The Sunrise (23 page)

‘You see? It all fits now,’ he said, slamming the door shut, rotating the dials and double-locking the safe with a key.

He turned to face her.

‘But what about these?’ he said, lifting her pendant and then touching her ears. ‘And these?’ He raised the hand on which she wore her ring and bracelet and put it to his lips, all the while holding her infatuated gaze with his own.

‘Markos …’

‘Yes?’ he answered; this time he embraced her.

Whatever she had planned to say was forgotten. There was nothing in her mind now but the sensation of his lips on hers and his fingers resting gently on her neck.

Meanwhile, having left the engine running, Savvas was inside the hotel, alone in the pantheon of leisure that he had built almost with his bare hands. He glanced up at the rows of numbered hooks behind the reception desk. All five hundred keys were lined up perfectly in place.

In all the months since the opening, there had never been a need to lock up. Today, with a huge bunch of keys in his hand, Savvas went at a run to the various back and side entrances and then to the kitchen, his footsteps echoing around the corridors. Twice he stopped and called out, thinking that the footsteps belonged to someone other than himself, but it was he alone that remained.

His staff, even if they had evacuated earlier than he felt they should have, had at least been diligent. Most doors were already secured. Back in the foyer, he reached over the reception desk and switched off the mechanism for the fountain. The sound of gushing water was silenced for the first time in two years.

Then he turned around and surveyed his magnificent foyer to make sure that all was in place. There was a steady drip-drip-drip from the mouth of one of the gilded dolphins, but apart from that, total silence. The hands of the large electric clocks behind reception continued to turn: Athens, London, New York, Hong Kong, Tokyo. According to the papers, eyes in those distant cities were focused on the events happening on his island, but at this moment those places had never seemed more remote.

On the fob were the master keys for the hotel’s main door and the metal grid to protect it. It was the first time they had ever been used. In an establishment that never closed, there had been no need. Having made everything secure, he stepped out into the heat of the afternoon and double-locked the door behind him.

His car engine was still running, but Aphroditi was nowhere to be seen.

During the time he had been inside the hotel, the traffic had built up even further and the pavement was now full of people, all of them carrying bundles or suitcases. Some of the pedestrians stood in front of vehicles to ask for a lift. Something on the edge of panic was beginning to set in.

He strode towards the nightclub, but as he reached it, he saw his wife on the other side of the glass door. Markos was just behind her.

‘Aphroditi, can you get in the car, please,’ he said sternly. ‘And Markos, can we have a word?

‘We’re going to the apartment in Nicosia,’ he told the nightclub manager. ‘Is everything locked away?’

‘Kyria Papacosta’s jewellery is safe,’ responded Markos.

‘Get away as soon as you can, then. But double-check all the doors before you leave. And can you deal with the locks for the main gates and make sure the fire exits are definitely secure,’ he added without pausing for breath. ‘And bring Aphroditi’s car to Nicosia when you come. I’d rather it was there than here.’

‘Okay,’ said Markos. ‘Mine’s empty so I probably will.’

‘You know my number in Nicosia; call me when you get there,’ said Savvas, touching him on the arm. ‘And don’t hang around here too long.’

In the car, Aphroditi pulled the rear-view mirror towards her. She could see the two men talking. Savvas was smoking, agitated. Markos looked calm. She saw him run his fingers through his hair and felt a familiar sense of love and desperation. Even in this crisis he looked in command. She noticed how close the two men stood, and she saw Savvas hand Markos his entire collection of keys. He trusted Markos like a brother.

She watched Savvas turn away and walk towards the car. A moment later he was beside her, pulling out of the hotel forecourt and through the gates. Aphroditi took a last glance back. Markos had already vanished.

‘I’ve told him to meet us with the keys as soon as he can,’ said Savvas.

His wife looked out of the window to hide her sense of relief that it might not be long until she saw Markos once again.

For a while after that Savvas said nothing more. His mind was elsewhere.

‘God in heaven, I hope this traffic eases up once we are away from the city,’ he said.

He waved a hand dismissively at a couple standing in the road trying to hitch a lift. They had a small suitcase between them.

