Farewell: A Mansion in Occupied Istanbul (Turkish Literature) by Ayse Kulin Read Free Book Online Page A

Akaretler, where you’ll exchange one envelope for another, easy as that,” he cajoled.
    “And if they find out?”
    “Blame me. Tell them I forced you. That’s the truth, isn’t it?”
    “If they find out they’ll send me packing.”
    “They won’t find out.”
    “But if they did . . . Re ş at Beyefendi . . .Saraylıhanım . . . My God, I don’t want to think about it. My uncles would shoot me.”
    “No one will harm you. I won’t let them. If they dismiss you, I’ll take you under my protection.”
    “How?”
    Kemal couldn’t help smiling. He was, after all, still dependent upon the patronage of his uncle, and even Mehpare would attach no credibility to his words.
    “I’ll marry you.”
    “Ah! That would be out of the question!”
    “Why? Would you refuse me?”
    “They’d never allow it.”
    “Some undertakings don’t require permission, Mehpare. You’ve nursed me devotedly. If it weren’t for you, I would never have recovered. And what’s more, you’re a pretty girl. You’re intelligent, well-mannered. What else could a man want in a wife? Of course, if you say that I’m sick and old, that you won’t have me, that’s something else entirely!”
    “What kind of talk is that, sir? Don’t say such things!”
    “Then think it over. You have until evening. If you accept, splendid. And if you don’t, I’ll fend for myself.”
    “Couldn’t you give the letter to someone else?”
    “No. I told you, I’ll go myself.” Kemal stood up, went to his chair and sat down again. “Now I’m ready for that coffee.”
    Mehpare emerged from the room like a sleepwalker. She leaned her head against the wall of the stairwell. She felt dizzy. It was only by leaning against the walls from time to time that she was able to make it as far as the kitchen.
    Saraylıhanım burst into her grandson’s room without knocking. Kemal was writing at the little table he’d placed directly in front of the window. “Everything alright?” he said. “Thank God I managed to dress myself a few moments ago. Is the situation so very urgent?”
    The elderly woman ignored his annoyance. “That girl is prattling on about something or other.”
    “Which girl?”
    “Mehpare. She claims to have received a letter . . . apparently her aunt is ill . . . My eyes aren’t up to the task. Read this to me.”
    Well aware that his aunt was illiterate, Kemal smiled softly to himself as he carefully examined the letter thrust into his hand. “Grandmother, Mehpare’s aunt has fallen ill and asks that Mehpare be permitted to visit her today.”
    “Is the illness serious? We’ll send Hüsnü Efendi.”
    “She asks for the girl, not Hüsnü.”
    “But how can Mehpare be expected to travel there alone? Hüsnü Efendi can go with our condolences and return with news of the patient. I’ll give him a bit of money for medicine if necessary.”
    “If, God forbid, something serious happens you’ll have to answer for it. The letter says Dilruba Hanım suffered heart palpitations last night. Let the girl go to her.”
    “But if she goes who will care for you, my boy?”
    “Am I a child? Look, I’m better now, I can walk around the house on my own. Please don’t coddle me like that.”
    “The girl can go if you wish it. But are you certain this isn’t some ploy she’s hatched? Where’s the envelope? Some sort of assignation, maybe?
    “The things you say! God save us from such suspicion. The poor girl hasn’t so much as poked her nose out of doors for months, and all because of me.”
    “She’s had ample opportunity to go to the shops. We also sent her to the doctor’s house when you were having your fit of nerves. She’s been distracted these past few days. She’s been strange. I’m an old hand, not so easily fooled. I know a pair of moon-eyes when I see one. That girl’s in love, I’m certain of it.”
    “I can’t attest to the girl’s eyes, but with my own I saw her tearing up an envelope.”
    “You