Farewell: A Mansion in Occupied Istanbul (Turkish Literature)

by Kulin, Ayse

  “I have some business to attend to.”

  “But Hüsnü Efendi, the sun’s not even up yet. What kind of business?”

  “I’d suggest you return to the house immediately, Mehpare Hanım. Were Saraylıhanım to see you out here with me I don’t want to think what she’d do!”

  “You’re off to visit Kemal Bey, aren’t you?”

  “Go back inside, Mehpare Hanım. It’s none of your business!”

  “Hüsnü Efendi, it’s my husband you’re going to visit.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Well, where are you going then?”

  “I can’t say. It’s top secret. I’m simply following the Master’s instructions.”

  Mehpare extended the Koran she was holding in her hand and said, “Well then, swear on the Koran that you’re not going to Kemal Bey.”

  “What do you want from me, Mehpare Hanım? Why are you doing this?”

  “Take me with you.”

  “That’s out of the question!”

  “Aren’t I entitled to see my husband?”

  “Get permission from the Master first.”

  Absolutely certain now of the servant’s plans, Mehpare became even more insistent. “If you had any human kindness at all you’d take me with you.”

  “I can’t take you, Mehpare Hanım,” Hüsnü doggedly insisted as he worked to release his arm from Mehpare’s grip.

  “Hüsnü Efendi, my husband left the house just three days after we were married. I may never see him again. He may be martyred. I’m begging you.”

  “I couldn’t possibly!”

  “I have something very important to tell him.”

  “I’ll tell him for you.”

  “It’s very personal.”

  “Quick then, write a letter. I’ll wait till you’re done.”

  “I want to tell him in person.”

  Hüsnü Efendi freed his arm and began striding towards the carriage. Mehpare ran after him. “Hüsnü Efendi, for the love of God . . . I’ll kiss the soles of your feet . . .” Tears began sliding down her cheeks. “I think I may be going to faint . . .”

  Hüsnü Efendi turned round just in time to clasp Mehpare round the waist. The Koran had slipped from her fingers. Muttering a quick prayer, he picked it up, kissed it, pressed it to his forehead, and handed it back. “Take your Koran and go back into the house, Mehpare Hanım. You’ve gone all pale and you look ill. You’ll catch a chill and make it worse. Go on.”

  “I’m not ill. Look, I’m going to share a secret with you. I’m pregnant. That’s the news I want to tell my husband. He’ll be going to Anatolia soon. He may or may not be coming back. Please, I’m begging you. Have you no heart, Hüsnü Efendi?”

  The servant squirmed helplessly.

  “Then go and ask Reşat Beyefendi for permission. I can’t take you without his knowledge.”

  “He mustn’t know. Let me go with you. On the way back, you can drop me off at the corner. We’ll return to the house separately. I’ll tell them I visited my aunt,” Mehpare said, as she once again seized him by the arm. “Hüsnü Efendi, this may be the only opportunity Kemal will ever have to caress his child, even if is only through my belly. If something were to happen to him before I delivered the good news, it would weigh on your conscience forever.”

  A short time later, as Mehpare took a seat next to Hüsnü Efendi and the carriage rattled off, the poor man couldn’t help asking her how she had known he was about to leave for the farm.

  “Every day, from the moment I wake up until I go to bed at night, I wait for news from my husband. This morning, too, I got up early and was sitting in the chair in front of the window, reading the Koran. At the sound of horses neighing, I looked out of the window and saw a carriage had arrived. Clearly, something odd was going on. When I saw you in the garden I grabbed my çarşaf and ran straight out of the front door. In my haste, I was still carrying the Koran.”

  “I’m going to get into trouble because of you,” Hüsnü Efendi grumbled.

  “No you won’t. My lips are sealed. The arrival of that woman the other morning did not escape my notice either. But did I mention it to anyone?”

  “You mean you saw her!”

  “I did. And later, when Reşat Bey told us that Kemal was in good health, I was convinced that she’d come with a message from my husband. God will bless you, Hüsnü Efendi, for reuniting man and wife.”

  Hüsnü Efendi said nothing in response, nor did he speak for the rest of the drive: he was too preoccupied with wondering what Reşat Bey would do when he found out that Mehpare had accompanied him to the farm.