‘We could fit someone in the back, couldn’t we?’

‘I think we just want to concentrate on getting to Nicosia,’ said Savvas.

His response quietened Aphroditi. There was no point in arguing.

Another plane flew low overhead. It seemed to follow the line of the road that would be taking them out of Famagusta. There was something distinctly menacing about this, as if it was observing them. Fear began to crawl over Aphroditi.

For ten minutes they both sat in silence, united in the need to contain their anxiety. Eventually Aphroditi spoke.

‘How long is it going to take to get there?’ she asked timidly.

‘That’s a stupid question, Aphroditi. Your guess is as good as mine.’

She said nothing more. Her anxiety was for herself, but it was for Markos too. She wondered how long it would be before she saw him again.

The heat in the car was building up, even with the cold fan on full blast and the windows firmly shut to keep the even hotter afternoon air outside.

For a few minutes they were stationary outside one of the biggest jewellery shops in the city. They knew the owner well; they were his best customers. The aquamarines, among many other pieces, had been bought from him.

They could see Giannis Papadopoulos carefully removing each tray from the window. His wife was behind him, meticulously stacking them up, but they still had dozens to go.

‘They’re mad!’ exclaimed Aphroditi. ‘Why don’t they just put their shutters down and leave?’

‘That shop contains everything they own!’ retorted Savvas. ‘You think they’re going to risk losing it all?’

‘But they’re risking their
lives
, aren’t they?’

As she was speaking, another plane passed overhead.

Savvas attempted to tune the car radio, but there was too much interference, and the sound of a human voice was almost inaudible through the crackling and hissing.

‘Damn! I want to know what is
happening
!’ he said, slamming his hand against the dial.

The noise was immediately silenced, but Savvas’ anger had been fuelled all the more. He sighed and swore under his breath. Aphroditi noticed that his palms were dripping.

What they were seeing out of the car windows seemed unreal, as if they were watching images on a screen. For more than half an hour, their car moved at a slower pace than the pedestrians. People on foot were all making steady progress with their baggage, babies, even one or two with caged birds. It was like the relentless flow of a wide river. There was just one person whose stillness stood out against the backdrop of movement. A lone boy was poised on the pavement’s edge, watching the vehicles, mesmerised.

‘Savvas! Look! Look at that child!’

‘There are lots of children,’ snapped Savvas.

‘He looks as if he is on his own!’

Savvas did not take his eyes off the truck in front, keeping nose to tail even though the other vehicle was belching out filthy fumes. His only aim was to carry on moving, inch by inch, and to make sure that nobody else pushed out from a side road in front of him.

As they drew parallel, Aphroditi found herself looking straight out of the window and meeting the boy’s gaze. His small stature meant that they were eye to eye. She suddenly felt aware of how she must look to anyone who glanced inside their car. Chic, well made-up, still laden with heavy, expensive jewellery. The truth was that everyone was much too preoccupied with their own journey out of town. Except perhaps for this boy who looked her straight in the eye.

Aphroditi’s strong maternal instincts would not allow her to ignore this apparently abandoned child.

‘Can’t we stop? Ask him if he needs some help?’ she pleaded.

‘Don’t be
ridiculous
. There are plenty of people around.’

‘But nobody’s taking any notice of him!’

By now the car had moved forward and Aphroditi, craning to look out of the back window, watched the child until he disappeared from view.

M
EHMET WAS STILL
in the same spot a few moments later. Alone and gazing. He had already forgotten the lady with the light blue stones.

He had wandered out for a few moments when everyone else was distracted at home, to see what was happening, and had been mesmerised by the great tide of people and the flow of cars.

Hüseyin had been sent out to find Mehmet and spotted him as he turned into the main road. As he was sprinting towards him he heard the sound of an explosion.

‘Mehmet!’ he screamed. ‘Come
here
.’

He picked his little brother up and ran to the house.

As soon as they were back, Mehmet received a sharp smack on the leg from his father. It made his eyes smart.

‘Don’t wander out again like that,’ scolded Halit angrily. He and Emine had been frantic.

