‘Don’t say that,’ said Ziya in a distant voice. ‘This business has nothing to do with conscience.’
Cabbar turned his head and glanced at Numan.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ said Ziya. ‘I understand your position. But I really wouldn’t want to get involved in this. If this is the girl’s wish, and if she really has no feelings for him, what right do I have to tell her she has to love him? I don’t think it would do any good for me to raise this matter with Kenan or his mother: what exactly would I say? Tell her to tell her daughter that she should start loving Numan? It’s just not done. .’
Numan suddenly leaned forward. ‘You have nothing to say but no, Ziya Bey.’
Cabbar grabbed his brother’s head and pushed it back. As he did so, he muttered, ‘You be quiet!’ through gritted teeth. ‘Mind your manners, and stay in your seat!’
‘I don’t understand,’ Ziya said. ‘Why did Numan get so angry? Was I wrong in what I said?’
Cabbar dug his huge hands into his pockets, and came out with a packet of cigarettes. He lit himself one. And then, to dissipate the tension, he said, ‘He’s young, that’s all it is. He says the first thing that comes into his head! You’re older. You can find it in yourself to excuse him. If you ask me, Ziya Bey, the best thing would be for you to think this ambassador business over. This is not the sort of thing anyone should agree to in a flash.’
‘My answer won’t change,’ Ziya replied. ‘There’s nothing I need to think over. And furthermore, I don’t think of marriage as a sacred business either. From the first day to the last, it’s a life you lead together, in this world. So how can you say it’s sacred?’
‘It’s divine,’ said Cabbar, frowning as he puffed out a great cloud of smoke. ‘But you, I see, are a man of the world!’
Ziya said nothing.
Cabbar and Numan got up then. Muttering their goodbyes, they headed towards the vineyard. Just as he was about to go through the hedges, Cabbar wheeled around suddenly and in a plaintive voice he said, ‘Give it some thought, Ziya Bey. I implore you. Give it a little thought and then give us your final decision.’
‘There’s nothing to think about,’ Ziya said again. ‘I’ve made up my mind.’
Cabbar looked down, as if to say, ‘So that’s it, then?’ He was about to set off when he wheeled around again. Putting more warmth into his voice, he said, ‘I’m curious. What were you looking at when we walked in?’
‘I was looking at the mountains,’ Ziya said. ‘I saw something I’d never seen before.’
Seeing this as another way in, or another way to buy time, Cabbar went back to Ziya’s side. Looking out at the mountains, he said, ‘So where’s this thing you saw?’
Ziya pointed at it, but Cabbar could see nothing there. Then Numan came over, steeped in resentment. But he wouldn’t say if he’d seen something, or nothing. Then he went back through the vineyard gate, clomping angrily over the clods of earth.
And that day, Ziya watched them go. He watched until they were down the hill and back on the dirt road. Then he quickly got himself ready. Picking up an empty plastic water bottle, he walked straight into the village, past clucking chickens and sheep pens, and the donkeys braying in their shadows, and nodding at two old men as he passed them. Arriving at Kenan’s house, he stood uncertainly at the courtyard gate before gently pushing it open. Nefise, who was sitting beneath the mulberry tree, looked up. Ziya was startled at the sight of her. He could no longer move. It was all he could do to cast down his eyes. This was because there was something in the way this girl was sitting that reminded him of that bird he’d shot and killed forty-two years earlier. It was as if that bird had been here all along, changing shape — first a shadow, then a leaf, and then a blur the size of a hand, and now it had turned into Nefise. And there it was, this coy and barefaced reverie. Strangely serene, as if it existed outside time. Time seemed not to touch it, even as it flowed in great waves in the shape of a village.
‘Welcome,’ said Nefise, pulling herself together. ‘Do come in.’
At first Ziya could not speak. When he looked at Nefise, he felt the same peace of mind he’d felt forty-two years earlier, when he set eyes on that bird. But with it came fear.
‘Do come in,’ Nefise said again.
‘So you. .’ Ziya stammered. ‘So you must be Nefise. I’m Kenan’s friend.’
Nefise was standing now. She seemed to be looking at him from near and from afar. And so serene. Blindingly serene.
‘Yes, I guessed as much,’ she said, smiling gently. ‘Do come in. Make yourself at home.’
Ziya was so agitated, he didn’t know what to do. His heart was pounding. It seemed to him that Nefise was pretending not to notice, so as not to add to his embarrassment. She kept shrinking into the shadows that played on her cheeks, her eyes, her brow. Just then Kenan came through the door carrying a little copper tray draped in muslin. Seeing Ziya, he smiled and rushed over to greet him.
‘Welcome,’ he said. ‘Have you introduced yourselves? This is my sister Nefise.’
‘Yes, we’ve just introduced ourselves,’ Ziya said.
There followed a short silence.
‘I was on my way to the fountain,’ Ziya said, struggling to hide his agitation. ‘I thought I’d drop by.’
‘I’m glad you did,’ said Kenan with a smile. ‘Our door is always open.’
Ziya gave Nefise a sidelong look and then turned back to Kenan. ‘Do you know what?’ he said. ‘Yesterday I took a long walk up into the mountains and while I was walking, I went through all my memories of the army, but I still couldn’t remember what this good thing was I did for you.’
Blushing, Kenan stared down at the tray in his hand. And then, to change the subject, he said, ‘Please don’t be offended. But I have to go see my Uncle Cevval right now. If you like, we could go together, and I could introduce you.’