‘Right. We actually only live in Ölüdeniz during the summer – you know, the tourist season. In the winter we’re in Muğla, which is where Erkan’s family comes from.’
‘And do you have children?’ asked Carole, now feeling ready to pose a personal question.
But the sharpness with which Nita said, ‘No,’ made her wish she hadn’t. Still, the awkwardness was not allowed to linger, as their guide went on briskly, ‘Anyway, Ölüdeniz is a temple of culture and good taste when compared to Hisarönü.’
‘Where?’
‘It’s a village – well, maybe I should say it used to be a village – only a few miles away. Between Kayaköy and Ölüdeniz, and that’s really touristy.’
‘For tourists from where?’ asked Jude.
‘Oh, English, definitely English. All the cafés and restaur-ants do full English breakfasts – and Sunday roasts. Lots of pubs called things like the Rover’s Return. And the Dirty Duck, of course, that Donna mentioned. People can spend a fortnight there and never hear anyone speaking anything but English.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Carole Seddon as her mind clouded with images of tattoos and Union Jack T-shirts. And she had another little niggle of worry about the shorts on Lily’s teddy bear.
‘It sounds fun,’ said Jude. ‘We really must go there.’
The Hyundai turned off left fairly soon after the road levelled out at the beginning of the village. The track up which they travelled was just wide enough for one car but, unlike the potholed route they had taken from Fethiye, it was well-paved. The sides of the track were wooded, but here and there were turnings, presumably leading to other villas.
When they emerged from the woods on to a paved forecourt, through black railed gates they saw Morning Glory in all its glory. The central part of the building, rising to three storeys, was made of slabs of old grey stone. That part must have been some existing structure, a granary perhaps, considering its height, but to either side new wings had been sympathetically added. They were constructed mostly of wood and glass, but pillars and rows of stone contrived to make the whole villa look like a single concept. A wooden garage door presumably hid the car that Barney Willingdon had promised them the use of.
Between the gates and the front door, a large swimming pool sparkled in the sunlight. Water trickled continually over its outer edge into a conduit from which it was recycled back into the pool, so that swimmers had the illusion of an infinite vista beyond. Around the pool, loungers lay, attended by palm trees. And any harsh contours of the building were softened by variegated shrubs and potted plants.
Carole and Jude’s spirits lifted. Both felt relief from looking at the home where they would spend the next fortnight. All Carole’s fears of being overlooked or surrounded by lager louts with tattoos and Union Jack T-shirts vanished in an instant.
Jude let out a low whistle. ‘Wow!’ she said.
‘Pretty damn good, isn’t it?’ said Nita with almost proprietorial pride. ‘Mind you, you’re not seeing it quite at its best.’
‘Oh?’
‘Wait till tomorrow morning.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The villa’s not called Morning Glory for nothing.’ She gestured to the greenery climbing up over the villa’s frontage. ‘The flowers close up in the afternoon. Tomorrow morning that’ll be a riot of blue.’
‘Lovely. Can’t wait to see it,’ said Jude.
‘Right, let’s get in and show you round.’ Nita reached for a zapper from the car’s glove compartment and opened the gates remotely. She parked on the paved surface directly in front of the main door. ‘Do you want to bring your bags in now or have a look around first?’
Carole’s, ‘Bring the bags in,’ and Jude’s, ‘Have a look around,’ were spoken simultaneously. Jude’s counsel won.
As they got out, their guide produced a large ring of keys from the glove compartment. Once again, after the air-conditioned comfort of the car, the direct sunlight felt very fierce.
As Nita unlocked the double wooden doors, she said, ‘Obviously, there’s air conditioning throughout. Up to you whether you want to have that on or open the doors and windows to get a through breeze.’ Then, pushing the doors wide, she stood back. ‘See what you think.’
Carole and Jude stepped forward into Morning Glory. They were aware of a large white-painted room, taking up the whole ground floor of the original building. But, before they could take in any more, both were drawn to the words written on the high white wall opposite them:
‘YOU ARE NOT WELLCOME HERE. REMEMBER WHAT HAPPNED TO ZOE.’
Trails of red dripped down from some of the letters. They appeared to be written in blood.
Carole Seddon, who never did that kind of thing, screamed.
NINE
The first thing established was that it wasn’t blood. With what Carole thought of as complete disregard for the etiquette of behaviour at what could be a crime scene, Nita had gone straight across to the writing and touched a finger to the residual dampness on the letters. She sniffed the red deposit and announced, ‘Paint.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Carole in her most businesslike way, trying retrospectively to cover up the appalling lapse of her emotional display.
‘Yes.’
‘Might it have been done by some locals who resent British ownership of property out here?’
‘Very unlikely,’ said Nita. ‘Almost everyone in Kayaköy is involved in the tourist industry.’
‘But the fact that the message is misspelt suggests it was written by someone whose first language isn’t English.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that,’ said Nita drily. ‘I’ve dealt with some pretty illiterate English holidaymakers over the years. Anyway, as I was saying, none of the locals would do anything that might harm the tourist industry. And they take a pretty dim view of anyone who does harm it. They have fairly effective methods of policing their own community. Any teenager who steps out of line and commits some act of vandalism is treated in such a way that they never do it again. Apart from anything else, the people here really like the British.’
‘So who else might have done this?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘But who,’ asked Carole, ‘knew we were going to be out here?’
‘I don’t think this is addressed at you personally,’ said Nita, her reassurance not entirely subduing Carole’s paranoia. ‘Nobody did know you were going to be out here. Your names may be on a form somewhere, but I doubt it. I gather your taking the villa is a private arrangement between you and Barney.’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘So this—’ Nita gestured to the defaced wall – ‘is not aimed at you.’
‘Who is it aimed at, then?’
The tour guide shrugged. Carole and Jude got the strong impression that she did have an idea who might have desecrated the white interior wall. They received the equally strong impression that she wasn’t about to share her suspicions with them.
Nita pulled an iPhone from the pocket of her white trousers. On its dark-blue case was a design of pale-blue fishes.
‘And seeing what it says up there,’ asked Carole, ‘what did happen to Zoë?’
But Nita had got through on the phone and was speaking in fluent Turkish. When she finished her call she said, ‘I was talking to my husband, Erkan. He will come and tidy up that mess. Now let us continue with our guided tour of the house.’
‘I would still like to know,’ insisted Carole, ‘what happened to Zoë Willingdon!’
‘By which I gather Barney hasn’t told you?’
‘No, he hasn’t.’
‘Well, I think it’s something he should do himself. He’ll tell you this evening.’