  Kemal was seated at his desk early that morning preparing documents. They’d had another exciting night and no one had been able to sleep until dawn. This time, a twelve-man team led by Pehlivan had pilfered a naval factory and hauled all the gunpowder they could carry to the Aynalıkavak Shipyard on the Golden Horn. The English had recently begun locking up and sealing armament plants to prevent further thefts, but Pehlivan’s men had succeeded in entering through the roof, leaving the sealed door fully intact and unlikely to arouse suspicions later. The acrobats and rope-walkers on the team had utilized their skills to stealthily remove the clay roofing tiles, allowing everyone to slip inside unnoticed. Five of the men in Kemal’s dormitory had joined the operation and those left behind had spent the night with rapidly beating hearts, praying for their success. They were still listening to accounts of the daring raid from their newly returned roommates when the morning call to prayer started. Eyes bloodshot but spirits high, Kemal was busy at work on a consignment document when the dormitory cleaner walked into the room and announced, with a barely suppressed smile: “Sir, you have a visitor.”

  Kemal ignored him.

  “Sir, it’s a shame to keep your visitor waiting . . .”

  “Were you talking to me, Sülo?”

  “You mean you weren’t expecting a visitor?”

  “No, I wasn’t.”

  “There’s a woman here for you. She’s waiting in the side garden.” Assuming the woman in question was yet another male courier, Kemal walked straight to the end of the long corridor and out into the side garden. He could barely make out Hüsnü Efendi standing some distance away under a plane tree. There was someone next to him, someone quite tall and dressed in a çarşaf. He wondered if it was Azra. He knew she was about to be sent to Antep and decided she must have come to say good- bye. As he walked closer he began to get butterflies in his stomach. It wasn’t Azra. He started walking faster. When the woman pulled open her ferace Kemal thought his heart would stop beating. He broke into a run. Mehpare raced towards Kemal and threw her arms around his neck.

  “Don’t Mehpare . . . They’ll see us . . . Stop it,” Kemal said as he unclasped Mehpare’s arms and took her hands in his. Yes, it was his wife, trembling and in tears.

  “So what if they see us? Aren’t I your wife? How wonderful it is to see you again! The nightmares I’ve had. But you’re well, praise God.”

  “I’m fine. Why have you come here? Does my uncle know?” Kemal asked.

  “I followed Hüsnü Efendi.” She took Kemal’s hand and placed it on her belly. “We’ve missed you terribly. When we guessed that Hüsnü Efendi was likely to come here, the two of us, mother and son, began tracking his every move. And now here we are, both of us.”

  “Mehpare, your powers of intuition are incredible; you never cease to amaze me—you can’t imagine how anxious I was to see you last night.”

  “Are you saying I’ve appeared in your dreams as well?” asked Mehpare, whose moment of intimacy with her husband was brought to an abrupt end by Hüsnü Efendi:

  “Beyefendi has sent you a letter. Please read it and write back quickly. We don’t have much time.” Pulling the letter out of his sash, he handed it to Kemal.

  Kemal squatted at the base of the plane tree and read the letter. “I’m going inside to write my reply,” he said. “Please wait for me here.”

  Mehpare
made to follow him as he strode off.

  “You can’t come inside, dear. Strangers aren’t welcome here, let alone women. As a matter of fact, I still can’t fathom how you dared to come. What if you’d been followed? What if something had happened to you?”

  “We weren’t followed. And anyway, I’d risk anything to see you.”

  “You’re carrying a child in your womb; you’re responsible for two lives now. Hüsnü Efendi was mad to bring you here.

  “Please don’t be angry with him. I insisted. Tell him that if he’s asked to bring you another letter he should take me along. If I’m informed in advance I can bring food and clean clothes.”

  “It won’t happen again, Mehpare. I’m leaving within a week.”

  “No!”

  “Tell my uncle. I’m being sent to the Western front, as a courier.”

  “So I was right! I should have gone with you. I should be at your side.”

