

Just as I was about to leave, I spotted a clothes horse the other side of the table on the far wall with what looked like baby clothes on it.
I felt a wave of sadness for Mum. She had so many plans for her baby. She had started getting in baby clothes ahead of the birth with no reason to think that her baby wouldn’t be born safely. I found myself in front of the clothes running my fingers over the cloth even though I hadn’t been aware of moving towards them at all. I lifted up the white wool and saw that it was a hand knitted blanket. It was a little bumpy but knitted with love. It was a perfect square with yellow flowers around the edges.

The sadness I felt in my heart right then was like a physical pain.
I knew what it was like to plan for a baby and to think of the future you would have with that child for it only to be taken away from you. It tore me apart to think about what I had lost, and I hadn’t even seen it on a scan or felt it move under my hand. I don’t know how Mum managed to stay so strong for so long.

Boom!
Lightening flashed and thunder roared simultaneously. I involuntarily ducked as the room lit up like a lighthouse had suddenly shone into it before turning away. I didn’t know whether I should go out into the storm that was raging outside. There was a sudden gust of wind and I heard the sound of metal scraping on concrete and the tumbling of a heavy object on the road below. I went to look out of the window to get a better view of the scene outside when I suddenly felt unsteady. For a horrible moment I thought that I was going to faint; the room seemed to be shaking around me. I realised a second too late what was happening and the floor beneath me vanished into the chasm below. I screamed as the building swallowed me up, knocked me unconscious and turned my world black.

Chapter twenty-two

I opened my eyes but couldn’t move my head. It was completely dark and I couldn’t see a thing. Panic gripped me and I tried to scream. Was I blind? I knew I was trapped but apart from that, I had no idea what had happened. I tried to move my legs but they were weighed down. Worryingly I could feel no pain. I tried to call out but there was no breath in my body capable of making a sound. I just started thinking in my head over and over again, “Please God, help me. Help me Lord.”

I had to get back to Dom.
I needed to tell him I loved him. I needed to touch his face and hear his voice. And I certainly was not going to die here without telling Mum how sorry I was for everything. The last conversations I’d had with both of them weren’t exactly arguments but they had been devoid of any warmth from my side.

There was a cool breeze on my face like someone lying next to me exhaling.
Before I could puzzle over what that meant, a sudden flash of intense light burned in my eyes just like it always did following a nightmare. In relief that I wasn’t sightless, I instinctively snapped my eyes firmly shut. The memory of the luminescence danced in reds and greens on the back of my eyelids.

“
She’s here! She’s here! Help me,” a man’s voice shouted.

I swayed like I was on a boat and then cool air rushed at me like a tidal wave.

“Can you hear me?”

I tried my best to nod.

“We need to move you, okay?”

This time I didn
’t even bother to nod or try to make a sound. Someone was here to take care of me and that was all that mattered.

“
Take it slowly, c’mon, try sitting up for me.”

“
She okay?” a second voice came from somewhere, shouting over the rain.

“
I think so. I can’t see any blood but...”

“
You get her other arm. On three. One. Two. THREE.”

I felt myself being dragged to my feet but just as I was about to put my weight on my feet
, I was hoisted in the air and carried into the rain.

“
You’ll have to put her in the back.”

I could hear a car engine running somewhere.

“I’ll sit with her.”

“
Good. Let’s get out of here.”

I dozed off at that point.
I didn’t care if I was safe or not, there was no way I could stay awake any longer. I was so tired. As I drifted off I could hear someone’s voice saying, “Do not sleep. D
o
NO
T
sleep.”

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that I wasn
’t dead. There had been a point where I wasn’t sure that I would ever see daylight again, so just waking up held a certain pleasure for me. I blinked open my eyes to see what else was new. I was in a hospital bed, no surprises there, with a drip in my arm connected to a half-full bag of clear liquid hanging from a metal stand. I wasn’t in any pain, so I was assuming that I was shot through with some pretty good painkillers.

At the foot of my bed was quite a crowd
but without craning my neck I couldn’t tell who any of them were. They were definitely not speaking English though.

Shit
!
I thought as my situation started to dawn on me. Was I still on the Turkish side of the island? Was this a Turkish hospital? Was I about to get arrested
?
Crap. What now
?
I toyed with the idea of pretending to be asleep until I could be sure of my situation. I couldn’t quite piece together the last few hours. There were images in my head like pieces of a jigsaw but, try as I might, I couldn’t seem to slot them together. Stop panicking. Breath. Think clearly.
In through the nose, out through the mouth.

“
Leni?”

Shit! They know my name.
Time to face the music.

I looked at the face of the woman who had just spoken my name.
My vision blurred a little and then focused again. In front of me was that woman. What was her name? She was my landlady I think. Relief spread through my body.

“
It’s Antheia. How are you feeling?”

Ah yes
, Antheia. That was it
.
I smiled at her but it hurt my head. It felt like I had imbibed several bottles of cheap red wine.

“
Shoo! Shoo! She needs rest.”

I watched as all but one of the others left the room.
The young man who was left was familiar but I couldn’t place him. He was very good looking and had worry marks between his eyebrows.

“
Are you in any pain?” he asked.

I started to shake my head but winced at the motion.

“Yes and no.” My voice didn’t sound like my own, it was rasping and quiet. “Who found me?”

“
Stefanos, his father George, and Nick,” the kindly woman answered.

Stefanos
. That’s his name. I was starting to remember.

“
You found me. Thank you Stefanos.”

“
Yes. Thank God.”

“
How did you?”

“
Find you?”

“
Uh-huh.” I was learning that all communication was going to have to be verbal. It hurt too much to move my head.

“
We found your bag by the fence. It had that map in it that you had shown me. Nick pulled some strings with his friends at the UN and when it got dark my father brought his truck and we went in to find you, using that map.”

