His heart melted when he saw Gabriele in these gardens. He had watched her working on them for as long as he could remember, since his childhood, and now a rush of memories flooded him. She was part of his younger days, just as she had been part of Justine’s, and that was yet another bond between the two of them. She had influenced both of them in her own way.
Whenever he thought of Gabri, whether he was in New York or London, or anywhere else, he pictured her in these gardens, perhaps because they were such a huge part of her life.
Once, long ago, when he had congratulated her on the beautiful effects she had created with the mass of tulips, she had nodded and said in a low voice, ‘I have a compulsion to make beautiful things, perhaps because I’ve seen far too much ugliness and brutality in my life.’
He had made no comment at the time, but he had never forgotten her words. There had been moments when he had longed to penetrate the mystery that surrounded her; know something, however small, about her past; have her confide the secrets of her other life which were stored inside her. But he had never had the nerve to ask her anything. And whatever Anita knew was buried deep, locked up forever in his grandmother’s heart, never to be disclosed.
Michael stepped out onto the pebbled path, and the crunch of his shoes made Gabriele swing her head around.
Her face lit up when she saw him, and she could not help thinking how marvellous he looked this morning. As usual, he was dressed in a pristine white shirt, no tie, dark grey slacks and black blazer. It was his uniform, but he always looked so fresh and boyish in these clothes. They were casual but also businesslike to a certain extent.
Michael had the height and strong masculine build of his grandfather, Maxwell Lowe, but there was a lot of his father, Larry Dalton, in his handsome, chiselled face. And it was to his grandmother Anita that he owed his dark-brown, sparkling eyes, usually full of humour and warmth, as were hers.
A moment later, Michael was hugging Gabriele, saying good morning, and then following the direction of her gaze as she moved her head slightly to stare at the gardens again. ‘Just doing my morning check,’ she murmured, turning back to him, looking up into his face, smiling.
‘They’re gorgeous, Gabri!’ he exclaimed, admiration echoing in his voice. ‘And although I’ve said it before, I’ve got to reiterate it again: I’ve never seen tulips like this anywhere in the world.’
‘I agree, they’re fantastic. But you must remember, here they are in their natural habitat – they’re a Turkish flower, born and bred.’ She broke into sudden laughter as she said this, adding, ‘I sound as if I’m talking about children, don’t I? It’s true that they grow happily here on the shores of the Bosphorus, though, and actually I believe they flourish so well because they are Asian in origin, have grown in this area for centuries.’
‘I love the pure white with the burgundy flames on the petals – they’re so unique.’
‘My favourite too, and the best I’ve seen in a long time, this particular lot. Of course, it’s the luck of the draw. When you buy a bulb you’re not sure what you’re going to get.’ A sudden smile illuminated her face. ‘And to think it’s a virus that causes the “feathering” and the “flaming” on the petals. For hundreds of years botanists and gardeners tried to discover the secret of the “broken” tulip, experimented in every possible way with bulbs. Yet the truth wasn’t discovered until the late 1920s in England.’
‘I remember you telling me about the virus when I was about fourteen, and I was really astonished and also fascinated. I’ll never forget how stunned I was that the virus was caused by the peach-potato aphid invading the bulbs.’ Michael shook his head. ‘I was flabbergasted.’
‘Yes, you were, especially when I told you they feed by sucking sap from plants and fruit trees, soft-bodied little insects that generally live in fruit orchards. But you didn’t come here for a refresher course on botany… I suspect you came to say goodbye.’
‘I did. I’m flying to London this morning, and before I leave there’s something I want to tell you, Aunt Gabri, and also ask you.’
Linking her arm through his, she walked with him down the path. ‘You know you can talk to me about anything, Michael.’
He came to a sudden halt, and so did she. Turning to face her, he announced, ‘I’ve fallen for Justine. I feel very strongly about her.’
Gabriele stared back at him. ‘I’d guessed as much, Michael.’
‘I’m serious about her. And she is about me.’