  “What are you talking about! I’m worried enough as it is at your having come here.” Kemal was silent for a moment; then, taking his wife’s hands in his, “Mehpare, don’t mind what I just said, I’m glad you’ve come,” he said. “I didn’t want to leave without making my farewells. Tell my grandmother, my uncle, my aunt and the girls . . . Tell everyone in the house to send me off with their prayers and blessings. I won’t be on the front lines, but I will be in some danger. If anything were to happen to me, I entrust you to my uncle. I’m going to write a letter to him now and send it with you.”

  “Don’t entrust me to anyone. Come back to me, safe and sound. I’ll be waiting for you. So will your son.”

  “God willing!”

  Kemal released Mehpare’s hands and began walking towards the inner courtyard. Mehpare stumbled back to Hüsnü Efendi’s side and leaned against the plane tree. “I’ll never forget this kindness,” she said. “Thanks to you, I’ve been able to see my husband one more time.”

  “Did you give him the good news?” Mehpare nearly asked him what he meant, but caught herself. “God bless you,” she said. They awaited Kemal in silence. A short time later he returned with a few envelopes. Two of them were addressed separately to his grandmother and uncle, the other bore an unfamiliar name. Mehpare placed all three of them in her bosom.

  “Come on, efendim, let’s get back,” Said Hüsnü Efendi, “we’ve got a long way to go.”

  “Just a little while longer. Please.” Mehpare slipped her arm through Kemal’s and led him a short distance away. At first, Hüsnü Efendi was touched at the sight of the whispering couple, but he began fidgeting as the minutes passed. Mehpare had placed Kemal’s hands on both sides of her belly. The servant didn’t wish to disturb them, but there were burly men wandering about with guns stuck in their sashes; a little further ahead, through the oak apples, he could see a regiment of men going through drills; behind him, an injured man doubled up in pain was being carried into a large yellow building. Wherever he directed his gaze he saw things he felt he wasn’t meant to see. Finally, he could bear it no longer. “Come on, Kemal Bey, we’ve got a long trip back,” he called out.

  Mehpare and Kemal came up hand in hand and the three of them walked together as far as the inner courtyard. After embracing his wife and placing a kiss on her forehead, he bade farewell to Hüsnü Efendi. “Take care of Mehpare Hanım. Make sure she doesn’t get bounced about too much in the carriage, won’t you?” he said with a look of gratitude. For the first time that day, Hüsnü Efendi was glad he’d brought her.

  Mehpare reluctantly released Kemal’s arm. “Leave me an address. I’ll send word of our son’s birth.”

  “I’ll write as soon I know.”

  “Until we meet again, darling . . . Godspeed.”

  As though anticipating that Mehpare would cry all the way home, Hüsnü Efendi took a seat next to the driver for the ride back. When, many hours later, they had arrived in their neighborhood, Hüsnü Efendi ordered the carriage to stop at the top of the street and suggested Mehpare walk the rest of the way home.

  “I’ve decided to tell them the truth,” Mehpare said.

  “Beyefendi will be extremely angry.”

  “I’ll tell him you had no idea, that I secretly climbed into the back of the carriage. I’ll take the blame.”

  “There’s no stopping you,” sighed Hüsnü Efendi. “Well, you can get out here. Give the letters to me and I’ll take them to beyefendi at the Ministry.”

  “I’m coming with you. There’s something I have to tell Kemal Bey’s uncle.”

  “I’m dropping off the carriage over by the bridge, that was the agreement. But you can’t walk all that way.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “Do what you have to!” Hüsnü Efendi muttered to himself resignedly as he returned to the driver’s side to pay the fare.

  By the time Mehpare and Hüsnü Efendi arrived at the Finance Ministry, many of the civil servants were already departing for the day. Hüsnü Efendi went up to Reşat Bey’s personal secretary and informed him that the finance minister had a visitor. Then he entered the building with Mehpare, who marveled at the grand marble staircase as she ascended to the floor above, where Reşat Bey had his office. When the clerk asked who she was, she replied: “His daughter-in-law. I’ve brought some urgent news from home.” The clerk ushered her into an adjoining room and a moment later she was standing in front of the minister himself.

  Ahmet Reşat started at the sight of Mehpare in his office. “Has something happened to Behice? Or my aunt?”