Emine hugged him, her own eyes wet from crying, and when she mopped his tears with her apron, Mehmet caught the smell of spice. Something very strange was happening, but this at least was familiar.

A while later, Hüseyin went back down the street to check the situation. Five minutes later, he ran in again to tell his parents what he and Mehmet already knew.

‘Everyone’s leaving,’ he shouted. ‘
Everyone!
We’ve got to get out of here.’

‘No! We can’t go without Ali!’ Emine cried. ‘He won’t know where to find us.’

‘Why would we run away from our own people!’ said Halit.

‘These are not our own people, Father. They’re Turks.’

‘But haven’t they come to keep us safe?’ snapped Halit.

‘They’re hardly going to kill
us,
are they, Hüseyin?’ said Emine.

‘How do you know that, Mother?’ His voice rose with fear and anger. ‘It’s chaos out there. How will they know who is who? Have you
met
any Turkish soldiers?’

‘Hüseyin!’ Halit warned.

‘You don’t know them, Father. You don’t know what they are like! You don’t know what they’ll do when they get here!’

Up until now, many people had defended Turkey’s actions. They had believed that it was doing what was within its rights, to try and guarantee the independence of Cyprus. But now it seemed to have transgressed the boundaries. If Emine did not know the reputation of the Turkish soldiers, it was because she did not want to hear. Stories of murder were widespread. Reports of rape were legion.

‘I’m more worried about the women in this city than the men,’ said Hüseyin.

‘Hüseyin! Don’t say that kind of thing to your mother!’

‘I am trying to save us. We need to get out of here.’

‘Maybe he’s right,’ said Halit. ‘Perhaps we shouldn’t risk it.’

‘But Halit!’ pleaded Emine. ‘Ali is just a
child
! When he comes back, he’ll come back here. We would be abandoning him.’

Halit tried to persuade her, but she refused to even consider it. By now, she was almost hysterical.

‘I won’t go! I
won’t
!’

She stormed out.

‘We’ll wait a while longer,’ said Halit to Hüseyin. ‘She’ll come round.’

The hours passed, and as night fell, the tension grew.

Hüseyin stirred coffee inside a tiny pan. As the foam rose to the surface, he extinguished the heat beneath it and poured the dark liquid into two tiny cups.

At their small table, Halit smoked one Dunhill after another.

There was silence except for the rattle of the fridge; their
nazar
, the evil eye, seemed to watch over them from the wall. Mehmet sat, unnoticed, on the floor.

Eventually Emine returned, her face streaked with tears.

‘If only we’d stopped him going,’ she wept, sitting down at the table. ‘Then we would all be together and we could leave.’

‘It’s not too late,’ urged Hüseyin. ‘Let’s go now.’

The debate continued, only suppressed by the need to keep their voices low in case the soldiers were coming closer. Mehmet climbed on to his mother’s lap and clapped his hands over his ears. For his entire, though short, life he had listened to quarrels rage within the family.

‘
Gavvole!
God damn it!’

His father slammed his fist hard down on the table. One of the small cups bounced off and smashed into a dozen pieces on the stone floor. Everyone in the room froze.

Emine began to weep again into her apron, trying to stifle her sobs.

‘I can’t believe this is happening again,’ she moaned. ‘I just can’t believe it.’

Silently she picked up the pieces of the broken cup.

‘If we carry on like this,’ said Hüseyin, regretfully, ‘there’ll be no hope for any of us.’

Just down the road, most of the Georgiou family were gathered together in Irini and Vasilis’ apartment. A low flame flickered before the icon of Agios Neophytos, creating strange distorted shadows on the ceiling. Windows and shutters were tightly closed and the room was airless. It was two in the morning.

On the table were some empty cups and a small glass of
zivania
.

Panikos paced up and down. Vasilis sat slumped in an armchair, running his fingers nervously through his worry beads, but their clacking sound was almost inaudible next to his daughter’s panting.

Maria’s hands rested on the table next to her father and Irini stroked her back rhythmically, repeating the same words and quietly comforting her: ‘Softly now, softly now.’ Her hands were clammy, wet from the sweat that had soaked through her daughter’s dress from her neck to her waist.