‘Oh,’ said Carole. Jude’s attitude seemed far too lackadaisical for her taste. ‘But don’t we need to do some shopping at some point …?’
‘At some point, yes. But this isn’t that point. The fridge is still very well stocked. We’ll get round to it in time.’
Again the reply was far too unstructured. Carole couldn’t help saying, ‘I’ve already been up for an hour and a half.’
‘Good for you.’ Jude looked puzzled. ‘And this is really the first time you’ve been out of doors?’
‘Yes.’ Jude shook her head in mild bewilderment as her friend went on: ‘So … do you have any plans for the day or not?’
‘No.’ Jude shook her head firmly, setting ripples going through her unbrushed blonde hair.
‘Planning to stay here?’
‘I should think so. Still too knackered to think of going anywhere else.’
‘What about meals?’
‘Probably stagger out somewhere in the evening. Make do with what we’ve got here at lunchtime.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Carole.
‘No, I’m not sure at all. May go out somewhere to eat at lunchtime too. See how we feel.’
‘Well, what I feel is that I should be doing something.’
‘Fine. You can do something. I can do nothing.’
‘Separately?’
‘Yes, why not? Where do you want to go?’
Carole hadn’t really made any plans, but she didn’t want Jude to realize that, so she found herself replying, ‘I quite fancy going to Pinara.’
‘Right.’
‘But I don’t want to go there on my own if it’s somewhere you want to go; we should maybe wait for another day when we can go together.’
‘What is there at Pinara?’ asked Jude lazily.
‘Well, there’s a Higher and Lower Acropolis, and there’s a Royal Tomb and an Amphitheatre.’
‘Hm. You’ve yet to offer me something more attractive than my trashy book on a lounger by the pool.’
‘I see.’ Carole couldn’t keep the note of reproof out of her voice.
‘Look, in a few days I’m sure I’ll feel up to going out on excursions, but at the moment all I want to do is chill out.’
Carole wished Jude wouldn’t use expressions like that. ‘Very well,’ she found herself saying. ‘Today I will go to Pinara on my own.’
‘That’s cool.’
Carole wished Jude wouldn’t use expressions like that either.
Having blackmailed herself into saying that she was going to Pinara, there was no way now that she couldn’t go there. The idea of driving an unfamiliar car on unfamiliar roads among unfamiliar people frankly terrified her, but she tried not to let Jude see her fear. This did not prove too difficult because her friend seemed only to be interested in slopping about in the pool or flopping about on her lounger. And by the time Carole left, Jude had shown no signs of getting herself any breakfast.
Packing for the trip to Pinara had taken quite a while. Carole wanted to be sure that she’d got everything she might need for her excursion into a foreign country. She took her passport and driving licence, along with the Rough Guide and her map of the Turkish coast. She checked that her money belt was invisible under the waistline of her trousers and that she had some lira available in her pocket for minor purchases. She packed a small sponge bag with Factor Fifty suntan cream, mosquito repellent, Anthisan bite and sting cream, sticking plasters, and, of course, Imodium.
She changed her shoes to the sensible ones she had been wearing for the previous day’s flight. She didn’t think it was safe to drive in flip-flops.
With regard to rations, she wasn’t planning to face eating on her own in any Turkish restaurants, but intended to stop at the Kayaköy supermarket Nita had recommended to stock up with bread, tomatoes and maybe some salami. She tried to remember the handy Turkish phrases she had learned for use on shopping trips.
With her bag packed, Carole went down and opened the garage doors, trying to look as if this was the kind of thing she did every day. The car was a white Fiat Bravo, a five-door hatchback that looked as though it was brand new. Jude floated on her back in the pool, unaware, as her friend carefully checked the controls of the car, which was, of course, right-hand drive.
After sufficient familiarization, Carole dared to move the car out of the garage at the top of the track which led down to the village. At the poolside she opened the window and called out, ‘Jude!’
A couple of strokes and her friend was beside her, chubby arms supporting her on the non-infinity edge of the pool. ‘I’m going to the supermarket,’ said Carole, ‘but I won’t get any stuff for the house because it’ll have to sit in the car all day.’
‘Fine,’ said Jude. ‘We can go down later – not that there’s really much we need … that is, assuming we eat out this evening.’
‘Oh, do you think we should? I mean, we did eat out last night. We could easily cook for ourselves.’
‘Well, we can decide that later.’ Jude was determined that while they were in Kayaköy they would eat out for every meal except breakfast, but there was no point in causing ructions with Carole by telling her that at this early stage of the holiday. ‘Enjoy your day,’ she said. ‘I know I’ll enjoy mine.’
‘Yes, well, I should think I’d be back round—’
‘Whenever,’ said Jude, another expression Carole wished she wouldn’t use.
Her excursion to the Kayaköy supermarket was not as daunting as she feared it might be. For a start, the word ‘supermarket’ was a little grand for what it actually was. Given its dimensions, ‘corner shop’ might have been nearer the mark.
Carefully, Carole parked opposite on the right-hand side. (She was afraid that if she parked it on the left she might instinctively start driving on that side when she returned.) Then as she crossed to the shop she found herself nervously practising saying ‘hello’ (‘mare-ha-ba’) and was already confused about which ‘goodbye’ was the one to be said by the person leaving a place, as opposed to the one staying.
But the minute she entered the supermarket such fears became academic because the chubby man behind the till said in perfect English, ‘Good morning to you. You are very welcome to Kayaköy. And I hope you are finding it is comfortable in Morning Glory.’
‘Oh. Yes. Thank you very much. It’s delightful.’
Carole got her supplies for the day and a large bottle of water from the fridge. Then, having felt the direct heat of the sun just during the short walk from the car, she also bought a straw hat.
She reckoned from her map that she had to go through Fethiye to get to Pinara. That reassured her because the tank was only half-full of fuel and she thought she should fill up before going out into the Turkish wilderness. She was sure that Fethiye would have petrol stations, but not so convinced there’d be many on the minor roads.
She drove the Fiat with incredible caution over the zigzag track out of the village, only once getting out of first gear. Locals who knew the road better hooted at her and swept past on the few parts where there were passing places. In spite of the car’s very efficient air conditioning, Carole found herself sweating with the stress.
Though Fethiye’s traffic could be confusing to a newcomer, she had studied the map assiduously before leaving Morning Glory and managed pretty well. The traffic was heavy, but for her that was almost a bonus, as it gave her more time to read the direction signs.
Only one strange thing happened. As she was driving along the seaside road out of the town, Carole saw a man and a woman get out of a silver Volvo 4 × 4.
The woman was Henry Willingdon.
Carole had never seen the man before, but had Jude been in the car, she would have identified him as Fergus McNally.