The Water Diviner
Page 28
With the money the new arrivals bring in, Ayshe has been able to afford to pay for some of the repairs the hotel so desperately needs. The fountain at the centre of the courtyard now tinkles gently, its pipes replaced and its ornate fluting scrubbed clean of algae and moss. The tiles have been lifted, broken pavers replaced and fresh mortar laid. The chickens have been banished to a far corner of the garden where they peck at the dirt within the confines of Connor’s still sturdy coop. The garden beds that edge the courtyard are once again weeded and planted with neatly pruned rosebushes, bulbs and fragrant flowers. Set against the wall in the corner of the courtyard sits Ayshe’s biggest investment. A cylindrical copper boiler sits steaming, its rivets gleaming in the sunlight. Never again will Orhan be caught out lying about the availability of hot water at the Otel Troya.
Ayshe hears the creak of the door as a guest enters the garden. She is intent on pouring chocolate-brown coffee into two tiny bone-china cups decorated with ultramarine blue, carmine red and gold filigree. Placing the cups on the small silver tray along with a glass dish containing tiny, jewel-like cubes of Turkish delight, she looks out into the courtyard. There, a tall figure of a man hesitates by the door, removing his broad-brimmed hat as he glances around the garden.
Her breath catches in her chest.
There is no sign of Ayshe, so Connor moves towards one of the tables, pulling out the chair. He is surprised to see that his rough and calloused hand is shaking. He sits and glances towards the kitchen. There. There she is. Head held high on her graceful swan’s neck, shoulders thrown back proudly. He feels his throat swell with longing, his blood pounding in his ears.
Ayshe seems unaware of his arrival as she edges the kitchen door open with her hip and carries a tray towards one of the other tables. She smiles warmly at her guests as she approaches their table, placing the tiny coffee cups before them, full lips curling up at the corners, her translucent green eyes glittering. She turns and looks towards where Connor sits and registers his presence without so much as a flicker of surprise or pleasure. She nods, restrained. Polite, but distant.
Connor is utterly crestfallen, the euphoric rush of reunion replaced by a bitter taint of disappointment that burns behind his eyes. Ayshe moves across the courtyard towards where the Australian sits. She bows her head formally. ‘Mr Connor.’
Connor responds in Turkish. ‘Good afternoon. I hope you are well.’
If she is surprised to hear him addressing her in her own language, she doesn’t show it. She replies perfunctorily, ‘I am well. Thank you.’
‘You look . . . very well.’
‘I have told you I am. You speak Turkish like a villager.’
Blushing, Connor reverts to English. ‘Am I welcome here?’
Ayshe shrugs her delicate shoulders, raising her dark eyebrows slightly. ‘All are welcome here. It is a hotel.’
‘And your brother-in-law, would he welcome me too?’
‘He has gone to fight with the Nationalists.’ She allows herself a small smile. ‘Finally, war has a purpose.’
An uncomfortable silence descends over the couple. Connor is despondent.
I should never have returned. She doesn’t want me here.
‘May I bring you a Turkish coffee, Mr Connor?’
He shakes his head. ‘I still haven’t managed to get a taste for it. Even after all this time.’
She places her hands on her hips. ‘If you know so much about my country now, then you will also know that it is impolite to refuse such an offer.’
Connor flushes. ‘Oh. Yes. All right, then. A coffee, please, but only medium sugar.’
Ayshe nods curtly and turns to walk back into the kitchen.
Connor looks down at the palms of his hands, feeling awkward, embarrassed.
The door to the kitchen opens again and Ayshe steps out holding a tray with a single cup on it. She stops at Connor’s table and bends to place it by his hand, along with a selection of baklava.
‘You don’t seem surprised to see me again.’
Ayshe glances up at him. ‘It was in your coffee.’
He wrinkles his brow, confused.
‘Months ago. Before you left, your cup told me you would return,’ Ayshe explains. ‘Do you remember what I told you about coffee? The answer to everything is in your cup.’
A customer on the other side of the courtyard signals Ayshe. She turns and moves gracefully across the marble tiles, her hips swinging beneath her slim skirt.
