‘Or scuba diving? There’s a lot of that out here.’
‘No,’ said Carole.
Traffic was heavy, and Carole’s eyes were busy taking in the unfamiliar shop fronts, watching the people who wandered nonchalantly amidst the cars and vans. There were lots of scooters, driven by men without crash helmets and only flip-flops on their feet, who were buzzing around, threading their way through the bigger vehicles. The men wore jeans and T-shirts; the only ones in shorts were very obviously tourists. The women were also casually dressed; very few – and most of those were older – had their hair covered. Carole found herself wondering what it must feel like to be Muslim. Very odd to believe all that stuff. On the other hand, though she put ‘C of E’ on the diminishing number of forms that asked about her religion, Carole didn’t believe in any of the Anglican stuff either. Very odd to have a faith was probably what she meant.
‘There’s a very good fish market here in Fethiye,’ Nita went on. ‘Circular place, surrounded by restaurants. You buy your fish in the central area, and then it’s taken to one of the restaurants to be cooked. I recommend you do that for a lunch or dinner one day.’
‘Thank you,’ said Carole, though she didn’t think she would. It sounded a rather complicated way of getting a meal, and it’d probably be very expensive too. Mind you, fresh fish might be safer than a kebab.
Up out of Fethiye, they took a narrow alley that looked hardly wide enough for a car. They turned right on to a wider road. Jolting on its uneven surface woke Jude up, just as Nita carefully steered round a large stone object in the middle of the road. It resembled a giant sentry box, maybe six feet square and fifteen feet high, with a roof shaped like a bishop’s mitre.
‘What the hell’s that?’ asked Jude blearily.
‘It’s a Lycian tomb.’ Carole provided the answer before their guide had time to reply.
‘Well done,’ said Nita. ‘You’ve certainly done your homework.’
‘Actually, to be more accurate,’ said Carole as they drove away from the memorial, ‘it’s a Lycian sarcophagus. The more traditional and distinctive Lycian tombs are carved out of rock on cliff sides. There are examples all over the area, but perhaps the best-known ones are to be found in Dalyan.’
‘Right,’ said Jude. Then, a little plaintively, ‘Where have we got to?’
‘Just come through Fethiye,’ said Nita. ‘Another five miles and we’ll be in Kayaköy. And, incidentally—’ she gestured back towards the town – ‘there’s an example of a carved Lycian tomb back there.’
The two visitors looked back and caught a glimpse of something rectangular carved out of a giant crag on the outskirts of Fethiye. Then the car turned a corner and it was gone.
The road zigzagged up through a forest set on a steep hill. The slickness with which Nita negotiated the many gear changes again suggested this was a road she had travelled many times before. Carole wasn’t convinced that she would much enjoy driving in Turkey if all the roads were like this one. And then, of course, they drove on the right, which was an added complication. Maybe the car which Barney Willingdon had so carefully insured for them would stay in the Morning Glory garage for the entire next fortnight.
‘How long have you known Barney, Nita?’ asked Jude from the back.
Carole would have felt embarrassed about asking such a direct question to someone she’d only just met, but Nita didn’t seem to regard it as an intrusion. ‘Oh, God knows. Must be twenty years, I suppose. It was when I first came out here, working for Thompson’s. He wasn’t building his luxury villas then. Smaller developments, almost chalet style.’
‘Have you ever actually worked for him?’
‘No. I’ve always worked for one or other of the British holiday companies, but inevitably we got to know most of the developers. Back in those days there’d be lots of calls to Barney about teething problems on the new builds. Showers not working, toilets blocked. God, when I think of the number of times I’ve been called to sort out a blocked toilet. Glamorous job, this tour guide lark.’
‘And you’ve been a tour guide all the time, have you?’ Carole dared to ask a question.
‘Well, I have risen up the hierarchy a bit. More managerial these days. And I’m working on more upmarket villas and places. Though I still get to do my fair share of meeting and greeting. And, if there’s no one else round the office when the call comes in, I still occasionally end up sorting out the odd blocked toilet.’
‘I gather,’ Carole went on, emboldened, ‘that Barney’s going to be coming out here soon …?’
‘He’s already here. Arrived yesterday.’
‘But not with his wife this time,’ Jude contributed.
‘No.’
‘Have you met Henry?’
‘Of course I have.’
Carole and Jude both detected a slight caution in Nita’s voice.
‘And did you meet his first wife,’ Jude pressed on. ‘Zoë?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know what actually happened to her?’
There was a silence. It could have occurred because Nita was negotiating a particularly tight hairpin bend, or she could have been deliberately avoiding a reply to Jude’s question. Either way, the moment for a reply had gone. They were going steeply downhill now and, as they turned the corner, came out of the trees’ shade into full sunlight.
‘There,’ said Nita. ‘Your first glimpse of Kayaköy.’
After the bustle of Fethiye, the sparsely wooded valley of the village looked wonderfully flat and tranquil. Up against the hills at the far end stood terraces of grey buildings, slightly wobbly through the heat haze. ‘Is that the ghost town?’ asked Jude.
‘It certainly is.’ The car turned another corner and the old buildings disappeared from sight.
‘And Morning Glory is actually in the village, is it?’ asked Carole. Though impressed by the quiet serenity of the scene before them, she still worried about finding that their accommodation was surrounded by lager louts with tattoos and Union Jack T-shirts.
‘Oh yes. You’ll see it in a minute. Fabulous views.’
‘From here,’ said Jude, ‘the place doesn’t look very developed.’
‘No. There are a lot of holiday villas and what-have-you, but they have been built quite sensitively. There are lots of restaurants too. The whole place is geared to the tourist trade, but wandering through the village you really wouldn’t know it. You’d never believe how close it is to Ölüdeniz.’
‘To where?’ asked Jude.
‘A very thoroughly developed seaside resort,’ said Carole, pleased to offer more of her guidebook research. ‘Only a few miles away, but there you can find everything you’d expect in a tourist centre – water sports, beach umbrellas, English package-holiday people …’
Jude grinned. ‘So in what way are we not “English package-holiday people”?’
‘Well, we aren’t here on a package holiday, for a start,’ Carole replied righteously. ‘We’re staying in a private villa. That’s entirely different.’
‘I see,’ said Jude, still amused.
‘No,’ Carole went on, ‘Ölüdeniz is very touristy. Not our sort of place at all. Rather ghastly, I believe.’
‘I live in Ölüdeniz,’ said Nita.
It could have been an awkward moment. Carole certainly thought it was. But Jude, catching Nita’s eye in the rear-view mirror, winked and received an answering grin.
‘It’s practical,’ Nita continued. ‘My husband’s business is in Ölüdeniz.’
‘Ah, now, he teaches scuba diving – is that right? Barney mentioned it.’
‘Yes, Jude, he has a school in Ölüdeniz. If you fancy having some lessons, there’s a flyer with all the details in the villa.’
‘Yes, I think it’s probably unlikely, but never say never.’ Jude’s response to the suggestion was rather more gracious than Carole’s had been.