  “Everyone’s fine. Forgive me, efendim,” Mehpare said, “but I’m afraid I’ve done something I shouldn’t, yet again. As Hüsnü Efendi was leaving today to visit Kemal Bey, I climbed into the carriage without his knowledge or consent; I went to the farm and saw my husband.”

  “How dare you presume to do such a thing? Are you mad?”

  “I had some important news for him, efendim. And I was determined to tell him myself. Please forgive me.”

  “And what news is that? Or is it that you’re intending to go off to Anatolia? You knew I wouldn’t allow it so you went to Kemal instead, is that it?” Ahmet Reşat had risen from his desk, and was standing in front of Mehpare, looking directly into her eyes.

  “No, efendim. I . . . I’m pregnant, efendim. I wanted to be the one to tell Kemal, efendim.”

  Ahmet Reşat softened. He returned to his desk. “Are you certain, my girl?”

  “Yes I am.”

  “May Allah bring the infant to term. My congratulations. Presumably you managed to see Kemal?”

  “I did. He sent you three letters.” She pulled them from her bosom and placed them on the desk. Ahmet Reşat couldn’t help reproving Mehpare one last time before he read the letter addressed to him.

  “Mehpare, you should have informed me that you wished to go to the farm.”

  “You wouldn’t have allowed it, efendim. And I wouldn’t have wanted to disobey you.”

  “And so, even in your condition, you didn’t hesitate to place yourself in possible danger. You’re no different from your husband! Small wonder that he married you. A perfect match.”

  “With your permission, I’d like to go home now; I don’t wish to detain you any further.”

  “You’ve been traveling the better part of the day. You must be exhausted. I’ll arrange a carriage and we’ll go home together. I’ve finished here in any case.”

  Ahmet Reşat scanned the letter and summoned Hüsnü Efendi, but not before arranging for Mehpare to wait outside in the clerk’s office. After about ten minutes Hüsnü Efendi rushed out to get a carriage. After a considerable wait, Ahmet Reşat and Mehpare set off for home. Meanwhile, Hüsnü Efendi stuck one of the letters into his sash and walked off in the opposite direction.

  As they drove along in the carriage Reşat Bey asked, “How did you find Kemal? Has he grown thin?”

  “No, he looked well,” said Mehpare, “the color has come back to his cheeks. He wrote to tell you that he was going to the front, efendim.”
>
  “Indeed he did. May God watch over him.”

  Both of them sat in thoughtful silence the rest of the way home. When the women of the house saw the missing Mehpare getting out of the carriage with Reşat Bey, they flocked round, peppering her with questions. “Leave her in peace,” said Ahmet Reşat. “Mehpare left with me this morning; she’s been to see Kemal. She had some news for him.”

  “What news?” demanded Saraylıhanım, infuriated that something had happened in the household without her knowledge.

  “I’m going up to my room. Mehpare will tell you herself.” Mehpare walked into the sitting room on the second floor, the other women and girls hard on her heels, and sat down on the divan in front of the bow window. Looking directly at Behice she murmured, “I too am expecting a child, Behice Abla.”

  “All this fuss about that?” Saraylıhanım snorted.

  “Saraylıhanım!” Behice exclaimed as she rushed over to kiss Mehpare. The girls were delighted that the house was to be enlivened by the addition of two babies, and everyone began talking at once. This time, Behice would be having a boy, so how wonderful it would be for Mehpare to have a girl. And if it was a girl, she should be named “Leman”. The elder Leman would immediately begin knitting a set of pink baby clothes for her namesake, which was just as well because, to tell the truth, she was tired of knitting blue rompers for her younger brother . . .

  “When are you due?” Behice asked.

  “Simply calculate the number of days they’ve been married,” Saraylıhanım volunteered. “Unless of course, the baby were to arrive early . . .”

  “Why ever would it?” said Behice. “She’s a healthy young woman.”

  “My dear, one can never be sure in these matters. Weren’t you a healthy young woman yourself, once? And yet you miscarried. Or had you forgotten?”

  Biting her tongue, Behice thought to herself: You’ll never let me forget, you old sow. Given any opportunity you fling it in my face: the loss of a male heir. She turned to Mehpare, who was looking pleased and proud, and said, “In any case, there’ll be something of an age difference between the babies; mine will be a protective older brother to your little girl.”