‘You’re both in your thirties, you know what you’re doing.’ An amused look settled on her face.
He smiled then, his dark eyes sparkling. ‘So you approve?’
‘I do.’
He hugged her to him, and was about to tell her how he had made a blunder last night, but instantly changed his mind, just stood holding her for a moment longer.
Drawing apart finally, they walked together across the lawn to her terrace. Giving her a kiss on her forehead, he offered her his famously cheeky smile. ‘See you at the weekend.’ He swung around and went towards his grandmother’s yali.
‘Fly safely,’ she called after him.
Looking over his shoulder, he blew her a kiss and pushed his way through the wisteria and Judas trees that concealed the little courtyard between the two villas.
Anita was sitting upstairs on the terrace adjoining her bedroom, and she glanced at her grandson as he came outside to join her. ‘So there you are, darling,’ she said, her love for him illuminating her face. She had been lucky with this grandson of hers. He was what Gabriele called true blue. ‘I was waiting for you. Do you have time for a cup of coffee?’
‘I sure do, Grandma.’ He sat down next to her on the sofa and she poured the coffee, handed it to him.
‘There’s something I need to tell you. To warn you about, Anita,’ Michael said.
Peering at him, she frowned. ‘You sound very grave. What’s this about, Michael?’
‘I made a blunder last night, or rather, in the early hours of this morning, and I’m very sorry. I told Justine her grandmother saved your life.’
‘Oh Michael, no! Oh no, you didn’t!’ Dismay flooded her face and she shook her head. Without meaning to, he had opened Pandora’s box.
‘I did, I’m afraid. It just slipped out, and it was an error, I knew that the minute I said it. Naturally she was intrigued, curious. I brushed it off immediately, explained I couldn’t discuss it, because it was your story, not mine. I told her she should ask you. And I only did that because she announced she would talk to Gabriele about it. I had to stop that, Grandma.’
‘You certainly did. How did you manage to do so?’
‘I told her that Gabri didn’t like to discuss it; that she was not the type to sing her own praises. Justine agreed not to ask her, but for sure she’s going to ask you. She’ll bring it up when she does the interview for the documentary. So be prepared.’
‘I see.’ There was a moment’s pause, then Anita asked, ‘Have you told Gabri?’
‘No, I haven’t. That was my intention, but I just didn’t have the heart.’
‘I understand.’ Anita realized that it was an unfortunate mistake on his part, but she couldn’t really blame him for a slip of the tongue. However, she was certain that Justine would be extremely probing, asking questions that were difficult to answer. She had been a journalist, was curious by nature; the instinct was, more than likely, still there.
‘Will you warn Gabri for me, Grandma? Look, Justine knows nothing about Gabri’s past life, I’m certain of that, and neither do I for that matter.’ He gave her a hard stare.
Anita sat back on the sofa, looking off into space, her expression one of sadness as she thought about Gabriele, her very dearest friend, whose past was actually as mysterious to her as it was to everyone else. In certain ways, Gabriele was something of an enigma.
Michael waited, drank his coffee and thought about his maternal grandmother. When he was back home in New York, or travelling the world doi
ng his work, she often popped into his head unexpectedly, somewhat in the same way Gabriele did at times.
The image in his mind’s eye was of the buoyant, vivacious woman he had had so much fun with over the years growing up in New York and here in Istanbul. Anita, the businesswoman, the famous hostess, full of energy and goodwill; everyone’s special favourite, who usually wore every shade of red in preference to any other colours. He had never met anyone who enjoyed life more, gave so much of herself to her friends and family, and whose love was unconditional.
Interrupting these thoughts, Anita finally said to Michael, ‘I’ll alert Gabri to the situation, but she won’t talk about saving my life to Justine. Or confide anything else about her distant past. She never has to me, you know.’
Anita shook her head, and continued, ‘She never told me what happened to her during those years we were apart, after I’d come here to live. She did save my life in an act of enormous courage, and I have never forgotten that, nor has she, and we are truly bonded. And yet she has never once shared her secrets, and she has hardly mentioned those long-ago years.’