“
Nick? Do I know him?”

“
You were meant to be meeting us outside the museum, remember? When you stood us up, we went to find you.”

Right. It still didn
’t make much sense.

“
How did you know that I was stuck in the building?”

“
We didn’t. A girl flagged us down, pointed at the building and then ran away again.”

“
Anna,” I whispered. “She must have been so scared.”

“
Then we saw your light and we pulled you free.”

“
Light?”

“
Yes. A torch or something?”

“
I don’t know. I don’t think it was me. I remember seeing it too but it wasn’t me.”

Stefanos
sighed and exchanged a glance with the plump, older woman. What was her name again?

“
Leni,” started the older woman, “You need rest. I will bring food. We will fatten you up, and get you strong. Yes? Antheia will make it all right.” She leant in and smothered me with her bosom as she kissed my forehead.

“
Wait! Where is Anna?” I croaked.

“
Eh?”

“
The girl, Stefanos.” I sighed at him. “Did you get her too?”

“
No. She disappeared.”

“
Is she home?”

“
I don’t know,” he shrugged.

“
Antheia? I
s
she?” I demanded as firmly as I could manage.

“
I do not know.”

“
But she’s your daughter!” I gritted my teeth. I was getting impatient with their slow-wittedness.

They both looked
at me in puzzlement. I had to make them understand.

“
It was Anna that I saw in Varosha. She was the reason I went in, I followed her in there. I was worried about her, I was going to bring her back home. You’ve got to go back Stefanos, she’s all alone. She might be in danger, the buildings aren’t safe.”

“
Tell me again. Who is she?” he asked softly, like he was talking to a distressed child.

“
Stefanos!” I was getting exasperated. “It’s Antheia’s daughter, Anna.” I looked at Antheia. Surely she could understand what I was saying. She picked up my hand and leaned in close.

“
My daughter’s name is Erato.”

“
I’m talking about you
r
othe
r
daughter.”

“
I do not...” her eyes narrowed but she looked concerned.

“
Yes! I’ve met her – at your house!”

“
No.”

“
Yes! Her name is Anna!”

Antheia looked at
Stefanos and he frowned, shaking his head. Unperturbed, Antheia lowered her voice.

“
Tell me what she look like.”

“
I don’t know. She just looks like a girl. She’s about ten years old, maybe twelve? Brown eyes, hair in plaits, red ribbons. She’s usually wearing a blue and white dress, she doesn’t speak much English. I don’t know, she looks like a normal Greek girl.”

Antheia whispered something to
Stefanos in Greek. Her eyes were wide with what? Fear? Amazement?

Stefanos
looked at me but addressed Antheia.

“
No. Absolutely not. She has banged her head, that is all.”

“
Excuse me? I might have a headache but I DO know what I’m saying.” I was becoming more and more infuriated with them. There was a little girl out there on her own. I should have saved her instead of continuing on my selfish dead-end journey. “Sh
e
i
s
your daughter, isn’t she?” I asked Antheia, starting to doubt myself now.

“
No.”

“
Then who is she?” I asked in confusion. Perhaps I had banged my head after all.

“
Anna is my niece. She died many years ago.”

Antheia and I looked at each other across the bed in silence.
I looked deep into her warm brown eyes to see if she was joking. I wouldn’t put it past them to be making fun of me but there was something earnest in her eyes that suggested honesty. But, even so, I could not believe that I had seen a ghost. Concussion I could accept, but apparitions I could not.

“
I... But I thought your niece was called...” I struggled to remember the name.

“
Anemone. We called her Anna.”

No.
This couldn’t be happening. Maybe Stefanos was right. I had taken a bang on the head. There had to be a plausible explanation for this. There always is.

“
Please. I need to speak to Dom. Could you get me a telephone?” I asked, my voice shaking as much as my hands, which were knotted in the hard cotton sheets.

“
What did she say?” asked Antheia, with eagerness in her eyes.

“
I need to talk to Dom. Please. I can’t deal with this right now.”

“
Here. Use my mobile,” said Stefanos. He reached out his hand to Antheia, who took it reluctantly.

The phone took an age to connect, I kept checking the mobile
’s display in case it had disconnected. Eventually I heard the phone ringing. I could see the phone clearly in my mind. It would be next to the television, Dom would be padding over to it bare-footed, he hated slippers.

“
Come on baby. Please. Please.”

A click and my heart lifted for a moment, but instead of Dom
’s smooth deep tone I heard my own tinny voice saying, “I’m sorry, we’re not available to take your call at the moment...”

I pressed the red button on the phone and disconnected the call.

“Shit!” I couldn’t remember his mobile number off the top of my head. Tears stung my eyes and I could feel the restrictive vice of panic sitting on my chest. He was listed on my mobile telephone under ‘Hubbie’, I never actually dialled the digits.

I cradled the mobile to my chest and thought for a moment.
Mum. I could remember Mum’s mobile number. It hadn’t changed in over ten years.

No ringing at all this time, it went straight to voicemail. Mum
’s voice came into my ears. “You’ve reached Pru. Please leave a message after the tone.”

I cried out in anguish.

“Mum?” My voice sounded too high in a bid to sound normal. “It’s me. I really need to talk to you. I’m okay but had a bit of an accident. I’ll call you again later. I think I’ll be out of hospital later today. I’m okay. Don’t worry, I just wanted to talk to you that’s all. I love you. Bye-bye.” I sighed as I hung up the phone.

I felt suddenly so alone and vulnerable.
I imagined Dom and my mum getting on with their busy lives, probably not missing me at all. I wanted to be home with Dom’s arms around me. He would know what to do right now, he would help me make sense of it all.