The Island of Missing Trees(76)

He fell quiet, noticing that Defne had rolled on to her side, the sunlight stealing through the curtains to caress her naked back. He took in a quick breath before speaking again. ‘When we met, you told me you tried to help Defne, but you didn’t elaborate. I’m assuming you meant you performed an abortion. Am I right?’

The silence stretched on before Dr Norman spoke again. ‘I’m afraid I cannot answer this question. I’m bound by confidentiality. I don’t exactly know what Defne told you, but I’m not at liberty to divulge personal information about my patients. No matter how many years might have passed.’

‘But, Doctor –’

‘I’m really sorry, I cannot help on this matter. If you’ll allow an old man to speak his mind, I’d advise you to leave this matter behind. It was all a long time ago.’

When Kostas hung up, after a minute or so of strained small talk, he stayed still, staring at the sliver of horizon through the balcony rails.

‘Who were you talking to?’

Startled, he whipped around. She had got out of bed, her feet bare, her body half covered with a bedsheet. As soon as he saw her face, he knew she had heard everything.

‘It was Dr Norman,’ he said. ‘He refused to tell me.’

She sat on the only chair on the balcony, not caring that the couple at the front desk might spot her from the patio below. ‘Do you have a cigarette?’

He shook his head.

‘I know you don’t smoke,’ Defne said vacantly, ‘but I kind of hoped you might have a packet tucked at the bottom of your suitcase. Sometimes people do things that run counter to their nature.’

‘Please, Defne …’ He held her hand, tracing the lines on her palm with his thumb as if searching for the warmth he had found there the night before. ‘No more riddles. I need to know what happened after I left Cyprus. What happened to our baby?’

In her eyes, he watched one emotion overlay another.

‘He died,’ Defne said, and her voice was flat like a wall. ‘I’m sorry. I thought he would be safe with this family.’

‘What family?’

‘An English couple. Reliable, decent people. They desperately wanted a child. It seemed the right thing to do. They promised they would take excellent care of him and I know they did. He was a happy baby. They let me come and see him. They told everyone I was the babysitter. I didn’t mind, so long as I could be with him.’

Tears started streaming down her cheeks, even as her face remained still, as if she didn’t realize she was crying.

Kostas put his head on her lap, burying his face into her scent. Defne raked her fingers through his hair. The space between them grew thinner, a tenderness unfurling where pain had been.

‘Will you tell me – everything?’ he asked.

And this time, she did.



Summer 1974. The roads were dusty and rough, hard to drive on, the sun scorching, the kind of heat that insinuates itself into your pores and never leaves.

She had tried everything. She had lifted every piece of heavy furniture she could find in the house, jumped from high walls, taken scalding-hot baths and drunk cup after cup of slippery elm, the bitter taste burning down her throat. When one method failed, she embarked on the next. Towards the end of the week, exasperated, she used a knitting needle, pushing the sharp edge inside her, the pain so unexpected, she doubled over as her knees buckled under her weight. Afterwards, on the bathroom floor, she lay shaking, sobbing, her voice jagged like a saw, cutting into her very being. She knew there were midwives in the community who could induce miscarriage, but how could she get their help without her parents finding out? And what would happen if they did? That she was pregnant was shameful enough; that it was by a Greek man, beyond conceivable.

When she reeled out of the bathroom, she found her sister glued to the transistor radio. Meryem cast a sideways glance at her.

‘You okay? You look like a wreck.’

‘My stomach,’ Defne said, her face flushed. ‘I must have eaten something bad.’

But Meryem wasn’t paying attention. ‘Have you heard the news? The Turkish army is here! They’ve landed in Kyrenia, they’re coming.’

‘What?’

‘The Greeks sent two navy torpedo boats to stop them, but they were hit by the Turkish air force. We are in a war!’

Defne could not process the news immediately, her mind spinning with disbelief. But she understood that soon the streets would be teeming with soldiers, paramilitary groups, armoured vehicles. She knew if she were to get an abortion, now was the only chance to still find a way. In a few days, the roads would be closed, maybe a curfew imposed indefinitely. There was no time to think, no time to doubt. Pocketing all the money she found in her father’s jacket, emptying the jar of coins in the kitchen, she left the house without a clue as to where she could go. There were Turkish doctors in the area, but she worried that someone might inform her family. With new barriers springing up between entire neighbourhoods, it was almost impossible to get hold of a Greek doctor. Her only chance was a British physician, but all foreign medical staff were leaving the island.



‘I cannot treat you,’ said Dr Norman.

He had examined her, asking as few questions as possible. He was kind and avuncular, and seemed to understand the predicament she was in. But he would not help.