‘I find that odd, Grandma, in view of your extraordinary friendship… you were kids together.’
‘I genuinely believe she can’t talk about those lost years, as I call them. Once, way back when, she told me she had buried the past so deep she couldn’t dredge it up. In my opinion, she doesn’t want to remember, if I’m honest with you.’
‘And she never told you anything? Nothing at all?’
‘A few little things, but her past is in her own keeping… She’s never given me any details of those missing years, and I know for a fact that she never confided in Trent.’
Leaning closer to her grandson, Anita went on to explain, ‘I’m convinced she’s never spoken to anyone other than me. I probably know the most, which is really nothing at all, if the truth be known – a few comments, one small confidence that I promised never to disclose. That’s all she’s ever given me.’
He was still astonished by this, but he noticed the sorrow in his grandmother’s eyes, and he decided to cut this conversation and move on. It served no purpose to continue discussing Gabri’s past.
He exclaimed, ‘Come on, Anita, let’s put all this to one side. Let’s be happy that Justine and I met and fell in love… it’s what you wanted, isn’t it?’ He grinned and put his arm around her. ‘Guess what? Justine believes you set me up.’
On hearing this, Anita couldn’t help laughing. It wasn’t exactly true, but there was no doubt that the moment she had seen Justine she had known Gabri’s lovely granddaughter was the perfect woman for him, the right woman.
Eventually managing to suppress her chuckles, she remarked: ‘Justine is a very clever girl. She picked up on the conspiratorial looks I exchanged with Gabri. And you’re right, it’s wonderful news that you fell head over heels in love. You two are just like your grandfather and me. We met, fell into each other’s arms that night, were in the same bed the next night, got engaged a week later, were married a month after that. We were the happiest couple I know, which is often the case with love at first sight. It seems to last forever.’
A few minutes later Michael found Justine in Gabri’s small library, which opened off the living room. She looked up as he walked in. ‘Are you about to leave?’
‘I am. And I’ve changed my mind; you can come with me if you want, at least as far as the Çiragan Palace. There’s a load of traffic on the bridge, according to Kuri. So he called the hotel, booked a car and driver to take me to Atatürk Airport. He’ll bring you back after he’s dropped me at the hotel. How about that? Feel like a quick boat ride?’
She laughed. ‘I’d love it.’ Standing up, she walked over to him, and he immediately pulled her into his arms, held her close.
He whispered against her hair, ‘I love you, Justine.’
‘And I love you too, Michael. I’m going to miss you terribly.’
‘I’ll call you every day, I promise,’ he said.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Anita and Gabriele saw them off at the jetty, waving to them until the boat was in the middle of the Bosphorus. Only then did the two women turn away and walk back into the gardens.
Anita said, ‘Let’s go and sit on the seat for a few minutes, Gabri. I need to talk to you about something important.’
Gabriele nodded. ‘Why not? It’s a lovely place to relax on a superb morning like this.’
Once they were settled on the garden seat, Anita said, ‘I need to explain a situation that’s developed.’
Gabriele turned to look at her, and frowned, bafflement reflected on her face. ‘You sound serious, Anita, is there a problem?’ She scrutinized her friend alertly.
‘I think so.’ Anita shook her head, worry clouding her eyes. ‘Michael came to see me this morning. He said he made a blunder earlier. He told Justine you saved my life when we were young girls.’
Gabriele was silent; her heart sank. She said slowly, carefully, ‘Knowing Michael, it was an honest slip of the tongue.’
‘That’s right, he meant no harm, Gabri. Apparently, Justine was so surprised and intrigued he realized she hadn’t known this before. He grew alarmed because Justine became overly curious.’
There was a moment of silence, then Gabriele murmured, ‘She was always inquisitive, hence her desire to become a journalist.’
Anita explained, ‘According to Michael, she began to ask a lot of questions, and he told her that it was my story, that she should speak to me if she wanted to know more. He suggested this because she told him she wanted to talk to you about it. He was trying to divert her.’