Connor watches her leave and lifts the tiny cup to his lips. Nothing could be worse than the bitter taste of her rejection. He takes a small sip then hurriedly puts it down again, grimacing. The coffee is so sweet it makes his tongue curl. Dipping the tiny teaspoon into the cup, he scoops up some of the coffee, and sees that it is so heavily laden with sugar it’s as thick as honey.
Everything is in the coffee. The cup never lies . . .
The shadow of a conversation, what seems a lifetime ago.
Connor’s heart soars. He looks over to where Ayshe stands, clearing the plates from a table. She glances up at him, catching his eye, and offers him a secret smile.
The more sugar, the deeper her love.
Connor sits back in his seat, feeling the sun warming his back as a gentle breeze rustles through the ancient trees that shade the courtyard.
He smiles.
Ayshe has made her choice.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This novel is based on the original film script by Andrew Knight and Andrew Anastasios. Without you, AK, neither of these works would have seen the light of day. As wonderful a writer as you are, to us your friendship will always be your greatest gift.
This story is a work of fiction but it is inspired by true events. Thank you to the unknown father who went looking for his son at Gallipoli in 1919. Your journey continues and we hope you would approve.
To our friends in Turkey, Chris Drum and Bahadir Berkaya, Hasan Selamet and Metin Tosin who welcome us back time and time again, you appear in this book in ways you will never know, and we say teşekkür ederim.
This novel is all the better for the encouragement and considered notes from early readers of the script and book, Loretta Little, Jim and Dianne Anastasios, Banu Erzeren, Tolga Örnek, John Alsop, Elise McCredie and Charlie Carmen. Thank you to Andrew Hoyne and Joanna Anderson, for all your friendship and years of gentle nudging.
To the word-witchers at Pan Macmillan, including Cate Paterson, Brianne Collins and Paul O’Beirne, thank you for your guidance and keen minds. Our gratitude also to Russell Crowe, Andrew Mason, Troy Lum, Keith Roger and John Collee for bringing this story to the screen and helping make this novel possible.
To Keith Liston, the original water diviner, even though you didn’t always find water, when you did you changed lives. Our heartfelt gratitude and affection go to our parents Jim, Di and Loretta for indulging us, sometimes against your better judgement. And to Willie, thank you for showing us how to dream big. Our love and thanks to Irma, Jane, Victoto, Sue, Matt, Katherine, Phoebe, John, Phil, Adrian, AB, Ariana and Sophia for your encouragement and support.
To Roman and Cleopatra, thank you both for the joy you bring us every day. May you find as much love and adventure between the pages of books as we have.
When we leave this world,
do not look for our tombs in the earth,
but find them in the hearts of men.
Rumi
About Andrew Anastasios and
Meaghan Wilson-Anastasios
Andrew Anastasios was born in Melbourne in 1966, the grandson of a water diviner. He began his working life as an archaeologist, excavating in the Near East and Turkey, where he met his wife Meaghan. He was a travel-writer, journalist and advertising copywriter before a line in a century old letter sparked the idea for his first feature film script. Andrew is the co-writer of the international film, The Water Diviner, and works from Australia as a screenwriter and producer.
Meaghan Wilson-Anastasios grew up in Melbour
ne before travelling and working as an archaeologist in the Mediterranean and Middle East. She holds a PhD in art history and cultural economics and lectures at the University of Melbourne. Meaghan balances her academic career with an unapologetically populist taste in entertainment, writing and researching for film, TV and the print media. She lives in inner Melbourne with her husband and their two children. The Water Diviner is her first novel, and she hopes it won’t be her last.
First published 2014 in Pan by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Limited
1 Market Street, Sydney, New South Wales, Australia, 2000
Copyright © Andrew Anastasios and Meaghan Wilson-Anastasios 2014
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the publisher.
This ebook may not include illustrations and/or photographs that may have been in the print edition.
Cataloguing-in-Publication entry is available
from the National Library of Australia
http://catalogue.nla.gov.au
EPUB format: 9781743534298
Typeset by Midland Typesetters, Australia
Cover design by Deborah Parry Graphics
Cover photographs: © DIVINER HOLDINGS PTY LTD Photos Mark Rogers
The characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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