The Island of Missing Trees(21)

‘What inheritance?’ Meryem interjected.

Kostas shook his head. ‘Ada thinks you need to sort out some paperwork, and that’s why you are here.’

‘Oh, I see, like a will. No, my parents were people of modest means. I don’t have paperwork to discuss with you.’

‘Then why are you here all of a sudden?’ said Ada, her stare taking on a feverish tinge.

In the ensuing silence something passed between Meryem and Kostas, an unspoken exchange. Ada sensed this, but what it was she could not say. Fighting the urge to ask them what they were hiding from her, she held herself ramrod straight, the way her mother had taught her.

‘I always wanted to come and visit you,’ said Meryem after a brief pause. ‘How could I not want to meet my sister’s child? But I had made a promise. My father passed away fourteen years ago – you were a baby then. But until both my parents were dead, I was bound by my word.’

‘What kind of promise?’ Ada asked.

‘That I would never see any of you, so long as my parents were alive,’ Meryem replied, her breathing a little ragged. ‘When my mother died, I felt free to travel.’

‘I don’t get it,’ said Ada. ‘Why would you make such a horrible promise? And what kind of a person would ask you to do that?’

‘Ada mou, take it easy,’ said Kostas gently.

Ada looked towards her father, anger illuminating her eyes. ‘Come on, Dad, I’m not a child. I get it. You’re Greek, Mum is Turkish, opposite tribes, blood feud. You upset some people when you got married, didn’t you? So what? Nothing excuses this type of behaviour. They haven’t once come to see us. Not only them. None of our relatives did on either side. They didn’t attend Mum’s funeral. You want to call this family? I’m not going to sit here, eat falafel and listen to proverbs, and pretend I’m okay with all this!’

Absent-mindedly, Meryem tipped another sugar cube into her tea, forgetting that she had already done so. She took a sip. Too sweet. She set the glass aside.

‘Sorry if I’m being rude.’ Ada shook her head and, in one fluid movement, pushed her chair back and stood up. ‘I’ve got homework to do.’

After she left, an awkward silence descended on the kitchen. Meryem removed her rings, one by one, and put them back on. She muttered to herself, ‘I didn’t make falafel. It’s not even our cuisine.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Kostas. ‘Ada has gone through a lot this year. It’s been extremely hard for her.’

‘And for you too,’ Meryem said, lifting her head and directing her gaze towards him. ‘But the resemblance is striking. She’s … she’s just like her mother.’

Kostas nodded with a half-smile. ‘I know.’

‘And she has every right to ask these questions,’ Meryem said. ‘How come you’re not angry with me?’

‘How’s that going to help us? Have we not had enough of all that – anger, hatred, hurt? More than enough.’

Meryem glanced around as though she had misplaced something. Her voice dropped to a whisper when she spoke again. ‘How much does Ada know?’

‘Not much.’

‘But she’s curious. She is young and clever, she wants to learn.’

‘I’ve told her a few things, here and there.’

‘I doubt that’s enough to satisfy her.’

Kostas tilted his head, the furrows in his brow deepening. ‘She’s a British kid. She has never even been to Cyprus. Defne was right all along. Why burden our children with our past – or the mess we’ve made of it? This is a new generation. A clean slate. I don’t want her to be preoccupied with a history that caused us nothing but pain and distrust.’

‘As you wish,’ said Meryem pensively.

She dropped another sugar cube into her tea and watched it dissolve.





Part Two




* * *





ROOTS





Lovers


Cyprus, 1974


An hour to midnight. The moon, bright and joyous, was a day past full. And though Defne would normally have liked that, tonight she needed the cover of darkness.

She rose from her bed, threw off her pyjamas and changed into a full blue skirt, cinched with an embroidered leather belt, and a white frilled blouse that everyone said looked good on her. She put on her earrings, not the gold ones – which were barely visible, so tiny against her earlobes – but the crystal ones that dangled to her shoulders and sparkled like stars. They made her feel more grown up and glamorous. She tied the laces of her trainers together and slung them around her neck. She had to be as quiet as the night itself.

Lifting the window sash, she eased herself up on to the sill and crouched on the ledge for a few seconds. She could hear a noise in the distance, a soft two-note call, probably an owl in pursuit of prey. She held her breath, listening. Kostas had taught her the precise sequence of their hooting: brief note, brief silence, long note, long silence. An owl Morse code just for them.

She reached for a limb of the mulberry tree and carefully pulled herself on to it. From there she climbed down, one branch at a time, as she had so often done when she was a little girl. As soon as she jumped to the ground, she looked up to see if anyone had been watching. For a split second, she thought she saw a shadow in a window. Could it be her sister? But Meryem should be asleep in her room. She had checked on her earlier.