‘I see.’ Gabriele bit her lip, wondering how to handle this unexpected situation, which presented a number of problems.
Recognizing this was troublesome to Gabriele, Anita took hold of her hand and squeezed it. ‘I’ll say anything you want. What shall I tell her? I will have to address it.’
‘Yes, you will. We’d better stick to the truth: it’s always the best in the long run. She knows we grew up together. So you can just say it happened during the Second World War, and leave it at that.’
Anita was not sure it would work, and she was dreading talking to Justine. The latter was a clever young woman, brilliant in certain ways, and extremely perceptive. Very much like her grandmother. Clearing her throat, Anita asked, ‘Shall I say I was in a dangerous situation?’
‘No, don’t say that if you can avoid it. Just bring the conversation to an end.’
‘What if she keeps pressing me?’ Anita asked, her concern echoing.
‘She might do that, yes. So if she does, tell her the truth. That a short while after I’d helped you, your brother took you to Turkey, because your mother was there with her sister. And that she wanted you both with her.’
Anita nodded, let out a long sigh. ‘You know as well as I do that one question will simply lead to another – it inevitably does.’
‘If that happens then you have no alternative but to tell her to come and talk to me,’ Gabriele said firmly, in a steady voice.
Anita was startled by this remark, and she gaped at Gabriele. Her surprise was apparent in her voice when she exclaimed, ‘But you’ve never spoken about those years with anyone, not even me…’ Anita shook her head. ‘You’re not able to do that, Gabri.’
There was no response from Gabriele. She leaned back on the garden seat and closed her eyes, her mind racing. Her body was suddenly as rigid as stone, her face a mask; inside she was floundering, at a loss, not knowing what to do.
Anita, who knew her better than anyone, understood what was going on in her mind. Gabriele was seeking a way to tell her granddaughter something about her past, without creating needless pain for herself. Anita had fretted about her for years, had long accepted that Gabriele’s sorrow ran deep, that she had no desire to dredge up memories which would only cause more suffering. Their one little discussion about the lost years, as Anita called them, had been in the late 1940s, after the end of the wa
r when travel had become easier. And ever since then there had not been much else said. Until now.
With a sudden movement, Gabriele sat up and turned to Anita, gazing with intensity at her devoted friend. ‘I will try to confide a few things in order to satisfy Justine. But as you’re well aware, I am not able to dig very deep.’
‘That will be good, Gabri.’ Anita’s eyes narrowed as she returned her friend’s long stare and realized how pale she was. She also noticed the apprehension in Gabriele’s blue eyes, decided to change the subject.
Anita remarked, in a casual way, ‘I think Justine will want to do the interview with me today, for the documentary. And I shall.’ Anita paused, before murmuring softly, ‘But the other matter might come up, you know.’ There was a note of warning in her voice.
‘I am prepared for that now,’ Gabriele answered swiftly. ‘There’s something else we should discuss. We’re supposed to go to Bodrum tomorrow, to visit the Malkins, talk about finishing their house by June. We can’t put it off, we must go. If necessary, we can take Justine with us.’
‘You’re right, and we have to get the project out of the way. I have a feeling the Malkins want to move in as soon as possible.’ She then thought of Justine. A sense of dismay trickled through her once more, a shadow crossing her face. She wished to God her grandson had been more careful. It was not like him to make such a blunder; on the other hand, he had not understood the ramifications.
Gabriele spent the remainder of the morning sitting at her desk in a corner of her bedroom. It was quiet upstairs, and she had total privacy. Far away from the many and varied activities downstairs, early morning cleaning, flower arranging, and preparations for lunch, she was also removed from the fussing of Ayce and Suna, the two young women who looked after her and the yali. They were caring and devoted, but had developed a tendency to mother her, which both amused and touched her. Yet there were times when she needed to be alone, to sort through her myriad thoughts.
Up here in her spacious room overlooking the Bosphorus she could relax and think. She had a clear and analytical mind, and her mental capacities had not been diminished by the passing years.