The Island of Missing Trees(57)

The bunting hopped back and forth along the branch, and then stopped. For a fleeting moment, in the gathering quiet, the two of them eyed each other. Kostas wondered what the bird saw in him – enemy, friend or something else? What he saw was a fascinating combination of vulnerability and resilience.

The sound of approaching footsteps jolted him out of his reverie. Alarmed, the bird took off. Turning his head, Kostas saw a tall, heavily built figure hurrying towards him.

‘Kostas Kazantzakis, there you are! I’d recognize that scruffy hairdo from a mile away,’ David said, his accent unmistakably British.

Kostas took a step forward, shielding his eyes against the sun. ‘Hello, David, thanks for meeting me.’

As he grabbed the hand Kostas offered, David broke into a smile. ‘I must admit I was surprised when you called to say you were coming. From what I remember, you didn’t want to return to Cyprus. But here you are! What is it – work or homesickness?’

‘Both,’ Kostas replied. ‘A bit of fieldwork … I also wanted to see my old town, some old friends …’

‘Yes, you told me. As I said on the phone, I know Defne well. Come, I’ll take you to her. It’s just five minutes away. She and her team have been up since early morning. I’ll explain it on the way.’

At the mention of her name, Kostas felt a cold panic grip his chest. They began to walk, picking their way along the rutted path, the hot wind searing their faces as they headed north-east.

‘So tell me, what are they doing exactly – she and her team?’

‘Oh, they are with the CMP,’ said David. ‘The Committee on Missing Persons. It’s pretty intense stuff. It gets right inside your head after a while. Turks and Greeks are working together – for a change. The idea came into being in the early 1980s, but nothing could be done for a long time because the two sides couldn’t agree on the toll.’

‘The toll?’

‘Of those who disappeared during the troubles,’ David replied, slightly out of breath. ‘In the end, they managed to finalize a list of 2,002 victims. The actual number is much higher, of course, but nobody wants to hear that. Anyway, it’s a start. The UN is a partner, that’s why I’m here, but it’s the Cypriots who do the real work. I’ll be around till the end of the month, then I fly to Geneva. They’ll keep digging, your Defne and her friends.’

‘The members, are they mostly archaeologists?’

‘Only a few. They come from all professions: anthropologists, historians, geneticists, forensic specialists … The groups are formed and approved by the UN. We work in different locations, depending on anonymous informants, who tell us things for all sorts of reasons of their own. Then we start digging. You think this is a small island, but if you’re looking for a missing person even the smallest place is impossibly big.’

‘What about the locals, do they support the project?’

‘The response has been mixed so far. We’ve many young volunteers from both sides who are eager to help, which gives you hope for humanity. The young are wise. They want peace. And the elderly, some kind of closure. It’s the ones in the middle who cause trouble.’

‘Our generation, you mean,’ said Kostas.

‘Exactly. There is a small but vocal minority who begrudge our work, either because they fear it might stir up old animosities or because they still bear them. Some of the CMP members have been threatened.’

They now approached a clearing in the woods. Kostas could hear low voices in the distance and a scraping, grating sound of shovels and picks stabbing the earth.

‘There’s the gang,’ said David, waving a hand.

Kostas saw a group of about a dozen people, women and men, toiling under the sun, wearing straw hats and bandanas. Most of them had their faces half covered with cloth masks. Large black tarpaulins were stretched over the ground and suspended between the trees, like swaying hammocks.

His heart quickening, Kostas scanned the group, but he couldn’t make out Defne among them. He had imagined this moment so many times, thinking of all sorts of ways it could go wrong, that he felt almost paralysed to be in it now. How would she react when she saw him? Would she turn and walk away?

‘Hey, everyone!’ David called out. ‘Come and meet my friend Kostas!’

One by one, the team members stopped what they were doing and strode towards them, their steps calm, unhurried. Taking off their gloves and masks, putting their notebooks and instruments aside, they welcomed him.

Kostas greeted each person warmly, though he couldn’t help stealing glances around to see where Defne might be. And then he spotted her, sitting perched on a tree limb with her legs dangling, her face impossible to read as she quietly watched him from above. Kostas noticed a spider’s web between the branches beside her, and for a fleeting moment Defne and those silvery threads merged in his mind, wispy and fragile like the remnants of the bond between them.

‘Oh, she does that all the time,’ said David when he noticed where Kostas was looking. ‘Defne loves sitting there like a bird, apparently she concentrates better when she’s up a tree. That’s where she writes our reports.’ David raised his voice. ‘Come down here!’

Smiling, Defne jumped down and walked towards them. Her wavy black hair fell to her shoulders. She wore khaki trousers and a loosely buttoned white shirt. On her feet were hiking boots. She didn’t seem surprised. She seemed to have been expecting him.